"What is with my luck," I muttered, rubbing my smarting elbow. "Seriously. I can't be this unlucky.”
"Apparently you are," Mocha said. "I think you need to call Ethan.”
I sighed. "I don't think I can get away with not telling him this.”
I was downstairs when he pulled up, lights on but sirens off. He looked exasperated but in a fond sort of way. "Could you get into any more trouble?" Ethan asked, the stress that had been bothering him days before was either gone or masked to the point I couldn’t see it.
"I didn't mean to get in this trouble," I offered.
"You seem to be a magnet," he said. He glanced past me. "Somebody was in your apartment?"
“I think so," I said. “When I was heading up the stairs, somebody came straight at me, and when I got to the top of the stairs, the door was open, and everything was everywhere.”
"You know if anything was missing?" he asked, leading the way up the stairs.
“Not really," I admitted. "I don't think any of my belongings are, but I didn't really move anything in, so a lot of the furniture and random stuff left are from the prior owner.” I paused. "Whoever had it before my mom did.”
"I think it's too coincidental to be an actual burglary," he said, clearly concerned. "Do you have somewhere to stay?"
"I'm fine staying here," I said with a shrug. I had Mocha. She was a better burglar alarm than anything.
"No, you're not," Ethan said flatly.
"It's not like I’m going to be here long," I argued. As soon as I could, I was going to go stick my nose into all of this.
I had a feeling from the exasperated look Ethan gave me that he knew that.
"Fine," he said tartly. “But I’m having someone keep an eye on you.”
"Let me by," someone said, exasperated. Miles was downstairs, apparently trying to get inside. A patrol officer was guarding the downstairs door.
Before he got any closer, I leaned closer to Ethan. “Somebody trapped me in the coffee shop," I said, my voice hushed.
Ethan frowned.
"Magic," I mouthed, just before Miles came into view.
Ethan narrowed his eyes at me. "Why didn't you say so beforehand?" he asked.
"We thought we could handle it by ourselves," I said, wilting a bit under his expression. In retrospect, dumb decision.
“Who did?" Miles asked, suspicious.
“Nobody," I said, attempting to sound innocent and failing.
"I heard about the break-in on the radio," Miles said, glancing at Ethan. "Do we have any suspects?"
“Not really," Ethan said, not really thrilled by that, either.
“I mean, you have made enemies," Miles said pointedly with a sharp look at me. “Did anyone know you’d be out for a while?"
"I honestly think the list of people who even know I'm here is fairly short," I said. "I mean, some of it's public knowledge because of the will, but only in the ma— main community. Most people don’t know who I am.” Well that was a screw-up.
Miles gave me a strange look.
Ethan rolled his eyes. "We can probably handle this," Ethan said, glancing at Miles. He turned back to me, his eyes sterner. "Next time something happens at the coffee shop, you'd better tell me," he said, more threatening.
“Fine, fine,” I said, scuffing the floor.
“You’re so lying,” Mocha said with a shake of her head. Neither Ethan nor Miles had acknowledged her, so I wasn’t sure if they knew she was there.
"What happened at the coffee shop?" Miles asked sharply.
"I got trapped," I said sheepishly. "In the freezer." That was about as close as I could come to describing it in human terms.
"Who trapped you?" Miles glanced at Ethan, as if he blamed him for not mentioning it sooner.
I gave him an exasperated look. "Do you think if I knew I'd be sitting here asking you about it?"
Miles narrowed his eyes as if he was about to start a fight, but then shouting was heard downstairs.
“For f—”
Sarai bounded up the stairs like an overly-eager bowling ball.
"We've had this discussion," Ethan grumbled. "No kids on crime scenes.”
“Like we’re actually going to get any useful evidence from this," Miles said tartly, although he was looking at Sarai. “Don’t go inside,” he said to Sarai.
Sarai stuck her tongue out at him and then came to my side.
