by Karen Duvall
“Is it far?”
“We’re almost there.”
I continued walking behind him, watching his easy strides and the slight swagger that radiated self-confidence. “How do you do that? Disappear, I mean.”
“It’s an acquired skill.”
I guessed that. “Where do you go when you vanish?”
“Nowhere.” He tossed me another quick look and I saw amusement in his eyes. He slapped his side. “It would be a lot easier to talk to you if you’d walk beside me.”
I quickened my steps to catch up, but even though I left a good couple feet between us, I had to fight the magnetic pull that seemed to emanate from him. What was it? Did he feel it, too?
“That’s better.” He thrust his hands in his pockets. “I don’t go anywhere. I’m still here, you just can’t see me. Or I should say regular people can’t see me, but you could without your contacts.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because you can see ghosts. And in essence, that’s pretty much what I become.” He smoothed a hand over his jacket and looked down at his jeans. “Which is why I can’t wear clothes when I make myself invisible. There’d be no solid mass for them to hang on.”
I stopped walking. “You become a ghost?”
He turned and walked backward so that he could face me as he talked. “It’s complicated. I lose my solid mass and become transparent. All those energy particles you see that form a ghost are essentially what I become when I, uh, vanish.” Looking sheepish, he added, “I’m sorry if I shocked you by showing up naked. I had to show you I was different to get your attention.”
Oh, he’d gotten my attention all right. The hot blood rushing to my face was evidence of that. He faced forward again and I hurried to stay even with him. “How do you know these things about me, about what I can see? Who told you about my eyes?” I wondered if he knew about my other senses, too.
He shrugged. “Lots of flapping gums in the Fatherhouse.”
“And you live with those people?” That was disconcerting.
“They don’t know I’m listening.”
Considering his ability to vanish at will, that made sense. “So you’re a thief, like me.”
“Bingo.”
I felt a little thrill at hearing that. He was like me. Not exactly like me, but the closest I’d ever come to finding another person remotely similar to myself. The so-called friends Gavin arranged for me to pull jobs with were nothing special. It was always me who took the most risks because I could see, hear and smell better than anyone else.
“Here we are,” Aydin said, leading me down a driveway to a dark two-story house with a columned porch. But he didn’t walk up the path to the front door. He went on around to the side and headed for a staircase leading down to what I assumed was a basement.
I stopped on the top step, a sense of caution preventing me from following him. “There’s no coffee shop down there.”
He stared up at me. “Yeah, there is.”
“Where’s the sign? The lights? The parking lot filled with cars? I don’t hear any people talking or coffee mugs clinking.” I’d begun to think this might be a trap. Even if it were, I imagined it couldn’t be much worse than something Gavin might come up with. Or Zee, with her ridiculous portal paintings. I felt eager to get inside and find out.
I followed him down the steps and through the door.
Still no sign, no lights, no noise. “Aydin, come on. What’s going on?”
“I’m taking you for coffee at my favorite coffee shop. What do you think?”
It was obviously an underground coffee shop because the basement walls funneled into a tunnel of dirt and rock. Bare bulbs hung from the ceiling, and the farther we ventured in, the lighter it became. Finally I saw a rusty, old tin sign that said Elmo’s.
So maybe Aydin really was on the level, and this was a real coffee shop, but it would definitely go out of business if Elmo didn’t work on getting some exposure. Did he even advertise? And who wanted to have coffee inside a dirt tunnel? The door to the entrance was made of wood, the hardware on it rusted and very old-fashioned. Maybe it was some new restaurant trend. I’d heard of a place in Southern California where meals were served in pitch darkness. The appeal had something to do with it being a journey of the senses. Sounded scary to me. I liked to see what I was eating.
“After you,” Aydin said.
