Page 14 of The Maestro's Mates
“Justin, I’d like you to go.”
“What?!” Justin jumped up to his feet. He gave Anthony a pleading look, but the coven master’s mate only smiled back. “Why me?”
“You have as much knowledge as anyone about our coven,” Freddie said between sips, “and you have a demeanor an elderly woman would find charming.”
“I wouldn’t recommend calling my mother elderly to her face,” Sebastian said, hoping his words might distract Justin, but the blonde vamp stared at his coven master.
“But…witches?” There was a slight tremor to Justin’s voice.
“Your friend Sebastian is a witch.” Freddie smiled. “He will ensure you have nothing to fear from his Circle.”
Sebastian walked over to Justin, putting a gentle arm around his slight shoulders.
“I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Chapter 7
Justin
Justin was out of sorts.
His nature was essentially positive, and although his optimistic instincts were still intact, they were engaged in pitched battles with his anxiety and confusion. The result was a confused daze he desperately hoped no one noticed.
He stood at the front desk on the fourth floor of the Manhattan Lyric, checking IDs and signing people in as they went about their day. Some folks went to a rehearsal for a current production. Some were part of the professional training program. Some were musicians preparing for future work.
Justin maintained a smile throughout, but his brain was running a mile a minute. He legitimately liked seeing everyone. As someone with absolutely no inherent musical talent, he loved music, and he loved musicians. He couldn’t carry a tune in a paper bag, so it was like magic to him.
And musicians were interesting people! They were always working on some new piece of music, or gettingready to travel to another country, or performing for some celebrity or another. He loved the stories.
Today, though, he couldn’t focus on any of that. Even as he checked people off the list, his mind was screaming at him. Screaming about Sebastian, about Maestro Zaslavsky, about somehow getting roped into meeting a whole bunch of witches inNew Jersey,of all places.
It had only been four days since the awkward conversation where Sebastian had outed them all as supernaturals. Only four days since he somehow ended up as ambassador to the witches of Bayonne. But his mind hadn’t calmed at all.
Justin and Pavel had somehow avoided being alone together in that time, despite Sebastian’s best efforts. The witch had tried to lure the two of them into various empty hallways and supply closets, but Pavel wouldn’t have it. Justin appreciated the gargoyle’s certainty. He had conveniently been on break when the two arrived each morning. It’s not that he didn’t like them, he was confused by?—
“Justin?”
A voice jolted him out of his reverie. His boss, Yasmin, stood in front of him. She was particularly stylish today in a loose camel sweater and hoop earrings, and she was wearing a confident smile.
“Hey. Sorry about that.”
“Oh, no worries,” she said. “It’s boring as hell here in the late morning. Hard not to drift off.”
Justin couldn’t help but grin. Yasmin’s easy demeanor was so comforting. She reminded him a little of his Aunt Lavinia, although a bit less prickly.
“I don’t mind it! Gives me time to work on my spreadsheets. I love spreadsheets.”
Yasmin chuckled. “God bless people like you.”
Justin shrugged. Hedidlike spreadsheets; it was his favorite part of the job. He might be new to all this, but from day one, he’d spiffed up the documents with colors and clearer labeling.
“Do you need something?” Justin asked.
“Oh, yeah, I do, I forgot,” Yasmin gestured behind him. “Once that’s done printing, will you hole punch it and bring it over to room 413? Maestro Zaslavsky needs it in the next ten minutes, and I have to run to an absolutely unnecessary online meeting I’ve been told I absolutely cannot miss.”
Justin glanced over to see the printer spitting out page after page of sheet music. He’d been so engrossed in thought he hadn’t heard the old war horse grinding away. The twenty-year-old clunker of a printer was usually too loud to ignore.
“Sure, of course.” Then maybe it would be lunchtime. He needed to go for a walk and clear his head. “I’m going outside for lunch. Do you want me to grab you something?”
