Equinox (Augarten Book 1)

by Charlie Godwyne

  He smiled. "Come to my shop in the morning. Maria will tell you where it is. I still owe you more espresso. We'll figure out the details then."

  Before I could second-guess myself, I reached out and offered my hand. "Thanks. I'll swing by."

  Florian's hand was callused and warm. "I look forward to it."

  Chapter Eleven

  At dawn the next day, I walked through the dim, misty morning toward the Schöner Himmel, or "Beautiful Sky" coffee shop. Following Maria's directions, I exited the garden and continued down Taborstraße toward the first district for quite a way, catching a glimpse of the Danube flowing through the graffitied cement cage of the canal. Just before the tram tracks merged to go over the bridge, I pulled off and walked a half block west. The city slept, though as I passed between the blocks, I could see evidence of activity across the canal in the first district. That was always a lively area, filled with tourists, if no one else. In comparison to the sleepy second district, however, I rounded the corner to the Schöner Himmel to find it packed, a line out the door.

  It was a small shop, a corner unit, windows along two sides looking out to the street. A classy, solid wood bar stretched the length of the back wall and had a chalkboard behind it advertising espresso beverages. A small glass case held various breads and pastries. The whole place smelled of coffee and gave a warm ambiance of safety and security. I imagined myself tucked into a leather chair by the fireplace with a warm drink.

  The shop more closely resembled the older part of the second district by Augarten than the towering glass corporate office buildings along the canal. The ceilings were high, which could go a long way toward making a space feel more airy. I stood on my toes to get a view of Florian. He was bustling around behind the bar, alone. He looked overwhelmed.

  "Entschuldigen Sie, excuse me." Edging my way inside despite the grumbles, I approached the bar.

  Florian deliberately did not meet anyone's eyes, bustling around to complete each order as it came, one at a time, hurry, hurry.

  When he finally noticed me, partly because I had sidled up so close, for a moment his eyes blinked but did not see me. Then recognition dawned. "Gabriel."

  I held my hands out. "Let me help. Tell me something I can do."

  Florian didn't even try to feign politeness and refuse. He handed me a dish bin. "Clean the tables. Stack the dishes back in the kitchen."

  "Got it."

  When customers saw I had the dish bin, they moved out of my way. Gathering all the cups and saucers and glasses that had piled up on the tables, I filled the bin in a flash, then carried it to the kitchen. I piled the dishes up on the counter and immediately set out again. It took six trips back to the kitchen with a full bin to finally get caught up to what the customers were drinking. Then, all too late, I realized my mistake: we were going to run out.

  Most places, at least the small businesses in the second district (I didn't know what the ritzy corporations were doing) did not bother to have mechanized dishwashers. I was therefore surprised to find that Florian had a small unit in the back kitchen. Loading it up, I got it started, then stacked all the dishes according to type and went back out to the main area.

  "Gabriel!"

  I rushed to the counter. "Yes?"

  Florian looked like he was about to pass out, or have a panic attack, or both. "Can you wash the cups? I'm going to have to switch to the paper takeaway cups soon, but I normally charge extra for that, and if I have to give them away for free—"

  I placed a hand on his arm and squeezed reassuringly. "Everything will be fine. I'll go wash the cups and be right back, okay? And I've started the dishwasher. Give me five minutes."

  Florian glanced back behind the counter. He was already on the last row of cups. "Okay."

  I dashed back to the kitchen and filled the sink with soapy water, then launched in. I'd never washed anything so fast in my life.

  Just a couple of minutes later, Florian charged into the kitchen. "I'm out. Do you have any?"

  I nodded at the cups to the left of the sink, still dripping but clean. "Take those."

  "Thank goodness." Florian grabbed a bin and stacked them up inside. The little espresso shot mugs danced and tumbled around on the countertop. "I'll be back once I burn through these. Thank you, Gabriel."

  He kissed me on the cheek and I froze. Then he dashed out of the kitchen with the bin of cups.

  I let out a huge exhalation that turned into a groan.