I palmed the copper door handle and pushed. The heavy plank heaved on its hinges and a rush of voices and heat spilled out into the tunnel. The light was so bright that I had to shade my eyes. There were a lot of people here, if I could call them that. They were of varying sizes and colors, some with hair, some without, and a couple with so much hair that clothes would have been redundant. The hairy ones were chimeras. Not the literal kind from Greek mythology that had a lion’s head, goat’s body and serpent’s tail. The faces of these people were human. The bodies? Not so much.
“Hey, Elmo!” Aydin called over the din of happy coffee drinkers. And they were indeed happy—lots of laughter to go with the music playing through speakers mounted high on the dirt walls. “Elmo, I’ve brought someone I’d like you to meet.”
The festive atmosphere was more of what I’d expect inside a pub, but my senses detected no alcohol. I slipped one nose filter free and inhaled the aroma of coffee and honey. And yeast. Baked treats, too? My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten. Looking around, I recognized a variety of magical species that I’d always associated with those who had enslaved me. I wondered if these were spies.
I edged my way to the door, snagging Aydin’s jacket sleeve as I went. “We have to get out of here. These people are Vyantara. They must be spies or assassins, or both.”
He laid a gentle hand on my arm, and as much as I wanted to jerk away, I couldn’t. His touch soothed me and made me want to get even closer. The soft look in his eyes told me he felt it, too.
He cleared his throat and dropped his hand. “No, Chalice, they’re not spies or assassins. These are my friends. And they can be your friends, too.”
“They’re your friends, Aydin, because you report to the Fatherhouse. I can’t associate with these people. It’s bad enough I’m forced to serve them.”
Aydin sighed. “That’s why I brought you here, to show you that not all beings from beyond the veil serve the dark side. There’s a light side, too.”
“That’s hard to believe.” What I really meant was that it was hard to trust.
“Because you’re not supposed to know.” He reached out to try touching me again, then thought better of it and stuffed his hand in his pocket. “Look, give them—us—a chance, okay?”
Change was in the air. A shift was coming. I’d been sensing it ever since I’d held the saint’s hand. Maybe this was part of it. I stared into Aydin’s eyes. Pale green, like frozen jade.
I nodded as if to agree, but the reservation in my expression must have been clear because he looked frustrated. It wasn’t like I could easily dismiss what had been pounded into me my whole life. Light or dark, magic couldn’t be trusted.
“Come on,” Aydin said, his smile encouraging. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
six
HEAD HELD HIGH AND MUSCLES TENSE WITH discomfort, I followed Aydin as he moved deeper into the little coffee shop. I felt the stares coming at me from all directions. The music continued to play rock and roll, but the voices had died to a murmur.
I slipped a filter from my ear and listened. A few words managed to punch through the hiss of the espresso machine. I heard “gifted human” and “mother was a Hatchet Knight” and “she wears the mark of the gargoyle.” Aydin knowing intimate details about me was bad enough, but I apparently had no secrets from these people, either.
My eyes stung, but I refused to cry. My chest tightened with a choked-back sob and Aydin heard it because he leaned in to me, ice-jade eyes trained on my face. Our gazes locked, and I mentally dared him to pity me. He didn’t. His grin broadened as if he hadn’t just witnessed the
near breakdown of a would-be knight in tarnished armor. Tarnished, hell. I had no armor, no shield, no crest but for the shameful brand on the back of my neck that marked me as a slave.
But that didn’t mean I had to act like one.
I tucked my ear filter back in place and lifted my chin, straightened my back, and bellied up to the coffee bar.
A stocky little man with no neck and very long ears that had multiple piercings studied me from the other side of the counter. Bitter beer face came close to describing his expression, but the words that left his mouth didn’t match. “What’ll it be, sweetheart?” he asked, his deep voice at odds with his small stature.
“Elmo, this is the woman I told you about. Her name is Chalice.” Aydin gave me a nod. “Chalice, meet Elmo, proprietor of this highly caffeinated establishment.”
“Double espresso, please,” I said. “And nice to meet you.”
“Into the hard stuff, are ya?” Elmo asked. “I’d have taken you for a latte kind of girl.”
