My living room is pretty typical for an old Tudor-style home: vaulted ceilings, exposed wood beams, stone fireplace. But my parents knocked down the wall between the living room and kitchen and put in a breakfast bar that looks absurdly out of place. It does make planning easier, because we can raid the pantry for snacks without leaving the conversation.
Tolliver lies strewn across the couch, his bare feet in Poppy’s lap while she throws popcorn into his mouth. CJ sits in a cheap director’s chair across from them, still and quiet but throwing eye daggers at anyone who emotes too strongly. Rook is standing at the breakfast bar, his laptop out, eyeing Crowlene as she hops ever closer to him each time he looks away. I’m pacing.
“So, this job is divided into two parts,” I say. “Part One: Steal the Voynich manuscript. Part Two: Steal a soul from Tartarus.”
“Part Three,” Poppy says, pointedly. “Put the soul we just stole back in her body and resurrect her using the Voynich manuscript.”
“Can’t we just say ‘book’?” CJ asks.
“It’s a codex,” Poppy corrects.
CJ looks at her questioningly.
“It’s more accurate,” she explains.
“Part C,” Tolliver says, a goofy grin on his face. A piece of popcorn hits him in the eye. “Get paid.”
Rook clears his throat.
Tolliver leans back and looks at him, head upside down. “Dude, sorry. Is it rude to talk about getting paid in front of you?”
Rook tugs on his cuff links. “A bit gauche,” he says, smiling uncomfortably.
Crowlene opens her beak and instead of a caw, she mimics in Rook’s voice, “A bit gauche!”
Rook takes a startled step back. I have to muffle my laugh behind my hand. The others aren’t as polite.
“Is there…” Rook says, “I don’t know, a cage or somewhere we can put the bird?”
Everyone stops laughing immediately and glares at Rook. It takes him less than a second to realize he’s seriously misstepped.
“Dude,” Tolliver says. “Not cool.”
“Crowlene does not go in a cage,” CJ snaps.
“Crowlene is not a pet,” Poppy explains, her polite demeanor splintering. “She’s a familiar.”
“A familiar?” Rook asks.
“You’re here by invitation,” I say, crossing my arms. “One that can be revoked. You’re a client, not crew.”
Rook straightens his tie. “I apologize for my rude comment. I misunderstood the situation.”
“A bit gauche!” Crowlene repeats, and honestly her impression is spot-on.
Rook gives her a tight smile before turning back to me. “But I do think it’s important that I remain. You could use my help on this job.”
“We don’t take tourists on jobs.” I scoff, even though he’s playing right into my hands.
He raises his eyebrows, unbothered. “I’m not asking to go into the Afterlife with you. I’m just asking to help with Part One.”
I look him up and down. “Do you have any special skills?”
His mouth stretches slowly into a seductive grin. “I do indeed.”
I hesitate. I really should flirt back, but there’s something about doing it in front of Tolliver that feels, I don’t know, wrong? I take a steadying breath through my nose, turning to the others. CJ snorts, and I know it’s because they can feel my frustration, and for some reason they always find that funny.
“Alright, so this book—”
