The hard edges of his face seemed to soften, and his lips parted. Forthcoming words died in his mouth as a ruckus broke out on the other side of the diner. I half stood, hand braced on the table, trying to peer past the heads of other folks who’d just started to stand. Phin shifted around in the booth, as curious as me.
“Get that talk on out of here,” Belle shouted, her voice ringing loudly over the buzz of hushed conversation and crackle of the flattop. “No one’s interested.”
“That why they’ve been hanging on my every word?” a male voice asked. Husky and thick. Couldn’t see him. “Because they’re not interested?”
“If they want to listen, let them listen outside,” Belle replied.
Someone moved and I finally spotted Belle, poised next to the counter, both hands on her hips. The target of her ire was still out of my sight, but the upturned angle of her head told me he was taller than her. And not intimidated by the were-cat waitress, if her shifting posture was any indicator.
“You going to kick out one of your own?” the dissenter asked.
Belle nodded. “And enjoy it, too.”
A squat man in a baseball cap got up from his table, leaving behind a woman and two small children and four ice cream sundaes. He turned the cap around backward and sidled up next to Belle, further obscuring my view of the drama. “Trouble here, Belle?” Ball Cap asked.
“We’re just talking,” the problem person said. “When did that become a crime in this city? Do we persecute our own now for supposed crimes? Isn’t that what the Triads are for?”
I bristled. Phin’s hand closed around my left wrist—the only thing that kept me from entering the fray. I focused on the warmth of his skin, the dual strength and softness in his touch, and kept myself grounded. Less likely to fly at someone—him included.
Conversation around the diner all but stopped as heads turned and previously oblivious patrons took notice. Someone nearby growled. The two Bloods at the far end of the counter were the only people ignoring the main event, uninterested in the were—no,
“Look,” Belle said, “I don’t care what you’re selling. This is a business, not a speech platform. Go stump on the sidewalk.”
“I believe I will, now that you’ve assisted me in a restaurant-wide announcement. Anyone who wants to hear more is free to meet me around the corner, by the green bench.”
Folks shifted and stepped aside. A man wearing a black fedora strolled through the path and out the front door, his exit punctuated by the door’s bell. Two teenage boys dropped money on the counter and darted after him, new followers eager to learn from a twisted leader.
I had no love for the Triads, considering how fickle they’d been with me over the last week—putting a kill order out on me without proof of wrongdoing and then suddenly welcoming me with open arms once I proved my innocence. At the end of the day, though, they existed to protect humanity. Right or wrong, they were coming under a coordinated attack. I had to know what Black Hat was up to.
Front door exit was too conspicuous, even though most diners had returned to their meals. Phin released my wrist. I sank back down into the booth, mind whirling. I had to get outside. “How far around the place does this glamour extend?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” Phin replied. “Maybe a foot from the walls. Why?”
Because it meant Black Hat would be giving his sales pitch out in the open, visible to the general public. Any public who happened to walk by. Like me. “I’ll be right back.” I slid to the end of the booth and stood.
“Where are you going?”
“Little girls’ room.”
The look I got said he didn’t believe me. He started to stand as I walked away. Stopped when I did, in fact, head toward the bathroom. I’d caught sight of the “Restroom” sign as we were led to our table, halfway back to the front counter, set down a short corridor. I pushed open the door marked GALS, took note that the other door said GENTS, and slipped inside.
Two stalls, single porcelain sink, paper towels, and pink hand soap. Simple and functional. Now to suck it up and teleport my ass back outside to Phin’s car. Not an easy feat. I couldn’t see if someone was near the car or standing on my intended destination. My stomach clenched at the idea of teleporting into another person.
The bathroom door swung open. I stepped sideways to avoid getting hit. Phin slipped in and pushed the door shut. He leaned against it.
“What the hell, Phin?” I squawked. “You going to watch me pee?”
“No, but I thought I’d go with you.”
“If you have to go, the men’s room is next door.”
“I mean when you go outside and pretend to be an eager acolyte. No offense, Evy, but if the man running the show is Therian or worse, he’s going to smell you as human before you get a word in.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Thanks for your faith in me.”
“It has nothing to do with you. I don’t want you to underestimate the man who was in here recruiting.”
“Underestimating a Dreg is what got me killed the first time. I don’t plan on making that mistake again.” My purposeful use of “Dreg” seemed to roll right off him this time, so focused was he on not letting me go. Like I needed his permission. “Why? Do you have some sort of plan?”
“My people know the name Evy Stone, but they don’t know your new face yet,” Phin said. “Can you play Chalice for a little while?”
I nodded. “Who are you going to play?”
“The wronged Clan Elder who thinks the Triads will do anything to get out of actually turning over one of their own for his proper punishment.”
He said it without a trace of irony. So earnest that, for a brief moment, I just stared at him. And then he smiled, wide enough to light up his eyes, and I relaxed. A little.
“Let me guess,” I said. “I’m the doting girlfriend who will do anything for her amazing Coni lover?”
“Works for me. Let’s go.”
He turned and reached for the handle. I put my palm flat against the door and pressed. He frowned.
“Front door’s too obvious,” I said. “We don’t need to arouse more suspicion by running off before our food’s done.”
“You think Belle won’t notice that we didn’t return from the bathroom?”
“Don’t care.”
“Then what do you suggest? I fly us through the ceiling?”
“Time for you to trust me.”
“Does this have anything to do with your little jump from room to room this morning?”
I’d forgotten that Phin had seen me teleport once, by accident. What was the harm in doing it again? “Yep.”
He tilted his head, nodded. I held out my hands, palms down. He took them loosely. Tightened his grip when I tightened mine.
“This is going to feel weird,” I said.
I closed my eyes. I had no idea if he mimicked me or not. The gentle hum of the Break rose to the surface quickly, leaping to the forefront almost without thought. I grasped at those tendrils of power and then dug deep for familiar feelings of loneliness—my emotional tap into the Break. Thought of almost losing Wyatt (again) that morning, of how he wasn’t fighting by my side as he should be. Of working against the Triads while pretending to be with them—the closest thing I’d ever had to family.
My world buzzed and snapped. Everything seemed to melt away in a phosphorescent cloud, and we floated. The strength of Phin’s hands held tight. Sharp pain speared my abdomen, rushed through my guts, down my spine to my toes. Back up to my head, throbbing and pulsing, as we teleported through solid objects. I wanted to shriek but had no voice.
Through the pain, I pushed. Focused on the car and the sidewalk. Felt my feet once again on a solid surface. Blood leaked from my nose, down to my upper lip. Everything tilted. Strong arms wrapped around my waist, and I fell against Phin’s chest. Heard his heart thundering. My head ached; I panted for air.
“You’re right,” Phin said quietly. “That felt really weird.”
I snorted, earning another sharp stab behind my eyes. “Told you.”
“Do you need to sit?”
