by Kate Moseman
“Don’t call me a—” he started, but she laughed merrily and slammed the bathroom door before he could finish.
Outside, Phoenix glanced at the sky for a hint of how soon the sun would rise. It looked like they would have just enough time to make it to Cosmo’s before the demons abandoned the night’s recreation.
At a nearby Métro station, they hopped on the first train of the day, populated by a handful of early morning Parisians.
When they arrived at their station, Raya stopped him. “Aren’t you going to blindfold me?”
“What for? Are you going to go running off to Nathan to tell him where the demons hang out?”
“No. But being blindfolded was kind of fun.”
“You have a weird idea of fun.”
“And you don’t, Mr. Dream-Crasher?”
At least she wasn’t calling him her little dark prince. “Fine, we have equally weird ideas of fun.”
Raya made a satisfied noise.
With the neon lights off and the streets virtually deserted, the neighborhood looked more lonely than seedy. He wished he could have shown Raya the place in its heyday, full of artists and composers mingling in the cafes and cabarets.
They took the stairs to the door of Cosmo’s bar.
Phoenix paused. “This time, maybe let me do the talking?”
“I’ll say what I like, thank you very much.”
Managing Raya was like herding a cat. He should know—he’d been one. Phoenix opened the door.
Demons at the bar and tables scarcely glanced up before returning to their own conversations, recognizing Raya and deeming her harmless—thanks to Cosmo’s endorsement.
How little they knew.
From his usual table, George raised his usual fruity beverage.
Phoenix nodded to him and addressed Cosmo at the bar. “Cosmo, set us up, please. And grab one for yourself. We need to talk.”
Raya elbowed him in the side. “Aren’t you masterful.”
They slid into chairs at George’s table.
George leaned in. “Back so soon? Did you give that mortal what for?”
“Not exactly.”
Raya snorted.
Cosmo set down a tray of drinks and took the fourth chair. “What’s this all about, Phoenix?”
Phoenix picked up a drink. “Now, stay calm—”
Cosmo rolled her eyes. “That’s exactly what you shouldn’t say if you want someone to stay calm.”
“And for Lucifer’s sake, don’t interrupt.”
Cosmo mimed zipping her lips and throwing away the key.
Phoenix took a drink before continuing. “We have a problem. The witch that Raya went out in the woods with—”
“Nathan,” said Raya.
“Yes, thank you. Are you telling this story, or shall I?”
Raya batted her eyelashes innocently. “Go ahead.”
George chuckled.
“Nathan is trying to capture demons.”
Cosmo shrugged. “What’s new? That’s what witches do. That’s why I don’t let any in here that aren’t vetted.” She nodded to Raya.
“You don’t understand,” Raya said. “He doesn’t want to capture a demon. He wants to capture all the demons. At least, all the demons in Paris.”
Cosmo laughed. “That’s not possible. No witch is that powerful.”
Phoenix shot Raya a look. “Tell her.”
Raya sighed. “Not normally, no. But Nathan found a source of power too big to draw from on his own, and—”
Cosmo raised a delicate eyebrow. “And?”
Raya looked down at the table. “And … I helped him draw from it.”
“You what?” Cosmo’s raised voice attracted the attention of the demons at a nearby table.
“I didn’t know what he was planning to do!”
“You didn’t think to ask?”
Phoenix looked back and forth between the woman and the woman-shaped demon, ready to dive under the table if things got dicey.
Raya swirled the liquid in her glass. “I didn’t think it was my business, any more than it was his business to ask me what I planned to do with my share.” She glanced at Phoenix. “I’m sorry. I was in over my head, and I was blind to the consequences.”
Raya had admitted she did something wrong. Phoenix could have been knocked over with a feather.
George tapped the table and snapped Phoenix out of his temporary trance. “How did you find out what he was planning? Does this have something to do with why you ended up here in a tizzy the other night?”
“The other way around, really. I only found out because I ended up here ‘in a tizzy,’ as you say. I went after Nathan in his sleep, thinking I could have a bit of fun, you know—”
George and Cosmo nodded knowingly.
“Thinking he was the typical helpless mortal in his dreams, but”—Phoenix winced—“he wasn’t.”
Cosmo’s eyes got wide. “What did he do?”
“He turned him into a cat,” said Raya.
George leaned back, thunderstruck. “No!”
“And it stuck?” said Cosmo.
Phoenix nodded. “It stuck. He wanted to bind me outright, but it wouldn’t work in the dream, and he didn’t want me to escape, so he transformed me and stuck some sort of witchy tracking collar on me.” He rubbed his neck and shuddered at the memory.
Cosmo set down her glass. “Why didn’t you go for help?”
“I couldn’t fly, I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t do anything. I came here straightaway but couldn’t even get past the front door. So I went to her.” He tilted his glass toward Raya.
Cosmo looked at Raya with obvious respect. “You figured it out and freed him?”
