Chapter 5
Gabriel sank down onto the couch, as if yielding to Miles had swept his legs out from underneath him.
In the other room, the shop bell tinkled, and the murmur of voices grew louder. The tension was draining out of Miles, leaving nothing but exhaustion.
Shuffling across the floor, Miles leaned against the faded leather to press against Gabriel’s knee, a silent thank you for believing in him. In them.
He’d barely made contact before Gabriel jerked his leg away. A searing flash of embarrassment raced through Miles. Gabriel was pointedly avoiding Miles’s gaze, expression unreadable.
Gabriel might’ve agreed, but he hadn’t said he was happy about it. Was he being a sore loser, or had Miles overstepped?
A tap on the door interrupted his thoughts and Nadia slipped in. “I made apology tea,” they declared, handing over the twin steaming mugs in their hands. “Did you two kiss and make up?” It was a miracle they could talk without choking on the awkward tension in the room.
Miles didn’t know where to look. “We’re fine,” he mumbled, hoping it was true. The tea smelled comforting, sweet honey and gingery spice. But with the dark auras still surrounding them and Emily’s warning about the shop owner swirling in his mind, he didn’t trust it.
Nadia gave Miles a knowing look, head tilted like a cat about to pounce.
Gabriel set his mug on the table with a thunk.
“Be pissy if you want,” Nadia told him. “But you didn’t warn me about your little horde of murderous friends. One of them threatened me with pepper spray in my own store.” A considering smirk curled at the corner of their mouth. “Though she’s cute, so I can’t be too mad about it.”
Charlee would lose it if she heard that.
Gabriel scoffed under his breath.
It was hard to know what to make of Nadia.
They claimed this was their shop, but that couldn’t be right—they had a patch of Mothman on their jacket that read “Support your local lurkers,” and purple glitter eyeliner.
Not exactly evil incarnate. And there was an easy, confident charm in the way they spoke.
It made Miles want to relax, drink their tea, and trust what they were saying.
That unnerved him more than anything else in this place.
He peered through the cracked door, far enough that he could see Charlee and Emily sitting unharmed at the counter.
Nadia followed his look. “Let’s move this party out front. I closed the store for lunch, so no one will bother us. We’ve got things to chat about.”
Back in the main room, Emily graced Gabriel with a friendly, dimpled smile. “Hi again.”
Charlee’s reception was distinctly less warm. Her expression was one she typically reserved for scuttling bugs and garbage in the street.
“It’s fine,” Miles insisted wearily. He leaned against the counter, leaving room, but Gabriel moved around him and planted himself at the opposite end. “It was… a misunderstanding.”
“Nadia explained what he’s doing here,” Charlee said cooly. “That he panicked and ran off.”
Impressively, Gabriel didn’t cower. “I didn’t panic. Leaving was intentional.”
“Intentionally idiotic. And pointless. And a waste of everyone’s time.”
Squirming in her seat, Emily muttered something about her parents’ divorce.
“Think what you want. Your opinion wasn’t asked for or noted.”
Miles winced.
“We know you were trying to help,” Emily jumped in. Charlee pursed her lips, but let it be. “Nadia told us about your latest death premonition.” She leaned over in her stool to grip Miles’s elbow, Gabriel’s eyes tracking the movement. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” Honestly, he didn’t feel as terrible as he probably should with his death looming over his head, but he was drained.
“We’ll figure it out,” she assured him confidently, then turned back to Gabriel. “We’re all relieved you’re not dead or being held hostage.”
Nadia wheezed. “If anyone was held here against their will, it was me. He’s been a pain in my ass.”
“That’s not what you said once you realized I’d be organizing your storage room for free.”
“There are worse things to be than an opportunist.” They reached under the counter and pulled out a brass-framed hand mirror, extending it to Miles with a sheepish look.
“To prove I didn’t have nefarious intent with that message.
I didn’t have your phone number or address, so I thought this stupid thing would work.
I was aiming for… to the point, not threatening. ”
Against his better judgment, Miles believed them.
“How does it work?”
“It was for communicating, before cell phones were a thing. With a name and enough intention, you can send a message. It’s supposed to appear near them, obvious enough to be noticed. Apparently, the magic decided your wall was best. Sorry about that.”
