Chapter 1 Tempted by the Djinn #2
I look up from my book and glance at the door. “That was interesting,” I mutter to myself.
The air is still a little warm, and there is a faint scent of cedar lingering in the room. I sigh, tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, and go back to my reading. I have three more chapters to finish before my shift ends, and I don’t plan on letting a well-dressed monster ruin my afternoon.
The next morning, I follow my routine exactly. I wake up at five, drink a glass of water, and walk to the shop. I unlock the door, turn on the lights, and start the espresso machine. The smell of coffee fills the air, and I feel that familiar sense of peace settle over me.
At ten o’clock, the bell rings.
It isn’t the normal bell. It is that clear, vibrating chime. Again.
I don’t even have to look up to know who it is. The temperature in the room rises ten degrees. The shadows on the floor seem to stretch and darken, crawling toward the counter like they’re trying to reach me.
I finish wiping the counter and look up.
Rakan is standing in the exact same spot as yesterday.
He is wearing a different suit. This one is a shimmering charcoal grey that looks like it was woven from smoke.
His gold eyes are fixed on me with an intensity that would make most people’s hearts stop.
He looks like he hasn’t slept, though I doubt beings like him need sleep.
“Back again?” I ask, reaching for a paper cup. “The black coffee wasn’t that good, was it?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. He walks to the counter, his movements slower today, more deliberate. He looks at me as if I were a riddle he is trying to solve. He looks at my glasses, my messy hair, and the way I’m already writing his name on the cup.
“It was… adequate,” he says. His voice is a rumble that makes the spoons in the ceramic jar vibrate.
“Adequate. High praise,” I say, moving to the coffee pot. “Same thing today? Large black?”
“Yes,” he says.
I pour the coffee. I snap the lid on. I set it on the counter.
“Four-fifty,” I say.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another twenty-dollar bill. He doesn’t use the metal card this time. He lays the bill flat on the mahogany, his eyes never leaving mine.
“You are still here,” he says. It sounds like a statement of fact, but there is a hint of wonder in it.
“I work here, Rakan. I’ll be here until four,” I say. I take the money and give him his change, fifteen dollars and fifty cents. I hold it out to him, but he refuses it.
“Keep it,” he says. “I have no use for paper.”
He picks up his coffee, but he doesn’t leave. He leans against the counter, his massive frame making the heavy mahogany look like dollhouse furniture. “Tell me, Iris. Is there something that you wish?”
I lean back, crossing my arms over my chest. “To finish my book, maybe? Though Mary said last week that I should be a little friendlier. So maybe… that.”
He tilts his head. One of his obsidian horns catches the light from the window. “She’s not wrong. I have ended empires for less than the tone you are using with me.”
“Well, this isn’t an empire. It’s a small business,” I say. “And honestly, I’ve had a very long week. If you’re going to do something ancient and terrible, could you do it after my shift? I’d hate to have to clean up the mess before I go home.”
Rakan stares at me. A small, flickering flame appears at the corner of his mouth, then vanishes. He doesn’t look angry. He looks… fascinated. It is the expression of a man who has seen everything in the world and has suddenly found a door he can’t open.
“You are a strange creature,” he says.
“I’m just a barista,” I reply. “And you’re blocking the line.”
There is no one behind him. The shop is empty except for us. He knows this, and I know this, but I say it anyway.
He looks around the empty shop, then back at me. A very small, very sharp smile touches his dark lips. It is the first time I’ve seen him look almost human. Almost.
“Until tomorrow, Iris,” he says.
He turns and walks out. The bell rings, the air cools, and the shadows return to their normal places.
I stand there for a moment, looking at the door. My heart is beating a little faster than usual, but only a little. I pick up my book, but I don’t start reading. I can't stop thinking about the name I wrote on the cup he just took.
Rakan.
I have a feeling my routine is about to get a lot less predictable. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I like my quiet life. I like my books and my dying ivy. But as I look at the empty space where he was standing, the shop feels a little too quiet now. A little too cold.
I shake my head and open my book. I have a degree to finish. I have rent to pay. And apparently, I have an ancient monster to serve coffee to.
I can handle that. I think.