Oh No! There’s an Ifrit in my Cosmic Cafe (Getting Cozy with Demons #2)

Chapter 1 The Cheat

one

The Cheat

Cigarette smoke curls around my senses, burning my eyes and nose. It’s hard to astral project when my body is screaming at me so loudly, but I hold here, between realms, as I hunt through the deck of cards and look at everyone’s hands.

The deck in the mortal plane sits at the dealer’s side, unperturbed, but in my place of light and shadows, it rolls out before me in bright pink like a neon sign. The cards in my opponents’ hands light up, showing me what they are so I don’t have to move from the spot.

If Fat-chin hits, and Stink-eye doesn’t—which he shouldn’t—that would leave me a ten.

But I need a three if I’m going to take this hand.

My astral spirit-hand pushes through the cards in the deck. I find a two nearby, and though it’s not perfect, I’ll at least push instead of losing.

I move the card through the others and the deck beside the dealer trembles a fraction.

“Feng!”

The sound of my family name snaps me into my body. The sudden jolt of leaving the astral realm makes me dizzy.

“Shénme?” I bark back in Chinese.

The man leaning through the open door of the dank, illicit basement jerks his head for me to follow him. My card-mates snicker and sneer. I’ve been winning too much. Not so much that I attract attention, but enough to piss everyone off. Maybe I’ve pissed off someone important.

I pull down the sunglasses that effectively hide my eyes while I’m projecting and switch to English. “I’m in the middle of a game.”

“Up. Now,” the man says with way too much authority for this to be something friendly. He’s got the power of a bigwig behind him. Maybe Wang, the club runner.

But what if it’s Zhao Shang?

This is his illicit basement, after all. He washes some of his dirty money down here. I know better than to deposit any of it into my bank account, opting to buy groceries and pay rent instead. Does it make me a bad person to steal stolen money? Maybe…but that’s the world we live in.

Swindle or get swindled.

I swallow the last of my sweaty beer to cool my aching throat and fold my hand.

“I want my buy-in back,” I say, pointing at the dealer.

He laughs.

“Now!” the man shouts at me.

I growl and scoot my rickety chair back.

It scrapes loudly on the concrete floor, making the room go quiet.

The occupants at other tables look up at me briefly before returning to their games.

I grab my coat slowly, then throw it around my shoulders in a rough toss that bumps Stink-eye.

He looks up at me to complain, and I swipe two of his chips and apologize for bumping him at the same time.

Got my buy-in back.

I snatch my remaining earnings and weave through the tables to the banker. She’s an older woman with painted eyebrows that make her look perpetually angry. I cash out and stuff my earnings into my inner coat pocket, then zip it up. I know I’m not the only pickpocket around here.

The man waiting on me looks about as angry as the banker’s painted eyebrows.

I follow him up the stairs with a heavy sigh and a complaint.

I have a persona to maintain around here and being a loud mouth is part of it.

I lose just enough to be welcomed back and talk too loudly to be trusted with secrets.

I don’t want anything to do with the other side of things that go on here.

The walkway behind the bar smells like wet cardboard, but when we go through a private hall, the grimy facade is quickly replaced by the signs of power: better lighting, gold-trimmed mirrors, clean carpet.

Oooh, shit.

The man points to a red leather chair outside a glitzy-looking door, and I promptly take my seat.

He stands nearby, watching me. We wait for a few minutes, and I decide it’s probably safe to check out who’s on the other side of the door.

I lean forward and put my head in my hands like I’m nervous, then close my eyes and astral project out of my body.

The world takes on stark shadows and bright colors.

The man watching me has a hazy gray glow around him, which is typical.

I don’t see a lot of other magical people, but when I do, it’s always fun to prod their astral bodies a little and find out about them.

Sometimes they notice, most of the time they don’t.

But I don’t care about the man watching me. I want to know who I’m waiting for. I float to the door, but instead of passing through it, I’m shot back with an icy zap. I stifle a gasp as I come back into myself and shake out my hand. It’s numb and I’m not sure why.

The door opens a second later and suddenly there’s hands under my arms, dragging me up. I stumble into the office with more loud complaints, but stop as soon as I have a look around. It’s loaded with way too much gold for this to be some small-time boss.

I stand at the center of the room, anxiety building in my chest. A man sits behind a big, expensive desk at the far end, and two more men stand in flanking positions.

It’s Zhao Shang.

I may have made an error…

He leans back, his hands folded on his tidy chest. He’s wearing a black, three-piece suit, bowtie and all. My knees are a little wobbly, so I take a deep breath and tighten my core muscles, strengthening my foundation like my parents taught me.

“Your grandmother has good luck,” Shang says, his voice dark and weathered, like he’s smoked a pack a day his entire life.

