“So. Watcha drinkin’?”
Michael opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated. “I...don’t know.”
She eyed him shrewdly, lifting one perfectly arched brow. “Haven’t been on Earth in a while, huh?”
It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. “I—what?”
She laughed, a little chuckle with an edge to it that did nothing to help his nerves. “We can tell, you know? Even with the glamour on.” She made a flapping motion with her hands, giving him a pointed look.
Michael swallowed hard. “Right...”
“So,” she picked up her little order pad from the desk and pulled a pen from behind her ear. “If you have no idea, then we can do this the fun way. I ask a question, you only have to say yes or no. Got it?”
“I think I can handle that.”
“Perfect!”
She began rattling off questions about his coffee preferences. Did he like sweet drinks? Strong ones? Hot, cold? Any flavored syrups? Almond milk, soy milk, milk milk—here she broke off with a laugh. “I mean, y’know, milk from a cow.”
“Of course,” he smiled.
“The last question is the most essential,” she informed him gravely, placing both palms flat on the counter and leaning in. “You need something to eat with your drink. So. Muffin, or donut?”
“Donut, of course,” Michael responded just as gravely, though inside something was loosening around his chest. It was nice, a bit of levity amidst all the chaos.
“A man of common sense, and good taste. The answer is always,alwaysdonuts.” She gestured to the pastry case. “There’s so many, just pick whatever you like.”
Michael hemmed and hawed over the options laid out and finally made a selection. It was simple but interestingly shaped, and he pointed it out. Kim peered over.
“Cruller! Nice choice.”
Important beverage and pastry concerns addressed, Michael was bustled off to a small table in the corner. The café was on the emptier side, which was to be expected on a weekday afternoon, but he could tell this would be considered one of the ‘best’ tables either way. Placed a bit removed from the other tables with a small succulent garden in a fishbowl set on the tabletop, soaking up the warmth and light pouring in through the front window.
Kim made a show of setting the plate with his donut onto the table with a flourish and a mock bow, giggling softly. “Enjoy!”
Michael smiled as she slid back behind the counter, then turned his gaze to the small clusters of people passing by outside the glass. He lifted his coffee, sniffing curiously at the plastic lid and frowning when he couldn’t discern the scent. He glanced curiously back at the counter, and Kim mimed a drinking motion with a wink before returning to her book. Michael shrugged and took a tentative sip.
Something rich and earthy burst on his tongue, immediately chased by a subtle sweetness. Was that…hazelnut? And caramel? It was delicious, and he took a longer, eager sip. Mortals were always innovating and inventing such wonderful things. The last time he had coffee in the mortal realm, it had been a bitter, dark thing the Italians were quite fond of and subsequently named espresso.
This was far and above an improvement. He turned to commend the young barista, only to freeze mid-twist. A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention back out through the front window.
Could it be the guest he was waiting for? Or was it Uriel keeping a watchful eye on the meeting? He closed his eyes, as ifto block out some unwanted sight, and for all the world seemed to be soaking in the warm sunlight. In reality, he was utilizing an ancient practice known assentientia privation,also known as Deprivation Sensing.
By methodically shutting out sight, smell, touch and sound through focused concentration inward, he essentially led his awareness to a blank slate. In the void behind, there was space to unleash his power, only slightly. Just enough to spread outward and search for traces of other Divine.
It unfurled from him like a tendril, soft warm air pushed out under the guise of an exhaled breath and spreading out like a wave on the shore. His power brushed through the room, at first relaying nothing, and then there was a sudden answering push from behind the counter.
Michael started slightly, eyes blinking open at the unexpected rebuff, and watched Kim closely as she washed a few mugs in the sink. She had carefully marked her spot in her book with a clean coffee filter. She was humming something that sounded like a boy band song from last decade. And she was giving off a gentle, steady pulse of contained magic.
The way she moved, the fact that she didn’t react to his probing—she was either completely unaware of her power or much practiced at maintaining a separation from it. But for a mortal to have so much raw magic… He understood why this place was known as a haven for the Divine, and how she had known what he was.
Michael reigned his power back in before she could potentially sense him. This was too small a space to unravel more of it, anyway; he had seen the effects of angelic power on mortals before, and it was never pretty.
When he turned back, the chair before him was no longer empty.
“So you see now why I suggested this place,” Sachiel grinned, settling back in the chair and running his hand through his long blonde waves.
“These humans have magic,” Michael raised a brow. “Witches?”