“Milk doesn’t agree with me,” I said, secretly wishing that it did. I loved the scent of steamed milk and coffee. I imagined that’s what heaven would smell like, if there were such a thing. “I prefer strong flavors.”
“Because of your, you know.” Aydin tapped his nose. “Your nose filters. Can’t smell, can’t taste, right?”
This full-disclosure crap was annoying. “That’s right. But if I take out the filters when I eat or drink—”
“Other smells would overwhelm your sense of taste.” He looked pleased with himself, but when he saw my expression he quickly glanced away and cleared his throat. “Elmo, I’ll have—”
“A caramel macchiato. Your usual. Got it.”
Elmo dropped from sight. I assumed he’d been standing on something to reach the counter because only the top of his shiny, bald head showed.
“Want to sit down?” Aydin asked me.
I looked around the shop, seeing that most of the tables were occupied. It didn’t feel right. Coming here was a mistake. “I—um—I think maybe I should go.”
“What? Why?”
My gaze darted around the room again, then down to my feet. “I shouldn’t be here. I don’t belong.”
“Everyone here belongs here.” Aydin gestured at the only empty table. It was round with low stools, and on closer inspection I saw it was an old cable spool. The top had been sanded down and coated with varnish, but you could still see the scars of age and heavy use etched into the wood.
“Not me,” I said. “Not with them.”
His frown of disappointment made me flinch.
What had I gotten myself into? Being in the same room with a supernatural species was too…awful. My skin felt like it crawled with bugs. “I must sound like a bigot to you, but that’s not it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.” I felt my indignation rise through my pores, which probably turned my face red. “I bet they’re all perfectly nice people, but I’m…”
“Better than they are?”
“No!” I folded my arms across my chest and refused to look at him. I wasn’t better. Just different, and not exactly normal. I didn’t like it here because these people made me nervous. They would report me to the Fatherhouse, and to Gavin. And who knew what he’d do to me then? His punishments were harsh. “I don’t trust them not to tell.”
“They’re not Vyantara. I promise.” He left the table to retrieve our coffees. He returned and placed a steaming cup of espresso in front of me. The tiny cup was old and chipped, but it looked clean. I wondered who, or what, drank from it before me, and if whatever it was had left its magic behind.
Aydin sat on the stool beside me. “Worried about getting cooties?”
I scowled at him. “I never said that.”
“You didn’t have to.” He sipped from his mug and licked the caramel-colored foam from his upper lip. “I can read it in your eyes.”
Could he also read my attraction to him there? I hoped not. I wasn’t ready to get involved with anyone after what I went through the last time. It was hard to admit my feelings could be hurt, but I was all about feelings, inside and out. If only I could numb my heart.
Okay, enough of this feelings bullshit. “You said you had information for me. Spill.”
“Not until I straighten you out on a few things.” He leaned back, but the stool had no backrest and he ended up slouching forward instead. “You have a lot of misconceptions about magic and the species that use it.”
I shook my head. “No misconceptions. I know who the magic users are. They’re all part of the same whole. You of all people should know that.” I sipped my espresso. Strong, just how I liked it.
“Do you know what would happen if the Vyantara found out about Elmo’s?”
“I assumed they knew, probably condoned it. A little diversion for their members.”
“Far from it.” He waved his hand at the room, where chimeras, a couple of elves, a brownie, three pixies and even a pair of human-looking characters sat with each other, chatting over coffee and what looked like some kind of pastry. “If news of this coffee shop ever got out, there’d be a roundup like cattle on the prairie and Elmo’s would be shut down.”
“But you…”
“I’m a thief for the Vyantara, and I do their bidding because I have to. I also have a life of my own. And I spend a lot of it here, as well as a few other clandestine spots in this city, where people of our nature are free to socialize.” He winked at me. “As long as we keep it to ourselves.”
Free? That word wasn’t even in my vocabulary. The very idea that people like us could exercise free will astounded me. Magic users on the light side? “Okay, I’m listening. Tell me more.”
