Poppy looked down at her cup, gritted her teeth, and swallowed down as much of the cold coffee as she could with a stomach that felt like it did. Then she reached into her handbag and pulled out her bottle of Excedrin, popping two more into her mouth before gulping down the remainder of the coffee.
“There now,” Angel said with a hopeful expression. “It’s going to get better from here on out.”
“Uh-huh,” Poppy noncommittally agreed.
“You… have eaten something today, right?” Angel asked.
“Really?” Poppy shot her friend a warning look.
“Just making sure. That’s a lot of aspirin and caffeine for an empty stomach.”
“I’ve got my mom’s yams inside me,” said Poppy, and a wave of queasiness washed through her. She exhaled slowly, leaned over the table, and placed both elbows on it so she could cradle her head.
Angel’s phone rang. Poppy looked up, surreptitiously glancing at the screen. It was Angel’s mother. She was probably in deep water for having left the dinner.
“You can go, sweetie,” Poppy said before Angel even answered the phone. “I swear I’ll be fine. I’m going to get another cup to go and head home to bed. It really has been a long day and I’m not good company.”
Angel chewed on her lip. “I’m sorta scared to leave you alone.” She glanced out at the darkening streets and lengthening shadows, and Poppy knew exactly what was going through Angel’s head. “You always walk instead of taking a cab, and you’re not exactly at the top of your game.” She tapped silence on her incoming call, deigning not to answer her mother at all.
“I’ll be fine, promise.”
What Angel didn’t know was that Poppy might not be at the top of her game, but what game she did have involved magic. Black magic. And lots of it. “Go be with your family, Angel. Thanks for meeting me.” She smiled warmly, and it was a little less painful this time; the medicine and caffeine must have finally been working. “Say ‘hi’ to your mom, and kiss your abuela for me.”
“She’ll be pissed that I met with you and didn’t invite you over.”
Angel Carona had a very large family, and most of it was likeable. But Angel’s abuela, Calliope, was definitely Poppy’s favorite. She had spunk. She reminded Poppy of a non-magical Lalura.
“Tell her I’m sick. It’s not exactly a lie.”
“True enough.” Angel pushed out her chair and they both stood. They hugged over the table, and Angel headed to the door. “Text me when you get home, okay?”
Poppy nodded and waved as Angel left the coffee shop. Then she sighed, pulled on her gloves, took her cold coffee cup, and dumped it in the trash before making her way back into line to order another one to go.
Once she had it in hand, she hastened outside and stopped just past the door to look up. The winter night was clear and cold. The stars are always brightest when it’s cold, she thought. It was true, even inside the city, where light pollution drowned out 99% of the light reaching Earth’s surface from the outer reaches space.
She gazed at those outer reaches for a few seconds more – then an odd feeling made her lower her head and turn around. The door was shut and no one was there. She was alone on the sidewalk, but she could have sworn she’d felt….
Am I imagining things? She was pretty tired. Migraines will take it right out of a person. She felt a little like a zombie with a gurgly stomach. But she honestly thought she’d felt something like a breath on the side of her neck. A very cold breath.
Poppy used her right hand to push up her left sleeve, revealing the goose bumps that were still there. She blew out a hard breath. Get ahold of yourself. Go home. Put on an episode of Monk and go the hell to sleep.
She nodded and crossed the street. After she’d made it a few blocks, she slowed down and lifted her coffee cup to her lips. Ice cold liquid slid past them to wash over her tongue, far too creamy for the temperature. She made a terrible face and turned her head to spit the liquid out.
“What the –” Something just as cold as the coffee suddenly settled in her gut. She stared down at the cup, confused and unexpectedly, inexplicably, frightened.
But she was also angry. Really angry. All she’d wanted – ALL DAY – had been a fucking cup of hot coffee. Was that too much to ask? This was the last straw.
Without thinking any further, Poppy spun. With all the strength she could muster at that very moment in time, she hurled the completely full paper cup against the brick wall of the nearest building.
