Demon Boy lifted the bottle a third time. With champagne bubbles dancing across the surface of my cup, I looked into his eyes. The flames from the candles reflected alongside the solar flares at his irises. Thick, rose-gold hoops glinted at each of his earlobes. The same metal tipped the ends of his horns and adorned piercings in other parts of his glorious body.
“To the Sisters Brodeur,” he said, “and their new business venture.”
I choked. Alderose spit her champagne across the table.
Beryl pursed her perfectly outlined, burnt-orange lips. “Excuse me?” she said, making a show of sipping, swallowing, and placing her cup on the table. “I don’t recall the three of us signing a business agreement today. We’ve already talked this through and decided to close the doors to the shop for good, Kostya. We’re selling everything we don’t want and then we’re going our separate ways to resume our separate lives. The future of the building is up to our father to decide.”
Beryl dismissed the possibility of other options with a wave of her hand.
Kostya leaned sideways into the armchair, tucking the champagne bottle between his thighs. He kept one hand on the neck of the bottle and rubbed his thumb around the rim of the thick, green glass.
The man had a well-equipped lap. And the only thing I’d mounted lately were the footstools at the base of portal trees, placed there for shorter individuals like myself. At five feet four, I often needed a boost in order to access the Magical world’s time-saving system of transportation.
I flared my nostrils and inhaled sharply. I could see where my imagination was headed. My body would follow if I didn’t corral my thoughts and stay focused on the task at hand. “I’m going to see if Mom left any plates in the bathroom closet. Don’t say anything important until I get back.”
The short walk to the rear of the shop cooled my cheeks and settled the sparks of arousal set off by Kostya’s presence. I counted out four saucers and four forks, washed them in the sink, and then tucked a roll of paper towels under my arm. At the table, my sisters were quietly sipping the last of the first bottle of champagne, and Kostya was opening the second. I doled out the plates and utensils and lifted the lids on the pizza boxes.
My belly grumbled at the smell of wood-fired crust, melted cheese, and fresh herbs.
“Eat first, talk after?” I asked. My sisters nodded in unison. Kostya declined the pizza and refilled our cups. His massive hands dwarfed the dainty porcelain, and the creases in his forehead belied his flirtatious exterior. I nudged one of his booted feet. It was like kicking a marble statue. “Why don’t you fill us in on your investigative escapades? Caught any interesting cases lately?”
“How long has it been since any of you were in Northampton?” he asked, dodging my question.
“Seven years for me,” I said. “I bugged out after Mom’s memorial service.” After living in the same town for twenty-one years I was ripe for adventures. When I graduated college, I had a capital-P Plan. Being a witch and having a dual major in World Literature and Spanish, I was going to travel from country to country, library to library, in search of references to early systems of magic. I started my travels by visiting my maternal grandparents in México.
“I pass through regularly for work.” Alderose wiped the corners of her mouth and reached for another slice of pizza. “And occasionally for sword training at one of my teachers’ dojos.”
“I’ve come back every summer around the anniversary of Mom’s death,” said Beryl. “But you know that, Kostya.” She slipped off her stool enough that she could offer him her mouth.
“I have enjoyed our reunions every time.” Demon Boy’s pupils enlarged, and I might have drooled watching the way he lovingly cupped my sister’s jaw before kissing her. I should have been grilling Alderose about who she was training with and why she’d reneged on her long-ago promise to teach me the rudiments of handling swords and daggers. Where Beryl was gifted with spell work, Alderose was born to wield weapons. I was adept at neither.
Instead of delving into the whys behind my oldest sister’s lack of follow-through, I elbowed Beryl. “You’ve been banging Demon Boy?”
She nodded, pleased. “At least once a year, whether I needed it or not.”
Kostya’s pupils returned to normal. He adjusted the front of his strategically ripped jeans and leaned forward. “‘Demon Boy’?”
“Would you prefer Demon Man?” Alderose asked, reaching to caress the side of his throat and run her thumb over his lips.
“I prefer Kostya.” He wrapped his fingers around Alderose’s wrist and kissed her palm.
Okay, enough of this lovefest. “We’re getting sidetracked. Kostya, what are you doing here?”
The demon took hold of Alderose’s wrist again, turning his hand until their fingers intertwined. He reached to his right and did the same with Beryl. She grabbed my hand. Sensing the incoming drop of a truth bomb, I reached across the table for Alderose.
Kostya leaned in and lowered his voice. “How much do you know about this shop and your mother’s magical gifts?”
Beryl shrugged. “She was a witch who could do amazing things with fabrics and yarns and threads and stuff?” Our mother created accessories, like gloves and handbags. She could knit and crochet faster than any of the customers that gathered regularly in the cluster of chairs at the front of the store, their needles clacking and jaws flapping for hours on end.
We let go of each other’s hands at the same time. Kostya turned slightly, reached into an inner pocket of his leather jacket, and tossed a slim billfold onto the table.
“Hoping to get lucky?” I joked. He arched one eyebrow and showed us the badge and the official-looking identification card tucked inside the brown case.
“Your mother’s primary