“And the blood?”
Nadia held up their pointer finger, the tip wrapped in a Band-Aid with little pink stars. “You have to write with your blood, but in my defense, I had no idea it would show up like that on your side. I was picturing more of a… whimsical gold font.” Charlee snorted.
“I’ve never used it before! Lesson learned. Sorry.”
“Hey, accidents happen,” Emily soothed them with an easy shrug. It was a stark difference from her apprehension when they’d first arrived. Clearly, Miles had missed something.
“You mentioned this was your shop,” he prompted.
Nadia slid the mirror back under the counter.
“Yep, I own the place. Inherited it from my grandma Dima when she retired a few months ago. My parents think I’m too young to run a business, so I’m doing my best to prove them wrong.
” They cracked up at whatever face Miles was making.
“Yeah, your friends told me all about my supposed den of devilry here. My grandma will be thrilled to hear about her reputation, and that it’s passed onto me.
Raining chaos and terror upon the masses and…
what was it? Eating babies? Stealing souls? ”
“Sending innocent people home with things that’ll kill them,” Charlee answered with a hint of ice. “And leaving us to clean up the mess.”
Delight brightened Nadia’s face. “Has anyone ever told you that your eyes turn the prettiest shade of green when you’re angry?”
Oh, this wasn’t going to end well.
Charlee’s cheeks reddened, but she didn’t look away. “You’re not going to charm your way out of the fact you’re putting people in danger.”
“If you think this is me being charming, you’re not going to survive our first date.”
Miles nearly choked. Emily was watching the exchange eagerly. Gabriel tugged at the wrinkles in his shirt, looking bored.
“Anyway,” Nadia drawled with the easy confidence of someone who knew they’d won, leaving Charlee spluttering for a response.
“Don’t believe everything you hear. The gifted families in the area have been painting my family as villains for a long time.
” Irritation hid in the tight set of their mouth.
“When Grandma Dima opened this place, they tried to shut her down within the first week. Those elitist assholes only want to help people on their own terms… No offense.”
“Uh.” Miles cleared his throat. “Not to sound like an elitist asshole, but Charlee’s right—regular people shouldn’t have access to haunted or cursed objects. It’s dangerous.”
“They shouldn’t?” Nadia fixed him with a steady, unwavering look. “Does your back hurt from carrying around all that self-righteousness? Your cousin gets a pass because she’s cute, but you don’t.”
Gabriel smirked down at the counter as Miles flushed.
“Grandma Dima built this as a place people could come to if they needed help. Our methods might be a little unconventional at times, but conventional doesn’t always cut it.
Not every problem can be solved with herbs and sending good juju into the universe.
If you believe that, you have no idea how privileged of a life you’ve lived. ”
Miles expected Charlee to jump in and argue, but she was uncharacteristically silent, letting Nadia continue.
“If a girl comes in looking to get away from her abusive boyfriend that the cops can’t be bothered with, I’m sending her home with a watch she can put under his pillow and make him forget they ever met.
Or if a skeezy landlord is raising rent to force a family out and they want to leave a cursed painting that makes the whole place smell like it’s rotting, then that’s karma.
” They tapped their painted nails against the counter.
“We never give anything that could really hurt anyone, nothing truly dangerous or uncontrolled, and never anything that could affect another innocent person. It’s not perfect, but our track record is clean.
We’re better than car companies who sell to drunk drivers or any place that sells guns. ”
It was an argument they clearly had ready, rehearsed multiple times.
Miles knew the real world wasn’t always black or white, that not everything had an easy answer.
He was just lucky enough to not have to make that kind of call often.
If what Nadia was saying was true and no one was getting hurt—in most cases, they were even being helped—did that make it okay?
He’d never stopped to think about it before.
“What about people who come in here looking for something dangerous?” Miles pointed out. “They could lie about their intentions. Or not understand what you’ve given them.”
Nadia shook their head. “No one leaves this place without knowing exactly what they’re taking with them.
I don’t mess around with informed consent.
And this bad boy”—they patted a squat porcelain cat sitting beside the register—“is spelled to detect any sort of dishonesty. If you want to even discuss our specialty items, you get vetted by him first.”
The cat stared blankly across the store with cool, blue painted eyes.