“I’m not the one who—” But that’s as far as I get before Ghost retaliates. He forms a sphere of air around me, one I’m all too familiar with. It doesn’t let air in, or out. In training, he’d use it until his opponent would tap out or pass out. I’m not about to do either.
I hold my breath and quickly scan the room. Chairs. Tables. Mugs. I gather them all, like an army of Trolls ready to attack. Had to face one, once, and it’s not an experience I want to repeat.
I’m about to strike when someone knocks on the back door. I hear it open, there’s a bunch of cluttering as whoever it is brings things in from the alley, and then stomps their boots to kick off the snow. They make their way across the back room toward the cafe. It sounds like they’re pushing something—like a cart—probably a delivery, and I refocus my attention on Ghost. Who glances toward the back room, too.
I know I won’t get an opportunity like this again, so I strike. Mugs feign left and then fly at Ghost from all angles. Tables zoom toward him while he’s distracted by mugs. They hide chairs, which jump out from behind them and try to hit Ghost over the head.
Except Ghost surrounds himself with a shield, and they all bounce off and go flying. Mugs clatter onto the street, chairs nearly take out the overhead lights, and a table flies toward the back room… just as a scrawny postal worker pushing a baby stroller steps through the door.
Chapter Four
Zoe
“Watch out!” Amber shrieks.
The postal worker—who’s too busy making funny faces at his baby to pay attention to his surroundings—jumps. His head snaps up, his sunken eyes widen, and he visibly recoils—none of which does any good against the incoming table.
What would do some good is pushing the stroller out of the way. That’s what I’d be shouting. If I could talk. Or breathe. Neither of which is an option while I’m stuck in Ghost’s impenetrable sphere.
I have seconds to act. Seconds to decide if I should try to save the postal worker’s baby, or take out Ghost. One’s the humane choice, the other’s the agency’s choice, and Agent Wynter was trained to survive.
Truth is, I won’t save anyone if I’m unconscious—or dead. I know that not everyone can be saved. And I know that I can do a lot more good in this world if I live to fight another day. My job is to save myself, so I can save future lives; so it’s a good thing I’m not Agent Wynter anymore.
Zoe Wynter—Cleanly Den maid—has only one job. To save the postal worker’s baby. So I focus every last bit of energy on the massive flying table and slam on the magical brakes. Yank on it and try to pull it to a stop before it slams into that tiny, innocent life.
The postal worker jumps into action, too. He launches himself on top of the stroller—sacrifices himself to save his baby—but I’m pretty sure his skinny frame wouldn’t do much good. If anything, a table that size will probably knock him out and crush them both.
After that, it feels like everything happens in slow motion. My vision goes dark around the edges. My knees start to give out. The table keeps flying with no sign of slowing down.
A sick feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. And just when I think it’s too late, the sphere around me bursts. Suddenly, Ghost’s magic joins my own. We pull together—try to stop the behemoth of a table from crashing—but even working together, there isn’t enough time.
Which is when several things happen all at once. First, the back of the postal worker’s coat bursts. I mean, literally explodes with feathers shooting out and flying toward the table. For a second, my brain conjures thoughts of divine intervention—I mean white feathers, angels, it makes sense. That is, until I hear Julian curse.
Whatever Amber’s mate was trying to do, I’m sure it wasn’t blowing up the postal worker’s coat. But his wonky magic has an unexpected side-effect, because air escaping the coat propels the stroller—which the man is lying on top of—away from the table. Not too fast, but just enough for us to be able to pull it to a stop.
It’s a close call, but the table suddenly drops and crashes to the floor mere inches away from the man and baby. The floorboards vibrate beneath my feet, and I fall to my knees, finally sucking in cold air. Because, it turns out, I was so focused on stopping the table that I forgot to breathe.
The postal worker falls to his knees, too, but he’s busy feathering his baby with kisses while errant feathers rain down around them.
“You’re okay. You’re okay,” he murmurs over and over while the crowd outside nearly drowns out his words as everyone starts to cheer.
I didn’t realize my fight with Ghost had drawn an audience, but it turns out that tossing mugs, chairs, and tables out the cafe window and onto the sidewalk brings Silver Springs residents running. That or they just hang out outside Jewels Cafe all the time, waiting to see what Julian will blow up next.
“Is anyone hurt?” Amber—who’s now a mix of troll limbs, Yeti body, and mermaid head with pink hair—asks.
The postal worker glances at her and gapes. When he finally seems to snap out of it, he shakes his head. “No, thank the Gods.” He shoots a quick glance at the heavens—or, in this case, the Jewels Cafe ceiling. Then he turns to Amber and his jaw drops. “What the…”
He struggles to form words, and I don’t blame him. Between Amber’s shifting issues, the fact that he and his baby nearly got pummeled by a table, and the general state of Jewels Cafe… anyone would be at a loss. I definitely am, and Ghost… is no longer standing where he was a few seconds ago.
I quickly scan the crowd and catch sight of him pushing past a red-skinned demon before disappearing from sight. Again. Leaving. Again.
And just like that, I’m suddenly back at graduation, my heart breaking as I watch him walk out of my life without looking back.
“Zoe, you’re shivering,” Amber says, and I realize she’s right.
“I’ll get my coat,” I tell her, flicking my wrist. Amber and Julian both grimace, and the postal worker ducks in fear when my coat zooms past. Which is when what I’ve done finally sinks in.
My magic nearly killed someone. It completely destroyed the cafe. And like always, Ghost isn’t here to face the music. Or lack of music, since the only thing I can hear is the murmuring crowd outside and the whistling wind.
Because the floor to ceiling window is shattered. The front door is gone. Gusts of cold wind blow into the cafe, sending feathers floating across the floor. A floor littered with broken Jewels Cafe mugs, chair legs, overturned tables, and dented barstools. The path of destruction leads outside all the way to the sidewalk. Where the poor Pumpkin Spice Latte sign, which has withstood a year of rain and snow, now lies broken clear in half.
This is worse than anything Julian’s wonky magic has ever done. Worse than anything I’ve ever been called in to clean. It’s a complete and utter mess.
“I’ll clean everything. I swear,” I tell Amber, who’s too busy being an elk with mouse ears and one human foot to reply. “And I’ll pay for the damage. You can take it out of my paycheck.”
A paycheck that probably won’t be enough. A paycheck I need to make rent. A paycheck I won’t get if I can’t save the Cleanly Den.