“Hello,” I said, distracted. Then I turned to Miles. “What do you mean, no useful evidence?” Most of my knowledge was from crime novels, or from the occasional TV show, but shouldn't there have been like a CSI unit and everything?
"Burglars very rarely leave physical evidence behind," Miles said. "We can spend time looking for it, but it may not be the most prudent thing to do depending on your goals.” He cocked his head to the side. "What are your goals?"
“Should I put a more secure lock on my door?" I mused. What sort of goals was he talking about? Survival?
“Your luck is terrible,” Sarai said cheerfully.
"It really is.” I rubbed my forehead.
"I've called some of the usual suspects," Sally said, tromping upstairs.
"Any luck?" Ethan asked, looking sharply at my front door.
“Nobody broke in, so it had to be somebody familiar with the family.”
I nodded, looking at the door. No signs of a pry bar. Then again, magic was a thing.
"But I don't know how new the locks are," I said. "It could be somebody older, too. Or it could be something else.” I had no idea how to phrase magic in front of non-magic people.
Ethan grimaced. "Is there any information on who had this apartment before you?"
“I haven’t been able to find anything," I admitted. "I can get you the will, where mom left it to me. She had the deed and everything. But none of it was a bill of sale.”
“You make this town much more complicated," Ethan said, although it sounded like a compliment rather than a complaint.
"Sorry," I said, and I even mostly meant it.
He shook his head and glanced at Miles. "If you want to stay here, I can have somebody watch.”
“Stay here?” Miles said sharply.
“Come to our house!” Sarai leaned into me, looking up at me with her big brown eyes, pleading.
“I’m sure –”
“Dad says it’s fine.” Sarai gave Miles a pointed look. “I’m sure he says it’s fine.” She brightened up. “Sally can pack your pajamas and we can go hang out and have a slumber party.”
“I don’t really want to leave my apartment,” I said cautiously. It wasn’t safety, but I was afraid the person would come back if they knew it was unoccupied.
“We can stay here, then.” Sarai reached out and patted Miles’ hand. “You can be her protector.”
Miles sputtered. Ethan coughed into his elbow, trying to hide his obvious grin.
"I don't think she'll get rid of the idea," Miles said wryly. "She's a stubborn little thing.”
Ethan grinned. "Takes after her father," he said with a wink.
“How do the two of you know each other?” I asked, because it was becoming clear that it was something more than just meeting in the town.
"We went to college together," Ethan explained. Miles looked disgruntled, but then he nodded. Did he not like information about him getting out? Or just not to me? "It's how we met before he came here.”
"And my wife grew up here," Miles said. He rubbed his forehead. "It's a long story."
Uncomfortable silence reigned. Ethan cleared his throat and turned to Sally, who had been talking to Sarai. "What about the alibis?"
"Valencia’s got one, Mix has got one, Yanis has got one, Vance doesn't," Sally reported.
"He doesn't?" Ethan asked, alarm on his face.
She shook her head. "He says he was at home, but there's nobody that can confirm that, because you're here."
The words Ethan said under his breath weren’t very nice. Not that I could blame him. Miles r
eached out as if to cover Sarai’s ears, although he was teasing.
"Do you want me to bring him in, sir?" Sally asked, obviously conflicted.
Ethan looked at Miles, who shook his head. Miles frowned, as conflicted as Sally.
I took a step back, trying not to interfere.
"Can you give a description of the attacker?" Miles asked me, his eyes intent.
“No," I said as much as I didn’t want to.
“There’s no probable cause," Miles said. He was talking to Ethan now. “He may have had means, he may have even had a motive, but we’ve got no evidence otherwise.”
The tension in Ethan’s shoulders relaxed a small bit. "That's true," he said. “Even Kerrity can’t argue with that.”
“Dad," Sarai said, bounding back in the room. He looked down at her, clearly distracted. "If we’re going to have a sleepover, we need to go get pajamas." She looked at me expectantly. "Do you have pajamas?"
