Page 9 of Magic Claimed
Okay,so I lied. Sleep is probably the most underrated activity of all time. It’s truly amazing. Awe-inspiringly wonderful. And I’d had almost none of it when I arrived at The Portal for my shift the next day.
It had taken several hours for the fire department to shut off the sprinkler system, clear the building, and give the residents permission to return home. After that, I’d done my best to remove all the excess water without anyone noticing. I couldn’t do anything about the water damage to the floors and walls, but at least our downstairs neighbors wouldn’t be standing in puddles.
Then for the rest of the night, Kes and I had taken turns staying awake while Ethan slept. Even though she’d drained as much of his magic as possible, we weren’t sure what his regeneration speed was and didn’t feel like risking another incident.
All of which meant I’d only slept for about two hours before I showed up in Irene’s kitchen, blinking and weaving on my feetas I washed my hands. Hopefully, I could at least snatch a quick cat nap during my break later on.
Ordinarily, Faris would have just given me the day off. But it was a Saturday, and we’d been closed for two days. That meant we would have the usual weekend crowd, plus everyone who was curious about the wedding and the news from the Fae Court, so I couldn’t leave the rest of the staff scrambling to keep up.
Irene was already busy at her prep table, chopping ingredients at a speed that made it look like she had at least two extra arms.
“Afternoon,” I muttered, knowing she wasn’t likely to return the pleasantry. Irene was nice enough if you met her anywhere else, but in her kitchen, she was focused to the point of obsession, and woe betide the one who interrupted her process or messed with her space.
“Boss wants to see you,” she barked out, not even turning her head to look at me.
There was no point in being disappointed or offended by her manner—that was just standard for Irene.
“Thanks,” I said. “I guess I’ll go see what he wants.”
“He’s downstairs.”
I exited the kitchen into the back hallway and hadn’t even set foot on the stairs yet when I heard Faris’s raised voice echoing up from the basement.
“… idiots… disrespect me… I’ll bury them under so much…”
Uh-oh.
I’d finally gotten over expecting my boss to just up and fire me or evict us from our apartment without warning.Faris had claimed us as family, and he’d more than proven that he had our backs. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be frustrated about last night. We had endangered his entire building and his tenants. Forced him to show up in the middle of the night and deal with complaints when he was already doing me a favor by spending the weekend with Logan. Not to mention how upset he was over Kira’s postponed wedding.
I suspected he might also be concerned about Draven’s safety, but nothing short of an apocalypse would have induced him to admit it.
So it was with a healthy sense of caution that I trotted down the stairs and poked my head into The Portal’s basement storage space.
As usual, it was clean and orderly, with shelves full of liquor and kitchen supplies, stacks of shipping crates, and three small rooms where inebriated customers were sometimes confined until they sobered up sufficiently to recognize their mistakes.
Also, where Faris occasionally imprisoned the least annoying of his enemies, but so far that seemed to be a rare occurrence.
“You wanted to see me?”
Faris glanced up from the stack of crates he was inspecting, set down his tablet, and looked at me with his hands on his hips.
Double uh-oh.
“I’m sorry about last night,” I said with a wince. “I genuinely thought we’d be safe. Never even considered he might be able to use magic in his sleep. We’re looking for a new solution.”
Faris still said nothing, only reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and handed it to me.
I shuffled forward hesitantly to accept it. “What is this?”
“You tell me.” One of his eyebrows quirked in my direction. “When my people cleared the building last night after the firefighters left, they found it on the floor in your entryway.”
The paper was still soggy and about to fall apart in places, but when I unfolded it, I could still read the message.
“Travel expenses paid, only work one week a month, full medical and dental,” I mused as I scanned the words. “Plus a support team of up to five individuals at my own discretion. Various talents available. Sounds like a good deal.”
Faris stared at me.
I gazed back noncommittally.
