"Oh my goodness!" she gasped, staring at her now-azure hands. "That's not supposed to happen!"
"I'm so sorry!" Milo looked mortified. "Jeffrey, put that down! No, don't drink it!"
Fenric pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is precisely why Bureau regulation 89-C prohibits…"
"Oh, give it a rest," I interrupted. "It's just a little magical mishap. No one's hurt."
"I've turned blue!" the attendant protested.
"Blue is a lovely color," I offered. "Very soothing."
The attendant did not look soothed. I couldn't blame her.
As the chaos unfolded by the aromatherapy station, another door opened, and Zane strolled in. He wore only loose drawstring pants that hung low on his hips, leaving his chest bare. I tried not to stare, but it was difficult. His copper skin gleamed in the soft light, and the lean muscles of his torso shifted as he moved.
"What did I miss?" He took in the blue attendant and Milo's apologetic fluttering.
"The usual," I gestured vaguely. "Magical mayhem courtesy of Team Prophecy."
Zane laughed, the sound warm and rich. He approached the edge of the pool where I sat.
"Mind if I join you?" His mismatched eyes met mine.
"It's a free pool," I shrugged, trying to sound casual despite the sudden flutter in my stomach.
He slipped into the water beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touched. The water around him took on a faint green glow that complemented the blue surrounding me.
"How's the relaxation going?" His voice was lower now that he was next to me.
"Better than expected," I admitted. "Until the skeleton cabaret started."
Zane chuckled. "Milo means well."
"They all do, I suppose," I glanced at Fenric, who was now lecturing a second attendant about proper emergency response protocols. "Even Mr. Rulebook over there."
"He's just doing his job," Zane's defense of Fenric surprised me. "We all are."
"Even you?" I turned to look at him directly. "Is babysitting a walking prophecy disaster really what you signed up for when you became a yoga instructor?"
Something flickered in his eyes, amusement, but also something deeper. "There's a story there."
"I bet," I waited, hoping he'd elaborate.
Zane was quiet for a moment, watching the water ripple around us. When he spoke, his voice was thoughtful. "I spent two centuries hunting demons across dimensions. Did you know that?"
"Two centuries?" I blinked. "How old are you?"
"Old enough to know better, young enough to still make stupid decisions," he smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "The fae side of my family ages slowly. My mother's still around. Runs a fortune-telling booth in New Orleans. Hasn't aged a day in three hundred years."
"And the demon hunting?" I watched as Jeffrey tried to get in the water and Milo had to grab him before he managed to do it.
"It was the family business, on my father's side. He was human, but from a long line of hunters. Trained me from childhood." Zane traced patterns in the water with his finger. "I was good at it. Too good, maybe. When you excel at violence, people tend to point you toward more violence."
The casual way he said it made my heart ache. I could see it now, the careful control behind his relaxed demeanor, the vigilance beneath the easy smiles.
"What changed?" I touched his hand.
"I failed," his voice sad. "Big job, high-profile target. A greater demon that had been terrorizing a small town in Colorado. I tracked it for weeks, finally cornered it in an abandoned mine."