  "I know why you're doing this," I murmured to myself. "It's not just because you're a nice guy."

  I pushed through another batch of cups in time for Florian to come get them, cognizant of the dishes that might be piling up on the tables. This must have been the only coffee shop open on this side of the canal so early the day after harvest. Or at least the only one that served authentic Viennese espresso. Florian's shop clearly had more class than the overpriced international chains by a long shot, but the question still stood of how the tourists had found out about this place. And surely they were tourists, as their German was nearly indecipherable.

  Adrenaline pumped through me. After such a long weekend, I knew I would soon crash. Still, that kiss had been more than enough of a reward. It was a standard greeting among some Viennese, sure, but a man could dream.

  Piling the last of the clean cups into the bin, I rushed them out to Florian. I was thrown to see the line still out the door, but this time the culprit was clear: a tour bus was parked down the street. Florian surely had not known this would happen. Who had mentioned the Schöner Himmel to a tourist agency? It didn't matter: this added a new group on top of the rush before.

  I gave Florian the bin and met his eyes. "Drink a glass of water, so you can keep going."

  Florian nodded. "Good idea." He handed me one too, and we took a fifteen second bashful water break while the tourists chatted.

  Already the cups had piled up again on the tables. It took another hour for the line to at least get into the coffee shop, and another hour and a half after that for the last of the customers to clear out.

  Florian locked the door behind the last group of jovial men. He turned the sign around to say "Geschlossen," tinkling the bell. "Just leave what's there. I can clean up after I rest a bit."

  My exhaustion immediately caught up with me. I sank into the nearest chair.

  Florian stood at the front door, pressing his apron to his face. I watched him, arrested with concern, trying to discern whether he was distraught or just exhausted.

  He finally lowered his apron. Dragging his sleeve across his face, he sniffed. My heart sank.

  "Thank you." His voice was choked.

  An almost uncontrollable urge to go to him and comfort him swept through me. "You don't have to thank me. That's what friends do for each other."

  Florian looked over at me, his eyes reddened. "Are we friends?"

  "I'd like us to be."

  He scanned my face for a long moment. "Consider it done."

  "I have the day off after this anyway. It should be a holiday today, but here you are, working like a mad man."

  Florian eyed me. His face was very expressive, but I still found myself struggling to understand why he pulled those looks. His emotions changed so quickly, I was left behind.

  "Sit. I'll get us breakfast. Do you plan to sleep after this? You can have decaffeinated beans."

  "Yes, please." I could definitely use a nap, if Andrea didn't have any work for me.

  I sat at the bar and watched him get some things together. He pulled out rye bread, butter, jam, soft-boiled eggs, sliced cheeses, and cured salami and olives from the small fridge. A typical Viennese breakfast, with some added Mediterranean flair.

  "Are you vegetarian?"

  "No, sir." Though in truth I rarely ate meat, because it didn't exactly grow at Augarten. I wasn't about to turn it down now.

  "Kipferl or croissant?"

  "Kipferl. I am Austrian."

  Florian barked a laugh. "Austrians are allowed t
o eat croissants."

  Florian got plates out and assembled the sliced cheese and salami and olives. He pulled out another jar and spooned some shaved pickled beets onto our plates as well. My heart soared upon seeing the familiar Augarten logo. I would bring him more jars in the future, if I could manage it.

  "Just decaf espresso? Or do you want a mélange?"

  "You don't need to waste milk on me. This food is already fancy enough."

  Florian eyed me like I was crazy. "Just espresso, then? Want a Verlängerter?"

  I blinked at him. "I really don't know Kaffee Haus lingo."

  He smiled. "That just means the shot is pulled with more hot water, so it lasts longer." He arranged three cups, all a homely white: a tiny one, then a slightly larger one, then one that looked just a bit too small to qualify as a filter coffee or cappuccino. I guessed the latte and cappuccino mugs were in their own series.

  Florian pointed to the tiny one, then the next one up. "Single shot of espresso. Double shot of espresso, or a 'long one,' the Verlängerter. Both fit in the same cup. If you want a dopple Verlängerter, with two shots, that goes in the mélange cup."

