Page 31 of Dead Wrong

“I suppose so,” I replied, a heat building at the nape of my neck that I tried to ignore. What was it about this man that affected me this way? I couldn’t figure it out.

“We don’t get many Magi through here. I’m glad you enjoy my work,” the barista continued, a smirk curling the edges of his full lips. “Or was there something else that keeps you coming back?”

The malignant heat spread across my face like wildfire. “The coffee,” I replied, my voice wavering.

“Ah, I see.” The barista nodded, sliding a mug across the counter to another patron without taking his eyes off me. “Thought so. Double espresso over ice coming right at you.”

Now that I’d all but been given permission, I watched the man closely as he worked, tamping down the ground coffee and pulling the rich espresso into a glass. While he poured the velvety brown liquid over ice, swirling it gently, he looked up at me once more. “You know, I’m going to be finishing up my shift in about fifteen minutes. If you’re still around, maybe I could join you for a bit?”

“Why would you do that?” I asked, instinctively suspicious of the man’s intentions. What reason would this mortal have to speak with me? Was he being manipulated by another Magi to glean information about Mother?

It wouldn’t be the first time I was targeted to get to her.

“I like to get to know my regulars,” the barista replied, sliding the cup over to me. “Plus, I think you’re cute, and you’ve been staring at me for the last week without asking me out, so I figured you must be shy.”

Shy? I laughed at the ridiculous notion. I was the furthest thing from shy. But still, I found myself nodding at the man, my tongue unable to find the words of agreement.

The barista flashed a smile at me. “Great, I’m looking forward to it.”

Retreating to the café dining room, I found a seat by the window, the reality of the interaction slowly sinking in.

Away from the barista’s gaze, I could finally trust my thoughts again. What had I just agreed to? Why would I waste time sitting in some café in the middle of Mortal Row talking to one of them? Mortals and Magi lived such separate lives. What would we even talk about? It didn’t make sense. None of it did. And yet, there I sat, eagerly awaiting the lapse of fifteen minutes.

It was harmless, I told myself. It’s not like I would actually develop an attachment to someone—especially a mortal. Besides, my role prevented me from ever having that type of relationship. What would a lover think of me gallivanting about, seducing men to assert my family’s influence over them? It was a recipe for disaster. A sure-fire failure in the making.

None of those reasons spurred me to action. I was still seated when the barista approached the table, his apron tossed casually over his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re still here. May I join you?”

“If you’d like,” I replied, determined to keep my cool.

“I’m Bastien,” said the barista, sinking into the chair opposite me.

“Tobias.”

“It’s nice to officially meet you,” said Bastien, his warm golden eyes alight with a sparkle that I did not find distracting in the least. “What brings you to this side of the world, Tobias?”

“My work,” I replied, a calm settling over me as the conversation bloomed.

“Me too,” Bastien said with a grin. “Who would have thought we had so much in common?”

I found myself laughing. And for once, it wasn’t forced or a tool used to distract. It was natural. A subtle tightness in my chest eased as I took a deep, freeing breath.

I could get used to the feeling.

* * *

I fully expected the numbness to linger, so when pain returned in my chest, rousing me to consciousness, I groaned in protest.

Death couldn’t keep its grip on me, it would seem.

A blanket lay over me, itchy and stifling against my clammy skin. I struggled to rid myself of it but quickly discovered that my legs were bound together at the ankle—not tight enough to cause discomfort, but enough that I couldn’t maneuver my way from under the claustrophobic cloth.

“Try not to move too much, Tobi. I don’t want to have to redo the bindings.”

I froze, the blood in my veins turning to ice.

“Lenny?”

The space was dark, just a flicker of a lamp across from where I lay, illuminating a wall of textured fabric and a low ceiling. She moved in the shadows, lithe and silent as the grave. When the light hit her face, casting dark shapes across her features, I finally came face-to-face with my sister.

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