Wish You Weren't Here

by Janeen Ippolito

  I rolled my eyes. “Yup. I transmuted the coffee I really wanted to drink into five huge-ass spiders just in time to freak out Akira, and now the spiders are probably going to eat each other. Yay me.”

  Cendric raised his eyebrows. “I haven’t heard them moving around in the box, which is irregular. They should be manifesting territorial behavior at this point.”

  “Well, I did tell them not to.”

  “So now you command an army of hand-sized spiders.”

  A smile tugged at my lips. “I guess every girl needs a hobby.”

  He chuckled, then studied me intently. “Do you need me around the shop today?”

  “Nah, I’ll be okay.”

  “I can reschedule my appointments.”

  “No. You have important things to deal with before Melrose shows up. I remember that.” And the last thing I wanted was a babysitter. I paused, squashing the urge to just let Cid come along. “Besides, you’re already all dressed up.” I tweaked the edge of his vest. Wow, could he pull that off. Any time he wanted—except not now, I had things to do. “After I chat with Josie, I’m just going to be doing more unpacking and organizing in the shop. Just a normal day with Allis.”

  His eyebrows knit together.

  “And Gideon will be there.”

  The eyebrows relaxed. “Very well. Tell him hello for me.”

  “Will do.” My little brother was also a permanent grayling, and we had been tight since we were kids. The tattoos coiling around my right forearm signified that we had a bond too. Waves for otter, flames for Jinn, and an equidistant cross because I’d been raised in the Russian Orthodox church and still tried to do right by that faith, even if the status of where graylings went after death was in the category of “strongly hazy.” We were between the created order of Fae, with their sort of separate destiny, but not quite mortal either, where things were spelled out more clearly. But I’d rather be condemned for hoping in something true than face the chaos. Chaos sucked. I’d seen enough of Fae and mortal fears and desires to make me highly skeptical that we could have the last word in morality.

  Besides, destiny had called me. That had to mean something. Even if I wasn’t sure how spiders and various other screw-ups factored into it. I turned back to the breadbox, plunked two slices of brioche on the toaster oven pan, and added slices of gruyere cheese and smoked salmon. Another reason to come to this kitchen instead of the one on the apartment side of the house. Akira stocked the best ingredients.

  I glanced at Cid. “You want some?”

  “Yes, please.” He went to the fridge and poured a glass of a dark red liquid with a faint greenish tint. Some kind of plant blood Cendric had helped cook up in a lab. Not the same as drinking human blood, but it was a solid option for the vampires who needed more than transfusions. According to what Cid had told me over the last few weeks, some vampires could even consume regular food with the side of plant blood, although they still preferred their meats rather bloody.

  After a few minutes, I produced some cheese toast nicely browned, and two pieces mostly burnt.

  His eyes lit up. “Ah, perfect.”

  Ravens were carrion eaters, which apparently meant that raven shifters enjoyed their food a bit wonky as well. Cendric’s raven appetite combined with the vampire taste buds meant he was a terrible cook, mostly because he preferred things burnt and congealed, or raw and mangled up.

  I set the plates on the counter. “So, any exciting blood binder stuff this week? Any skulking around all broody, ready to take names?” I was a good shot with a pistol, and I knew enough self-defense to get myself out of scrapes. My friends Jack and Theiya were training me in combat, which usually involved me finding new ways to trick them with my magic.

  He smirked. “Well, some skulking, along with making phone calls to people I greatly dislike in order to read between the lines of their lies and—”

  “And then the half-Jinn teleports into their secret lair and finds the incriminating evidence and the person is brought to justice!” I struck a dramatic pose with my half-eaten toast.

  Cendric laughed. “When has that occurred in the last seven weeks?”

  “Well … never.”

  “Despite my preference, immediate justice isn’t always realized.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  He shrugged. “Fae and Unspoken criminals come in three types: the bottom feeders who are regularly thrown in jail by the Fae police or taken out by private agencies, the mid-level criminals who maintain enough order that removing them is harmful to the urban ecosystem, and the high-level criminals who require incredible amounts of evidence and strategic planning to dethrone from their seats of power. Removing the latter usually requires allying with other, lesser criminals. Injustice to promote justice.”