I don’t want to disagree with him, but I also want to know where he’s going with this while still being respectful. “In many ways, yes, but which way has caught your attention?”

He smiles. “I love when my victims cut to the chase.”

My stomach bottoms out at the word. I reassess the danger in the room. Four men, one seated, and one much too close for comfort.

“Your grandmother has been winning a lot of small wagers. I wasn’t aware that she was a gambler, given how that worked out for her son.”

It’s as if his words are hands squeezing me around the ribs. I breathe through the tension and think about what he said. Nai Nai doesn’t gamble, ever. This could be him trying to get us like he got my parents.

I fake being calm and shrug. “Maybe her fortune told her to take chances this month. She likes those quack zodiacs.”

Quack isn’t true, she only goes to the authentic tellers, but Zhao is a businessman and I’m sure he doesn’t subscribe to the occult. Maybe I could get her out of this by making her seem infirm…

He smiles again and this one seems nastier. Feral.

He stands and the men at his sides step away, giving him space. I lean back on my heels on instinct but refuse to let myself take a step away. He walks around the desk and comes to stand in front of me. Every step is slow, leisurely, like he has the time to intimidate me.

Zhao is taller than me by a full foot, and still in good shape for being in his late fifties.

I look up at him, trying to keep my face innocent.

He leans forward and grabs my chin. I want to pull away, but again, I’m smarter than upsetting him further.

He turns my head over my shoulder, and a chill races down my spine.

The doorway is heavily framed in protection runes. He points to one midway up that’s blackened. Destroyed.

“You see that?” he asks but doesn’t wait for me to reply. “That’s the ward you just ruptured when you tried to break in here.”

I recognize several others, things Nai Nai has taught me over the years to block out demons and protect from people with bad intentions. Zhao’s name is listed in many places around the doorframe, smudged with dried blood. Most of these runes are designed to protect him, and his blood family.

Whatever rune I destroyed on the doorway allows my sense to extend beyond it into the hall.

I can’t project myself without him seeing it in my eyes, but I can feel the space and its occupants.

There’s another goon standing at the end of the hall, but I don’t sense much past that.

Still, it’s something. If I get the chance to run, only one dude stands in my way.

He turns my chin front, but doesn’t let go of me. I try to judge his eyes, his stance. He’s not spring-loaded like me. He’s not ready to fight. It doesn’t stop my heart from thundering in my ears.

“You’ve been paying your parents’ debt for a long time now, Jiahui. You take care of Grandma Feng and little Zixin. You’re a good girl, with a bad habit. Gambling, just like your parents.”

I nod, trying to sneak my chin from his fingers.

He grips it tighter. “But you don’t gamble, do you, Jade?”

Calm your breathing. Remember your training.

His eyes narrow. “No, I think you cheat better than most. I think you can see and move things. I’m not sure what kind of mage you are, but still…” He releases my chin and stands tall, getting out of my space.

My breath comes deeper but my heart only beats faster.

He straightens his jacket and looks down his nose at me. “I would like to offer you better-paying work than skimming pennies off my patrons.”

My mouth pops open to retort, but I snap it shut.

I thought he was going to punish me. Increase our debts, maybe kick me around to teach me a lesson, but work?

I’ll be in forever. And then they’ll drag my little brother Ace in, too.

We’ll be embroiled in mafia bullshit for the rest of our—probably very short—days.

But I can’t say no, either.

Can I?

“Your very gracious offer is too much for a humble girl like me,” I say.

“You’ve been avoiding my payroll for even longer than you’ve been paying your parents’ debts, and I don’t like being denied.”

Shit.

“We need someone who can see things. Numbers from across the room, behind walls, on other people’s screens. I think you can do that, can’t you?”

“You mean, like getting people’s credit card numbers or something?” I ask.

He smirks. “Something like that.”

Suddenly, I sense a lot more people at the end of the hall. They’re moving in, and their movements are loaded with killing intent. I gasp, turning just in time for the door to crack open with a bang.

“Police! Get on the ground!”

I put my hands up instead because instructions are hard when I’m about to shit my pants. Zhao grabs me around the shoulders and pulls me against his chest, hiding his face next to mine. The other men in the room drop to the ground, and the guns point at me, the human shield.

Fear puts a stopper on rational thought and instinct takes the wheel.

I grab Zhao’s arm and drop my weight. He staggers and I sidestep, getting my right leg behind his knees. I throw my upper body into his chest, and he steps back into my leg. We both go to the floor with a heavy smack.

The police are screaming.

I’m screaming.

Zhao throws out his hand and sparks explode over us. It’s bright and disorienting. He shoves out from under me, bashing my face in the process. I wink my eye shut in pain and roll, giving him the out he needs. Zhao gets to his feet, but he’s instantly tackled by police.

Then there’s a gun in my face.

And the unluckiest wretch in Boston award goes too…