Hex sits down in the armchair and looks at the ceiling with the expression of a man who has won something important but is not going to be allowed to enjoy it in peace.
I drink my tea.
The ring sits in my pocket, warm against my hand. And somewhere in the Shadow Realm, or possibly somewhere else entirely, Fiend is doing whatever Fiend does and thinking whatever Fiend thinks, and I have absolutely no idea whether what just happened was helpful or a threat or something else entirely.
But he looked at the ring.
And he told me to keep it close.
I think I will.
Chapter 21
Patience is a Virtue
Felixdoesn’twantmeto go in.
He says this while wrapped in my spare duvet on the sofa, with a mug of something herbal that Hex found at the back of the cupboard and that smells aggressively of chamomile, looking approximately seventy per cent recovered and one hundred per cent determined not to show the thirty per cent that isn’t.
“It’s Saturday,” he says. “Coffeelicious on a Saturday without me is a disaster.”
“Which is exactly why I should go in.”
“You’re not supposed to be working today.”
“Felix. Your flat burned down three days ago. You’re not working. Someone has to.”
He pulls the duvet tighter with the expression of someone who wants to argue but doesn’t have the energy.
“Take Hex.”
“I can’t take Hex.”
“Why not?”
“Because he is entirely too distracting, and I’ll burn the beans and boil the milk. And that’s if he behaves and doesn’t start rearranging things, or terrifying the customers.”
Felix makes a sound that concedes my point without admitting it out loud. Hex, in the armchair, looks up from whatever hehas been doing with Felix’s phone. Felix showed him the internet yesterday, and the consequences are ongoing.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell him.
“I know,” says Hex.
His tone implies that he knows, because he is going to make sure of it. And that’s just fine by me.
I put my work clothes on and walk to Coffeelicious in the November grey, hands in my pockets, the ring pressing warm against my fingers where I’ve taken to carrying it loose rather than leaving it in various places in the flat. Fiend told me to keep it close. I don’t know why I trust that, given that Fiend is completely unreadable and possibly chaos in a very beautiful package, but I do.
Saturday lives up to its reputation. From the moment I unlock the doors it is relentless. The morning crowd and then the brunch crowd and then the people who come in for a quiet afternoon coffee and are visibly surprised by how many other people had the same idea. I am on the machine alone for three hours before Maya comes in for her afternoon shift and the relief is significant.
I am fine. It is fine. Everything is completely fine.
I take the bin bags out to the alley at the back at half three, because the bins need doing and because five minutes of cold November air and the quiet of the alley behind the row of shops sounds like exactly what I need before the Saturday late afternoon rush hits.
I am halfway to the bins when I become aware that I am not alone.
Peterson is standing at the alley entrance. Behind him are two men who have the particular quality of men who get paid to stand behind people and look threatening. They are doing this very effectively. They are not the same two men who first threatened me. I think Hex scared those thugs off permanently. These guys have no idea.
I stop walking.
