Chapter 8

8

Despite what Gabriel thought, they did take turns staffing the reception area. With it being her shift, Leah was just finishing up with a burly six-foot-five man and the kitten he'd cooed over—never judge a book—when the door opened for the fourth time that morning. Leah smiled in recognition as Joanne walked in, the coffee shop owner dressed in her work uniform and, best of all, carrying a take-out cup.

"You've been as busy as we were this morning," she declared as she drew near, sable hair bouncing in its practical ponytail.

Leah gave one last wave to her customer. "I doubt that, but it's been busy." Two adoptions and a few people she thought might come back constituted a good morning. It took the worst edge off her worry, enough that her smile was broad. "Is that for me?"

"Figured you'd need the caffeine since you haven't been in." Joanne handed over Leah's usual. They'd met a few years ago when Joanne had first opened across the road and Leah had made a point of stopping in each day to support her. It didn't hurt that Joanne's baking rivalled Emma's and her coffee was superior.

Leah cracked the plastic lid, absorbing the steam. "God, that smells good. Thanks. What do I owe you?"

Joanne parked her hip on the desk, waving that off. "On the house. It gives me an excuse to stretch my legs."

There was more to her smile, enough that Leah blew on the coffee with her eyebrows raised in expectation. "Uh-huh."

Joanne folded like a deck chair. "Fine. What's up with the gorgeous new employee?"

The cup jerked in Leah's hand. "Who?"

Now Joanne gave Leah a look.

"How do you even know about him? He started yesterday."

"I have eyes." The bland statement had Leah snorting. Joanne's head tilted side to side as if looking for him. "What's his story?"

Bare bones, Leah decided. She sipped the coffee, let it dance on her tongue. "His name's Gabriel. He needed a job for the next couple of months and you know we always need help. He's...friends with Emma and Tia."

"The friends you own the bar with, right?" They'd had enough gossipy conversations to get that far. Joanne nibbled her lip. "Single?"

Something in Leah slapped at that, an automatic rejection that surprised her. She hurriedly took another sip of coffee. "Ah, I think so. But he lives in New Orleans so I doubt he's looking to date."

"I could do short-term with someone that looks like him."

"He's kind of abrasive. Not sure he's your type."

Joanne paused, interest dawning in eyes that saw too much. "Am I stepping onto your territory here?"

If she'd have been drinking, it would've been a spit take. " No. "

"I won't poach if you've called dibs."

"I haven't—I wouldn't..." When Joanne's smile widened into a knowing grin, Leah took a breath. "It's not like that. I'm just warning you, his personality doesn't match his looks. If you like that type."

"The tall, dark and take-me-against-a-wall type."

The image that flashed into Leah's brain would need bleach to be erased.

Joanne made a noise in the back of her throat. "I knew it."

"Knew what? You're delusional."

"See, it's the—" She stopped as Leah's phone started to ring. "Saved by the bell. I'd best be getting back anyway."

"Yeah, thanks." Leah moved her coffee to her other hand and picked up her cell. "It's not like that, Jo."

"Uh-huh." Joanne's laugh lingered as she slipped out the door.

"It's not like that," Leah muttered, before pushing answer. "Hey, Tia."

"How're things with Goodnight? You okay?"

Irritation was instant. Leah scowled into space. "Well, I blurted out that I know about magic on his tour, but he took it well."

"Funny."

"Even said he'd give me conjuring lessons."

"Right."

"And then, who knows, maybe he'll spill the secrets of the High Family when we go on our work bonding trip."

"You're a riot."

"No, you are. This checking up on me thing is getting old really fast." Leah swirled her coffee. "Next time you call me, I'm not going to answer."

"Rude. I like it."

Rolling her eyes, Leah turned, intending to sit behind the desk again. "I learn from the— CHRIST ." She jerked as she saw Gabriel behind her, coffee a tidal wave out of the cup. She barely registered the burn seeping into her breasts or Tia squawking in her ear. Her words ran on repeat in her head as she blinked fast.

His expression stayed in the same neutral lines, nothing in his eyes betraying shock or surprise. Maybe he'd only just emerged.

He hadn't heard. He couldn't have.

"Tia, I've got to go." Leah didn't bother wasting time explaining as she hung up on her friend. She ignored the persistent ring and set the cup down with her cell. "Gabriel. Hi. Did you need me?"

"That'll stain." His eyes dipped to her breasts where the brown patch soaked her white T-shirt. Beneath the material, her skin pebbled. "You should take it off."

Her smile felt off-center. "Right. Ha. I have that sweatshirt, after all. Thanks, by the way. For returning it." Flustered, she ran a hand down her hair. "Did you need me?"

"Sonny's looking for you. Said I should take over."

