Ezra was particular about maintaining the peace in his spaces. I still remembered the meeting with Ken in the deli’s basement. The amount of power Ezra commanded staggered the imagination. Aside from the incredible amount of runic defenses in place, he was able to shut everything down with barely any visible effort.
Not something I wanted to go through again.
The energy of the deli shifted slightly when we entered. By now, most of the customers were used to seeing Peaches and me come in. The pause was caused by Jessikah, or rather what she represented.
It was a barely discernible hiccup in the ambient energy of the deli, almost as if the entire place just held its collective breath. It was subtle, but I sensed it. Paying attention to fluctuations like that had saved my life on more than one occasion, especially after meeting Monty.
I looked in the corner, saw Ezra poring over a book, and started moving in his direction. Several sets of eyes were fixed on Jessikah as we crossed the floor. It wasn’t until they saw where we were headed did that they began to look away.
Some of the observers kept their gazes on us indirectly, using the reflective surfaces situated around the interior. I was aware of the tactic, using it often myself. Knowing about it didn’t mean I was at ease. Some of the eyes belonged to heavy-hitters with angry expressions focused on Jessikah. It was one of those hatred-by-association situations. I doubted any of them knew Jessikah personally, but I was certain they knew of the Black Orchid.
“Have they never seen a member of the Black Orchid?” Jessikah said under her breath, as we made our way to Ezra’s table. “I’m not here to accost them.”
“I think the stares are because they have seen the Black Orchid in action before,” I said, focusing on Ezra. “Just keep moving. No one would dare oppose Ezra in this place…or any other, I would imagine.”
She gave me a brief nod and kept walking.
Ezra was sitting at his usual table. I looked around but didn’t see Mori. She must’ve been in the back, or out on whatever business it was she was responsible for when Ezra was in the deli. I made a mental note to ask Ezra what Death’s PA did when she was out. Did she scout out the potential deceased? Look out for hot spots? Hang around cemeteries? It was a puzzle. If Monty were here, I’d have asked him.
Ezra, as was his custom, had an enormous book on the table before him. The seats around him were empty. He wore his usual pair of half-moon glasses, and peered at me over the lenses for a few seconds, before slowly closing the book. He beckoned to us with a hand, and then pointed to the chairs.
Ezra was dressed in his regular white shirt, with black vest and pants, and his rune-covered yarmulke, which gave off a faint violet glow. I glanced down at the tome; it was easily a foot thick, which placed it squarely in tome territory. To my surprise, the title was legible. It read: Ziller’s Principles on Advanced Paradoxes and Entanglements of Interstitial Dimensions. Looked like he was doing some light reading.
It was easy to confuse Ezra with an elderly scholar, or a professor of some kind, and not the personification of Death—until he let you feel a minuscule amount of his massive, fear-inducing energy signature.
He was releasing some of that energy right now, probably in response to Jessikah’s arrival and the reception she received. It was basically a subtle, Back off or I will completely obliterate you, message of warning. The deli exhaled and went back to its normal flow of energy after that.
No one challenged Ezra for long…and lived.
Once we were closer, he motioned for one of the many servers crisscrossing the tables.
“Come, sit,” he said, “It’s almost time for lunch.”
“Ezra, it’s still morning,” I said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. “We can eat—”
“A healthy pastrami on rye for you,” Ezra said, cutting me off, “and a special salad for you, miss.”
“Thank you,” Jessikah said. “I’m not really that hungry.”
“But you will eat,” Ezra answered. “Then we talk.”
“Right,” I said. “The usual.”
“Correct,” Ezra answered, pushing up his glasses. “Now, let me look at you. You’re wasting away. Are you eating? How was Kali?”
I had stopped being surprised by his questions long ago. Ezra just seemed to know things without having to be told. I guess that was one of the perks of being Death.
“Kali was extra grumpy,” I said. “Not very helpful.”
“She’s always been a bit cranky,” Ezra admitted. “I keep telling her to get out more.”
“She smashed me into a stone wall and nearly disintegrated me,” I said. “It wasn’t pleasant.”
“I’m certain you deserved it,” Ezra answered. “She’s not impetuous. At the very least, you’re still here to tell the tale. She must have been in a good mood.”
“My energy signature…”
“Is all jumbled,” Ezra finished, shaking a hand in the air. “No one can fix that but you, Simon. You know this. Stop looking for help outside when it’s inside.”
“I understand, but…”
“But nothing,” Ezra continued, staring at me. “You must deal with this, or it will deal with you.”
“That would be great if I knew what ‘this’ was,” I said. “As it stands, I’m still looking…”
“Simon,” Ezra said, “you have everything you need. Think inside the box.”
“That’s the second time I’ve heard that.”
“Then maybe you should pay attention, eh?”
“Sorry. Where are my manners? Ezra,” I said, looking at a slightly stunned Jessikah. “This is—”
“Jessikah Onuris, Farsight Mage and a Daughter of Bast,” Ezra finished, with a slight nod. “Welcome. You must forgive Simon. His mind is otherwise preoccupied.”
Jessikah sat with a perplexed expression.
“How did you…?” she asked, then looked at me.