Chapter Four
She was staring at the mess she’d made – torn coffee cup, lid halfway across the street from bouncing, coffee strewn everywhere in the biggest splatter she’d ever seen – when she heard the sound of a boot stepping up onto the sidewalk behind her.
“Let me guess,” he said, and she slowly turned to stare up at him. “It’s been a rough day?”
Poppy didn’t answer right away. She really couldn’t. Too many things were chasing each other through her head. For one thing, she was distinctly embarrassed that she’d lost her temper the way she had. For another, the man in front of her looked like a god. It wasn’t an overstatement or a generalization. It was that he actually looked like Thor, the god of Thunder.
Poppy was wearing lace-up combat boots with a good two and a half inch heel on them at the moment, and on her own, she was five-foot-ten. But this guy was still a good five inches taller than her, easy. He had a thick head of dark blond hair that looked as though it might have been professionally cut months ago, but had grown out since then and now brushed his shoulders. As to those shoulders, broad would be an understatement. She was betting if he wanted to, he could lift the Mercedes that was parked a few feet away at the curb. Maybe with one hand.
His chin was strong, sporting a careless five-o-clock shadow that she could tell would grow into a full-on beard within a week if he let it. He was wearing a light blue T-shirt that hugged extremely cut muscles, covered by a black leather jacket that appeared to have been through a war, it was so broken-in. Completing his mouth-watering ensemble were worn blue jeans and black engineering boots, as if he’d just come off a motorcycle. A very big motorcycle.
But it was his eyes most of all that had her standing there completely mute. She could have sworn they were nearly the exact same shade of blue as her own. Except, they seemed to be almost… glowing.
It was like trying to peer through an iceberg where someone was on the iceberg’s interior, shining a lantern back out at you. They were lit from the inside, positively radiant with a keen intelligence she could almost feel.
No, not almost. She could definitely feel it.
“Um… yeah,” she muttered stupidly. “I guess you can say it has.”
He smiled, flashing perfectly white, perfectly straight teeth. The man was an impossibility. He took another two steps toward her, moving with a distinctly non-threatening casualness, and suddenly Poppy had never felt so threatened in her life. But not by him. She felt threatened by herself because she knew that any chances she could have with a guy like this would be ruined by all of her own awkwardness and honest bluntness and the straight-forward no-nonsense personality that people had told her time and again were unladylike.
The stranger turned his ice-blue gaze from her to look at the store front beside them. She followed his gaze to the sign. It was a coffee shop, obviously much smaller than Starbucks, but one that appeared to be older too, and more established. There were plenty of people inside; she could see them through the foggy glass, conversing and laughing.
“I hear you can’t get a better cup of coffee in Seattle,” the man said, turning back to her. “Can I buy you a fresh one?”
Poppy felt the heat of a blush infuse her cheeks, knowing that the evidence of her last cup of coffee was splayed across the sidewalk.
“That honestly sounds really nice,” she admitted. The throbbing at the base of her skull was ever-present, low-grade but there, aching for its continuing caffeine fix. “Let me just clean up m
y mess really quick.”
The man didn’t even hesitate. He strode to the middle of the street, picked up her lid, then made it back to the sidewalk to pick up her paper cup before she could. He tossed them both into a nearby bin, then opened the front glass door of the coffee shop, gesturing for her to enter first. “After you.” He smiled.
He’s beautiful and he’s a gentleman and he wants to buy me coffee, she mused as she entered the shop and the scent of fresh, hot coffee assaulted her desperate senses. It smelled even better in here than it did in the roastery.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He entered behind her and moved them toward an open table against the window. The atmosphere in here was different than it had been in Starbucks. The people weren’t here to study. No one was on their cell phone or computer. They sat across from each other and made eye contact. Somehow, despite the lack of expensive fire places and huge, copper-piped roastery, the atmosphere was warmer.
