I reached for some soap, lathering the orange bar into his skin.
“Mmm, feels good,” he said.
I went to every corner, lingering in the places that made his breath catch.
“I love you,” he whispered, then kissed me once again.
Two hours later, we were tangled up in bed in the dark, naked after our lovemaking. I was stroking his face as my body basked in the afterglow. My flesh still tingled from the touch of his lips and hands, from the way our bodies had writhed and pounded together, from the delicious friction of him inside me.
I was sleepy but not quite ready to drift away yet.
“Will you be okay seeing Mila on your own?”
“Yes.” He ran a finger over my jaw.
I yawned. “Bed is good.”
“I know, baby. Sleep now.”
“Not yet.”
“Why not.”
I didn’t actually know why I was fighting the fatigue. “‘Cos this is nice.”
“It is, but so is sleep.”
“I like cuddles.” I snuggled closer to him, getting into the crook of his neck. “Cuddles.”
Man, the tides of sleep were really pulling at me.
Dean stroked my back. “Sleep, Jake. Just sleep.”
My battle was lost. I drifted away, the warmth and the unity of our flesh beautiful weapons to defeat me.
Four
Dean
Kissing Jake and Louise goodbye, I left them to their blueberry pancakes and headed off into the Thursday morning to deliver the luck stone to Mila Roos. She lived in a fancy apartment in Spui—not too far from my house and, conveniently, on my way to work.
It was a sunny morning, seriously cold, but fresh and pretty. The frost in the trees along the canal was sprayed-on diamonds, sparkling in the sunlight. A purple pod had sprung up on the bridge I was crossing, some red warning tape indicating a pod put up to alert passers-by. Someone was being helpful. It was useless to do much when it came to pods. If the pod was covered over, it’d probably mutate whatever was covering it. If people were stupid enough, with the knowledge that they had, to mess around with pods, that was their problem.
It was kind of tragic, really.
I reached Mila’s home, hitting her buzzer.
“Wie is het?” she asked.
“It’s Dean.”
“Ah.” She buzzed me in.
Mila, in a mint green and gold sari, her black and gray hair piled on top of her head, greeted me at the top of the steep stairs.
“Goedemorgen,” I said.
“Hoe gaat het?” she asked. We air-kissed. She smelled of roses.
“I’m good, dank u. Yourself?”
“Happy to see your face. Please, come inside.”
She headed into her apartment, the golden bangles at her wrists jangling as she led the way. Her invisible security wards tickled my face as I passed through. I was friend, not foe, a welcomed guest.
Mila was of Indian heritage and had lived in Amsterdam most of her sixty years. She was also a powerful alchemist with a home filled with all sorts of magical artifacts and potions.
The white walls were barely visible under the shelves that ran from end to end on every space, right to the top, and all the way to the bottom. Including the bathroom. Everything was behind glass, locked away, and there were a few free-standing, glass cabinets in her living room.
Sonny had come to see Mila under the guise of wanting something for an STD. Mila had a cure for most things. Instead, he’d worked one of her locks while she was out of the room and swiped the luck stone.
I stood by one of her gold sofas. On the mahogany coffee table was an open book of alchemy. Her spectacles were resting in the center of the pages.
“Would you like some coffee?” she asked. “I’ve just brewed a pot.”
“No, thanks, I need to get to the office.”
“Very well. How is Jake after bumping his head?”
“He’s fine. Nothing to worry about.”
“Good.”
I removed the stone, wrapped in purple velvet, from my coat pocket, and handed it over.
“Thank you so much for getting this back from that wretched creature.” Her hand closed around it, her gold-painted nails forming a deadly-sharp barrier. “If I see his face here again, I shall melt it from his skull.”
Nice. “Maybe a little extreme?”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a coffee? I can make it to go. I have flavored it with vanilla.”
“Ah, you’ve twisted my arm. That would be great.”
It was only a few minutes before she returned with a paper cup.
“Here you go.”
I took the coffee. “This smells amazing.”
“I know.” She stretched her arms, bangles sliding down to her elbows. “The least I can do for your help.”
“No problem.”
“Would you like money or potions?”
“I’ll check our stock later.” When it came to Mila, we preferred to be paid in potions rather than money.
“Fine. Just email me the invoice.”
“I will.”
“Enjoy that coffee,” she added. “Have a wonderful working day.”
No lingering around here, then. The wind had changed, so to speak. She’d obviously seen enough of my face. Sometimes, she had all the time in the world for you. Sometimes not. It didn’t matter. She was an ally who kept us in supply of potions, wards, and knowledge. Her loftiness sat comfortably with me. The less time I had to spend in this stuffy apartment, the better. It was always too close, the treasures menacing in my eyes. Some of those things could do pretty wicked things in the wrong hands.
“I have a busy morning planned,” she said.
“Of course.”
“I need to add more security wards in light of these recent events.”
“Good idea.”
Mila ushered me to the door, holding it open. “Give my love to your family.”
“Will do. Thanks.”
“A pleasure doing business with you.”
She gently closed the white door on me.
I took a sip of the coffee, it was heaven, and headed back down to the stairs to the street.
The offices of Jake & Dean Investigations were on the top two floors of a narrow building on Oudezijds Achterburgwal, in an area known as De Wallen—the red-light district. The bottom floor was a red window, mostly occupied by our
