“You with the Premier?” he asked.
Oh yeah, this guy knew something.
“Nope,” I lied.
He nodded and then closed the door, removing the chain before reopening it, beckoning for me to come inside.
The space was small but clean. Cozy, really, with the last bit of sunlight filtering through a row of potted herbs and succulents lined up on the windowsill. A faint smell of chamomile and old books lingered in the air. He moved around his narrow galley kitchen slowly, brushing past a hanging pothos whose vines reached out like they wanted to grab one of the feathers from the gray wings tucked neatly against his back.
“Tea?” he asked, already reaching for the kettle.
“Sure, thank you.”
It was considered rude to refuse seraph hospitality, and besides, I could always use another cup.
He pulled down a couple of chipped mugs, mismatched but scrubbed clean, and set them gently on the counter. From a glass jar filled with neatly folded tea bags and dried leaves, he chose two, humming under his breath. The kettle clattered lightly against the burner as he set it down and turned on the flame, the blue fire washing the small kitchen in a soft glow.
I waited patiently, as he seemed like a man who didn’t appreciate being rushed. Finally, the kettle began to sing, and he turned off the heat and poured the water into the mugs, dipping the bags a bit to get the flavor going before handing one to me. “My favorite brand. You can’t get it here, though, so my niece sends me a shipment of the stuff straight from Halcyon every month.”
I took a sniff, recognizing the blend of ambrosia and sanctum spice. “Celestial Nectar?”
An impressed smile grew on his weathered face. “A demon of good taste!” he exclaimed, like it surprised him. I tried not to take it personally.
“What do you want to know?” he asked, slipping into the chair opposite me.
I took a sip of the tea, making sure to smile and sigh at the taste. It wasn’t my favorite, but it was a part of the song-and-dance seraphim expected when they offered you food or drink. “Delicious, thank you. So, my client has hired me to find Sage Hexwood, and this is her last known address before she disappeared five years ago. Do you remember much about her? Why did she move out?”
“She didn’t move out, shewasmoved out,” he answered, his voice almost too quiet to hear.
“What does that mean?” I asked, keeping my tone gentle. I was an alpha, a demon at that, and this old omega seraph needed to be handled with kid gloves or I’d spook him into silence. I let out a comforting purr, to help further put him at ease.
He looked down, almost unwilling to elaborate, until he finally spoke. “I mean around five years ago, I was coming home from the store to find a bunch of vampires in uniform—like the kind I’ve seen whenever the Premier’s around—clearing out her apartment. When I asked them who they were and what they were doing, they just handed me an envelope full of runics and told me that for my own good, I needed to forget that Sage Hexwood ever lived here. So I took it and kept my mouth shut.”
If he were anything other than a seraph I’d understand, but it was so unlike his Magik to look the other way when something suspicious was happening.
I took another sip of the tea, my thumbs gliding across the warm ceramic mug. A cartoon drawing of an angry demon was on the side, next to the caption “Don’t talk to me til I’ve had my coffee!”
“Did you have any trouble with Sage? Like parties or guests that got out of hand?”
He shook his head. “No, she was a good tenant. She was gone a lot, either working or at school. But her rent was always paid on time, and aside from the occasional cauldron mishap, she barely made a peep.”
Something about that bit of information made me smile, imagining Sage trying a new spell and then having it backfire. A scene popped into my head of me laughing and bringing her into a hug while she huffed, wondering where she’d gone wrong.
I cleared it away to concentrate on what the seraph was saying.
“Sorry, I know it’s cowardly that I never reported her missing, but with the alpha vampires taking her stuff…” He shuddered, his feathers shaking behind him. “I’m an old omega living by myself with a whole building full of Magiks. Most of us are on fixed incomes, and don’t have the resources to move. All I could do was pray to Solasia she’d be okay.”
Therewas his Magik—his sense of duty to the greater good. Not that I was judging him. If I were in his shoes, I would have likely done the same thing.
“So why risk talking to me?”
He turned to look at a save-the-date card for a wedding happening in a few months on his fridge, lost in thought for a moment before replying. “I never had any kids of my own, but my niece lived with me while she went to Umbris. She’s older now, back in Halcyon. She actually found her mate last year. A nice witch boy. He reminds me of Sage.”
My brow furrowed in surprise. Mate bonds were pretty rare in Lundaria—only around five to eight percent of us ever found that one person, chosen by the gods themselves, to be our perfect partner.
I’d only met a few mated couples in my whole life. They always looked stupid happy together, just like his niece and the witch in the photo.
A fat drop of water fell from the faucet, hitting the porcelain sink and echoing in the quiet space. He looked at me again. “I needed to protect my tenants, but I never stopped thinking about what her family must have gone through. Even if…”