  “Right, I remember this.” I nodded. “So why do it, again?”

  Cendric studied me wryly. “Why do you bother with romantic consulting and investigations when the Fae court ignores those issues?”

  I stiffened. “Because it’s the right thing to do, and if not me, then who?”

  “Exactly.” He shrugged. “Which is why combining our services makes perfect sense.” He winked at me. “We’re both pleading hopeless causes in impossible circumstances that will likely lead to innumerable dangerous situations.”

  “Except that I’m not working with you yet. Not really.”

  Surprise flashed across his face. “We’re married. We’ve combined assets, combined accounts, combined homes. I’ve gotten involved in your shop.”

  Was he serious? “I have no idea what you do at the firm. I have no idea what it means to be a blood binder.”

  “You’ve been approved—”

  “But all I’ve learned is the history and general principles. You won’t let me know anything useful. I have no idea if you have safehouses or what your mission strategies are.”

  He sighed. “There is still opposition in the Fae court. It’s not safe.”

  Augh, I hated that word. “Talking about ‘safe,’ I’ve only met a handful of vampires. I don’t know what’s going on with the law firm. I don’t even know all that much about your vampirism. I know you’re a Talamar, but what does that even mean? How is keeping me ignorant safe?”

  Not to mention my life had hardly been safe before he’d met me, and I’d still survived.

  “It’s complicated,” Cendric retorted. “Those parts take more time. We’ve only been together seven weeks.”

  “So it’s fine for you to know about my life but not for me to know much about yours? It’s fine to talk about breaking rules, but not to do it now?”

  “Patience.” His jaw worked, and fresh fear rose in his mind, this time too deep and indistinct for me to read. Old, hard fears that Cendric buried with practiced ease before I could analyze them. “It’s only a matter of time. Things with immortals take time and patience to work out. Not everything happens overnight.”

  “Right, time. That’s always the answer.” I sucked in a breath and tried not to return to the place I was earlier, feeling trapped. I was talking to my mate, not the enemy. Cendric loved me, even if he didn’t understand my feelings despite being aware of them. Sometimes reading my fears only seemed to make his worse. Willing myself to remain calm, I pressed my mental shields up against the material world pinging around me. “Well, that’s the way it is. I’ll just try to avoid creating more giant insects.”

  “Arachnids. Spiders are arachnids.”

  “Whatever.”

  I glared at the remaining half-piece of toast on my plate. I’m not sure if it was the earlier stress, the present conversation, or the lack of coffee, but breakfast suddenly seemed like a disgusting idea. I plunked the toast in the garbage can and shoved the plate and cup into the dishwater, then turned to leave.

  A six-foot tall vampire stood in my way, his expression equal parts frustration and compassion. “Allis, I know the situation is hard.”

  That was the problem. He didn’t know. How could he? The crazy i
n my mind was mine alone. Not his. And Cendric was keeping other vital information from me, even though he said we would work together. I sighed. Really, I was better off than I had been. Gideon and I both were. I’d just have to deal with this.

  I sighed. “It’s fine. I’m married to a wealthy, insanely attractive vampire with a freaking huge nobility streak, I’m about to open a new business, I have a fantastic brother, and Matthias at Uncommon Grounds is giving me free coffee for a year.”

  “You’re also coping with powerful, capricious magic, and the two people who should be helping you, your own kind, are behaving abhorrently. Abandoning you.”

  “Yeah, except when one shows up in our Dreamscape.”

  His face darkened, and I jumped in to change the subject.

  “Thanks for the reminder.” I shrugged, hopping to an easier topic. “Abandonment tends to happen.”

  Sadness showed in his eyes. “Yes, I know all too well. But accepting that something unjust is happening doesn’t mean you have to blame yourself for it.” He gave a short laugh, gently clasping my shoulders in his hands. “Denying your feelings about the situation won’t help matters.”

