“Not sure it’s accidental, but it happens. Let’s get breakfast.” Angel laced his fingers through mine, tugging me away from the convention center. “You been to the Nicollet Diner?”
“Yeah. Though it’s been at least a decade. Is it still on this side?”
“It is, though it’s close to a split. Someday it will get overtaken, but most of this side of town is used to it and integrates well. The evening cabaret has some banging drag shows.”
The diner’s familiar neon sign buzzed overhead as we slipped inside, bypassing the roped off cabaret stage in favor of the worn vinyl booths. We’d timed it perfectly as the breakfast rush had faded, leaving just the lingering scent of maple syrup and the quiet hum of after meal conversations.
I flipped open the laminated menu. “Forgot they serve poutine as big as my head.”
“Shifter portions,” Angel agreed, nodding to the waiter who appeared with waters. The man’s glowing orange armband pulsed faintly as he smiled between us.
“Need a minute?” the waiter asked.
Angel raised an eyebrow at me.
“I’m set.” I tapped the menu’s obscene pancake stack photo. Three golden disks that barely fit the plate, a side of bacon, and enough butter to alarm a cardiologist.
Angel snorted. “No cheese curds and gravy for breakfast?”
“Nah, that’s more of a late lunch option,” I shot back, adding coffee to my order. Angel chose an omelet filled with ham, sausage, cheese, peppers, and onions. The picture on the menu made it look as large as my stack of cakes.
When the food arrived, syrup cascaded down the sides, and I got two cups of extra butter. Angel’s omelet was a cheese ladenmonstrosity, stuffed with enough meat to constitute its own ecosystem.
I offered forkfuls of fluffy pancake between bites of his omelet, the exchange becoming its own quiet ritual. Angel’s shoulders relaxed with each bite he fed me, unspoken tension easing as we shared.
By the time I pushed away the remains of my stack, only a quarter of it remained. I patted my stomach. “I need either a five mile walk or a weeklong coma.”
Angel snatched the check, adding cash to the folder. “How about a long walk through a street market?”
“Market? Oh, that sounds fun. I didn’t know there was one around here.”
“The old arena,” Angel said as he held out a hand, waiting for me to thread my fingers through his before leading me to the door. “It’s a full-time marketplace now. Multiple levels of vendors and open markets. Everything from books to crafts, to crystals, and herbs.”
“All across the Veil? That’s wild.”
“It’s also one of the safest places in the cities since it’s the oldest split and neutral territory.”
“Neutral?”
“The other side has districts. Like Xavier’s district,” Angel reminded me. “He takes care of shifters, but there are treaties that mitigate aggression. The Market has guards of all types and is considered a neutral zone for all territories.” Angel shrugged. “Like Switzerland.”
We wandered toward the arena, the days of concerts and sports games long gone, though as we crossed through the Veil, the landscape shifted, the street filling with others. The air shimmered as we crossed fully into the Veil, the arena’s modern facade melting into ancient limestone arches draped with living ivy and a thousand balconies lining several floors.The scent of ozone and magic smoke replaced downtown’s metal and concrete, and the crowd around us transformed into shifters with glowing armbands and fae with iridescent pupils.
I hesitated a half-second, and Angel, feeling my pull, stopped with me, waiting. That he didn’t let go of my hand or walk ahead told me a lot. Mainly that he didn’t mind being seen with me, even in this world of Others.
Angel’s thumb brushed my knuckles as I hesitated. “Breathe,” he murmured, waiting without pulling. “It’s just shopping with a touch of magic aura.”
“Sorry. I’m still adjusting to everything.” I squeezed his hand tighter, grounding myself in his warmth as we passed under an archway where lanterns illuminated the haziness. The cavernous space inside buzzed with energy, wide concrete halls filled with stalls fluttering with enchanted banners. The scent of food filled the air, sugar and cinnamon, like roasted nuts.
A booth spanned across the way, familiar and inviting, filled with bins of flavored nuts, seeds, and handmade candies. The family behind the booth, filling bags, looked human enough, though two had glowing bands.
“Maybe we can stop back before we leave and grab some snacks,” I said as we perused their selection. It all looked delicious, but I was incredibly full.
“I have a feeling I should have brought a wagon to carry all the stuff you’ll buy.”
“Jerk,” I grumbled at Angel without heat.
We wandered through the booths, some handmade crafts, some artwork, lots of rocks, spices, herbs, clothing, and even a few booths with potions and talismans. Angel paused each time I did, though neither of us bought anything. I spent a long time looking over a booth of handcrafted jewelry, drawn by a bracelet I thought Nikki might like. In the end, I decided to think it over and come back if needed.
