“I didn’t kill him.” He paused and I knew, as strong as blood magic Truth, that he was not lying to me. “I don’t know who did yet. When I find out, I’ll tell you.”
He did not step back, did not let go of my hand, and the contact, of another human being, of flesh and heat and comfort, was enough to bring the tight, tearful feeling back in my chest.
I knew I should pull away, but I didn’t want to.
“You were with him after I left,” I said, so softly it was almost a whisper.
“I know. And I’m sorry.”
My heart beat so hard I thought maybe he could hear it. “Me too,” I said, even though I wasn’t sure if I was sorry I’d accused him, or sorry my father was dead.
Gone.
I took a deep breath and cleared my throat. “So you don’t think it was just a heart attack?”
“No. They would have mentioned that in the paper.”
“Do you think magic was involved?”
He looked down at his shoe, but still held my hand. “Maybe. How much do you really know about your father’s business? His past?”
“Not much. When I was a kid, I didn’t pay any attention to those things. Then when I was older . . . well, he never sat down with me over coffee to share secrets either.”
Zayvion’s eyes were soft with compassion. Neither of us said any more. I guess we didn’t have to. He squeezed my hand one more time and then let go. The sudden absence of him was cold and sharp. I didn’t want him to go—to go away too.
Wow. I was a mess. But a thought occurred to me.
“Don’t you have a cell phone?”
Zay shook his head.
“But I thought you called that ambulance for Boy.”
“I did. From the bar down the street.”
I stuffed my hand in Zayvion’s coat pocket. “You have something against cell phones?”
“No. They just break when I use them.”
I walked up the two wooden stairs to Mama’s restaurant. I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “Break?”
“Must be my magnetic personality.” He smiled, and I knew it was an act.
“Don’t do that,” I said.
“What?”
“Lie like that.”
Zayvion held very still. He looked surprised, then thoughtful. “I’m sorry,” he said, and that I knew he really meant. The calm Zay, the Zen-Zay came back.
“I don’t care why you don’t have a cell,” I said. “I don’t have one either.”
“Why is that?”
“Can’t afford the bill.” Huh. That sounded kind of weird coming from a woman who was about to inherit a fortune. I needed to change the subject before my mind went running down a thousand different what-ifs again. “You’re not following me around, are you?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Now I am. You have my coat.”
I rolled my eyes and pulled open the door to Mama’s.
Boy was behind the counter, and I got to thinking that, except for really early this morning, I’d never seen him away from his post. This time he wasn’t drying cups, he was reading a paper.
Great.
The thick smell of onions and olive oil and garlic got through my stuffy nose and did some work clearing my sinuses.
I walked into the restaurant, noted two men at a table to my right, and a woman—not Bonnie—at a table to my left. They didn’t glance my way as I walked in, so I didn’t spend any more time looking at them.
Boy looked up though. Looked up, and looked shocked.
The question was, why? Because I was walking in, or because Zayvion was walking in behind me?
“Morning, Boy,” Zayvion said. “I’ll have a coffee. Two?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “I just need to use the phone. Is that okay?”
Boy scowled at Zayvion and didn’t answer.
I was at the counter now, in front and to one side of Boy so I had a good view of half the room. Zayvion was directly in front of Boy, holding out a dollar like he was daring Boy to take it and get the coffee he hadn’t bothered to pour yet. Something was wrong. Boy smelled like fear, and his breathing was a little too fast.
“Where’s Mama?” I asked more quietly.
Mama came out of the kitchen, right on cue. If I didn’t know how much she hated technology of every kind, I’d say there was a hidden surveillance system set up. She looked like she was in a rush, her hair pulling free from a clip, her apron stained with flour and grease.
“I told you to go away,” Mama said as she hurried behind Boy. She pointed at me. “You. Out.” Then she pointed at Zayvion. “And
She was breathing too hard too. She looked worried, maybe afraid. I’d never seen her afraid. Not even when Boy lay dying on her countertop.
“I just need to use your phone,” I said. “I can pay.”
“No.”
I leaned forward, lowered my voice so the patrons wouldn’t hear. “I need to call the police, Mama. Someone’s trying to kill me.”
She pulled herself up, put on a regal poise. “You leave. Now.”
“Why?” I seemed to be asking a lot of that lately. “I just need to make one phone call.”
“No public phone.” She pointed at the door behind me.
I glanced over at Zayvion. He had put the dollar away, which was probably smart because Boy didn’t look like he was pouring coffee for maybe the next century or so. He had gone back to reading the paper and glancing off toward the stairs at the back of the room.
“Are you in trouble?” I asked Mama.
She scowled.
And then the other Boy, James, Mr. City Slick, Mr. Magic-and-Danger-in-the-Night, Mr. Reptile, slunk out of the door from the stairwell.
A couple of things happened at once. Boy stiffened. Mama’s mouth dropped open, then snapped closed. Zayvion became so quiet and calm he might as well be a potted plant. James-the-slimy paused, licked his lips, and stared straight at me with a look of sheer terror, then a gleefulness that was frightening. I know ’cause I was staring right back at him and wishing, right that moment, that I was maybe anywhere else.
“Hello there,” James practically purred. “How nice of you to come back again. May we help you?”
Mama was quick on her feet. She glanced up at me, her eyes too wide. Then she turned on James like a five- foot hurricane.
“They leave. They leave now. You go do dishes. Dishes!”
James crossed the room, a static smile on his face. “Of course, Mama. I was making sure our guests—” Here he looked from me to Zayvion. And a strange thing happened. His smile drained away and his face became blank, then worried.
“Yes?” Zayvion prompted. “Your guests?”
“Of course, guests,” James picked up smoothly. “That our guests wouldn’t perhaps like a table? Some breakfast?”
“No,” Zayvion said. “We didn’t come here for the food.”
I knew the dynamics had just suddenly shifted. James was on the defensive instead of the prowl, and Zayvion was looking more like a man who had authority, maybe even power, instead of a homeless drifter.
Sweet hells, I was going to need a scorecard to keep up with this man.
James, however, seemed to know Zayvion, seemed to know Zayvion had the upper hand, and didn’t like it. “Why else come by our fine establishment if not for Mama’s cooking?” James asked.
