Chapter One
Rhys
This day wasn’tgoing as planned.
Tucking my hands in my pockets, I hunched my shoulders against the light rain that fell from the dull grey sky. After driving around with a realtor for the last three hours, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.
When I arrived in Austin months ago, I decided that I wanted to settle here. At least for a while. It would be the first time I had a home in centuries.
Places have a soul, just like people, and I felt a kinship with the spirit of this city.
I found a small rental home that suited me perfectly, but the landlord had recently given me notice that he needed the property back for his daughter who had just gotten married and was expecting his first grandchild. I couldn’t blame him for wanting his family close. To help with my search for a new house, I contacted the real estate office I’d used previously. Although the agent I had worked with was no longer there, they assigned me a new one.
Unfortunately, the realtor didn’t understand what I was looking for. My budget might be generous, but I had a vision of the home I wanted to live in and she couldn’t seem to grasp that. Each house she showed me was larger than the one before. The last monstrosity she took me to was more of a palace than a home.
This was my second outing with the realtor and the time I’d wasted convinced me that she wasn’t the right person to help me find what I was looking for. I was also beginning to wonder if perhaps this was a sign I should move on.
My chest tightened at the thought. I didn’t want to move on. I liked it here. I felt more peace in the last few months than I had in hundreds of years. But fate was fickle and I’d learned the hard way not to ignore the small hints that the universe threw out.
The skies opened up and the light drizzle became a deluge. I dashed under an awning to escape the rain and noticed that I was standing in front of a coffee house. I smiled when I read the words on the window.The Magic Bean. The name was interesting and piqued my curiosity as to what might be inside. Suddenly, I was inundated with the desire for a cup of something hot. Opening the door, I stepped inside and found myself surrounded with warmth.
As I said before, places have a soul and the soul here was pure comfort. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth and I moved deeper into the shop. The floors were dark wood and the walls were painted warm beige. The overall impression it created was cozy and calming. Small round tables stood toward the front of the store and an old wooden bar was fixed in the back left corner, polished to a bright sheen.
The smell of coffee and baked goods lingered in the air, but I could detect the underlying scent of oranges. My mouth watered as I walked toward the counter.
A blonde woman smiled at me from behind the bar, wiping her hands on a pristine white towel.
“Good morning,” she greeted. “What can I get for you?”
I looked at the board on the wall behind her, studying the menu written in chalk. I didn’t understand half of what was written there. Though I drank coffee, all the flavors and froth just confused me.
Before I could answer her question, she spoke again, “Would you trust me to choose something for you?” she asked.
Her words caught my attention. She was asking for my trust, something I didn’t give easily. My gaze focused on her and I truly saw her for the first time. Her physical appearance was attractive, if relatively normal. She had long blonde hair and odd purple eyes that were an unsettling mixture of lavender and indigo. Then my sight went deeper. I realized that the homey feeling of the coffee shop reflected her. She was warmth and grace personified. Even from several feet away, I could feel the calming effects of her spirit.
The ability to see into the heart of a person was a by-product of all the things my maker had done to me. In moments like this, it came in handy. I might feed from the souls of others, but my predatory instincts knew who was trustworthy.
This woman was good to her core. Still, as I looked closer, there was a shadow around her, as though she were bound by something. Or someone.
“That sounds fine,” I finally answered.
Her smile widened and I wondered if she knew how deeply I could read her. The thought was unsettling. Anonymity and ignorance were my only shields against enemies, known and unknown. She rang up my purchase, pausing to ask, “Would you like something to eat as well?”
I glanced into the glass case that sat atop the counter to my left and saw an assortment of pastries and other baked goods. To my right were three domed cake stands that held a cake and two variations of pie. That explained the smell that was making my mouth water.
“You choose,” I told her, watching her closely.
Genuine delight radiated from the woman as she punched more buttons on the tablet in front of her. “That will be seven dollars and fifty cents.”
I fished my wallet out of my pocket and paid in cash, taking a moment to drop a couple of dollars into the ornate jar next to the register.
“Thanks,” she said, clearly pleased with the tip. “Just grab a seat and I’ll be with you in a moment.”
I turned and realized that all the tables were surprisingly empty. It was rainy and cooler today than it had been during the weeks since I first arrived. The perfect day to linger in a shop over a steaming mug of coffee or tea and a book. Yet there was no one here.
Still, I was grateful for the solitude. Too much time around people made me twitchy. I’d spent centuries looking over my shoulder, always on edge around strangers. I never knew when a threat would make itself known. As a result, I tended to avoid places where people would congregate.
It wasn’t until I settled into one of the booths that I realized that the other half of the shop held merchandise. There were two large circular tables near the front of the space that were littered with hunks of crystals and rocks, jewelry, and odds and ends. Shelves holding books and candles ran along the walls and jutted out into the center of the store. There was a small niche at the rear, opposite the coffee bar. Instead of a door, the little room was separated from the rest of the floor by heavy velvet curtains in dark green. The curtains were drawn back to reveal an antique round table of dark wood with a matching chair on each side.
