Chapter 4
Sage and Starlight wasn’t hard to find. The streets were predictably clogged, so the closest parking space Charlee could wedge her car into was over a block away.
“I hate this city,” she complained, slamming her door shut and giving the cars around them a filthy look. It’d taken her four tries to parallel park before she’d gotten close enough to the curb.
Miles had a bit of a love-hate relationship with Seattle.
Driving here sucked—the traffic was awful, one-way streets appeared without warning like jump scares, and the drivers were a special kind of rude—but the city captivated him.
The sensation of being surrounded by massive skyscrapers, of bustle and noise sweeping around him should’ve spiked his anxiety, but instead, it made him feel comfortingly invisible.
“I love it,” Emily declared as they hurried across the street. Cars honked at them, even though the crosswalk was green. “It’s at least ten times the size of Thistle.”
“Bigger doesn’t mean better,” Charlee countered sourly. “It means more people, more noise, more garbage…”
Miles let their back-and-forth fade as they made their way down the block, focusing on steady, grounding breaths.
Apprehension twisted low in his abdomen at what might be waiting for them.
Feats of daring and white-knight moments usually required more bravery than he had on hand; it was taking everything in him to put one foot in front of the other.
It helped that a big part of him was pissed off that some random lady he’d never met had kidnapped his kindamaybe boyfriend and destroyed his life for the last few days.
Charlee touched his elbow. “Stop scaring yourself. Gabriel’s going to be fine.”
“How can you know for sure?”
“Because I’m a rational adult.” She sidestepped a pile of mysterious city-goo on the sidewalk. “We get in, find Gabriel, and get out. Easy as that.”
If Miles had learned one hard lesson recently, it was that things were never that easy.
Sage and Starlight sat sandwiched between a little Vietnamese restaurant and a yoga studio, the sign bright purple and gold against black.
Colorfully patterned curtains were tied back from the front windows to show off displays of propped-up books—generic titles about witchcraft, astrology, and self-care—surrounded by candles, crystals, and little brass figurines.
Beyond them, Miles could make out shelves of jarred herbs and a collection of various altar bowls.
He carefully avoided his own reflection in the glass, not wanting to see Gabriel. The cherry on top of getting him back would be that Miles could stop feeling like a vampire, dodging every reflective surface he passed.
“Huh.” Charlee took in the shop. “It doesn’t look like an evil lair.”
It looked like the kind of place where the girls from school who never stopped talking about horoscopes would hang out.
Emily nodded solemnly. “I know, it’s diabolical. Think how many unsuspecting people they lure in.”
They lingered for a minute—the message hadn’t included any instructions for once they got here. No one was waiting for them. There were no clear signs of what to do next.
“Looks like we’re going in.” Miles’s hands were shaking, so he fisted them at his sides. “We stick to the plan. Find Gabriel if we can, but first sign of trouble, we get out, okay?”
He’d made Charlee promise: no fighting unless they had no choice.
If they walked in ready for one, he had an awful suspicion they’d manifest it.
Charlee’s and Emily’s safety had to be the priority.
This shop was dealing in dark magic and artifacts, which meant a lot of potential risks.
He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if either of them got hurt.
Miles opened the door, a cheerful bell jingling overhead. The second he crossed the threshold, multiple dark auras reached out, poking him, nipping at his mind. Beside him, Emily and Charlee shuddered.
“Welcome!” a friendly voice called from the front counter.
The person running the register looked a year or two older than Charlee, with an oval face, warm olive-brown skin, and long, straight hair the color of espresso.
Their black jean jacket was covered in pins and patches, embroidered flowers coming out of the breast pockets.
They grinned brightly at the two women checking out as they scanned items.
They were really committing to this facade of friendliness. Miles might’ve bought it, if he couldn’t feel all the foul auras polluting the air.
Emily and Charlee broke off in different directions, searching the shop.
It wasn’t very big, so it only took a minute to reconvene back by the tarot card display.
Miles had pictured this going differently: Gabriel beaten and tied to a chair with a circle of armed goons around him; another set of instructions written in blood; that they’d be jumped the moment they walked in.
Compared to some of the places Miles had been recently, this was one of the least sinister.
The incense smoking on the front counter made it smell homey and floral.
Everything was neatly organized, if a little cluttered.