Almost immediately after sitting down, the two were approached by an employee of the establishment. “What can I get you two?” she asked, and Poppy was very impressed at her professionalism. Mainly, in the fact that she wasn’t out-and-out staring at the man across from Poppy. He was so handsome, it was hard for her to imagine people not staring at him. She was trying very hard not to do so herself.
“Just something hot,” Poppy replied honestly. And nervously. “Just hot coffee.”
The stranger chuckled. “We’ll take two cappuccino’s,” he said gently. Then he leaned forward and said, just loud enough for the waitress to hear as well, “It’s the cappuccino’s they’re famous for.”
Poppy grinned. “That sounds wonderful.” And it did. It really did.
The waitress smiled and left, and the stranger turned his attention fully on Poppy. She felt herself shrinking beneath that gaze. It was too intense.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked softly, lacing his fingers together on the table.
She blinked. “About what?”
“The bad day you have so obviously had.”
She smiled self-consciously. “You really aren’t interested in that. And besides, I don’t even know you.”
He watched her closely for a moment, and the gods only knew what he was thinking. And then he said, “My name is Kristopher.” He paused, tilting his head just a little to the side as if to study her even more closely. “What is yours?”
She swallowed hard. Her throat suddenly felt tight. “Poppy,” she said. “Actually, that’s not exactly true. It’s Persephone. But everyone calls me Poppy.”
Something glinted in the depths of his bottomless pools-for-eyes, and he said, “Persephone, the young goddess of spring who is abducted by the cold and hard god of the dead and taken into a world where there is no sun, thereby releasing winter upon the world in her absence….” He smiled a mysterious smile.
“Yeah, everyone knows the story. I’m not sure what my parents were thinking. They’re not even Greek.”
But that mysterious smile only deepened. “I think it’s very fitting.”
Chapter Five
Poppy frowned. “Fitting? How’s that?”
But their drinks arrived just then, and Kristopher turned to the waitress, taking both cups from her outstretched hands. He thanked her and turned back to Poppy, holding one of them out for her.
She stared at it, at the foam expertly decorated on top in the shape of a snowflake, at the steam rising from it promisingly. Almost afraid at this point, she gingerly hooked her finger through the loop of the handle and lifted it out of his grasp. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” he said. He raised his in a toast. “To a better night.”
Their eyes met. A chill went through Poppy.
Then she took a sip.
Poppy closed her eyes, barely suppressing a moan. Hot, creamy, perfectly delicious liquid washed over her tongue and down her throat, warming her from the inside out. She swallowed, and said, “It’s hot. Gods, it’s actually hot.”
Kristopher lowered his cup. “You’re surprised.”
Poppy opened her eyes and laughed a little. “It’s just that this is something like the fifth cup of coffee I’ve tried for today, and the first that’s actually been hot. I don’t know what the deal is; it’s truly bizarre.” She gently shook her head just once. “And I really needed it today, because I’ve had this headache that just….” She made a face and splayed her hands like something exploding.
He nodded. “Let me guess, it’s sitting somewhere right about… here?” He reached across the table and she went stiff as he brushed his fingers through her hair until he was touching the base of her skull on the right side.
Instant cold went through that spot, freezing the pain out of her head. The next throb was softer than the last, and the one after that was even softer. Over the course of just a few quick seconds, the headache ebbed to nonexistence, and she was staring into very blue eyes in both relief and shock.
Slowly, Kristopher removed his hand.
“How….” She had been about to ask how he’d done that. But she had a feeling she already knew. It made perfect sense. He was too beautiful to be human. Clearly, he possessed some sort of magic. So the real question she should be asking was….
“Who are you?”
“I already told you.”
“Okay,” she countered, and though she was more grateful than she could really say for the hot coffee and the end to her migraine, her defensive alarms were screeching. “Then what are you?”
He took a deep breath and reclined in his chair, never taking his eyes off her. “What would you say if someone asked such a question of you, Persephone?”
Poppy blinked.