He couldn't have heard, she repeated, watching him watch her. He'd have reacted. Shown some emotion. "Right. I'll go do that." She pocketed her phone and picked up the cup. When she got close enough, the intensity of his eyes made her feel cornered. She lingered, doubt nagging. "You okay? With...everything?"

"Fine," he replied evenly.

"Good, that's...good." She had to believe she was in the clear. "You didn't hear... Never mind." Striving for normal, she nodded in the direction of the doors. "Woman who owns the coffee shop across the street has a thing for you."

"Oh?"

"Mm. She was in asking for the gossip. I told her your personality doesn't match your face."

She thought he'd give her a glower and that would be that.

Except...

"How does my face look, Leah?"

He didn't say the words with a flirty lilt, didn't lean in and grin, didn't do anything except level his usual gaze on her. And still she felt the impact like a brush of calloused fingers against her skin.

In the end, she conceded the battle, scurrying away with a mumbled excuse and cheeks blazing. He'd definitely not heard. He didn't know. All was well.

Gabriel stayed where he was as Leah walked away, his spine straight, his gaze aloof. He was an island on a calm ocean and no waves would disrupt his peace.

Even a tsunami like this.

Disbelief, shock, horror rocketed through him, crashing against his discipline until his short nails dug into his palms. He continued to breathe, not letting on, not doing anything except managing the emotion as he calmly took a seat.

She. Knew.

Shock sent another ripple through him, even thinking the words.

Their secret, his secret. The secret that had humans dragged before the High Family to be sentenced with who knew what to keep them all protected. It was practically the Golden Rule: unless the High Family specifically granted permission, humans were not to know about witches.

Gabriel followed the rules. They made sense to him. He'd lived his life within safe parameters ever since his parents had died and he'd stepped up to raise his sister. He liked the orderly, the lines and neat rows of organization, and the comfortable weight of what he could and couldn't do. What he should do.

And what he should do here was inform the High Family. Emmaline and Tia had clearly not sought permission—if they had, Leah would've confirmed it the second he stepped into the bar. Now the few times he'd lost control of his magic and she'd "missed it" ran through his head. Of course she hadn't missed it. Nobody was that oblivious.

Except him, apparently. And now that he knew, it was safer to follow the rules. To turn her in.

A surge of sickness twisted his belly. It was the shock, he supposed.

She should be turned in.

Rejection at the idea shoved against his skin and he fought to understand why when this was clearly the smart thing, the sensible thing.

Except...if he did that, he'd lose this job. He needed this job to get back to his normal life. It was that simple.

Better to bide his time, he thought, staring at the visitor pad, the lines of precise writing blurred. He could watch her. See how much she knew. Make sure—they were all safe.

Maybe...maybe Leah would be different.

The memory of her eyes staring into his as they'd crouched on the bar floor, glass shards between them. His spine curved to the chair as he released a heavy breath.

He'd pretend he didn't know. For now. At least the pressure was partly off, mistakes he made no longer cause for concern. She'd kept their secret however long.

It was that that had the tightness in his chest easing. He'd play pretend. He was getting good at that.

Like pretending not to notice how the damp coffee-stained T-shirt had clung to her breasts, outlining their shape.

She wore black lace against her skin.

Nope, he hadn't noticed that at all.

Leah wasn't at the shelter the following day. It was a surprise and, Gabriel assured himself, a pleasant one. It was good to have time to process his new knowledge, how he'd react to her and not let her know that he knew. And it was a relief to be left to his own devices. He didn't want her watching him with that skeptical smile. Laughing that deep-in-the-gut sound that absolutely, one hundred percent got on his nerves. Yes, he was pleased she wasn't around.

It was Sonny that greeted him, along with a dog by his side that he introduced as Danny. Goddess knew what the dog was, some kind of mixed breed, but he seemed friendly enough and calm—unlike the bruiser, Chuck, who watched him with near-fanatical devotion whenever Gabriel came within sniffing distance.

"How're you liking it so far?" Sonny led the way to the cat pens where he'd be cleaning out litter trays for the morning. Their footsteps sounded as they walked, accompanied by muffled woofs and whines.

Gabriel held himself tall as he followed the older human, debating how honest to be. He needed the job, after all. "I like a challenge."

Sonny's eyes twinkled as he threw a look over his shoulder. His hair was thinning on top, plenty of white hair threading through the mid-brown shade, but not bad for his age. He pushed the door open on a groaning squeak, gestured for Gabriel to walk through. "Not an animal fan?"

"I don't dislike them."

"Never had pets?" At Gabriel's head shake, Sonny patted Danny on the head. "Damn shame. All kids should have something to love. Didn't your parents ever think to get one?"

"They were busy elsewhere." Setting up the company, running it, putting humans first. He swallowed that down.

"Didn't mean you couldn't have had a pet. It's not just about the love, you see. It teaches responsibility, how to care for someone other than yourself. How to relate to something not like you. And, of course, there's the friend for life factor." Sonny pushed open the next door and the immediate rush of sound from the cats hit them.

