Page 82 of Soulbound Shadows: Part 2

“I’m sure it does, babe.”

The bill he was proposing was going to go through with or without color-coding. I’d helped him practice the speech enough to know it was going to be all him.

The new council was Gabriel’s work, although if anyone framed it like that he would be quick to say it had been a group effort. The days of each group having their own government was past. The council brought them all together, each group getting an equal say in the future of the city. Democracy suited Gabriel better than nobility had—ordering people around made him nervous—but he had an amazing mix of charisma and willingness to provide enough data that people would do what he wanted either to make him happy or to make him go away.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” I told him. “You’re gonna get the bill through, no problem. Sal’s in your corner, and you know she’s good at getting the stragglers in line.”

Big Sal had been splitting her time between running her diner and representing the werewolves of the city, and she excelled at both.

“I can always find something to worry about, Evangeline,” Gabriel said drily. He glanced at the clock on the bedside table and winced. “I should go. I don’t want to be late.” He kissed me again, lingering this time, and I smiled into it. “I love you,” he murmured when he pulled back.

“I love you, too,” I told him. “I’ll see you for congrats-on-the-bill celebration dinner at Les Frères Heureux tonight.”

“Or condolences dinner, depending on how the day goes,” he quipped, heading for the door.

“Celebration!” I called back as he left, and I could feel his amusement as he moved through the manor.

There had been some talk of moving into the citadel after everything that had happened, and Gabriel had shot it down immediately. He didn’t want to carry on that place’s legacy. Now, the parts of the huge, looming building where his parents had lived was divided into resource offices and affordable housing.

Instead, we had moved back to Gabriel’s manor, which was positioned pretty much equally between his work and mine.

Speaking of…

I drained the last of my coffee. Time to go.

It was getting to that time of spring where it was impossible to ignore summer sneaking in behind it. School had just let out for the semester, and soon the parks around town would be flooded with shrieking kids. The streets were busy, and I had to skirt a couple new food trucks on my way to work.

Chanel’s front door was freshly painted, and her brickwork seemed less grubby every time I saw the place. I patted her wall in greeting as I headed up the stairs, walking past my private investigator office and going to what had once been my apartment.

The door swung open for me, revealing the cheerfully cluttered classroom inside. There were still the bookcases and squishy armchairs and sofas, but now there were also long tables with chairs on one side. The wall where I used to put up my murder board now sported a large chalkboard. The kitchen looked like more of a lab, with burn-proof counters, and a cluster of Bunsen burners stored by the sink.

Isabella was already there, sitting cross-legged on one of the tables. She’d been frowning down at a binder when I came in but perked up when she saw me.

“I had some thoughts about the lesson plan,” she said.

“Good morning,” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, yeah, good morning, how are you, tons of polite stuff. Why are you only introducing them to runic magic in week four?” She rummaged in a bag on the table next to her and tossed me a bundle wrapped in greasy paper.

I caught it one-handed and unwrapped the breakfast sandwich. I bit into it with a moan. “I’m doing the runic magic week four so they don’t use it as a shortcut early on,” I said around a mouthful of bagel and sausage.

“Yeah, but it’s insane to start on potions before runes,” she argued. “I mean, just think about all the stuff you can do with runes to help with potions! It’s about building up the basics first.”

“I guess we could move some of the herbalism stuff around,” I offered. “Do some basic runes earlier on.”

Planning the beginner magic classes was tricky. The more advanced my students were, the easier it was to tailor the classes to their interests and strengths, but teaching fundamentals was harder. I’d been running classes for a few months now, and I still hadn’t gotten the hang of it.

I still took on cases—I was good at them, and I enjoyed them—but I was more selective now. No more hauntings, no more tracking cheating spouses. The magic lessons had started out of necessity. A lot of the people who’d regained their magic after Morgana’s defeat had been disconnected from it for a long time. I’d helped them ease back into it and taught them how to do simple things that would make the magic feel more their own. Somehow it had spiraled, and now I was teaching three advanced courses a week, offering tutoring, and starting another beginner class.

Isabella had stepped in and helped, which had been amazing. She was a great teacher, especially with the younger kids, who were entranced by her spiked clothes and big boots.

“I don’t know why you’re even getting them started on artifact creation,” she said. “Imagine how many of them are gonna do half-baked charms on their fucking dolls and shit. Imaging a bunch of badly enchanted dolls running around. Do you want to deal with that? Because I don’t.”

“Okay, you might have a point,” I admitted.

“Are we early?” Marcus asked from the doorway. He’d apparently decided to celebrate the warm weather by unzipping his cargo pants into cargo shorts. He was holding the hand of a small, redheaded girl. Xarek was next to him, with an identical girl perched on his shoulder. He had to crouch down to get into the room without bonking her head against the doorframe, and she squealed and grabbed onto his ears for safety. Strapped to his chest was a Baby Bjorn, with a tiny dandelion puff of red hair sticking out of the top.

“The girls were eager for their lessons,” Marcus said, twinkling down at the one whose hand he was holding. “We delayed them with chocolate croissants for as long as we could, but…”

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