  "Forgive me if I don't have it memorized."

  Florian cackled and sashayed to the back counter. My cheeks burned.

  He carried our plates over to a table by the window and I brought our cups. We sat opposite.

  Florian clinked his single shot to mine. "Thanks again for your help. Cheers."

  "Cheers." We drank.

  "How're the decaf beans?"

  I nodded. "Very good, thank you."

  Florian dished me out slices from each category of cheese and salami and olives. This food was so fancy, I couldn't believe this was breakfast, though from what I had observed, most Viennese ate a piece of bread from the bakeries leading to the subway on their way to work.

  "What do you think?"

  I hmm-ed an affirmative around my Kipferl. One type of salami was cured in wild forest mushrooms, and the other in black pepper. It was all very good.

  Florian smiled. "I'm glad."

  I finished my plate, then realized my poor manners too late: I should have slowed down and eaten at the same pace as Florian. But Florian was spending so much time watching me and pretending that he wasn't, I inadvertently scarfed everything down. This Kalte Platte, or cold plate, was so delicious, I couldn't help but eat like a starving man.

  Florian took my plate and dished out another helping. "Do you want a croissant this time?"

  I grinned. "Sure."

  Florian got up. I loved the way he moved in those skinny jeans.

  While Florian banged around behind the bar, I took a moment to gather my thoughts. I wanted to ask if he had ever seen anything strange at Augarten, like a talking horse, but I couldn't think of a way to phrase it that didn't sound ridiculous. Yet we had already done magic together…maybe he would understand.

  The clattering stopped. Florian popped up from behind the bar. "Did you say something?"

  I stammered. Did I? "Um, has a black horse ever spoken to you at Augarten?" By the gods, I felt insane hearing my own words out loud.

  Florian stared at me, as if waiting for me to say "just kidding." I didn't.

  I swallowed and tried to keep from fidgeting. The moment drew out longer and longer, but Florian never broke the silence with a laugh.

  Instead, he locked warm hazel eyes with mine. "Do you mean Gilbert? He's the black work horse at Augarten. I wonder if the guardian nature spirit of Augarten borrowed Gilbert to speak with you. You woke up on her property, after all."

  I let out a huge sigh of relief. "So you know there is a spirit there? Have you seen her?"

  Florian ducked back below the counter and jostled things around in the cabinets, taking a moment to reply. "I have. She helped me at a particularly low point in my life. That is why I pray there in the mornings and evenings. For whatever reason, she is interested in human magic. I've never heard of a nature spirit caring two cents about humans, but Maria confirms this as well."

  "…wow."

  He brought the breadbasket over. "So your angel is the only lead you have?"

  I shrugged. "That, and my body. Blood tests came back clean. The state forced me to do an MRI, only to tell me my age is exactly what I'd thought. That also showed no brain damage, drugs, or dementia."

  Florian sat, eyeing me as if I should tell him what to think of all this. Sipping a glass of water, he looked out the window a minute, thoughtful. Even with dark circles under his eyes, he was still very handsome. He seemed to prefer to look clean cut, even though with the mid-morning shadow of his cropped facial hair, he could easily go for the scruffy look.

  "How will you manage the minimum education requirements for employment, if you don't know your identity?"

  Solomon had already considered this. "I must have been educated before I lost my memories, because the national matura exam material is really easy."

  Florian bugged his eyes out at me. "Wow. You could have college degrees and not even know."

  I shrugged. "I'm a fast reader. I'll fill in the blanks now and have twice the knowledge when I get my memories back."

  Florian paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. "How old are you?"

  "I'm registered as thirty-five. Since I woke up, though…" I counted back to that night in Augarten. "About two weeks."

  Florian smiled warmly. He reached over the table and squeezed my hands. "Gabriel, we'll have to celebrate."

  I could not help but mirror his joy—it was contagious. "Yes. Let's celebrate being alive. It's difficult, sometimes."

