Troll Tunnels

by Erin M. Hartshorn

  Raidne’s voice dropped. “That’s why we came to you. Teles still was uncertain, did not want to trust you — but I would do anything for you after you showed your good faith by freeing me and then saving my granddaughter.”

  At the time, they had said it was because I’d shown that I wanted to help. I hadn’t realized how very personal they saw that help to be.

  “I would have done the same for anyone.”

  “All the more reason to thank you.”

  Thanks didn’t seem necessary. After all I’d done to the sirens while looking for a killer who turned out to be the dark muse … from my point of view, I still owed them.

  Uncomfortable, I looked away, wishing I had a drink or something to fiddle with. “Thanks for telling me. I’m not his keeper, but I did worry about him.” I paused. “I might be moving to your neighborhood. No, not might — I am. I just haven’t been telling people yet.”

  “You won’t be able to walk to work any more.”

  “I know.” I hadn’t really thought about that, but she was right. I’d have the walk to and from the T, but that wasn’t very significant. And I would miss my neighbors, the smell of dumplings rising from the restaurant, the mix of languages on the street.

  “Being uprooted is hard.”

  The sympathy in her voice brought tears to my eyes. She knew so much more than I ever would. “I’ll have to stop in for coffee and finikia on my days off. And maybe some dolmades, as long as you don’t tell my mom.”

  “I’m not very good at making dolmades, honestly. We usually buy them premade.”

  “In that case, you’ll have to come over to my place for some homemade.”

  “I would like that.” She stood up. “I’ll send over some mixed trays for you, along with an invoice. Drop by the Galley when you’re moving in and let us know.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  After she left, we got busy. I dealt with the rush, ending with handing a triple-shot of caramel double-caf almond milk latte to the difficult customer of the day — difficult because he’d insisted on seeing every single ingredient and checking the expiration dates on everything before I started to work.

  “Trish, I’ve got people coming in for interviews, so I’ll be helping them with all the usual.”

  “I remember the drill. It wasn’t that long ago for me.”

  That spoke volumes for the coffee shop’s increased popularity — Trish and Freddy had been our new hires, picked up because we needed more hands on deck to deal with customers at the beginning of the summer. In that time, we’d only lost one employee, but I was adding more — three right now, but I might see if there were a couple others looking for specifically weekend shifts. It was only going to get more hectic for the next month or two. We weren’t in Downtown Crossing, but there would be enough spillover from holiday shopping — not to mention the theater district — to swamp us.

  Worry about that later.

  I nodded to Trish, grabbed a cup of peaberry, and headed for my office. I had paperwork to deal with, accounts to balance, and questions to prepare for the interviewees who would be coming in this morning. With luck, I’d have at least one new hire and maybe two before I had to make the schedule for next week.

  My second cup of coffee was a memory when the first knock came at the door — the car mechanic, here on her lunch break. I’d been right about her motivation — she was tired of the hassle she got for being a woman in “a man’s job,” so she was looking for something where she wouldn’t have to deal with that. So I talked to her about service occupations, customers who were rude just because they could be, sexist customers, and pay that, while above minimum wage, wasn’t nearly what she was earning now. I told her I’d be happy to hire her if she wanted to put in time on weekends, but she could do better for herself.

  The next one in was a college student looking for holiday money. Tomas had even brought his schedule with him so we could plan his shifts. Organized — that was good. I hoped he’d stay after the new year, but I would understand if he didn’t.

  While we were still penciling in his preferred times for the next week into the schedule — with the understanding that he might not get all of the shifts he wanted — oily tendrils crept over me. Svetlana was on her way.

  Sure enough, I had just enough time for a quick trip to the restroom before she arrived. I poked my head out front to refresh my coffee and greet her. I saw that Grant had come in while I was in my office, and I nodded to him before focusing on the door. It opened, and Svetlana breezed in, faux fur lining the hood of her down jacket. Next to her in a peacoat — “Clay? Fancy seeing you here.”

  “Pepper? I didn’t realize this was where you worked. I was just walking Svetlana over. But you must know her — you’re her new boss, right?”

  Right, though technically I hadn’t even made an offer yet.

  “You’ll have to tell me how you met sometime. Right now, she’s got some paperwork to fill out.”

  He nodded at both me and Svetlana, then left. Her eyes were tight, and she looked like a lost puppy. I allowed her to precede me into the office, then sat behind my desk.

  “I was a little surprised to see your application. You hadn’t said anything about wanting to work here.”

  “I’ve told you how welcoming your cafe is. How could I pass up the chance?”

  She and every other person with a hint of magic, as well as anyone sensitive to the touch of a muse — Haris had definitely left a mark. It didn’t surprise me that she wanted to spend time here, but I was worried about what she didn’t say. Was she trying to keep an eye on me, to see what my relationship to Clay really was, to make Tiamat’s plans come to fruition? I couldn’t trust her, but, assuming it was legal to hire her, I couldn’t refuse her, either.

  “I’ll need to see your visa, of course, to verify your work status.” I did my best to look apologetic. “The government gets really picky.”