He beamed at me. “Happy to.” So he did.
I was amazed to learn that chimeras like Banku, the lion man who’d been my combat instructor, were not a typically violent race.
“Depending on the human-animal combination,” Aydin said, “chimeras can be gentle, wise and compassionate. They all have an innate ability for magic, but not all of them use it. Those who do don’t always use it for personal gain.”
I remembered a deer-girl at the Fatherhouse in Germany. She looked something like a satyr, only more delicate, her four cloven hooves petite and feminine. She painted them with pink nail polish. I had tried very hard not to like her, even though she was a sweet-natured creature with a habit of putting other’s needs before her own. I didn’t believe her sincerity. Perhaps I’d been wrong.
“Pixies, faeries and elves also have a personal choice in the direction they want their magic to take,” he added. “Just like humans who have a choice between right and wrong, the supernatural races aren’t so different.”
On the far side of the room, I saw the dirt wall quiver as if made of liquid, and it shimmered a phosphorescent green. Elmo walked over and held up his right hand to lay it flat against the surface. The green veil. The plane of faery.
I gasped and Aydin shot me a look, the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. “It’s okay. Watch.”
I shook my head and took a swallow of espresso, the bitter taste flooding my mouth. “He’s using his sigil to open the veil. That’s the mark of a dark magician. A sorcerer.”
Aydin held out his right palm and there in the center was the brand of a sigil, a symbol of his will. The ropey scar was shaped like two intertwined serpents and it had a series of dashes circling them like stitches. “Neither of us is a sorcerer. Like Elmo, my will is branded into my flesh so that I can open this veil whenever I want. Someone on the other side is asking permission to cross over, and Elmo is giving it to them.”
I cringed at what might be on the other side and inhaled deeply to calm my nerves. “I’ve seen Gavin do the same thing when he opens the black veil, except he cuts a new symbol into his skin each time. His hands are covered with scars. I thought you needed blood to work the spell.”
“Only the black veil requires blood
from the spell caster.”
Okay, so maybe sigils weren’t associated with only the dark arts. That was comforting to know. I watched the wall soften, its liquid surface wavering like a disturbed pool, and then two people walked through. As soon as their feet touched the floor inside the shop, the wall turned solid behind them. A small, blue-furred creature crouched on one of their shoulders.
“Hey,” Aydin said, a smile brightening his face. “It’s Toby and Myra. And they brought Ling Ling along.” He stood and waved at them to come over.
When the little animal caught sight of Aydin, it stood up on its hind legs and fluttered tiny blue arms as if excited. It wore a rainbow-colored beaded collar, and its master, the woman who I assumed was Myra, tugged on its leash to keep it still. But the creature sprouted wings and leapt into the air, pulling the leash away with it.
Aydin laughed and flapped his hands, encouraging it to fly to him. The woman rushed to catch up.
A miniature gargoyle? No. It was way too cute for that, and the wings were feathered, not webbed. It landed on Aydin’s outstretched arm and began to chitter like a monkey. The wings vanished and its face suddenly looked more feline, yet the legs and tail were too long for a cat.
“Chalice, this is Ling Ling.” Aydin moved his arm closer to me, the creature still attached.
I jumped to my feet and took a cautious step backward.
Aydin chuckled. “She doesn’t bite.”
I looked for teeth but didn’t see any. “What is it?”
“A Jakkaryl.” He petted the creature’s head and it began to purr. “Sort of a fey version of a chameleon, only it changes shape instead of color. Want to pet her?”
Heart thudding like a wild thing, I reached out to touch the animal’s head. She nuzzled against my fingers. How sweet.
“Sorry,” Myra said when she arrived at our table. “Ling Ling is usually so well behaved, but she’s just crazy about Aydin.”
I could see that.
“I’m Myra, by the way.” To my relief, she nodded instead of offering me her hand. “The slow poke behind me is my husband, Toby.”
