Chapter 2

Two

DELA

M y feet and lower back are screaming at me by the time I toss my barista apron in the laundry bin at the end of today's nonstop-busy shift. Since I have no plans to change jobs, I should invest in a better pair of sneakers for work. A high-quality pair.

I can afford them. Even though I had to start over in every aspect of life when I moved to Fate's Falls, I have money in the bank. Enough to buy whatever I need and still have a safety buffer. My boss is generous with our pay and the customers tip well. Going to work is never a hardship—except on my body some days. But that can be remedied with new shoes. A massage would help, too, if I could work up the nerve to go to the spa in town.

My hesitation isn't because the local masseuse is a multi-armed naga. The monster part doesn't bother me at all. It's the idea of lying in the dark, completely vulnerable. Seven months after waking up from what Doug intended to be my final sleep, I'm still kind of wobbly in the trust department.

I'll get there. My therapist says I'm doing great, and she's right. The past still bites me in the ass sometimes, but those bites become smaller nibbles every day. I've never been mentally and emotionally stronger. I like who I am now. And it only took being murdered by my human ex-boyfriend, returned to life by a reaper, and welcomed by a community of monsters to get to this point.

Life is too precious to waste a step of it wearing mediocre shoes.

"Bye," I say, tossing the black sneakers in the trash can. Well, in the direction of the can, which, unfortunately, is on the other side of the doorway. "Watch out!" My warning comes too late.

One shoe connects with Shay's shoulder as she walks into the staffroom. Shrieking, she bats the second projectile away. "I'm going to assume those weren't meant for me," she says, collecting the sneakers from the floor and dangling them from her gloved hands. "Garbage?"

"Yes." I give her an apologetic grimace. "Thanks."

She waves one hand below her nose as she drops them into the can. "Good call. Even my ninety-eight-year-old grandmother doesn't have a spell powerful enough to exorcise that much evil."

Hand place dramatically over my heart, I suck in an exaggerated breath. "Well, I never."

"Never what, washed your sneakers?" Shay winks at me while tilting her head toward the trash can. "Believable."

"Meanie," I say, enjoying our easy camaraderie. "Thank you."

"For what?" She drops onto the chair across from me and we both pull on our street shoes—mine, a pair of basic canvas flats that cost about an hour's wages, and hers, knee-high leather boots that sound like foreplay when she zips them.

"For your friendship. For taking me under your wing here. Showing me the ropes around town. Making me feel comfortable, both at work and outside of it. You didn't have to do any of that, but you jumped in and did. Seven months later, you're still looking out for me when I have a flaky moment, like earlier today."

Shay's eyes shine. "If you don't know by now that I love you like a sister, you never will. And because we're on the sister level, I'm not afraid to call bullshit on your flaky moment ," she says, making air quotes. "Girl, you done lost your lady shit over the big red demon today. It was written all over your pretty face how much you want to grab him by his big old horns and ride him until he fills you with his hellfire."

"My mind did run away a bit today."

"Today?" One of Shay's perfect dark eyebrows rises as she snorts. "It's been running wild since the first time you laid eyes on him. But today was definitely extra. As soon as he walked into the café, you looked like you were going to burst into flames."

"Oh god."

"Hon, I think you're praying to the wrong deity on this one."

Groaning, I fold forward, elbows on my knees, cover my face with my palms and peek at her through my fingers. "Do you think Raz knows?"

A robust laugh leaves Shay's full plum lips. "Not sure what answer you're hoping for here, but Raz was probably the only person in the place today who didn't know what was going through your head."

Pushing my mortification aside, I sit up so I can see her eyes again. As dark as they are, they convey a lot. Not that Shay ever has an issue with verbally revealing exactly what's on her mind.

"It's not great that everyone in the café this afternoon could tell I was… distracted by Raz. But why wouldn't he know? He's been dealing with human desires for eternity, literally. Why doesn't he know mine?"

The volume out front increases noticeably, signaling the arrival of the staff from next door who always flood The Brew after their shift ends. The Brew has two faces—coffee shop by day and brew pub in the evening. Even though it's pretty laid-back when the taps are flowing, I'm still glad to slinging coffee-house beverages instead of alcohol.

Shay and I are usually gone by now, and the noise out front requires she rise from her spot and move to the chair beside me so we can hear each other speak. Angling her body to look directly into my eyes, she says, "I told you I don't use my magic anymore, so when I answer your question, take it as years of insight, not as I know ."

I nod rather than speak. Shay's magic is a touchy subject—literally and figuratively. As a seer, she can see the future of people she touches. She hasn't told me what she saw that made her decide never to touch anyone ever again, but it must've been horrific for her to spend the rest of her life without personal contact. I like and appreciate her too much to even nudge her in a direction she doesn't want to go.

"There are a lot of different kinds of demons out there, and I don't claim to be an expert on any of them," she begins. "Raz is a revenge demon, and based on everything I've been taught, that means his entire nature is fine-tuned to that purpose." She sighs at the squinty expression I feel my face forming. "What I'm saying is, if you're not wishing for revenge, you're not going to ping on his radar. Not officially, anyway. Though, watching him with you, it's safe to say you are on it."

"You think so?" God, I sound like an infatuated teenager, not a twenty-nine-year-old woman with enough life experiences to make me feel over-the-hill most days.

