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Oh shit, can fairies read minds? The better question is,canrevenge demons? Because there’s one directly in front of me now. How did he get to the head of the line, anyway? I could’ve sworn he was at the back, near the door.
A glance to my left gives me the answer. Shay opened the second register—probably while I was off in hell-demon dreamland—and all the customers between Flora and Raz abandoned my line for hers. I have no idea if there’s anyone standing behind Raz. He’s not the largest being in Fate’s Falls, but he’s pretty huge. If I didn’t tilt my head upward to look at his face, I’d be talking to his abs.
“Sorry for the delay,” I say, grateful my voice sounds normal when I pull myself together enough to use it. “What can I get for you today?”
“Are you unwell?” he asks, ignoring my apology and question.
“No, I’m fine.” I wrangle my features in to an appropriate, neutrally friendly smile. No easy feat with Raz’s stare drilling holes in me. “Can I get your usual, or would you like something different?”
“Usual?” His pronounced, permanently furrowed brow rises the tiniest bit.
My customer-service smile morphs into one that’s genuine. I’ve watched him enough to know he’s always in control of his expression. Of his voice. Of everything about himself, I assume. Seeing that control waver, even infinitesimally, because of me…that’s enough to make my day.
“You always get the cauldron of doom, extra-hot.” The darkest coffee we make, it’s the closest liquid to a true black color that I’ve ever seen, and it packs a wallop with over 600mg of caffeine per hundred milliliters. That’s more than double what the strongest brand made for humans contains.
“I have never ordered acauldron of doom. You are confusing me with another customer.”
“Um, no,” I say, letting my gaze rise all the way up to the top of his wavy black horns, then do a slow wander downward until I meet his glowing eyes again. “Zero confusion.”
“Then you are simply making a mistake. In my existence, words are crucial; I remember all which I have spoken.”
I should’ve known better than to attempt casual conversation or humor with him. In the half-year-plus I’ve worked here, he’s never given me any indication either would be welcome. My ex gaslighted me about a lot of things, but he was obviously right when he said I’ll never learn, because here I am, attempting to start fresh, yet inexplicably drawn to another closed-off man.
“You’re right. You always order ‘the largest capacity of the strongest coffee.’” I make air quotes around his customary words. “Which is a cauldron of doom.Cauldronequals extra-large in our lingo, anddoomis our name for the most jacked-up brew we serve. I took the liberty of adjusting the serving temperature to make it extra-hot once I learned your core temperature is higher than, well, nearly everybody’s. You didn’t complain about the change—in fact, you started coming by more frequently, so I assumed you enjoyed it, and I continued to prepare it that way.”
“I was unaware.”
Is that a hint of sheepishness on his resting scowl face? Pretty sure it is. It’s hardly an apology—not that he owed me one—but it’s something. And his comment, well, it makes me wonder if maybe…
I lean forward over the counter, hoping to keep my next words private. “I’m happy to read you the menu options anytime. English is a human language. I wouldn’t expect everyone in Fate’s Falls to be able to read it.”
A low rumble rolls from him, his lips becoming an even straighter line than normal. “I understand every language that has ever existed on this plane, written, spoken, or communicated by action.”
Offending a hell demon can’t be a good thing. I inhale deeply and hold it in. On the job with a customer staring me down isn’t the ideal place to engage in the affirmation techniques my therapist taught me, but I manage to re-center myself before dizziness sets in.
With my pulse back where it should be, I exhale and give him a smile. My feelings, desires, and grab-bag of issues aren’t his fault. I’m not going to hold a harmless miscommunication against him. Nor am I going to apologize for being considerate, even if it was misplaced. All that aside, we’re two entirely different species—ifspeciesis even the right word for demons. I’m not about to ask Raz that question. Honestly, there’s only one question I should ever be asking him. “What can I get for you today?”
He’s silent, his strong brow line lowering as he stares at me. If it were possible to see behind his eyes, the gears would undoubtedly be turning, likely as he wonders what kind of frail-human malfunction I’m having.
I bite my tongue and hold my smile in place. Definitely not going off-script again. I’ll wait him out, one way or another.
“A cauldron of doom,” he says in his ever-present deadpan. Then, his lips twist into an unfamiliar shape—it’s not an actual smile, but a hint of upward tick is there. “Extra-hot, if it is not an inconvenience to ask for your usual preparation.”
“Coming right up.” Heat blooms on my cheeks, even though there’s no way in hell—or on earth—that he’s flirting. The fact that he’s making this out-of-character and kind-of-clunky attempt at friendliness is enough. For now.
* * *
Razbunare
It isfortunate when she turns away to prepare my beverage, because I find myself unable to force my gaze from Dela’s face. Increased adrenaline has widened her capillaries and brought blood closer to the surface of her facial skin. A physiological response she cannot control, brought on by any number of stimuli. Fear, anger, embarrassment… the reason matters not. She is radiant; even more so than the dozens of other times I have observed her. Red suits her.
Most humans fear me on sight. Because of my size. My red skin and glowing eyes. The long, dark horns curving up from my cranium’s frontal bone. I was created to intimidate, to ensure the humans who choose revenge in exchange for their soul are aware there will be no release from the bond.
Dela has never shown any sign of fear in my presence. She meets my gaze directly, though to do so requires she tip her head back to its maximum angle. Her voice does not waver when she speaks to me—even just now, when my inability to engage in comfortable communication would have made any other mortal shudder.
Embarrassment or anger are the logical causes for the color of her delicate cheeks. Either or both are possible after the exchange we just shared.
I must refrain from attempting conversation. Especially with this human who intrigues, confounds, and arouses me in equal measure. She is a curiosity I should not indulge. Yet I am unable to focus my attention anywhere else.