Raya’s color, always easy to bring out, flushed her cheekbones instantly. She drank from her glass and nodded rather than respond verbally.
He assumed she was thinking of the pajamas and the snuggling and the “little dark prince” endearments. Time to move on before anyone got interested in the details. “Anyway, we think Nathan has a bead on this place. I think you all need to scatter for a while, at least until we figure this out.”
George wrapped his clawed hands protectively around his drink. “I don’t want to scatter. I want to stay here and drink with my friends.”
“I’m not running from some power-mad witch.” Cosmo cracked her knuckles loudly.
Several demons glanced up at the sound and scooted their chairs farther away.
20
When Cosmo cracked her knuckles, any demon with sense stayed out of her way. Phoenix didn’t have the luxury of backing down. “Not running, Cosmo. Outsmarting.”
“Don’t patronize me, Phoenix. We’ve been here for hundreds of years.” She placed her hand on the table in a proprietorial gesture. “Do you think I’m going to pull up stakes and run at the first sign of trouble?”
“Again—not running. This witch has to be brought under control.” He glanced at Raya. “We can’t do that if we’re worrying about protecting this place simultaneously. Be reasonable. Please.”
Cosmo downed the last of her drink. “What do you think, George?”
George polished his reading glasses thoughtfully before addressing Phoenix. “How do you know you can handle him? He seemed to get the better of you at your last meeting.”
“I don’t know that I can handle him. That’s where Raya comes in—and possibly a few other allies.”
Cosmo eyed him skeptically. “Since when do you have allies?”
“I have plenty of allies, thank you very much.”
“Name one.”
“I happen to know a powerful angel who would be very interested to know about a witch exceeding his limits.”
George made a quizzical face. “Isn’t that the angel who threatened to decapita
te you with a flaming sword if he ever saw your face again?”
Raya sat forward in her chair. “Hold up—angels are real?”
All three demons looked at her with amusement.
George spoke first. “It’s not commonly known. They’re in hiding, mostly. Too much pressure.”
“Pressure from what?”
George shrugged his massive shoulders. “Keeping the peace. Being customer service representatives for a deity. It’s a hard job.”
Phoenix leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head with a grin. “One benefit of being a demon: low expectations.”
Raya shot him a look. “Don’t I know it.”
“You really think this is serious enough to call in outside help?” asked Cosmo.
Phoenix nodded.
“Fine. I’ll go along—for now. Use the Dead Drop to keep us informed. If we’re going to go to the trouble of staying away from each other, we might as well take it seriously.”
Raya looked confused. “What’s a dead drop? Like for spies?”
Phoenix stood up before replying to Cosmo. “Meanwhile, I need to get this mortal some food and sleep.”
“Mortals,” said George, shaking his head.
“Hey, now—don’t talk about me like I’m not here!” Raya stifled a yawn.
“It’s all right, darling. We only tease the ones we love.” Cosmo winked at Raya. “Isn’t that right, Phoenix?”
Thoroughly flustered and willing to do almost anything to end the conversation, Phoenix pretended he hadn’t heard. “We’re off, then.”
“Sleep tight,” said George. “Metaphorically speaking, of course, Phoenix.”
Phoenix and Raya took the stairs and exited into the fresh, clear sunlight of the early morning.
Raya looked around. “So, where’s breakfast?”
“At a restaurant, I presume?”
“No, I mean where can you find a real breakfast—eggs, bacon, orange juice—the works?”
“That’s an American thing. The French get by on coffee, cigarettes, and the occasional croissant.”
“Vive la France and all, but I want a damn omelet. If you’re such an expert on Paris … ”
Of course she would sting his vanity to get him to do what she wanted. “Challenge accepted.”
He ushered her to a nearby cafe, white and bright in its decor in contrast to the old-school brasserie at which he’d stolen her fries.
They slid into spindle back chairs made of honey-colored wood.
Raya took one look at the menu and slid it across the burnished grain of the table. “Do your magic.”
“Don’t you want to know what’s on it?”
“Surprise me.”
Phoenix ordered a little of everything. No harm in giving her choices.
When the waiter delivered her orange juice, Raya wrapped her hands around the glass and drank in a way that made her seem younger than she really was. It was her air of enthusiasm, even over the smallest things, that gave the impression.
Phoenix gestured toward the large windows facing the street. “So why haven’t you partnered up with one of those mortals running around out there?”
Raya slammed the glass down and started coughing. “What?”
“You heard me.”
She cleared her throat. “I haven’t ‘partnered up’ because I haven’t met anyone I want to partner up with.”
“You’re young, you’re attractive, you’re successful. I don’t see the difficulty.”
Raya looked at him like he had two heads. “Everyone is young to you, Phoenix.”
“Given.”
“Why do you ask?”
“Just curious.” He stared out the window at the people passing by.
“How about you? Has there ever been a special demon in your life?”
“I’ve known the lot of them for so long that most of them are like siblings now.”
Raya carefully took a sip of her juice. “Mortals, then?”