  “Of course.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a passport with the visa inside. Her International Driver’s License was also clipped to the passport, along with a state photo ID.

  After checking the information on the forms against the official documents, I scanned the documents and returned them to her. “Can you start this weekend?”

  “You are desperate.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, but one of my assistant managers quit last week. He’s the one you’re replacing.”

  “I … wasn’t expecting to start in management.”

  “If you don’t want the job, I’ll find someone else. But you’re qualified, and none of the current employees want to be in management.”

  “That should worry you. One of your managers quits and no one wants his job? Sounds like you’re not a very good boss.”

  I shrugged. “They’re reasonably new hires with other time commitments.”

  “More new hires?” Her eyebrows arched.

  “The business has been growing a lot in the last half year.” I sipped my coffee and studied her. “Since I took over as manager, in fact, so I’d argue that I’m a very good boss.”

  “At least a good businesswoman. Why did the previous assistant manager quit?”

  “Because he wanted my job, and the owner thought I’d be better at it.” Might as well tell her — she’d hear about the competition from somebody else.

  “Was she right? Where’s he working now?”

  “I don’t know. I thought about looking around, trying to find him, see what he’s up to, but the truth is, it doesn’t matter. He’s not here trying to undermine me, doing as little work as he can get away with and balking when asked to do anything, even if it is in his job description. I wouldn’t fire him — it would look too much like retaliation for competing against me — but I’m not sad he’s gone.”

  She considered this information for a minute. “Very well. I can start this weekend if you want, but I’d like to work with someone else before I take lead.”

  “Can you come in tomorrow for
mid? I’m on open and Ximena’s on close, so you’d get both of our perspectives.” At her nod, I reached into the top drawer on my desk and pulled out one of the new keys. “Welcome to the Wicked Whatever.”

  It remained to be seen whether I could be friends with Svetlana, but I didn’t have to be her friend to hire her. What was it Rich had told me once? I couldn’t be their boss and their friend at the same time? Maybe not, but I could at least care about them. I wanted to care about Svetlana, other than in a “Is she going to try to summon a chaos goddess and destroy the world?” sort of way. We’d see how that worked out.

  I leaned back in my chair to take a well-earned sip of coffee and relax before heading out front — but was hit by the ugly prickles on my arms that told me Dorothy was coming to visit. Why would she be coming here if she hadn’t wanted to see me at the witches’ gathering? Or was it that she didn’t care whether I was at the get-together, she just didn’t want me to know what she was up to, talking to the other witches behind my back? Both were possible.

  Wishing I could ignore her, I got up and headed to the front of the shop. If Dorothy was going to come in, she’d be acting ugly to anyone who was present. Since I was the reason for her belligerence, I should bear the brunt of it.

  I did a quick scan of the shop — a few one-off customers, a student who had been nursing their coffee for a couple of hours while swiveling attention between their laptop and their textbooks, and Grant and Kari in the corner enrapt in a discussion about the sketchbook in front of them. Dorothy might scare off the customers who’d never been in before, but the others, including the student, should be fine. I nodded to Trish. “Why don’t you go take care of the kitchen, then give your feet a rest for a bit? I’ll hold down the front.”

  “Okaaay.” She wasn’t due for a break yet, and she hadn’t been complaining about being tired, so my suggestion came out of the blue for her. But even if she wasn’t feeling the weight of pregnancy yet, it wouldn’t hurt to get in the habit of taking regular short breaks. And she didn’t need to be exposed to Dorothy’s negativity. I didn’t — couldn’t — explain that last to her, and she directed a puzzled look at me as she headed for the kitchen.

  Two minutes later, as expected, Dorothy came charging in, as usual her face angry at others just for existing.

  “Hello, Dorothy. Can I get you something?”

  Over in the corner, Grant looked up. I didn’t turn my attention toward him, though.

  “Some of whatever lets you act so self-righteous when all you ever do is hurt people?”

  I forced my face to be as bland as possible, obnoxiously, over the top, ostentatiously bland. “I’m sorry — did my back bruise your knuckles when you were hitting me?”

  If anything, my words made her angrier. I wanted to believe it was because she felt guilty about what she had done, but with Dorothy, that didn’t seem likely. She had formed an instant animosity for me, and no amount of time or good words from others would alter that perception.

  “There you go again, acting as hoity-toity as you did on Monday, like how could anyone think you were guilty of anything, just you there socializing like you’d never done anything to hurt a soul.”

  I tilted my head to one side. Maggie would say I was deliberately baiting her, and she wouldn’t be far wrong. “As far as I know, I can’t actually touch people’s souls.” Which was half a lie — I had moved a ghost around, after all, and that was probably the same thing. Not that I’d tell Dorothy that.

  “You know what I mean!” She leaned in, her voice low and vicious. “I saw you. That poor guy told me you had been persecuting him, and you made him disappear. I don’t know what you did to him, but I am going to find out, and I am going to make sure everyone knows you for the monster you are.”

  “Oh, trust me,” I said, “If I ever go full monster, everyone will know about it.”