“I have couple pairs upstairs," I said. “Don’t think they would fit you, though.”
It didn’t feel as strange as I would've thought, having my house broken into. Probably because this place didn't quite feel like home yet. While there was a sense of violation, it also felt as if it was happening to somebody else.
Then again, maybe that was just a reflection on how my entire time in the town had been so far. I was part of it, but still distant. It was definitely not the way I'd imagined my life being.
"We'll go get some stuff," Sarai said officiously. "Can we use your apartment to, like, brush our teeth?"
I glanced at Miles, who was looking at her with the restraint afforded to tiny terrors. "Okay," I said.
She looked satisfied. "Don't go anywhere," she said.
"I won't.” Not that there was really anywhere to go.
Sarai grabbed Miles’s arm and dragged him downstairs with more strength than I would have anticipated. He was attempting to talk to her, but all I could hear was Sarai loudly saying ‘sure, sure’ every time he spoke.
How Miles survived that, I wasn’t sure.
Ethan came closer to my side. "If you want, I can stop them.”
I stared at him blankly, then shook my head once I figured out what he was asking. "No, I don't mind," I said. "I mean, if it's trouble for you and your crew, that's definitely a reason not to do it.”
"But you feel more comfortable here?" Ethan asked. He spoke like he didn’t understand, but he was respecting it anyway.
I nodded. "It's ridiculous, in a way. This isn’t home to me, not yet. It doesn't feel right.” I paused, glancing down at the first floor, where the coffee shop was and where my life had changed. I could feel Mocha down there, even if I hadn’t seen her in a bit. "But, if this is going to become mine, then I want to be able to keep an eye on it, even when we don't know what's going on.”
He nodded. "Miles will keep you guys in check," he said, “but we’ll also have somebody stationed to come by your place every so often.” He glanced down the stairs, and I followed. "Since they're gone, you might want to take care of some of the broken glass.”
"Broken glass?" I asked, alarmed. I hadn't remembered seeing any. But, given how busy I'd been, there was a good chance I’d just missed it.
“Follow me.” Ethan led the way downstairs, and I was surprised to see no one else at the bottom. Sally was poking around in my apartment, but that was it. We made it to the main part of the coffee shop before I saw the large shards of glass. A window had been broken.
"Any idea how?" I asked, particularly puzzled because the intruder had been in my apartment, not the coffee shop. Maybe it was unrelated, but I doubted it.
“Mocha can help you fix it.” Ethan’s words were soft.
“I meant how was it broken,” I clarified.
He shook his head. “We don’t know.”
I gave him a look, although I wasn't entirely convinced. "I have to trust you," I said.
"You don't really have a choice," he agreed.
I gave him a look, at which he just grinned. "If you have any questions, or if you see anything else, call us and we’ll be right there," he said firmly.
I nodded, some uncertainty settling in my middle.
"I don't sleep," Mocha said.
I’d forgotten she was there and almost jumped. “What?”
“You can have your human watchers, but I'll be on guard until morning.”
“Thank you," I said.
Mocha made a cynical noise. "It's not just you I’m protecting," she said. "You're my human, yes, but like all creatures, we protect our young.”
I paused. "So, if it was just me, and maybe Miles, you’d leave us to the wolves?"
"Yep." Mocha looked at me with the most unamused face.
“Uh huh.” I didn’t believe her, but I would let her have her macho face.
Chapter Thirty
"If you find anything, give us a call," Ethan said, giving me a stern look before heading upstairs to fetch Sally. Eventually, sooner rather than later, it was just us. And by us, I meant me and Mocha.
"Let's fix these shards," Mocha said.
I glanced back at the path I figured Miles and Sarai would be taking, a bit concerned. "Do we have time?"
"Not if you keep talking like that," she said absently. "Gather the shards.”
I did, carefully using a broom.
“Make sure they are aligned roughly with the window," Mocha said. She glanced back at the shop, almost as if making a mental note.
