24. Summons

twenty-four

“?Nada?” Diego asked, looking at her over the top of his glasses.

“Nothing.” The greasy fabric slipped through her fingers, pooling in a neon floral puddle on the counter. Milla shoved the leggings off the counter with a grunt. “Goddess, I’m fucking useless like this.”

“Would she let you take a few boxes to the casting range? Removing glamour has to use enough magick to fuel the demesne.”

“I don’t know.” Milla set her elbows on the counter. Diego had whisked her away from Darkly after that confusing moment in his living room, and they came straight to the store, where her every attempt at seizing normalcy failed. She propped her forehead on her fingers, and her bangs fell forward, tickling her nose. She puffed them out of the way. “I can ask. It’s a simple casting, but it’s got to count for something Cyrus needs. Right?”

“No sé.” Diego shrugged and pushed away from the counter, picking up the leggings by pinching the fabric between two fingers. “I will go take care of this.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust and walked them down the hall with his arm stretched out as far as it would go.

She spent the next few hours helping the occasional customer and sorting through her inventory. Diego had done well in her absence, just as she had gleaned the night before. Even the leggings were organized by color, season, and size, meaning Milla could only wander around poking her curios and antiques for so long before even that grew old. So she turned to the new lease, re-reading the clauses and glaring at the price.

“What kind of asshole raises rates this much?” she asked the lease. Lacking a reply, Milla pulled out her phone and entertained herself by researching the company, making what amounted to, in her mind, a case against them.

Homestead Commercial Real Estate, the new owners of the building, was one of many companies owned by Erlich Industries, headquartered in San Francisco. It took a bit of hunting, but she eventually found an organizational chart showing everything Erlich Industries owned. Multiple food brands, clothing brands, an electric vehicle company, utility companies, makeup manufacturers, commercial and private real estate firms, and textile companies. For each big brand name listed, at least ten more brands sat beneath those.

“Horned God, this dude owns everything.” She swiped the phone screen, scanning the never-ending list of businesses.

“Who?” Diego asked from his throne, burrito in one hand, phone in the other.

“Stefan Holfstaedter.” Milla tapped back and turned her phone around to show him the CEO of Erlich Industries—a silver fox of a middle-aged white man with salt and pepper hair that looked too meticulous to be real. Everything about him was manufactured. His eyes held the perfect amount of crow’s feet, his teeth were finely veneered, and his suit looked—

“Por la Diosa, is that a cashmere herringbone Kiton ?” Diego stole her phone and zoomed in on the suit jacket. “Notched lapels, a welt pocket, look at that top-stitching.” He blew a low whistle before shrinking the image to normal size. “And why are we stalking billionaires?”

“He owns the building.” She took her phone back. “Well, one of his companies does. Homestead is a subsidiary of a larger real estate arm.”

“And?”

“And,” she raised her voice over the ringing of bells, tucking her phone in a pocket as she turned to greet their customer. “I want to know why a billionaire who owns half the businesses on the planet needs to raise our rent so much.”

“Because he can?” Julie halted halfway to the counter, clapping her hands as a giant smile lit up her face. “Welcome home, Milla! How was Key West? Is your mom okay? Hi, Diego!”

“Hola, Julie.” He waved, distracted as his phone buzzed with a notification.

“My … mom?” Milla glanced at Diego for clarification and, a half second later, was tackled into a big Julie hug. “Oof.”

“Oh, Mylanta, it’s so good to see you!” Julie muttered into her shoulder, squeezing Milla tight. She let go and leaned back, bright blue eyes dancing over Milla’s face. “Diego told me everything; I hope that’s okay. It was so sweet of you to put your life on hold like that.”

“I—”

“It was fortunate I could head down early until Milla had someone to cover the store,” said Diego.

“Gosh, it’s been a madhouse.” Julie dropped her shoulder bag on the counter. Her eyes lost their excited luster, and she glanced around the store. “First, there was the explosion at the Fountain of Youth, and then the gas leak shut down the Colonial Quarter for a week and—”

“Gas leak?” asked Milla.

“Carbon monoxide poisoning,” Julie said. “Same thing that put all those women in the hospital. They sent a whole team down to look into the mess and found a load of corrosion in the city pipes; oh!” She snapped her fingers and held out a key. “Here, you probably want this back. Darkly had a set made so we could open without y’all.”

Milla stared at the key pinched in Julie’s fingers, which had definitely not been there a moment before. “Uhh…”

“Or actually, I should probably hold onto it since I’m closing tonight?”

“Closing?” Milla hesitantly took her eyes off the key and glanced toward Diego for help.

“You have your run club,” he replied without looking up from his phone. “I need someone to work the front while I catch up on my tailoring.”

“You’re not coming?”

He pocketed his phone and stared back at Milla. “I do not run.”

“B-but, you—” she stammered as Diego slipped out from behind the counter.

