Heat blossomed over my face as I kept my expression blank and response succinct. “They do as they please. I do apologize.”
“Would you mind if I put a stop to that little behavior?” He raised a dark, perfectly manicured brow, not annoyed nor angered.
I hesitated. Mages had tried before. Many had. “I do not often see positive results when people attempt to assuage it. But if you insist.”
With effortless grace, he plucked a hatpin from a pen cup on his counter and turned toward my nosy shadow. Within the span of a blink, he flicked his wrist and darted the pin right onto the tail of the shadow, earning a squeak of protest.
As if nothing more than cloth, it stuck to the spot, shape changing from a bird to an imp or devilish simian creature and opened a mouth, pantomiming some rather vile gestures and threats that came out as nothing more than sharp whispers. The pin held its tail stuck in place as it tugged and panicked.
“And let that be a warning to you all. Any of you who pester me or snoop in my personal belongings will get the same treatment.” He gestured toward a dozen more pins, at least, in the jar.
My shadows, all save for the one pinned in place, returned to me to form a typical shadow, all save for a chunk of my head and shoulder missing as if a bite had been taken out. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for permitting me to do so. Now, I realize it’s lunchtime, and this is absolutely dreadful business, so allow me to feed you. Is Italian alright?” He gestured toward a door behind the counter, and I doubled up the grip on my briefcase and followed at a clipped pace, giving my disconnected shadow a glare on the way by.
“I don’t eat meat much.” I cleared my throat nervously. For what I was, meat was considered a blood sacrifice and imbalanced things for my shadow. I gestured toward my shadow, hoping he’d understand, and he seemed to.
“Garlic bread and a mushroom risotto?” a breathy voice spoke in the dark as lights came on, and the mage walked me to a quaint dining room with a table only big enough for four. Truly, it was more of a breakfast nook with the décor of a dining room. A chair rail circled the room with tasteful dark wallpaper.
“That would be lovely,” I said before taking a seat offered to me.
“The former owner of this place, when it was an Italian restaurant, went poltergeist. He still loves to cook, so I left part of the original kitchen as an anchor for him, and he takes care of my meals.” Mage Hawthorne smiled at me with a coy littletilt to his lips, and I added a negative tick to my notepad about enslaving a spirit. Mushroom risotto did sound good, though.
“I see.” I scribbled more notes before sitting up and cracking my case open to pull out my printed checklist.
“Type A personality, I see.” Mage Hawthorne leaned over and glanced over my notes and neatly organized case.
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t subscribe to personality tests or defining people with short quizzes, Mage Hawthorne.” I tapped a stack of papers back into a neat pile and extended my hands.
“Please, call me Gre. I would agree, but in my field, we can judge the character of a soul by far less than a test.” His eyes wandered, and my shadow had morphed slightly, cast up on the wall with devilish horns and a swaying, pointed-tipped tail swishing angrily. Still missing part of its head and neck, though.
“Apologies. Daeva shadows can be—” I kept my gaze on my paperwork.
“Spirited. Quite literally.” His gaze never broke, but I relented and followed his line of sight as an errant moth fluttered by. A tendril of my shadow snaked out and latched onto the moth’s shadow. And with no warning, the small, fluttering creature fell dead.
“I apologize for inconveniencing you. It appears to be a bad time. Would you like to reschedule with another? I can file the motion to continue for the time being?” I moved forward and snapped my case closed only to earn a rather bewildered expression. It didn’t suit his austere face.
“Why?” His brow furrowed.
I gestured at my shadow.
“We all have our quirks. Your shadow is harmless, unless I’m an insect or hiding sordid secrets.” He offered a pleasant smile, and I froze, unsure of how to progress. Once mages saw my shadow misbehaving, they normally wanted nothing to do with me or my services.
“I appreciate your understanding.” It was refreshing. Unless a person had magical blood, they weren’t predisposed to witnessing my shadow, but it happened frequently enough.
“Not an issue at all. If it was, I’d have brought the pins with me.” The way he smiled set my heart at ease and made my shadow sulk. “Now, onto this list.”
Before I could say a word, I balked as a glass goblet floated onto my table, a whispering voice asking if I preferred sparkling or still.
“S-sparkling?” A hiss and pop preceded a long-necked bottle floating into a tilt to pour into my cup. “Thank you.”
I wondered if it was his magic or the ghost. It was uncommon for me to be unable to see a spirit. I squinted, and as I did so, Gre cleared his throat, and the ghost came into view. A plump sort of old man with dark circles under his eyes gave me a flat-lipped smile. A mirrored grimace of a thing that I often wore.
“Thank you, Vincenzo.” Gre stared down his nose at the paper and waved a hand in the air, finger tracing complex sigils that left glowing trails floating midair for moments.
An ancient accordion file floated in from another room, a leather-bound notebook secured with a classy buckle, two manila folders neatly labeled and a plastic sleeve folder fat with documents. As they floated in, one by one, they settled by my feet, cautious of my demonic shadow, which was still behaving.
“What’s this?” I asked as Gre stood and summoned a candlestick from somewhere and set about lighting it. Next, he summoned a bottle of wine and a glass; those two coming to him by way of the ghost.