“Am I supposed to be doing this?” I asked. It wasn't that I wasn't confident about doing magic on my own, but I sure as heck didn't feel qualified.
"It’ll probably be fine," Mocha said dismissively, definitely not in a way that eased my confidence.
"Thanks," I said wryly.
"You're welcome," she said.
There was now a small, tidy-ish pile of glass in front of the window.
"Make sure you get all of them," she said.
“What about some for a replacement, just in case?” I doubted I had gotten everything, and I needed something to make up for the extra, missing glass.
Mocha made an approving noise. "You know where any is?" she asked.
“I don't," I said with a frown.
"Try a drinking glass," Mocha suggested. That was a brilliant idea.
I ducked into the kitchen, fetching a plain water glass out of the cupboard. I didn't think Wren would notice if we just had one less glass than the last time we’d inventoried. If she did, it was easy enough to explain why.
Carefully I put it on top of the pile of glass, almost reverently. It was my first magic on my own, sort of.
"All right," Mocha said. "What next?"
“Draw the runes?" I said, not entirely sure.
“Close," Mocha said. "But don't we have your loverboy coming?"
"He's not my loverboy," I hissed, hands on my hips.
“Sure," Mocha said, sounding oh so convinced. "Your crush on him is obvious.” She paused. "Well, not to him."
I wasn't sure whether that made me feel better, or worse.
"But if I don't draw –"
"Hold the symbols in your mind," Mocha said. "If you need to, you can draw them on your palm. But not in anything permanent."
I gave her a cautious look, because based on the magic I'd heard about from others, it really felt like we were going from zero to fifty in expectations very fast. But if you were supposed to get most of your education from familiars, maybe Mocha knew I was ready for something before I did. Given my knowledge base of magic, it was quite possible.
"Just trust me," she said.
“I'll have you know that doesn't make me feel better," I muttered.
She rolled her eyes. "Start with a shape," she said, coming over and leaning against my leg. The solidarity helped, made me feel less alone. It also helped bring the shapes to my mind.
“Are you helping me?" I asked, suspicious.
"Focus," she said sharply.
I did, dragging my mind
back to the present. “Since we’re building, we’ll start with a circle," I said, because we were trying to reunify something.
"Very good," Mocha said. "What next?”
“Dual squares?" I asked, making the lines in my mind. I made one square, and then tilted it again and then did another square, so the corners were overlapping.
“And why do squares?" Mocha asked.
“For the broken edges."
Magic was mentally exhausting, but it was also fun, in a way. It was like a puzzle, and that was one thing I had always loved to do.
"Good," Mocha said, doing the dog version of a smile. "What next?”
"The runes," I said.
I hesitated, my focus wobbling. I wanted to question her, but the sane part of me didn't. Worst case, if everything went wrong, I could blame it on her. If I was still alive, anyway.
"You'll be fine," she said as if she could read my paranoia.
We walked through the symbols: fragment, togetherness, unity.
I held the image in my mind, which was surprisingly difficult since I wasn't a visual person. It was like imagining lines that didn't exist in anything, besides just existing in mid air.
"Now reach out and touch the glass," Mocha said, still pressed up against my leg.
I did, carefully reaching for one of the broader shards so I wouldn’t cut myself.
There was a bright flash, and it felt like I'd been pricked by tiny shards of glass. I coughed, landed on my butt, and struggled to sit up. But when I managed, there was a beautifully repaired window before me, looking as if nothing had happened.
I looked at Mocha with wide eyes, who looked smug. "I told you," she said.
I opened my mouth to say something, then stopped. "I'm not supposed to know how to do that, am I?" I asked, my voice soft.
Mocha studied me for a few seconds, and then she shook her head. "Not really.”
“Why are you teaching me?" I asked. “What do you know that I don't?"
"A lot of things," Mocha said, but she sounded distracted. I heard Sarai's voice, and turned to look at her, but they weren’t quite in view. "Are you sure about this?"
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