Her black-painted eyes narrow on him.
“I have to paint now,” Drew says, turning for the doorway.
The protection spell burned across the frame and some of the wall, crisping the protective seal right off. It was a good thing Drew had just done a floor remodel for someone in town and had plenty of the sealant left.
When there’s only a shadow of the vaporized man on the floor left, we decide that’s as good as it’ll get and seal it up. It’ll add some character to the place, and I can tell tall tales of how a dragon slayed a monster to save my life. TechnicallyIslayed the monster—the front door lightning was all my magic this time around—but it sounds more romantic, and less plausible, the other way.
I make four cups of English Breakfast before we open, and Renee hangs out for most of the morning. It’s not like she could help against magical beings, but I feel safer with her here. Maybe it’s selfish. If they came back with more people, she could be in real danger. Still, her presence helps keep me calm as I move decorations around to match theflow.
With all the cleaning and the body to dispose of, there wasn’t time to switch back the shelves. It just is how it is for now, and I’ll collect sales data on this new configuration first, I guess.
A few people wander in, saying that they’d try to come by yesterday. I explain that we had a small fire—pointing to the somewhat man-shaped scorch on the floor—and they all nod, their eyes a little buggy.
In all, the first real day of sales is great. We’re operating in the black, barely, as long as I don’t give myself or Bastian a large wage. I have yet to figure out what to pay myself, or him. He’s been putting in a lot of work to refurbish the books and I feel like he needs more than just…more books.
Renee takes off at closing with a tight hug and whispered prayers. I give her the same, drawing the symbol of protection on her back in little twitches of my finger. Hopefully she doesn’t need it.
Bastian is mending another shipment of damaged goods when I get up to the apartment. We work quietly, him binding and me cooking. Oscar winds around my feet as I mull over everything that’s happened.
“Do you think that first warlock tipped off the others?” I ask.
Bastian glances up at me and cocks his head. “Who?”
“The guy who just walked into the lake and set off the front door defense months ago?”
“Ah.” He grimaces.
“Bastian,” I say his name in warning. “What are you hiding?”
He sighs. “With your gentle heart toward living beings, I thought it best not to tell you he was dead.”
“He’s been dead this whole time?” I ask.
He nods. “Now that I know you’re not opposed to me killing things—”
“When absolutely necessary,” I interject.
“Yes, only absolutely necessary…” He looks down at his book in progress, a guilty yet amused expression pulling his lips into a smile.
“You killed those dust mites too, didn’t you.”
“I most certainly did.”
“Bastian!”
“How could I not?”
“You said you were sending them to their home dimension,” I say, my brow furrowed sternly.
“I said what was best for your gentle heart!”
“The truth is what’s best,” I say as I set the bowls of curry at the table.
“They would’ve eaten your books,” he says.
My eyes narrow on him. “You’re just saying that.”
“It’s true. Anything dusty is their food, and the mites are far less intelligent than things like…bunnies.”