Affectionate amusement shines in Shay's eyes. "You're really into him."

"I'm attracted to him, certainly. But maybe that's all it is? I've discovered the tall, red, and grumpy type turns me on a little?" I raise my hands in submission when she gives me the stink-eye. "Fine, a lot."

"So, do something about it, girlfriend. Take charge of the situation."

"I wouldn't have a clue how to do that. I'm not bold and confident like you. I'm—" I snap my mouth shut. I am not all the things Doug made me believe.

Close your eyes. Deep breath in. Hold on to the truths. Exhale and release the lies.

My therapist's technique calms my mind, but it would be nice if I didn't have to use it every day. And if I had more truths than lies. Seven months into the healing process, and I'm still not sure who I really am.

"You okay?"

Opening my eyes, I find Shay's hand hovering a couple of inches above mine. Even with gloves on, she avoids touching people if she can. I must look every bit the mess I am for her to get that close.

"I'm okay. Thanks," I say, and she eases back to a comfortable distance for her. "I told you the gory details of my last relationship and how it would've ended—how I would've ended—if the reaper who came for me hadn't directed me here instead."

"Reapers get a bad rap; they're just doing their job. Still, I'm glad it was Kohl who got the call when your number was up. He's one of the good ones."

Asking how she knows Kohl is pointless; I've gone there before, when she's made similar comments. For as much as she's told me about her past, I know there's even more she hasn't.

"Is Raz one of the good ones?" That's the question I really need answered.

"Depends how you define ‘good.' I'm not trying to patronize, but you know what he does, right?"

"He grants people's revenge wishes."

"The kind of revenge people are willing to trade their soul for, Dela." Arm draped across the back of her chair, she crosses one sexy-booted leg over the other, making me squirm a little with her serious tone and stare. "We're not talking about wishing for someone to step in a massive pile of shit, or get dumped by their girlfriend. Though I'm sure there are losers who'd give up their eternal soul for paltry crap, I doubt those are the typical kind of requests Raz deals in."

"You're saying he's probably caused bodily harm. Or… killed people."

"No probably about it."

"Is that something you know ?"

"As in, from a touch?" Shay waggles her fingers. "No. From my coven's history books, yes. It's information I'm willing to share, if you're sure you want to hear it." She watches as I shake my head. "I don't blame you. But if you're looking for someone who doesn't have blood on their hands, literally, you should stop looking at Raz."

"I'm not looking for anyone. I don't want to be looking at anyone in that way."

She uncrosses her legs and leans forward, elbows on her knees, hands tucked carefully between them. "And yet, you are, and it's Raz you can't tear your sweet little eyes from. What does that tell you?"

"That I should move to an isolated cabin on the edge of town and get a job that doesn't require I interact with others."

Shay rolls her eyes. "Too late for that. Even if it wasn't, I think fate might still have put Raz in your path somehow."

"You think I was meant to meet Raz?" Of all the many, many things my mind has churned up and spit out, that was never one of them. "You believe in fate?"

"Girl." Shay shakes her head. "You thought the ‘Fate' in Fate's Falls was just for the sake of pretty alliteration?"

"Actually, I thought it's because the waterfall is so high and steep, someone probably died there. Yes, I'm a bit on the morbid side; my mind always goes to death. A side effect of narrowly escaping being a homicide victim." I shrug. "Honestly, the town's name is one of the few things I haven't overthought. You're telling me I should add it to the list?"

"Gods, no. Besides, this one is simple. Only those who are supposed to be here find their way here. If you're in Fate's Falls, it's for a reason. I'm not saying Raz, specifically, is your fate. Maybe he's just part of the bigger picture—how you get back on the horse." Sitting straight, she spreads her hands apart. Widely apart. "I bet it's a really big horse, too."

"Shay!"

"Don't even try to deny that you've thought about it. I don't have to be a telepath to know what you're thinking when Mr. Tall, Red and Horny walks in."

"You think he's horny?" Dammit, why did that have to come out sounding so hopeful?

" Horn -y." Hands at her head, Shay gestures upward. "As in his horns, you dirty girl."

I groan as she dissolves into laughter.

"Oh, that was good," she says, fanning her face after her full enjoyment of my faux pas subsides. "As for your fate, only the Oracle knows why you're in Fate's Falls. Best advice I can give you is don't try figuring it out. Just enjoy your life here and let it unfold."

"That's a lot to unpack. I have so many questions."

"You always do," Shay says, smiling as she stands. "You get one more, then I have to go."

Guilt twists its gnarly fingers inside me. "Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you from something important."

"Stop that. I'd have already left if it was. So, what's it going to be? The most burning question in your mind right now."

There are so many. About the Oracle. About Fate's Falls. "Same question as before, and I know you can only give me your opinion, but, is Raz one of the good ones?"

"If you can accept the actions he takes within the code of his existence, then, yes, he's one of the good ones."

"Would you accept them?"

Shay waves her index finger. "That's two questions, and the answer is irrelevant, anyway. Raz doesn't come to The Brew for me. He comes here for you."

"He comes for the coffee," I say as she walks to the door.

Stopping in the staffroom doorway, she looks over her shoulder at me, a coy smile on her face. "He's lived in Fate's Falls for two years, but he never set foot in The Brew until you got here."

"Coincidence."

"Maybe." She winks. "Or maybe it's fate."