Page 11 of Veil of Death and Shadow

A door creaked, followed by the familiar hammering beat of Frank’s steps as he rushed down the stairs that led up to his apartment.

He wasn’t wearing his usual greasy apron, and when his face emerged below the dip of the staircase, his dark eyes were blown wide, like he’d just seen a ghost. His deep brown skin was washed of its usual glow, and the soft wrinkles in his forehead turned into trenches as he took me in.

“Mareena?” His body deflated with relief, his grip loosening on a baseball bat that hung limp at his side. “Thank god. Where the hell have you been?”

I eyed the weapon. “Woah now, no need for that,” my tone half teasing, half not. “You okay, Frank?” I nodded around the small dining room. “Where is everybody? You try a new recipe again? You know what we’ve told you about experimenting.” I grinned awkwardly. “Don’t.”

His last attempt at a menu upgrade had included an unidentifiable monstrosity composed, in part, of pickles and peanut butter. A truly egregious combination that I doubted even a pregnant person with unusual cravings would want. Most of his regulars, Sora and I included, had boycotted the place for a week in protest.

I thought we’d successfully convinced him to stick with run-of-the-mill sandwiches, salads, and food that could just be tossed into the fryer after that.

His thick salt-and-pepper brows met as he studied me, like he was assessing every inch for injuries. “Where’ve you been, Mareena? Sora’s been looking for you.” He shook his head, studying me. “For days.”

I opened my mouth to say something, then shut it again. What did he meanfordays?

“That roommate of yours has been hopping back and forth between this diner and your apartment for three days now, despite the very clear orders to stay inside.”

“Three days?” My stomach growled, as if it had just caught up to the fact that it was, in fact, deeply aware of exactly how many days it had been since I’d last fed it anything. “What orders?”

Frank sighed and ran his hand through his thin hair, scratching lightly at the top, which was just shiny brown scalp. He leaned the baseball bat against the stairwell and walked behind the counter. He grabbed a glass, filled it with water, and set it down, nodding towards the stool across from him.

I sat, my body feeling suddenly exhausted. I held the first sip of water in my mouth for a minute, savoring the cool feeling as it washed over my tongue. Then I finished the rest of the glass in one impatient chug.

He grabbed a bag of bread, a jar of peanut butter, some of those mini plastic jam containers he served with toast in the mornings, and got to work.

“I’d cook you something properly, but the electricity has been faulty since the outage, and I don’t trust it right now.” He grunted, then nodded at me without looking up from his work. “What’s with the bird?”

I stiffened. I’d all but forgotten about the crow that had hitched a ride. “Long story. What’s going on?”

He chuckled, but there was no humor to the sound. “Long story.”

He slid a plate with the sandwich towards me and grabbed a banana from an overripe bunch on the counter. “Eat this, too. You look like shit.”

“I woke up in a bush,” I shot back, shoving the sandwich into my mouth, offering some of the crumbs to the crow as an afterthought.

He took a few, only half interested, before Frank opened the small, almost-empty jar of dog treats he kept for the local pups on the counter. Frank may have generally pretended to hate his customers, but he also genuinely loved his customers' dogs. A true Seattleite if ever there was one. “Break these up and give the pieces to him. Heard crows like dog food.”

I did as he said, setting the shattered biscuit chunks on the counter.

The crow wriggled free from my shoulder, and hopped onto the counter, his claws clacking tentatively as he walked. He jabbed one of the larger crumbs with his beak a few times, hesitant and curious, before eagerly devouring the crumbled-up treat.

Frank’s mouth curved into a half grin as he shook his head. “Crows are fucking menaces—constantly messing up my trash out back. Can’t believe I’m allowing one on my counter.”

“Trust me, I know.” I finished my sandwich, both of us watching the strange bird as he tapped at the treat jar, demanding more. “You said he—how do you know it’s a dude?”

Though now that I thought about it, I’d been unconsciously referring to him as a he, too.

He shrugged. “Don’t. But he’s pretty big, and the boys are usually a bit larger than the gals.”

I nodded, moving on to the banana and the glass of water Frank had already refilled twice for me. That was a good enough explanation for me.

“So, three days,” I said after my stomach and throat were no longer screaming at me.

The crow was making a dramatic affair of filling its beak with water from a small bowl Frank pushed towards him and tilted his head back awkwardly to swallow.

“Oh thank god, you’re fucking here.”

I grunted as a familiar soft, floral scent washed over me.

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