Chapter 7 #3
“What the hell was that?” Malek asked the bartender, ordering another beer while he was at it. The bartender was a werewolf; Malek could tell from the necklace he wore with a moon insignia and the slight curls of hair on his knuckle.
“Oh, Will? The kid is underage. He’s been trying to get in here for months. Finally managed today, though.”
“Huh.” Malek knew William looked young, but some mages were great with anti-aging serums. Then there was the fact that most supernatural creatures, though they aged, didn’t do so in the same ways.
Malek would turn thirty-eight in a few weeks, but he’d been told he still looked like the man who started All Trades when he was twenty-two.
“On the house, okay?” the bartender said as he passed Malek another beer. “The kid’s been a nightmare, so it’s the least we can do.”
“Thank you.”
The bartender waved off the thanks and went to serve someone else. Twigs came back into the house with red cheeks, panting. She zeroed in on Malek. “You! What did you do?”
“Nothing! He was here, bumped into me, and then you showed up.”
“Okay. Good. He’s only seventeen. We’re a legal business—we can’t fuck with this barely legal nonsense.”
“So I heard. Is he a runaway?”
“Yeah, more or less. We keep directing him towards the shelter down the block, but he won’t go. He gave me some sob story about his brother the first time I let him in. Now I think it’s all a ruse to see people’s tits. Ugh. We’re not that kind of place. We are a fine establishment!”
“I know, I know. You’re all very classy individuals.” Malek chuckled. He was about to tell her about his phone’s harrowing close call when it rang in his hand. Jocasta. “Shit.”
Twigs noticed the number with raised brows. “Yikes.”
“I know. I should really take this and just let her yell at me.”
Twigs patted his arm sympathetically. She reached into her cleavage and pulled out a small pouch to give to Malek. “As you wished, for the CD. Take good care of yourself—and your boy—tonight.”
“Not my boy. But thank you.”
“So what is he?”
Malek didn’t want to argue that it was more like he was Caspar’s boy. Caspar has the ring. I do his bidding. “Nothing. Never mind. Just message me when you’ve listened to the CD, okay? I want to know what you think, and your thoughts on the music will get me through this yell-a-thon with J.”
“Always! Good luck.” Twigs blew him a kiss.
Malek caught the kiss in their shared pantomime gesture. He took a deep breath and counted to ten before answering the phone.
All in all, it wasn’t too bad. After Jocasta yelled in Greek for five minutes, she switched back to English and her complaints started to become more and more reasonable. She stopped blaming everything on Malek and started to blame it on Hayden and Josie, too.
Then, on herself.
“Okay, we weren’t ready for today,” she said, calmly and methodically. “I still hadn’t heard back from Chaz and Katja about the entire case report. We just knew he wasn’t guilty, so we moved too soon. I thought if I was in the prison, I could control so much more. But we weren’t fucking ready.”
“We weren’t. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t do a good thing.”
Jocasta sighed. “Yeah, yeah. The right person is out, but Hayden is still looking for any number of the wrong people.”
“What was the last count?”
“Four still missing, including one of the former Chaos Mages who was supposed to go to an extra-special facility. Fuck. I’m gonna torch them all. I’m gonna—”
“Don’t,” Malek said. “Take a deep breath. In and out. Calm—”
“It’s easy to say ‘calm blue ocean’ when you don’t have this much paperwork. I thought that this job would involve less of it. I miss looking for cars. Breaking people out. Being a doctor. I never had to fill out so many damn forms back then.”
“But now you know you’re doing good work. Before you were at the mercy of whoever had enough cash to hire you. You couldn’t discriminate because you had to eat.”
“Right, right.” Malek could imagine Jocasta nodding, her straight cropped hair bouncing with her movements. “It’s better now. I know it’s better. But my goodness, I hate paperwork.”
“Don’t we all,” Malek said. “But now that we have Caspar, that means we’re a step closer, right? He’s fine. We’re fine. We’re at Artie’s now, actually. The bar and…”
“Yeah, I know. I figured as much. He relax into it?”