  Except when those feelings concerned being annoyed about being left out of his work and life, on top of my magic issues. But whatever. Cid didn’t mean those feelings. I could tackle that whole issue again another day.

  He paused. “Hmm, Melrose does specialize in unique situations.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yes, with humans and vampires. Not with half-Jinn.”

  “True, but even so. He’s lived almost two thousand years. He might have some insight.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Time to change the subject. I hated feeling angry, especially when there were no good solutions. “You never did explain how he managed to live that long and remain sane, when vampires tend to turn old and decrepit after a while.” The magical illness got to them. Neil Halverson was an excellent example of Ye Olde Senility put into practice.

  Cendric shook his head. “All he says is that he must still be useful to God somehow. He’s a unique individual.”

  “So you’ve said.”

  “I think he might have some ideas about you.”

  “A lot of people have ideas about me. It doesn’t mean they can help.”

  He shook his head. “For someone who’s so optimistic about others, you’re quite

  pessimistic about yourself.”

  “Makes me endearingly unpredictable.” Speaking of unpredictable, it was time to change the subject. I leaned closer to Cendric, tracing my fingers up his chest.

  He glanced at me skeptically. “Does it now?”

  “Oh yes. For instance, I can be quite optimistic that at this vampire gathering tonight, if things go south, I might get ill and have to leave early.” Especially if it was a lot of me being seen but not really spoken with. Allis on parade.

  “You seem healthy enough. Unless that nightmare this morning had side effects?”

  “Not that I remember. But … I mean, maybe if I worked really hard at it, I could make it happen. Or maybe I could let a spider bite me?” I blinked up at him innocently, licking my lips. “Anything’s possible, right?”

  Cendric shot me one of his perplexed raven expressions. “Are you …” Then he shook his head, a wicked expression taking over his face. “I doubt it. Your skin is durable enough that even a vampire would have difficulty biting you.”

  A fair point. The only reason Cid had been able to drink my blood when he was at death’s door was thanks to a cut from a blade designed to harm Jinn.

  I sighed. “Well, it was worth trying.”

  He released my shoulders and began running his fingers through my hair. “Oh, do keep trying.” One small nip at my earlobe, and another line of kisses down my jaw and throat. “As many times as you desire.”

  All thoughts of schemes disappeared as he pulled me into his arms and into a deep kiss that warmed all parts of me. Maybe if I leaned in enough, I could get into some missions.

  Eh, I’d settle for getting Cid out of his clothes.

  Just before I closed my eyes, I caught a glimpse of the digital clock on the stove. Fifteen minutes until my meeting with Josie. Crap. And from her latest voicemail, she’d sounded pretty stressed about something. There was no blowing her off.

  I pulled away from Cendric, trying to catch my breath. “Okay, as much as I would really love to continue this, I gotta go.”

  “Hmm, are you certain?” His fingers had somehow found their way beneath my robe. “After all, you can teleport.”

  I swallowed. “Yup. As much as I … really don’t want to be certain. Rain check on all this.” I gave him a final kiss. “Laters, Cid.”

  With a snap of my fingers, the kitchen vanished, and I was in our bedroom once more. Never mind that I would’ve really liked to have taken Cendric with me for some distraction. I had a job to do, and he had his, and so far, they weren’t overlapping that much. I shoved away the thought and ignored the way my gut twisted, and snapped on clothes. Five minutes later, I was running down the hallway, clad in my usual jeans and tank top, a purple button-down, and black sneakers, my damp hair flying behind me.

  Ahead of me was a faint shimmer, like I was suddenly wearing blurred eyeglasses with an iridescent sparkle on them. The magisphere, connecting the vampire house to my old apartment, making it one unit. I zipped straight through it, feeling the wash of magic across my body. My family bond with my half-brother, less strong than my mate bond but no less real, could easily buy that he and I still lived on the same hallway, our rooms near each other. All of which was important especially for communal otters. Gideon’s otter family had given him an ultimatum: me or them. He’d chosen me—and that meant even though we had our own lives, we’d always keep the same home base. Any spouses or friends would have to be on board with that, and thankfully, Cendric was.