"Is that your sales pitch?"

Sonny barked a laugh. "Damn good one, right?"

Gabriel inclined his chin.

"Not a talkative soul." Sonny smiled. "Another good reason for a pet. They don't need you to talk; they just need you to be there."

"I'm just here to work," Gabriel said, polite as he'd been raised to be. He couldn't disrespect elders, even if they spoke a lot of nonsense.

"Apparently so. Give the girl credit, she does come through on her promises."

"I'm sorry?"

Sonny bent, unlatched the door of a gray cat's pen. He reached in and scratched its chin, smile widening as it purred. "Leah. She told me she'd find more volunteers for free. I didn't think she could, everyone feeling the squeeze as they are, but she came through."

It was like the human was speaking a lost language. "Free?"

"Mmm. And I gotta say, thanks." Sonny looked up, nodded at him. "We need all the help we can get and more besides."

Gabriel didn't understand. Leah had promised him a check every week, not that he needed it.

Still, he didn't comment on that, nor the undertone of desperation hinted at in Sonny's words. Discomforted by the gratitude, Gabriel stood silent until Sonny finally left him to it.

So, he thought, as he dumped contents and refilled trays, then cursed as the fresh litter went flying. The shelter was struggling. He couldn't say it wasn't obvious, even if Leah hadn't mentioned it. There were a lot of occupants and not enough staff, and it showed. Unlike an aging society witch who refused to let go of her looks, the shelter couldn't spell itself a facelift. It was sagging at the corners and if it wasn't careful, it would soon deter its customers simply by looking run-down.

Not that it overly mattered to him, but one of the first rules in business was that you projected an image of success, which bred trust. Sonny needed to present the image of a well-run facility, not somewhere desperate for money. Though he had to admit, for Sonny it wouldn't be as easy as finding the right spell to fix the cracks.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't realize Leah's young friend was standing by the door until he was halfway down the line of pens.

He straightened, smoothing a hand down his blue silk tie, then grimacing at the chalky residue left behind. Perhaps Leah was onto something with her advice about jeans. "Hello."

The girl blinked big brown eyes. "Hello."

She was dressed as she had been the last time he'd seen her, ripped jeans and a T-shirt. Her blue nails were bitten down on her left hand, and she lifted her thumb to nibble on the edge.

"I'm Gabriel," he said, discomforted.

"Sloane," she said in a voice just as unsure. She stared at him.

And stared.

It appeared neither of them were talkers. Gabriel shifted, trying to come up with a subject to put her at ease. His sister would have fallen into conversation effortlessly, but Gabriel had never been easy with people.

Finally, he said, "You volunteer here?"

She nodded. He noticed she took a deep breath before saying, "I like hanging out here after school."

Now he nodded. Slid his gaze to the side and then back. This was like holding a hot cauldron with bare hands. "You must like animals."

"Yeah."

Why was she standing here? He had no interest in talking to a human teenager, but he couldn't flick her off. It seemed too much like kicking a puppy.

"You're doing that wrong, you know." She gestured at the sack of litter he held. Her hair swung forward and she dipped her head, as if she regretted the criticism.

He could choose to be offended, but she wasn't mocking him. "I'll find my way."

"I could show you." She peeked through the curtain of hair.

He didn't frown but it was close. "Why?"

"If I show you, you could answer some questions for me."

"About what?"

"New Orleans." She smiled, and something about it struck a familiar chord. Her next words came out in an eager rush. "I've always wanted to go but my sister won't let me."

"Won't let you?"

She shrugged, toed the floor with a sneaker. "Too dangerous still. Maybe someday."

He'd heard that plenty from his own family. "Maybe someday" had been the recurring theme, until it had been replaced with never.

He eyed the sack, the mess he was making and what he'd halfheartedly cleared up. Then the girl who watched him, all hope and shyness. He didn't particularly want company, but again, he couldn't bring himself to shake her off.

"Fine," he agreed, awkward and abrupt. "Show me. And you can keep the cats out of the way as well."

"They're just looking for some love."

"Not from me."

She smiled as though he'd said something funny and pulled out a candy bar. "Want to split this?"

He looked at it dubiously. "What is it?"

Her mouth dropped. "You've never had a Butterfinger?" She tore open the wrapper and painstakingly bent it in half. She offered him the half still in the wrapper. "Try it."

"I'm good."

"Chicken."

He drew himself up. "I am not a child. I do not respond to those kinds of—" He stopped short as she made bok bok noises. Worse than his sister. To shut her up, he shoved the candy in his mouth.

Peanuts exploded on his tongue, the sweet chocolate melting in a soft slide.

He made a noise halfway between a groan and a humming sound.

She grinned and bit into hers, before gesturing at the sack. "So, what you want to do is..."