  Florian's surprised laugh was beautiful and tragic at the same time. "I know what you mean."

  We finished breakfast in easy conversation. Florian cleared the plates, insisting I not help him. He scuttled over to one of the tables by the far wall and quickly bussed it. I couldn't help but watch. He was so cute when flustered.

  "Come further in. I worry if people see us by the window, they'll think I'm still open. Turns out a celebrity from Zürich wrote about the Schöner Himmel in a local newspaper, so the tourists wanted to try it."

  I sat at a new table and gaped at him. "That was Swiss German they were speaking? I thought it was a different language."

  Florian laughed, his eyes twinkling. "Pretty weird, huh? That was part of why I was so overwhelmed when they all came in. Now, you relax. I'm just going to clean up a bit."

  "Gabriel."

  A gentle voice sifted into my dream filled with book pages turning and espresso brewing. A warm hand grasped my shoulder and I yawned awake, blinking around. I was in the Schöner Himmel, propped against the wall in a chair. The coffee shop was completely tidied from the rush earlier. Florian had changed clothes.

  "I must have drifted off."

  Florian let go. "It's high noon. I figured I'd let you sleep while I reset the shop."

  I scrubbed at my eyes. "I can't believe I slept at your table."

  He chuckled. "Can I repay you in something other than cash? An espresso shot every day for two weeks would equal out the wages from this morning. Add that to what you put in my tip jar."

  Once the words sunk in, giddy warmth filled me. That meant I'd get to see Florian in the mornings, at least for a while.

  "Sure, though you don't need to feel indebted to me. This was an act of friendship."

  Florian's expression was so tender, I struggled to listen to his words. "Let me pay you in caffeine. That way I don't feel guilty for calling you if I ever get that slammed again. You work harder and faster than the typical part-time staff."

  "Great." I'd do it again, even if it just meant I got to chat with him afterward, or have another magic lesson.

  Florian leaned back a bit, hands in his corduroy pockets as he peeked out the window. "You have someone waiting for you. I tried to get him to come inside, but he waved me off."

  Following Florian's gaze, I found a figure at the end of the block in a black robe, pointed hood poking up.

  "That
's my priest friend." I wondered how Solomon had known I was here.

  Florian scrutinized me, clearly not liking my answer. "You know he's an exorcist, right? They're the only ones with black cloaks over their uniforms."

  I gawked. "Really?"

  Florian's eyes widened. "Yes. He didn't tell you? That's not okay."

  Warmed by his concern, I nodded. "It's fine. Apparently, a bishop in his order woke up from a dream the night I was lying under a tree in Augarten. Solomon was the one sent to investigate. My first memories are of him splashing holy water on me and praying."

  Florian gaped. "Do they think you're possessed? Do you need a place to stay?"

  I stood and patted Florian's shoulder. "I'm fine, I swear. Solomon says the priests in Vienna keep track of any supernatural events. You have to admit: waking up in a public park with no memories or DNA trace is pretty weird. Especially considering I don't have any drug history. Solomon has been a strong advocate for me."

  Florian still looked unconvinced. "Are you sure?"

  "Definitely sure. I promise he's a good guy."

  I owed Solomon a lot and figured if he ever actually performed an exorcism on me, it would be because I really needed it. I trusted him.

  "Okay," Florian conceded uneasily, clearly not trusting my judgment at all. "Just know you have someone you can come to if things go wrong with him. I mean it. When things like that go south, they go quickly."

  I wondered how much he actually knew about that.

  At the last second on my way out the door, I ducked back in. "I've thought of something, to pay me back for today, though of course you can refuse."

  Florian paused at wiping the countertop. "Yes?"

  I smiled. "Go on a walk with me. Just through the neighborhood, or at Augarten or the park at Prater. Let's have a chat while neither of us is pressed with work." Like when we'd explored magic together. I wanted that again.

  Florian lit up. "Sure. I'll swing by Augarten tonight."

  "It's a deal."

  "Oh, Gabriel!"

  I leaned back in the shop. "Yes?"