  I managed to suppress a shiver at the thought. I was not going to laugh at the world’s misery, let alone go out of my way to cause more. That wasn’t who I was, and it never would be, no matter what Dorothy might think.

  “You already have. You just haven’t shown the world yet. Don’t worry, I’ll be waiting when you do.”

  “Did you come in today for something other than the usual trash talk and threats?”

  “Stay away from the new witches. They don’t need you to corrupt them.”

  Indeed they didn’t. If they really were determined to bring Tiamat to Earth, they were about as corrupt as they could get. I didn’t know why Dorothy, a devotee of Hekate, cared about them. Perhaps they were corrupting her.

  “Duly noted. Would you like a drink for the road?”

  “Like I’d trust anything you prepared!” She sniffed. “Remember what I said. Stay away from them.”

  Things calmed down after that; the only customers left in the coffee shop were the musicians who sat next to each other, headphones on as they collaborated on a piece of music. When the weather warmed up again, I had ideas for an evening concert series. Or maybe music and readings from current books. I’d tap the regulars for talent first, just as I had with the art on display. But that was a concern for another time. Right now, the quiet spell meant I had time to talk to Freddy. I headed to the kitchen where he was working on muffins.

  “So, Freddy — were you ever going to tell me your dad is Rich’s brother?”

  He flinched, and looked around, as if his father would appear. “How’d you find out?”

  I sighed. This wasn’t a conversation I felt qualified to have. “Your dad tried to break in here the other night. The police found him muttering to himself on the doorstep, and he’s been in a psych ward since.”

  “Jamie!”

  “Your brother?” His nod wasn’t really necessary. “The police took him into protective custody. Generally, that would mean trying to place him in foster care, but I know someone who works in child protective services, so I asked her to make sure he’s okay. He’s been in a warm, comfortable house for the past couple of days, and last I talked to her, he was taking advantage of the fact that she has two different game consoles for visitors.”

  He smiled, though it looked like it hurt when his eye crinkled.

  I could piece together a little of what had happened — his dad had figured out about Freddy’s job and probably hit him, given him the black eye, which made Freddy leave the house. His dad had come here looking for him — not for Rich, but to punish Freddy. The delay was most likely because he didn’t know where Freddy was working, just that he was working.

  The abuse — I didn’t get it, couldn’t understand anyone who would treat their child this way. The twins had exhausted me to weeping more than once when they were babies and run me ragged as toddlers. Violence against them, though? Never.

  I held out Lashonda’s card to him. “Here’s her number. Call, tell her you’re okay. Talk to your brother. Tell him you’re okay. Then you can figure out what you’re going to do for yourself and your brother.”

  Freddy glanced at the card, then back at me. “You’re not going to tell me to call the police, tell them where I am?”

  “That’s up to you. If you’re going to take charge of your brother, you’ll have to go through Child Services at some point, which means a background check with the police as well.” I looked at him sympathetically. “You don’t have to see your father if you don’t want to. And Lashonda can probably help with severing his parental rights if that’s what you and your brother want to do, but you should probably get advice from her on claiming your personal property.” I hesitated, then added, “You probably want to call Rich, too. I’m sure he’s been worried about you. Probably blaming me for everything, too.”

  He took the card, looked at it again, and shoved it into his pocket. “I don’t get it. Why are you being so helpful?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  His shoulders hunched. “Like you said, Rich blames you for everything. He thought he was on track to be manager, and then you took that away
from him, and he’s been taking it out on you since. You don’t have any reason to be so nice.”

  I kept my voice gentle. “You haven’t done anything to me. Your brother hasn’t done anything to me. And you need help.”

  The oven dinged, and he moved to take muffins out. “Thanks. I gotta get back to work. I understand the boss can be real difficult sometimes.”

  “Sometimes.”

  I let him work. He was going to want time to think through what I’d said, decide who he was going to trust. For his brother’s sake, I hoped he trusted Lashonda.

  Gavin glowered at his sister. An almost-perfect sphere wobbled above her hand, showing the progress she had made. He had no idea yet that Tina had been working as hard on focusing her magic as he had been on the proper fingering positions for his music, but both of them had clearly improved. I turned my attention back to making dinner.

  As I stirred the stew on the stove, my cellphone rang. Of course, it was on the table next to the door, rather than in my pocket, which made answering it slightly more difficult.

  “I’ll get that for you, Mom!” Gavin said, swinging his violin down from his shoulder so quickly I thought he would strain something. He snatched up the phone with his bow hand, then said in a disappointed voice, “It’s just Carole.”

  “I like her,” Tina said from her spot on the couch. “She doesn’t mind talking about magic.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” I said, thinking about the notebooks I still hadn’t finished going through, although I’d had them for months. Too many things going on. I could let Tina read some of my notes, though I’d have to ask Hsien if he minded first. Maybe she’d get bored if she had too much to read and slow down a bit.

  Like that would happen.

  Tina craned her head around the back of the couch to look at me. “Is she the one who helped you find your patron?”