Chapter 30
I n a turn of events that would surprise no one, Neela’s assumption that Molly’s restaurant would be nearly abandoned on a Tuesday at eight o’clock in the morning and thus serve as a quiet haven of caffeine consumption was the furthest thing from the truth. It was the weirdest mix of clientele but one that also introduced her to another hobby she’d never thought she’d enjoy: people-watching.
Neela blew the steam off her coffee and decided that, yeah, she could definitely appreciate this life, warts and all. Near the window, a group of two seniors huddled by the baseboard heaters for warmth. One woman, a blond who wore enough costume jewelry to fill a museum exhibit, stirred a cup of woefully oversteeped tea while her friend, a redhead with more fuchsia lipstick on her teeth than her coffee mug, thunked a tote bag onto the table, pulled out her body weight’s worth of fashion magazines, and began searching the dog-eared pages.
Huh. Good to know someone’s still funding those things.
Then a heated conversation ensued involving a lot of acrylic nails pointing out articles where some obscene trend or another clearly offended them. Either that or they were arguing over the price of jewelry they could never afford anyway.
And that was just at one table by the window. The rest of the dining room featured a revolving kaleidoscope of customers: some regulars, judging by the way they knew the menu, and some tourists, judging by the way they didn’t. Either way, they were all smiling over the morning’s light snowfall and sharing their collective joy around Molly’s newest menu items: gingerbread buttermilk waffles and the roasted pumpkin, bacon, and egg breakfast sandwich.
Whatever it was, Neela loved it. It was as mundane as mundane got, and she’d never realized just how vital the simple things had become for her lately. They weren’t just a foot in the door to living among the mortals but her entire leg being hurled over a ledge with one foot dangling behind her.
All that remained was the helping hand to guide her safely the rest of the way, to do the big scary living-aboveground thing with her and tell her it would all be all right.
Instead, she was stuck in limbo as if she were waiting on a permit review from a town planning board.
It had been a few days since she’d brought up the whole use me as a decoy plan to Rhode and the others, and while she was satisfied in her determination that it was the only way to draw Cyro and the relic out from hiding, she’d also secretly hoped it would draw Rhode out of his shell as well.
Neela sipped down her coffee and tried not to think about how she hadn’t seen the man since then, except for late at night, as had become their custom, when he’d finally collapse into bed hours after her head hit the pillow. Her only indication that he’d even been there at all was the still-warm sheets next to her when she’d roll over in the morning, hoping to steal some time with him before something else called him away.
And that was what those moments had become, too. Theft. Any time at all she was able to snag from him ended up as brief encounters he seemed to oblige her in before giving some excuse and vowing to see her later, that he had to see to something, Iron needed him, and so on.
Somehow, they’d fallen into a rut of a routine again, where Neela’s presence appeared to be more tolerated than anything else.
It made things damn difficult when she kept trying to find the right time to talk to him.
There was so much more they needed to share, things she needed to say, truths he didn’t yet know, and they’d finally gotten to a point where she thought he might be ready to listen to her . . . But no matter how urgently she wanted to grab the angel, tie him to a chair, and force him to hear what she had to tell him, other things would always command his attention.
I am a spy.
And I am a demon.
Always.
The nuance of everything else mattered very little, even in times when she’d hoped he’d gotten past it.
But the sunlight did matter, at least to her. Now that Neela had some exposure to it, she found it mattered very much. Man, did she love the stuff. Loved the heat of it on her skin, the way her cheeks hurt from squinting when she tried to find the sun behind the clouds. Loved the way it chased everyone outside so she could sit quietly in Molly’s restaurant and work up a good brood uninterrupted.
Some things, she was coming to realize, were just better in the sun.
Neela speared her fork into her eggs right as the door chimed. The soft gasps behind her was the first clue that the person who’d just walked in was one, a regular, and two, most likely part of the angel’s crew.
A small ember of hope struck flint in her chest. Did he know she was there? Had he finally come to see her?
“Neela.”
Aaand that ember promptly died on arrival but not before flicking its spark of curiosity northward.
Neela spun on her stool. “Chrome?”
Molly chose that moment to amble through the kitchen door and nearly spilled an entire pot of decaf on her foot when she stopped short. “Holy shit, you shaved! Thank God . Drea’s been going through my facial moisturizer like crazy. Woman’s too polite to tell you that neck carpet of yours was abrading her skin at the rate of most flesh-eating bacteria. Seriously, how much neck play do you two do before moving on to other areas? Actually, you know what?” Molly raised her hand and closed her eyes. “I don’t want to know. Just glad to see you’re looking more like yourself, and thanks for the new drinking glasses. You didn’t have to get me new coffee mugs to go with them, though.”
“Yeah, I kinda did. And, uh, thanks,” Chrome muttered, then wiped a hand over his clean-shaven face. Neela didn’t miss the way he lingered longer than normal at his jawline, checking for overlooked hairs, or the way his newly shaven cheeks showed off the blush that had started to creep up toward his hairline.
“It’s nice to see you again,” Neela said.
“Same.”
“Want to sit down?” Neela offered him the stool next to her.
“Nah, I won’t be here long. I came to give you a ride.”
“A ride? I don’t need to go anywhere just yet. I was going to hang out a bit longer, maybe see if Molly needed help with anything.”
“Oh, I’m good! Totally good. A thousand million times good. Have fun!” Molly smiled and twirled her aproned ass back into the kitchen. What the hell was that about?
Chrome nodded toward her food and the sole remaining toast crust. “You finished?”
“Um. Yes . . . but?—”
“There’s someone who asked me to bring you to him.”
Neela’s stomach bottomed out. Only one person would make that kind of request of Chrome, and only if they’d finally?—
“I can see the wheels spinning, and yeah, Rhode and I talked. Worked things out. He made me make sense of a few things, and I helped him make sense of a few others.”
Neela shook her head, as much to shake away the emotion as to portray her disbelief. “You guys are really okay? He told you everything?”
Chrome shrugged. “Okay is kind of a baseline marker for what we are. I predict there are a couple of dude-bonding sweat sessions in our future, because I don’t think I’ll be able to fully hear some of the details he still needs to share with me unless I expend a shit ton of energy so I’m not tempted to blow up a mountain, but yeah, for now, we’re good. And speaking of good,” he said, swiping a cinnamon crumb muffin from under the cloche on the counter, “your boy’s only got another twenty minutes in him, max, before he starts lighting up my phone asking me if you’re okay, so if you want to see him, we better get a move on. I can’t fly you where we’re going, and the traffic downtown is shit. A few snowflakes and the tourists in this town forget about the all-wheel drive they paid extra for or how to use it.”
Neela swiped the last bit of toast, popped it into her mouth, grabbed her coat, and was already out the door before Chrome took his first bite of muffin.