This old bat knows things I don’t, so I believe her.
The grocery store is our last stop and, boy, is their selection limited. Very, very limited. We ask where the bok choi is, and the poor attendant leads us to the seafood aisle like it might be some kind of shellfish. In the end, we get a few things for modest, mostly Nai Nai approved meals, and head home.
I can smell her making cruller for the leftover congee as Ace and I set up her crafting table. My mouth waters when we meet her in the kitchen for dinner and I see the spread on the low table.
The fried dough is better than I remember, and dipped in day-old congee—ugh, so good. It’s my mini escape from all the work that’s ahead of me. Ace starts school in two days, and while I can’t contact any of the people who do business stuff over the weekend, I know I still need to be working. Lacey’s question reminded me I’ve got a lot of learning ahead of me.
After dinner I occupy the shower again—no, thoughts of Rhazan do not come up—then get to all the learning. Thereare so many Viewtube videos on how to make coffee with an espresso machine, which I’m pretty sure is the coppery-colored thing downstairs. It still needs a good cleaning, but I hope it’ll work.
I take notes by hand and eat another cruller with a bit of sugar dusted on top—very little sugar, just in case I summon a visitor. By eleven, well past everyone’s bedtime, Nai Nai calls for lights out. I snuggle into my sheets, but sleep doesn’t find me. Thoughts of a certain fire demon do, though.
My wrist dances with color and light in the darkness. I want to touch the mark, not to summon him but just to ensure it’s real. I swallow back the desire and roll onto my side, then start my square breathing technique.
In for eight. Hold. Out for eight. Hold. I count backwards from a thousand as I do it, timing my breaths with the countdown. Before long, I’m not counting anymore, but flying.
eight
Butting Heads Behind the Bar
Ilook down at my slumbering body and do a double take. I’ve never been able to maintain an astral presence while unconscious. Twisting strings of green and orange catch my notice, and I see the chain linking my astral wrist to my body. The mark from the ifrit glows brightly, as if it’s lending me power and keeping me tethered so I don’t get lost.
I don’t think he meant for his mark to be a boon, but I’m going to use it to the fullest extent. I whoop, flipping backwards and soaring toward the ceiling. I pass into the attic, which hasloadsof boxes stacked neatly. I want to investigate those later, but for now, the sky calls.
I zoom toward the roof, then crash into the boards. Pain sizzles on my astral body and I rub my face.
“What the hell?”
I’ve never been able to feel pain in my spirit body before…
I approach the ceiling slower and inspect it closely. A fiery shield hovers just above the surface of the wood. It reacts to my astral body, repelling it like two magnets turned the wrong way.
Motherfucker trapped me here!
I whirl around and dive. The floor rushes past me until I reach sensory overload on the main level. A massive doorway made of fire and smoke stands in the middle of the café. I would suck in a gasp if this body needed air, or if air even existed on this plane.
But I bet it does beyond that door.
I reach for the golden handle that looks to be in a perpetual state of melting. The drips disappear before hitting the ground, but the knob doesn’t ever change size. It’s warm to my neon pink body, but not painfully so. His magic responds to my touch and the handle turns.
The watered-down vision of the café is solid beyond that frame, revealing a world that stops my heart. The floor is black lava rock. Pulses of orange fire glow deep within it, giving an ambiance to the hall. It’s longer than the café, as if he told the space to stretch out for him and it complied.
The stools at that bar are crafted from bone and twisting gold, and the creatures sitting atop them are something beyond imagining. Humanoid in shape, but everything stops there. Some have leathery wings, others have feathers, some have two sets of arms, and others are scaled. Some of them are as tall asRhazan, and some are as short as Nai Nai, but all of them look like they could beat me to a pulp in a fistfight.
An orange glowing ball of fire bounds toward me and…barks?
It stops before me and looks up with big, coal eyes that glow like embers. The fire seems to be originating from them and another chunk of rock buried deeper in its chest. There’s a brand on it that looks all too familiar: flaming wings.
I grit my teeth.
Did this fire demon just make me his fuckingpet?
The flameball barks again, wagging its tail and lolling a glowing tongue. I kneel down and give it a pat.
“Lead me to Rhaz, would you?” I ask the creature.
It barks twice, runs in a little circle, then takes off for the bar. I follow, and the fiery doorway closes behind me. The door remains and a label appears on it: a green star just like the one on my wrist. There are other doors flanking it, six in total. The symbols are all different, and not all of them are lit up with color.
All chatter in the room has stopped, and when I look back at the bar, everyone is staring at me. I do the sane, reasonable thing and wave.