In one corner, there was even a squashy armchair with a mosaic lantern hanging overhead, a small sign tacked on the wall that read: “Feel free to sit and read if you’re unsure about a book! ”
Plastic rustled as the cashier handed the two women their bags, chatting about spell jars and whether fresh or dried herbs were better. A completely normal, non-nefarious conversation. Weird.
“I don’t see any sign of Gabriel. Maybe you’re wrong,” Miles whispered to Emily. “Maybe this is just a meeting spot.”
“No way. Even if it was, where’s the person we’re supposed to be meeting?”
She was right—it wasn’t adding up.
“Maybe they didn’t expect us here already.” Emily picked up a box of cat-themed tarot cards and studied the art.
There hadn’t been a time in the message. What if they’d expected Miles to head here later? Or as soon as he’d woken up?
Oh God, what if they’d been waiting here and Miles hadn’t shown? And Gabriel thought he’d abandoned him?
“If we have the element of surprise, we should take it,” Charlee murmured, scanning the store.
“And do what? It’s not like we can just walk up and ask if they’re holding Gabriel hostage in the back.”
Charlee flipped her red curls over her shoulder. “Watch me.”
“Wait—”
She marched to the counter, footsteps muffled by the worn floral rug, leaving Miles to chase after her. The bell tinkled again as the two women left.
“Hey.” The cashier gave Charlee a genuine smile, their silver septum piercing gleaming in the light. This close, Miles could read the name tag pinned on their jacket: NADIA. “You ready to check out?” Their attention shifted down to Charlee’s empty hands. “Or did you have a question?”
“A question.” Charlee pulled a can of pepper spray out of her purse, pointing it directly at the cashier’s face. “Where’s our friend?”
The cashier—Nadia—froze, their hands jumping up.
Emily’s jaw dropped.
“Jesus!” If Miles weren’t so shocked, he might’ve lingered on the fact that Charlee had referred to Gabriel as a friend. “What’re you doing? We agreed, no fighting.”
“I’m not fighting. I’m asking a question.” Charlee shifted her finger to the trigger. Miles could only stand there. “Gabriel Hawthorne. Dark hair, stupid scowl, ugly sweater vests. Where is he?”
Their lips parted. “Gabriel? He’s—yeah, he’s in the back.” They pointed at a plain wooden door behind the counter.
No way was it that simple.
Nadia turned to Miles. “You must be Miles, right? Gabriel’s fine, go see for yourself.”
How did they know his name? Were they the one who’d left the message? They didn’t look like a potential serial killer, but then again, how could you really tell?
He wasn’t stupid enough to go into a backroom by himself. “If he’s fine, call him out.”
Nadia didn’t hesitate. “Gabriel! Can you come here for a sec? Right now?”
Behind the door, something thumped, then it creaked open. “What is it? I told you, I’m—”
Gabriel spotted Miles and stopped dead. His gaze flitted to Emily, to Charlee and her threatening pepper spray, then back. He tried to hide it, but Miles caught a flicker of surprise.
He looked fine. Tired, twin bruised circles under his eyes, his clothes wrinkled like he’d recently woken up from a nap and his white button-up crookedly rolled up to his elbows, but fine. Not tied up, not knocked out, not in any distress.
“We have a little situation,” Nadia told Gabriel pointedly.
Gabriel ignored them, focus locked on Miles. “What are you doing here?”
“I…” Miles swallowed, his dry throat clicking.
Ugly realization was starting to sink in and ouch, it hurt.
“You’ve been missing for days. There was a message written in blood on my bedroom wall telling me to come here and get you.
We thought someone had taken you, that they were threatening you to lure us here. ”
He wasn’t sure why he felt defensive, like he needed to explain himself.
Gabriel shifted his glare to Nadia. “What did you do?”
They winced. “That’s… my bad. I might’ve used the message mirror. That thing is so small, and do you know how much space an address takes up? I had limited word count, but I didn’t realize they’d take my… conciseness as a threat.”
“I have Gabriel, come and get him,” Charlee quoted coldly, but she lowered her pepper spray. “Written in blood. How exactly were we supposed to interpret that?”
“In retrospect, I acknowledge it does sound a little ominous.”
She snorted. “Well, as long as you acknowledge you messed up, I guess all is forgiven. It’s not like we’ve been panicking, thinking Gabriel was being tortured while we were walking into a trap.”
“You said it wasn’t a trap,” Emily piped up.
Charlee’s eyes blazed with green fire. “Of course I did, Miles was two seconds away from a panic attack.”
Awesome. Now everyone knew he was a big baby who had to be lied to.