“I’m happy to help,” Julie said with a smile. “Honestly, it beats sitting at home and watching Gilmore Girls re-runs.” Her face fell, and she eyed Milla warily. “It is alright, isn’t it? I just thought … since I worked while you were gone that I could still help out and—”

“No, Julie, it’s fine.” Milla tucked Julie’s shoulder bag on a shelf beneath the counter and hauled her in for a hug. Julie let out a tiny “eep” that had Milla holding her even closer. She had never been a hugger, and people had never really hugged Milla. Except Ezra, who ran so hot her naturally clammy cold self didn’t bother him. And Darkly, in the few days that she let him before all hell broke loose. “It’s really, really fine.”

“Yeah?” Julie hugged her back and laughed quietly. “When did you become a hugger?”

“I’m not.” Milla sniffled and held her tighter as Diego’s list burned behind her closed eyes.

Apologize to Julie.

“I’m so sorry.”

Julie’s arms twitched, and she crushed Milla against her. “No. No no, Milla. None of that.”

“I stole your badges, and I went to that convention without you, and I—”

“Inadvertently saved my life?” Julie wriggled free enough to lean back and look her in the eye. “There were so many people there, and Ana.” She looked away and blinked to keep tears from falling. “I’m not mad about you stealing my badges, Milla. I can’t be, though, why you, of all people, went to that ICYMI cult gathering is beyond me.” She shook her head with a mystified look. “Maybe we should have the store checked for another le—” Her words cut off as Milla hauled her into another hug. Julie rubbed her back and chuckled. “Okay, now I'm starting to get concerned.”

Milla let go and put space between them, tugging her shirt into place and smoothing her jeans. “I just missed you, is all.”

Julie pinched her lips, eyes bright and wide, and she stifled a smile. “Mhm.” She nodded exaggeratedly. “Got it.”

“Shut up.” Milla jabbed the screen of the store’s tablet, entering the passcode.

“Sure thing, boss.” She gave a saucy little salute.

“And about that key. You said Darkly made it?”

“Oh.” Julie looked at the key, still pinched between her thumb and forefinger. Confusion flashed over her face, and she held it up, turning it side to side. “Yeah. When the city re-opened the Colonial Quarter, he helped me run the store, but we could only find one key, so he made a duplicate. I guess he still has the other key because Diego got back, and he had a key. Wow, we should probably keep better track of these, shouldn’t we?” She frowned and unpinched her fingers.

The key vanished in a blink. Or Milla blinked because one second it was there, and then it was gone, and she was nine whole rings of confused.

“Uh, Julie—”

The rumble of a motorcycle cut her off, and Julie bounced on her feet. “Oh good, he’s here early; we can ask him about it.”

“Who?”

“Darkly.” Julie tipped her head to the door. Milla followed the gesture, mouth falling open in shock as the motorcycle she had nearly toppled in her driveway parked across the narrow street. A tall man, suspiciously tall, now that Milla thought about it, swung his leg over the saddle, drawing attention to the faded black denim cuffed over black matte leather boots.

“No fucking way,” she exhaled.

“I know.” Julie fanned herself. “You should have seen Diego the first time he pulled up on that thing.”

“A Triumph,” Milla said.

“Down girl.” Julie swatted her arm and laughed. “Though I guess that’s one way of putting it.”

“No, the bike. It’s a Triumph. What the hell is he doing on a Triumph? Where’s the hybrid?” When Julie didn’t answer, Milla glanced at her and found the nurse gazing dreamily out the window. “Jules?”

“This is the best part, Milla.” She propped an elbow on the counter and her chin in her hand. “Don’t ruin it.”

Milla followed her gaze and, Horned God damn her, the nurse was right.

Darkly set his helmet on the bike saddle and gazed down the narrow road toward St. George Street, catching the late afternoon light just so. It carved sharp shadows along his jaw and drew the eye to the days of stubble. He unzipped the leather jacket, shrugging it off and setting it beside his helmet, and ran a hand over his shorn head. The move exposed a bare swathe of skin above the waist of his jeans, and Milla must have audibly swallowed because Julie giggled.

“Down, girl.”

“I’m not—”

“Mhm.”

She had no time to reply. Darkly sauntered across the street, walking into the store as if he had done so every afternoon for as long as it had been open. He strode up to Julie and Milla, smiling and greeting the nurse before looking at her.

“Ready to go?” he asked.

“What the shit , Darkly,” Milla answered.

“I’ll, um.” Julie pointed over her shoulder. “I’ll go see if Diego needs help.” She scurried away, barely concealing a smile. Milla waited until the door to Diego’s sewing room snicked closed, then glared at Darkly.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to speak, and she threw an angry hand toward the Triumph in all its black satin and shiny chrome glory. With a twist at the waist to glance at his bike, Darkly turned a dimply-smirk on her.

“Fancy my motorbike?”

“I’d fancy a freaking explanation,” she spat. “That thing is yours?”

“Aye.”

“The Bonneville T100 I almost toppled in my driveway belongs to you, Mr. Not-An-Aural-Adjuster.”

