I put down my next word. SHELTER, across a triple letter score.
We keep playing.
Chapter 16
The Past Always Bites You in the Ass
Themorningshiftisquiet enough that I’ve actually managed to get ahead of the prep work, which never happens. Bunny is restocking the pastry display with the focused contentment of someone who finds restocking pastry displays genuinely fulfilling, which I’ve stopped trying to understand and just accepted as one of his many mysteries. I’m wiping down the espresso machine when the door chimes and Dave walks in.
I know immediately from the way he’s walking that this isn’t a social call. Dave has two walking speeds, ambling, which is his default, and purposeful, which means something has happened that requires a response. This is purposeful. He’s wearing his work jeans and his pentagram tee shirt, and his expression is the one he gets when he’s been elected to deliver news nobody wants to deliver.
Dave is the kind of person who gets elected to these things a lot. He’s blunt and he’s kind and he doesn’t mess around with softening, which makes him themost tolerable option when the coven needs to send a messenger.
That doesn’t mean I’m pleased to see him.
“Felix,” he says, settling onto one of the counter stools.
“Dave.” I set down the cloth. “You want a coffee?”
“Please.”
I make it without being asked how he takes it, because I’ve known Dave for four years and he always takes it the same way, black and strong and without ceremony. Bunny glances over from the pastry display, clocks the atmosphere, and finds somewhere very important to be in the back room. Good instincts, that boy.
I set the coffee in front of Dave. He wraps both hands around it and looks at it for a moment like he’s composing himself.
“You’ve missed the last three Esbats,” he says.
“I know.”
“Morgana’s worried. The whole coven’s been asking questions. You’re usually the one who shows up early and has already reorganised the ritual space before anyone else gets there.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what?”
I meet his eyes across the counter and say nothing, which is its own kind of answer. Dave’s eyes narrow slightly. He reads it correctly, because Dave reads most things correctly.
“Felix.” His voice has dropped a level. “What have you done?”
“Nothing that concerns the coven.”
“That’s not…” He stops. Picks up his coffee. Drinks. Sets it down with the controlled patience of someone trying very hard not to have an argument in a coffee shop. “The thing is, it does concern the coven. Because the coven has been sensing something. For the past few weeks there’s been a disturbance, a kind of magical pressure that nobody can quite pin down, and it’s coming from roughly this direction, and you’re the only coven member who lives in this direction, and you’ve stopped coming to Esbats and you’re not answering messages and Felix, I’m standing here asking you as your friend, not just your coven member, what is going on?”
It’s a long speech for Dave. He looks slightly tired from it.
I look at him for a long moment. The coffee shop hums around us, ordinary and warm. Somewhere in the back room, Bunny is very quietly not listening, which means he’s absolutely listening.
“I’m handling something,” I say. “I’ll be at the next Esbat.”
“You’d better be.” Dave’s voice is flat but not unkind. “Because if you’re not, Morgana’s going to call a full coven vote on your continued membership.”
The words land like a stone dropped into still water. I feel them ripple outward through my chest, cold and heavy.
“She wouldn’t.”
Bunny sneezes and it sounds suspiciously close. I ignore it.
“She’s worried, Felix. We’re all worried. And when Morgana worries, she gets formal about it.” He looks at me steadily. “I’m telling you as a friend. Sort out whatever you’ve got going on and come back. Nobody wants it to go further than this.”
