“I mean, whatever they get, it’s going to be so much more that what you get out of the transaction.” Her mom looked at her with more worry than she’d shown in years.
“Yes, exactly. That’s how funding rounds work.”
“I don’t think you’re listening to me,” her mother said as they stepped out onto the street. She grabbed Morgan’s arms and spun her around to face her. “You’ve never dealt with these people. They’ll give you what you ask for, but it comes with strings. They’ll use it to control you.”
“Mother,” Morgan replied, exasperated. “I know that. That’sliterallyhow venture capitalism works.”
Her mother took a step back, appalled. She took a breath. “Well. At least wear a high collar.”
“I’ve got it under control,” Morgan sighed.
Fiona nodded, looking unconvinced. But then she trimmed her own bangs with her athame, so Morgan wasn’t sure she cared about Fiona’s opinions on fashion.
Fiona sighed. “Is there a Starbucks around here?”
Morgan groaned. “There was one inside the Macy’s. But there’s another one down the block.”
As they came out, cups in hand, Fiona made her usual complaint. “I don’t see why it’s so hard to get a plain regular black coffee. So expensive, and it still tastes burnt.”
“I told you to get the blonde roast,” Morgan said, rolling her eyes. “But if you wanted diner coffee, we could have gotten diner coffee. We’re right next to Penn Station, there’s an old-school diner on every damn block.”
“Well, I—I thought you liked the Starbucks,” Fiona said.
That stopped Morgan short. “Oh. Yes. I do.”
Her unflappable mother looked a little flapped. But then Murder broke the silence, descending out of the sky to land on Fiona’s shoulder. He eyed Morgan speculatively.
“I don’t have any eyeballs for you,” Morgan told him.
He clacked his beak.
“What, you want my cake pop?” She raised her eyebrows.
“He just ate,” Fiona told her. She gave the bird her own side-eye. “Seriously, youjustate.”
Murder lifted his beak in affronted dignity.
Morgan sighed. “You can have half. Mother, what did you want? It wasn’t burnt coffee. Don’t start to tell me all you wanted was to see how your daughter was doing. We both know it’s not true.”
Fiona had the grace to look chagrined as Murder accepted his share of the cake pop daintily. “Did you hear anything? About the summoner?”
Morgan had been debating with herself about what to say and hadn’t decided. Would telling her about GreenField protect Luke or bring even more scrutiny? Now, it was the Starbucks her mother had only pretended to want that suddenly tipped her over. “Actually, maybe. There’s this company called GreenField UnLtd. over in the Madison Square area. You remember Stavrula?”
“Oh, she was such a nice girl. You two had the cutest tea parties.”
“Well, she says they’ve got way too much funding splashing around.”
“I didn’t realize you were still in touch,” Fiona said. At some point, they’d left the old-school Penn Station area and crossed into the newer, hipper Hudson Yards neighborhood.Shiny new skyscrapers soared above while tourists swarmed below. Morgan wondered if they were walking somewhere in particular or if Fiona’s feet would keep going until they hit the river.
“I didn’t fall off the face of the planet,” Morgan said, although for the purposes of the magical world, she mostly had.
The warm look her mother shot her made her feel uncomfortably approved of.
“In the interests of disclosure,” she said, her ears warming a little. “GreenField is a competitor. Of my company. That’s not why I’m sending you after them—you asked me to look and Stavrula tipped me off—but I’m not exactly a neutral party here.”
She tried to keep her breathing even as she carefully didn’t mention that there was a different demon, and his demonic dog, sleeping on her couch.
“Morgan,” her mother said seriously. “I appreciate your integrity. You’ve been extremely helpful.”