He blinked several times slowly and inhaled, the patient settling motion he had done so many times in the first weeks she had known him. “Would be why I parked it there, yes.”

It was too much. The clothing she could handle. The lies that weren’t lies she could handle. If given enough time to work through her feelings at the fact he’d been used and hadn’t lied to her, that he hadn’t betrayed her, that he now lived next door to her for some abysmal reason she could handle . But him driving the world’s sexiest motorcycle and looking like a Horned God-damned dream doing so?

“I can’t handle this.” She stomped around him, needing to put distance between herself and the witch who, for some reason, got under her skin more than even Ezra had managed. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to pick you up for the cult. Like we discussed.”

“Yeah, but like, on a motorcycle?” She gaped at him. “I don’t even have my running clothes.”

“I brought you some.”

“Ew, did you dig through my clothes?”

“It’s the set from your bag in Daytona.”

Milla slammed her mouth closed, jarred by the knowledge he’d kept her things. It didn’t feel … wrong. It felt considerate, and she didn’t know how she felt about that. “And what am I supposed to do, then? Ride that thing in shorts and a tank top? No, thank you.”

He huffed, eyes crinkling with a smile he wouldn’t release. “You can change when we get there.”

Both brows shot up her forehead, and she scoffed. “In front of people? ”

“Would you rather I called Toby to give you a lift?”

She didn’t like the challenge in his tone, the way he made the offer as if knowing with certainty she would refuse. But he wasn’t wrong. It was bad enough she’d be spending her morning with Agent Sterne, but having to ride with him in a car? Alone?

“I’ll call an OverAuto, thanks.”

“Milla.” Darkly scrubbed a hand down his face and let his arm drop. “Could you at least try to let me help you?”

Milla startled back as if the words were a physical blow. A hundred half-formed retorts rushed to mind. How dare he— who was he to— what right did he have—

On and on and on without resolution. Without the thoughts manifesting on her tongue.

The silence in her store was pea-soup thick, coating her skin and choking her throat. She swallowed thickly, frozen in place by her inability to speak.

Darkly let out a frustrated growl, running a hand over his head in an identical gesture to his sister. He pinched the back of his neck, regarding Milla before saying, “I dinnae ken how to navigate this, leannán .”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “I’m not your … whatever that word means.” She had an idea. He had uttered the nickname enough during their week in the swamp and had only started using it after New Orleans when they—when he—

Her body flashed hot. She pressed her thighs together at the memory of New Orleans. And Tallahassee. And those endless days in the swamp where they couldn’t touch.

“Aye,” he said in a rasp. “I ken.” He shot her a look so full of misery that she almost launched herself across the distance, arms itching to wrap around him and ease all of that strain from his face.

Talk to Darkly .

It was the second item on her list, and how hard could it be? She’d blown right through the first with ease and more than a little guilt.

“Give me something here, Milla,” he begged. “I’ve been working my Way to the dregs for weeks to keep your store out of C.R.O.W.’s sigils. I bottled myself for you, I—”

“I never asked you to. I never asked for any of this.” She threw her arms out to encompass him, C.R.O.W., his sister, everything. “I wanted to keep my head down and live my life in peace, and then your stupid handsome face waltzed in here, and I—why are you smiling?”

“No reason.” Darkly ducked his head, hiding the smile. Milla glared at him, running back through what she’d just said and failing to find what was so funny.

“I’m supposed to talk to you; it’s number two on my list, but I don’t even know how to start because I don’t know who you are, Darkly.” A pained grimace replaced the smile, Darkly immediately sobering. “Not really.”

He let the accusation ripen, swelling with the weight she put behind the words. And then he straightened and reached for Milla. A helmet appeared in his hand, whisps of dark smoke wafting from the visor. “Then let me show you.”

She stared at her warped reflection in the glaze, then up to Darkly, zero percent interested in further unpacking all of that . “You seriously want me to ride that thing?”

“Aye, I do. Call it a trust exercise.” Milla narrowed her eyes. “Poor choice of words, but we’re gonnae be late. So either call your OverAuto, or take the helmet.” He shook it at her, and when she didn’t move, a teasing grin eased the tension on his face. “Scared?”

“No.”

“It’s alright if you’ve nae ridden before; I’ll be safe.”

“Please.” Milla rolled her eyes, gathering her hair into a low ponytail. She snatched the helmet from his hand and tugged it on, brushing against his arm as she headed to the door. “My college girlfriend rode a Springer Softail.”

“I’m sorry, your what? ”

“Girlfriend.” She spun around and flipped up the visor, loving every bit of shock on his face. Darkly’s mouth hung open in an incredulous half-smile, half-gape, and a tiny squeak escaped. It was all Milla could do not to laugh outright. Surprising him felt like winning a piece of herself back, and then a keen interest lit those green eyes. “Ugh, gross. It’s not a plot point.”

She put her back to him, flipping the visor closed to hide her smile, and walked out of her store to the sound of his quiet chuckle.