Page 78 of Aïdes the Unseen
Watching them, I remembered with brutal clarity that gods did not always need force to steal what mattered.
Sometimes, they just smiled first.
Chapter
Fifteen
IRINA
Iloved this café.
The moment you stepped into the garden-ringed patio, it felt like the city exhaled a too-long-held breath and time slowed. The light turned honey-gold, even on gray days. Green things grew where they shouldn’t have—ivy blooming in stone cracks, violets popping up near chair legs, moss threading the bases of coffee tables. It was a secret haven, half-brewery, half-botanical daydream.
And this morning of all mornings, it betrayed me.
The moment thecafé owner—Lukas—grinned at me, the air changed.
Not badly. Not entirely. Just…complicated.
“Anything for the queen of chlorophyll,” Lukas said, beckoning us to follow as he moved to make my drink.
I smiled, because I always did. He had that kind of gravity. Warm, effortless. Like heknewyou, even if you’d never met.
I’d known Lukas for a while. One of those long-running fixtures of Manhattan weirdness. Sometimes behind the counter. Sometimes absent for weeks. But always charming,always presentwhen it mattered.I never asked what his deal was because I already knew he’d never give a straight answer.
Today, though—today he radiated a very different sort of intensity.
And Graven?
Graven had gone utterly still.
Not visibly so much as the way hewatchedLukas now, like he was cataloging every breath, every shift in posture. It was the same way birds watch a snake in the grass.
The puppy noticed too. His hackles didn’t rise, exactly. But he planted himself firmly between them and refused to move. Every time Lukas leaned forward even a little, the dog repositioned.
That would’ve made me laugh any other day. Instead, it just unsettled me more.
“Cinnamon oat latte,” Lukas said, setting the mug down in front of me with a flourish.
He didn’t even ask. He just knew.
And then his eyes cut to Graven, sharp and assessing. “And for your… friend?”
Graven didn’t smile. “Black. Hot. No additives.”
Lukas nodded as if that answer confirmed something for him. He turned away, but I could still feel the pull between them, like magnets trying to figure out if they were facing the right poles.
I took a breath.
“Let’s sit outside,” I said, nudging Graven’s elbow. “It’s nicer.”
The puppy followed without hesitation. Graven did too, though slower. Controlled. Like he was still doing threat assessment. We found a small round table near the edge of the patio, half-shaded by a twisting vine-covered trellis. The puppycurled at my feet with one ear turned outward—alert, but calm. For now.
I sipped my drink and exhaled. The quiet was warm, but weighted.
Graven finally lifted his mug and took a long swallow, his eyes never straying far from the door.
“You know him,” I said carefully.
