Page 3 of Veil of Death and Shadow

Especially on a day like today, when nostalgia and excitement warred with grief. As cool and calm of a mask as she liked to wear, I knew that today messed with her head too.

Sora’s temporary silent frustration was eclipsed by Frank’s low rumble threatening to toss the guys out on their asses if they didn’t shut up and eat their food.

There was a brief banging sound, like she was clapping her hand on the table, before she added in a half-hushed whisper, “Maybe the old lug doesn’t hate me as much as I thought.”

“Oh yes I do.” The familiar tenor of his voice trailed over the din and into my ear. “Just hate them more.”

I bit back my grin. “I’m hurrying, promise.”

“You want your usual? I’ll have Frank put the order in now so it’s ready when you’re here.”

“Yeah, usual sounds good.”

Sora snorted. Good was perhaps generous.

The over-easy eggs with too-firm yolks and half-frozen hash browns would be tolerable at best. He’d inherited the restaurant from his father, but his father’s instinct for cooking apparently wasn’t part of the package. Especially not when it came to breakfast foods.

But it didn’t matter. We didn’t frequent Frank’s for the tasty omelets. It was close by, never busy, and, most importantly, cheap as fuck. In Seattle, cheap as fuck was about as rare a find as spotting Sasquatch out in the mountains.

“And Mars?” she sighed, and I could all but see her sinking back into the booth that was more duct-tape and cracked laminate than cushion. “Happy Birthday, my dude.”

“Thanks, Sor.”

“My girl’s finally twenty-one,” she said, raising her voice again, this time without threat. The frat boys whooped in the background, followed by a gruff groan that I was certain belonged to Frank. “Hurry up and help me celebrate. This whiskey—” She paused a beat, and I could feel her light buzz melting away any of the lingering tension with its warmth. “Bourbon?” She chuckled. “I’m going to be so fucking for real, I don’t actually know the difference. Whatever it is, it’s not going to drink itself.”

“Ten minutes.” I grinned, ending the call and sliding my phone back into my pocket.

My hurried walk transformed into a light jog, Sora’s contagious enthusiasm enough to hush some of my own tension and exhaustion?—

Until the breath was pulled from my lungs, and I jolted backwards, my arms flailing wildly in an attempt to avoid following the rest of me to the ground.

But a force pulled me back, straightening me before my ass hit the pavement.

I grunted from the whiplash, frozen as a bus slammed into the crosswalk I should have been standing in.

My heart beat loud and angry in my ears as I processed the close miss.

I tried to take a breath, but my chest still felt tight, my body sizzling with adrenaline. My ears buzzed with the sound of my blood rushing, like I was suddenly acutely aware of every molecule I was composed of.

Close was an understatement. I’d been half a second away from delivering up corpse pancake.

When I looked down, I found a large, pale hand wrapped around my forearm like a vise.

It was, perhaps, strange to describe a hand as beautiful, but that was the immediate thought my just-rescued brain plucked and served up for me to linger on. The fingers were thin and smooth, and I felt their warmth sear my skin through my jacket. The hand’s porcelain skin looked soft and velvety, save for the light puckering of veins that appeared unusually dark in comparison.

I glanced up.

The hand was attached to an equally beautiful man.

Messy but stylish silver-white hair, dark brows, pale skin covered in intricate tattoos that snaked up his neck. And the eyes—they were a color I couldn’t quite decide on. Dark green, flecks of amber, almost hazel, but unlike any hazel eyes I’d ever seen. If mesmerizing came in a shade, this was it.

Those eyes were also not looking at me but staring down at where the beautiful hand gripped my arm.

Still.

The man’s brows were bent in confusion, the corner of his mouth pinched in some expression I couldn’t decipher.

I opened my mouth, intending to thank him for the save, but instead loudly barked, “I don’t really like being touched.”

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