He shrugged eloquently. “Nothing serious.”
She snickered. “Could’ve predicted that.”
“Oh, do I amuse you? Doesn’t sound like you’ve ever been that serious with anyone, either, witch.”
“Be quiet, little prince, before I spoil your perfect hair with this orange juice.”
It took two waiters to deliver the food, piled high on an assortment of sturdy white stoneware plates.
Raya’s eyes widened. “Is this all for me? There’s no way I can eat this much.”
“I didn’t know what you wanted. So I ordered everything.”
She pointed to a bowl. “What’s this?”
“That’s shakshuka. Baked eggs with peppers and spices. And these are orange water pancakes with ricotta, and that’s a full English breakfast. Baked beans, mushrooms, fried eggs. And I believe this is a brioche bun stuffed with bacon, eggs, and spinach.”
“Holy cow.”
“I think that’s the only thing I didn’t order.”
Raya dived in, sampling from all the plates. “Come on, you have to try this,” she said around a mouthful of pancakes. “Don’t give me that garbage about how you don’t eat. I already know you’re a liar and a french fry stealer.”
“You promise you haven’t put a spell on this?”
“Ha, ha. Very funny. Now shut up and get in here.”
That first stolen fry had forced him to admit he could be made to feel from something so fleeting as food. Now, faced with a breakfast of epic proportions, he found himself wanting to revel in the sensations of the moment, all thoughts of witches or demonkind suspended in favor of just enjoying a plate of eggs and present company.
He picked up the bun, made eye contact with Raya, and bit into it.
A smile played across her lips.
Together, they demolished the meal.
When they were finished, Raya staggered onto the sidewalk, groaning theatrically and holding her middle. “Remind me never to try to keep up with a supernatural being when it comes to competitive eating.”
Phoenix steered her in the direction of the nearest Métro station. “Methinks it’s time for your nap.”
She actually nodded off on the train, its soothing motion lulling her until her head drooped on his shoulder.
He debated whether to wake her.
It was only a fifteen minute ride.
He gently positioned her head and let her sleep.
When they arrived at her station, he woke her. “We’re here.”
They walked the short distance to her hotel as the streets filled with the usual morning traffic.
As they entered the lobby, Ahmed hailed Raya from the front desk. “I was going to call you, madame. How is our little guest?”
Raya shot a mischievous glance at Phoenix. “He was just lovely. Very well-behaved. I’d take care of him anytime.”
“Shall I take him off your hands?”
Raya’s mouth opened and closed. She clearly hadn’t thought that far, and the heavy breakfast and lack of sleep seemed to inhibit her ability to lie on the fly.
Phoenix intervened. “We ran into the owner outside the hotel early this morning. He was very relieved.”
“So relieved,” added Raya.
Ahmed’s gaze traveled between Phoenix and Raya. “Oh? Well, I guess all is well that ends well.”
Raya nodded enthusiastically and darted up the stairs before he could ask any more questions.
Phoenix gave the clerk a little salute and followed Raya to her room.
Inside, she flopped on the bed like a starfish. “I could sleep for a week.”
“Not for a week. We have a rogue witch to stop, remember?”
She sighed and covered her face with a pillow. “Fine.” The word came out very muffled.
He sn
atched the pillow away. “Shall I come back in a few hours?”
She looked up at him. “Come back? Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. Anywhere, I guess.”
She rolled over to the nightstand, picked up the television remote, and held it out to him. “Here. You don’t have to go. You can watch TV, if you want. I’ll sleep right through it.”
For the first time in a long time, uncertainty crept through him. He hesitated, then took the remote.
Their fingers brushed.
“Thanks.” He eased into a chair as if sudden movement might startle her into changing her mind.
She stood up and stretched. “You don’t mind if I change, do you? It’s nothing you haven’t already seen, anyway.”
The black pajama set? “Of course not. Go right ahead.”
Raya scooped up the set from a dresser drawer and retreated to the bathroom.
Phoenix fixed his gaze on the television’s mindless drivel and tried very hard to think about anything but a headstrong witch in black pajamas.
21
Raya opened her eyes, stretched, and sat up in bed. She squinted at the TV. “What on earth are you watching?”
“Le Juste Prix. Get dressed. We’re going to a bakery.”
“But I’m still full!”
“We’re not going for the food. We’re going to talk to the baker.”
Raya tossed pillows out of the way as she clambered out of the bed. “Did it ever occur to you to try making sense when you talk?”
“What’s the point? You’d only ask silly questions.” He dodged the pillow she flung at his head.
Phoenix turned off the French version of “The Price Is Right” and waited for her to dress. If she didn’t like his cryptic answer, she really wasn’t going to like his straightforward one.
Raya emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed but still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “All right, Captain Mysterious, where are we really going?”
“I told you.”
“A bakery?”
“Right down the street.”
“You’re joking.”
“I am not.” Phoenix stood up. Better to have this conversation out in the open, where she’d be less likely to yell at him.
