Page 21 of Awakened Ash and Alchemy

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

His jaw tightened as his fingers curled against the table.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m sworn to secrecy.” He then winced, clapping a hand over his mouth. “Stop it,” he muttered through clenched teeth, as if his own tongue had betrayed him.

“I’m not doing anything. You’re the one snooping about me.” Angela leaned back, observing him.

He gave a meek shrug, as if full of guilt. He would really fail as an undercover detective. The hat and bow tie didn’t help him to blend in either.

“Right then, let’s talk about you. What do you do if you’re not an investigator?”

Pete glanced around the cafe and lowered his voice. “I’m a professor of esotericism who is also a witch.”

“I thought men preferred the title of wizard or sorcerer.”

“Some do,” he said with another meek shrug. “I don’t have the power for that. But you do.”

Angela snorted with disbelief. “You should talk to my aunt. As a witch, she believes in all that. I don’t.”

He blinked a few times, as if he’d misheard her. “You don’t believe in magic?”

“No.”

“Not even after—”

“Evil exists,” Angela cut in. “I smelled it. Touched it. Heard it speak. I don’t need magic to accept that. I know a priest who’d tell anyone that evil doesn’t require belief to be real.”

The look of awe crept into his expression. “You don’t try to understand magic; you just feel it. When you understand it, magic then becomes science.”

She laughed once. “Now you really should talk more with my aunt.”

“Maybe I will,” he said, smiling.

The waitress arrived with her coffee. It was the perfect excuse for Angela to escape.

“Is Zarek good or bad?” she asked before she walked away.

“What do you think?”

Angela leaned closer, lowering her voice. “He’s powerful. Controlled. And I can smell him on you like a brand, a thumbprint left behind.”

Pete stiffened.

“Have a nice day, Mr. Macrombie,” she whispered it like a wish shared.

She headed back toward the bookshop with her coffee warming her hands, bracing herself for Aunt Claudine’s interrogation. He’s a customer, Angela. He’s a person.

Her aunt was right.

Angela peeked over her shoulder to spot Pete sitting at the table all alone.

She’d been rude, which made the guilt nestle in at the base of her ribs. She almost turned back to apologize, to take the time to sit and listen to his story, which is what they did all day at the bookstore. Aunt Claudine prided herself on the store being more about community than just customers. So how dare Angela be mean to a harmless academic like that.

Was it the lack of sleep that made her so snappy? When normally, she’d smile at the customers, hoping they left happy to come back again. Which most of them did.