  I skidded to a stop in front of Gideon’s door, ready and willing to fulfill my sisterly duty of making sure my brother was actually awake. He could outsleep even a vampire, especially if he had a late-night music gig. Just as my hand hovered over the door, it whipped open. On the other side stood a lanky man with sandy brown skin, black hair in tight curls, and brown eyes that were only half-open, even though he had clearly showered and was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt, and a green button-down. Our unofficial, entirely unintentional sibling uniform. We just both happened to have great tastes in business casual.

  He gave a sleepy grin. “Hah. No dumping me out of bed today.”

  “Aw, man. That’s one of the best parts of my life.” I grabbed him in a quick hug, allowing him to breathe in my scent. It was a shifter thing. I couldn’t really smell him in return—that only worked with Cendric on my end. But I loved a sturdy hug with Gideon regardless. “Hey, you want a ride downstairs?”

  Gideon nodded, taking a small step back. “Yeah, sounds good.”

  He shifted into a sleek river otter, the rest of his mass, including his clothes, going somewhere else in the magisphere. I crouched down. “You are unfairly cute. You know that, right?”

  “You can teleport. I think we’re even.” He crawled up my arm and onto my back, bracing himself on my shoulders. It wasn’t an easy position, but Gideon had mad skills, and we’d perfected this arrangement when we were younger. I heard him make a chirruping yawn. “The gig last night ran late, and then the after-gig gig ran even later. I might curl up and sleep for a bit in the pantry before I start organizing potions.”

  I nodded as I walked through the cramped apartment to the door. “You know, you could have just told me you were super tired. I might have let you sleep in.”

  I looked up to see his muzzle crinkling. “Nah, I need to get the work done. Get some coffee in me, maybe some of my specialty wake-up juice, and I’ll be fine. Maybe take a swim later. But I can’t let you do this alone.”

  I heard the protective undertone in his words. He was as concerned as Cendric about my magic. And Gideon could do even less to help, at least magi
cally. But having my brother nearby helped keep me level, and I was too grateful to have him around to worry about his safety. We’d always stuck with each other.

  Down one quick flight of stairs, out the side entrance, and around the corner and we were at the small strip of shops that filled the bottom floor of our apartment building. I strode past Uncommon Grounds coffee shop, The Deliberate Squirrel bookstore—and stopped at our as-yet-unnamed shop. For a moment, I stared at the large window, curtains still drawn, wondering what it would be like when the place officially opened. We were still trying to figure out the perfect name that would combine my romantic consulting, Gideon’s potions, and Cid’s lawyer work.

  Gideon pulled at my hair. “Al, you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m good. Just thinking how much fun it’s gonna be to clean that window.”

  He gave a little spitting sound. “Make Josie do it. She’s just a paper pusher anyway.”

  “I heard that!” Josie Framer, our new secretary for the business, stalked toward us, her tan face pinched with anxiety. “Allis, we really need to discuss my case. This current dating strategy just isn’t working.”

  “You’ve barely started that plan. You should have only had a few dates that we were going to discuss and evaluate.”

  “I know.” She paused, pressing her lips together.

  “Out with it.”

  “I did more experimenting on my own, and I’m glad I did. Because I definitely realized that this isn’t going to work.”

  “Right. I’m glad you’ve done that.” My strategies were always flexible, but Josie hadn’t even given hers a chance. I stifled a groan. This was going to be a fun conversation.

  “That’s my cue.” Gideon jumped off my shoulder, shifting back to human form mid-leap, and unlocked the door. He gave me a wink. “Have fun!”

  “Huh,” Josie said. “He was in a hurry.”

  I sighed. “Yes. Yes, he was.”

  Josie folded her arms, fixing me with a stare.

  Maybe I could change her hair to a different color. Neon green instead of dark brown. Or maybe plaid. That would distract her and get me out of this meeting.