“Ehhh. That’s a stretch, I think.” Malek gave an update on what had happened so far. When Jocasta laughed at the right bits, she seemed much better. “When he’s done with Sully, I think we should head to the safe house. I don’t know how much more excitement this guy can take today.”
“Oh. Shit.” Jocasta said.
“Everything okay, J?”
“Yeah, yeah. It should be fine. The house is ready, more or less. A little low on furniture, but that will come. IKEA takes forever to deliver, but we figured it would be the next best thing.”
“To what, exactly?”
“Bedbugs from street furniture or my hideous castoffs. IKEA screams normalcy, and my bet is that’s exactly what this guy wants.”
“Yeah, I guess. As long as Caspar has a bed to sleep in, I don’t think he’ll be complaining.”
“We got that. But tables and chairs will take a while. Along with the romance novels he apparently wants. Sweet touch. You’re getting to know him well, I guess?”
“Somewhat,” Malek said. “He’s a bit cold, but that’s to be expected. I’ll try to get some more information before I type up a report for you about our interview.”
“Oh, don’t bother. I’ve got enough details now.”
“Really?” Malek said skeptically. “About the house and the murder? I know I texted you some of it earlier, and it matches his former story, but I don’t feel like I quite conveyed the strange look he had on his face when he told me all of it. Like it was an out-of-body experience.”
“Hmm.” Jocasta typed something on the other end of the phone, maybe on one of her laptops.
Half of Malek’s job as a djinn for Jocasta’s network was to vet the clients and interview them about the crimes.
He’d given Jocasta info, like always, but this was a special case that seemed to require much more intel then he’d already provided.
Or maybe you just want to hold onto it as long as you can.
Since most people’s wishes were used up within forty-eight hours, Malek had grown used to typing up quick reports and sending them along.
Now he was finding random twists and turns in the story to keep things interesting and firmly within his domain for as long as possible.
“The ammonia is odd, right?” Malek asked. “Let me ask him some more about that.”
“Well, if he’s as tired as you say he is, then that question can wait until tomorrow. How about this: I’ll type up a report based on your texts so far and give it to you to read over and add details to after you do another round of questioning. Sound okay?”
“This is what I mean, J. You’re taking on too much with this.”
She huffed. “Fine. You type it. I’ll go put out other fires. Like those fucking prisoners. Ack.”
Malek did his best to calm her before saying their goodbyes.
The tightness in his chest had eased tremendously.
Jocasta was the best boss he’d ever had, and he owed so much to her.
He never wanted to let her down, and vowed that after he tucked Caspar into his safe house, he’d go out looking for the prisoners with Hayden, even though Hayden probably hated him.
Malek sent Jocasta a message summarizing his thoughts, but soon deleted it.
His efforts were better spent typing up that damn research report and putting it in Caspar’s file.
Malek went to tuck his phone away into his pocket and hit the pouch that Twigs had given him. Right. Breeze. That should be his plan for tonight.
When Malek glanced out to the foyer, he spotted Caspar coming down the elevator with Sully.
Sully said a couple words in his ears, hugged him, and then left up the stairs.
Caspar ran a hand through his hair, flattening it.
Malek’s stomach lurched. Messy hair. Close talking.
Means they’ve fucked. He tried not to dwell on it as he finished his beer and got off the stool.
“Oh, there you are,” Caspar said. “I have no idea what to do next. Do I… pay… here?”
“We have it.” Twigs smiled. She gave Malek a knowing look.
“Yeah, we got it,” Malek confirmed. “But you’re okay? Ready to leave?”
Caspar nodded. “I almost fell asleep upstairs, so it’s probably best that I get to a bed.”
Sleep? Just Sleep? Malek pushed his thoughts away.
None of what Caspar did in that room mattered.
The only thing that mattered was Malek’s duty to him for the next one thousand and one days or two more wishes—whatever came first. The light of the foyer glimmered off the ring on Caspar’s finger and made Malek’s heart stutter before pounding again.
“Well, you’re just in time. Your apartment is ready, so let’s take you home.”