Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
SEB
My thoughts are heavy as I make my way to a little diner called Alice’s in the boonies outside LA.
It’s a hole-in-the-wall, the type of place where the floor is always sticky, even when it’s clean, and the paint job has seen better decades.
Regardless, Alice’s makes the best pancakes and is a safe place to be a dragon.
For one, it’s usually empty. Plus, it’s not the type of place that richy rich Order members tend to hang out.
It is, however, exactly the kind of place I need right now.
The coffee is strong, the servers are friendly, and the regulars are quiet.
I need time and space to think. I need a plan.
Today, I activated the code red. All dragons are going into hiding.
That includes my brothers and me. This might be my last meal as a free dragon.
The bell above the door rings as I walk into the diner, the smell of floor wax and warmed coffee hitting my nose like a kiss from an old friend.
There’s no one at the hostess stand, so I turn left to follow the row of booths deeper into the restaurant.
And what do you know, the creator is playing games with me.
In an otherwise empty restaurant, Zoe Willow, dressed in a T-shirt and bomber jacket that make her look both casual and iconic, like the girl next door you always dreamed might love you, is sitting in one of the booths.
She looks up at me through the steam from her cup of coffee, her brows rising as if she’s as surprised to see me as I am to see her.
I offer her my best attempt at a charming smile and walk over to her.
“Is this seat taken?” I ask, sliding in across from her.
Her lips sag in an exasperated frown. “Are you following me?”
I smooth my hand across the edge of the table. “No. Of course not.”
“It’s just that you carried me offstage last night and propositioned me with a very scammy-sounding offer—”
“That was not a scam.”
She arches a brow skeptically. “You would offer me a two-album deal and a place to stay with a recording studio, in exchange for me doing a little magic for you.”
“One hundred percent. The offer is still open, by the way.”
She takes a sip of her coffee, which I notice is as pale as hot cocoa. “Why are you here, Seb? I can’t imagine many music producers frequent this place.”
“On the contrary. I come here for the pancakes.”
“They’re the best in California,” we say in unison. The jinx lightens the mood, and we both laugh.
“I had no idea you’d be here,” I say seriously.
“Really?”
At that moment, Sally comes through the swinging door from the kitchen and sees me. “Hey there, Seb. You want the usual?”
“Yeah, Sally.”
“Full whip?”
“Always. How’s Ken?”
“Doing better now that the chemo’s done.”
“Glad to hear it.” She disappears back into the kitchen, and I give Zoe an intense look that can only mean I-told-you-so.
“All righty then, I guess you come here for the pancakes.” She shrugs and turns her attention to her coffee.
“Are you waiting on an order?” I ask, noticing she doesn’t have any food.
“No.” Her voice drifts off, and she doesn’t offer an explanation. I can’t leave it alone.
“If you acknowledge that Alice’s has the best pancakes in the universe, then why aren’t you eating any?”
She sighs heavily. “I lost my job today.”
“Did that asshole from the Barrel Room fire you over what happened last night?”
She snorts. “No. I haven’t lost any gigs, thank the goddess, but unfortunately, those don’t pay the bills anyway.
They barely pay for my Uber to get there.
No, I was let go from my real job as a call center rep.
This cup of coffee is my treat to myself for remaining upright and not collapsing into a pile of tears, but it’s all I can afford right now. ”
“You can’t afford pancakes?”
She shakes her head.
“This is unacceptable,” I pronounce. “I cannot eat pancakes alone. Sally!” I call toward the back.
She pokes her head out of the kitchen. “Yeah, Seb?”
“Double that order!” I look back at Zoe. “Do you want whipped cream?”
“Who doesn’t want whipped cream?” she says as if it’s a foregone conclusion.
“Extra whip, Sally!”
“You got it!” Sally yells. She comes out a few minutes later with two orders of blueberry pancakes with whipped cream and pours me a cup of coffee, then tops off Zoe’s cup.
“Thanks for this,” she says. “It would have been torture watching you eat those.” She points her chin at my plate, her blue eyes flashing, then shovels in a massive bite of butter-and-syrup-soaked pancakes.
“So…I’ve got an idea,” I say. “How about, since you don’t have a job, you take me up on my offer and come live in the free apartment and accept the advance I’m going to pay you on that two-album deal?”
She brushes her bangs out of the way, and her eyes go misty like she might cry. “Look, Seb. I don’t think I explained things well enough last night. I think I’d better give it to you straight.”
“I wish you would.”
“Young witches like me, we’re not strong enough to perform the type of magic you’re asking for. To deconstruct a magical object made by another witch is advanced magic.”
“You can’t do it?” My eyes narrow. It’s hard to believe. I felt the power in her voice last night.
She presses her lips together and shakes her head. “There’s a potion that young witches like me take sometimes. It’s sanctioned by our coven. Think of it like training wheels for advanced magic. It’s called gold dust, and it would allow me to do what you’re asking.”
“Then let’s get you some gold dust and make this happen.”
She licks her lips. “The problem is, I overused gold dust when I was singing for Raven’s Wish.
It’s how the band got an audition with Full Throttle to begin with.
When I collapsed during that audition, that wasn’t from addiction to some street drug.
It was the price I paid for using too much gold dust too often.
That’s what gold dust toxicity looks like in witches. ”
“Your heart stopped,” I say, because I remember Crew telling me.
She nods. “I was revived, but it took three days for me to regain consciousness and weeks for me to be mentally myself again. I lost all my power. I can no longer do any magic, not even a simple spell, without it.”
“So, you can never use it again?”
She takes another sip of coffee and glances out the window.
“It’s been a year, and technically, I could try again, but I’d have to be very careful.
As someone who has struggled with it before, my side effects would be severe.
I might code again. And if I did, it would be a far more serious situation.
” She uses her fork tines to make holes in the edge of her pancake.
I take in the set of her shoulders and desperately wish I could help her through what she’s going through. I’d hand her a wad of money if I thought she’d take it. But maybe there is a way we can still help each other.
“What about a referral? If you hook me up with another witch who can do the job, I’ll pay you a sizable bonus.”
“How sizable?” she asks without missing a beat.
“Fifty thousand.” I don’t know what makes me say it. It’s way more than a simple introduction is probably worth, but it will keep her afloat.
“I’ll try.”
“You’ll try?”
“Hey, witches aren’t all fans of dragons. I can’t ask just anyone. I have to find someone who is dragon-friendly and also powerful enough to do the job. It’s a delicate situation.”
I nod. “Yeah, we kind of have to be careful right now about our identity.”
“Exactly.”
“But you’ll try.”
She shovels in another bite of pancakes loaded with whipped cream. “Yeah, I’ll try, and not just because you’ve won me over with free pancakes.”
I chuckle. “It was the whipped cream, wasn’t it?”
“Definitely.”