“What would you tell them?” he continued. Another pause. “Would you say, ‘I’m human, of course,” and leave it at that? Or would you say, ‘I’m Persephone Glacia Nix,’ or ‘I’m of Nordic descent,’ or even… ‘I’m a warlock,’?”
A ringing began in Poppy’s ears. The world around her was narrowing, as if she were entering some sort of tunnel. There was only her… and the man sitting across from her.
“You see, questions can be complicated,” he went on. “And their answers, even more so.”
Silence filled the shop. Or, at least it seemed to from Poppy’s perspective. Everything was quiet but for the ringing in her ears. It was persistent, growing louder. And then it was quiet. And then it was loud again.
Wait….
“Your phone is ringing, Poppy.”
Her eyes widened, and she looked down at her purse. A spear of aggressive irritation spiked through her. “I know.” She shoved her hand into her handbag and pulled out her phone. “And thank you for calling me Poppy.”
She put the phone to her ear. “What?” she asked none too gently.
“Poppy? You okay?”
It was Violet. Poppy sat up straighter and looked across the table at the blue-eyed stranger who hadn’t stopped staring at her. She would give just about anything just then to have a nice long talk with her best friend. She’d had one heck of a day, and now she was having coffee with someone who was clearly of a supernatural ilk, and who knew exactly who and what she was.
He could be dangerous.
Oh, he’s definitely dangerous.
“Um….”
“Poppy, what’s going on?” Violet asked, clearly able to hear her hesitation. If Poppy wasn’t careful, the new Shadow Queen would be here in a few short hops, skips and jumps through the portals of the shadows.
Kristopher smiled.
“It’s nothing,” Poppy lied. “I’m just – I’m super busy. I’ll call you back in a few, okay?” She hung up.
She’d never hung up on her best friend before. It felt so wrong, and she could just imagine Violet on the other end of the line, staring disbelievingly at her phone. But then again, Violet had encased Poppy in a holding spell a few months ago, and that had been the first time Violet had ever cast magic on her, so Poppy still had a w
ays to go until they were even.
She put the phone on silence and slipped it back into her handbag. “She’s on her honeymoon,” she said.
“And you don’t want to ruin that for her by asking her a lot of questions about what supernatural being could look like me and know who and what you are. Sweet of you, but not very smart. And since I have a feeling you’re very smart, Poppy Nix, I’m guessing you actually hung up on her because you don’t want her involved with the Entity again. She’s already been involved enough, hasn’t she?”
Poppy stood up. Her legs felt strange, but they held her. Fear was driving her.
The Entity was out there; she knew that well enough. Everyone who had anything at all to do with the supernatural factions these days had been made aware of the Entity – and her best friend had gone up against the terrifying being herself. So, Poppy was well versed in how dangerous the world had become of late. The man sitting across the table from her could very well be possessed. He could be the Entity. Or he could be working for him.
Despite those eyes and those muscles, he could be evil through and through, and he’d all but just admitted as much.
She leaned over the table and found her hands shaking where they braced against its surface. She tried to keep her voice down, tried desperately to keep from drawing attention as she hissed, “Tell me who and what you are, Kristopher, or I will walk out of this coffee shop and head straight to the Thirteen Kings to inform them of this exchange. And if you follow me or try to stop me, I won’t care how frowned-upon it is to use magic in the mortal realm.”
His smile became a cold, hard grin. In a voice just as soft but far more powerful, he said, “You do have spirit, don’t you? But you aren’t going anywhere, Poppy. Not without me.”
Chapter Six
Kristopher knew what was happening. But that was different from believing it.
From the moment he’d heard her voice speaking those pointedly portentous words, “You don’t need to understand me, you just need to love me,” he’d been stunned. For a while, all he could do was sit there in his chair at that table and stare at her. He was focused, tuned-in, listening. But he could feel the magic in his body spinning too hard, too fast, and he knew he would draw attention soon. Either the windows around him would freeze and shatter or the air would begin forming indoor clouds or the ground would ice over and people would slip to their untimely deaths.
The Winter King Page 3