Kitchen is Always Open (eBook)

CHAPTER 5

True to their word, Dannie walked me to my car. Of course, no one was lying in wait tonight, which made me feel silly. On the upside, knowing they were waiting for me ensured I left at a reasonable hour. The normal grueling commute wasn’t as bad today. I made it home reasonably quickly.

I pull into my parking spot and notice someone leaning against the wall near the security door. On reflex, I look for the telltale duster and cowboy hat. The figure is careful to stand under the light so I can get a good look at them. Sandy brown hair, green sweatshirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. Not Mitchell, but I don’t recognize him. I wrap my hand around my keys and scan the bushes set back from the sidewalk, half expecting someone to jump out of them.

The man stands up straight and shoves his hands in his pockets when I get closer. He tilts his head and smiles. He’s got a real “down-home, boy next door” feel to him.

“Can I help you?”

He turns his honey-gold gaze on me and smiles. “Sadie, I presume?”

I narrow my eyes and scour my memory. “Do I know you?”

He stands upright and offers me his hand. “We’ve not met yet, no. I’m Hakeem Toyotomi. You met an acquaintance of mine.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Toyotomi, you have me at a disadvantage.”

“Mohinder sends his regards.”

Tentatively, I take his hand. His handshake is firm, but not crushing. “I’m sorry, that name doesn’t ring a bell.”

“I promise not to tell him he didn’t leave a lasting impression.” Hakeem laughs.

I can’t help but smile at his amusement. “Perhaps you could remind me?”

“I’d rather not,” he admits, still chuckling, “but it’s probably best I do. He would have shown up in his ‘bad boy’ look. Leather jacket, motorcycle boots, black jeans? Most people remember the eye patch though.”

“Oh yes, that Mohinder.”

Hakeem sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yea, that Mohinder.”

“You sound like an older brother, Mr. Toyotomi.”

“That’s far more kind than the rest of them call me. Can we go inside, or would you be more comfortable having this conversation out here?”

“It wouldn’t do to be rude to a fae; come on in Mr. Toyotomi.” I unlock the door and he holds it open for me.

The occupant of a car parked between two streetlights watches the man and woman talk. The faint snap of a shutter is the only sound that breaks the silence. With a deft twist of the lens, the intervening space disappears and the two people standing under the light come into full focus as if they are mere feet away instead of yards.

“Well, now Ms. Ortiz, who is this new player, and what is he to you?”

The camera clicks a few more times before Sadie swipes her key card. The man holds the door open for her. When she enters the building, the man stares directly into the camera. The sound of pictures being taken in rapid succession fills the car.

The occupant gasps a moment before a pop, and the smell of smoke permeates the air. There’s a soft curse, and they tossed the camera next to the Stetson in the passenger seat. “Err 99: Shooting is not possible. Turn the power switch to <off> and <on> again or reinstall the battery” flickers on the display.

As the stranger follows behind Sadie, Mitchell starts the car.

“Too many long nights and not enough coffee,” he murmurs as he pulls away. “There is no way his eyes were glowing.”

The ride up the elevator is quiet, but comfortable. Once we reach my apartment, I lock the door behind us and kick off my shoes.

“Please, make yourself comfortable.”

He slides onto a stool at my breakfast counter and tilts his head. “What makes you think I’m fae, Sadie?”

“Well, what else could you be?” I ask as I pull out a pot and a pan. “You don’t have horns like Mohinder, so I doubt you’re the same as he is. I’ll have to ask Dannie what they know about ‘summoning’ fae, though. They are more knowledgeable about that than I am. I didn’t even leave out offerings.”

“You invited me in though.” He said with a smile. For the first time since meeting him, I wonder if my gut instinct to trust him was off.

He continues, either ignorant of or ignoring my inner turmoil. “You are correct. Often fae are invited, not summoned. They don’t take kindly to being ordered about. From what I can recall, you can ask, bribe, or entice, but they consider it a major breach of etiquette to summon them like a common servant.”

A light sizzling fills the kitchen as I place a buttered slice of bread into a pan and top it with cheese. “You seem rather informed about them.”

“Hazard of the job, I guess.”

“Oh? What do you do?”

He chuckles softly. “I guess you can call me a diplomat, after a fashion. I meet high-ranking officials and often negotiate agreements with them.”

“So you’ve had to deal with the fae.”

“I did. A long time ago.” His voice is softer, with an undertone of remorse. The silence is comfortable, only broken by the simmering in the pan and my grabbing dishes from the cupboard.

I place a bowl of soup and a grilled cheese sandwich in front of him. “You can’t be the same as Mohinder; you don’t look like him. If you’re not fae, what are you?”

I take the seat next to him and take a bite of my own grilled cheese. Hakeem looks between me and the humble meal in front of him before asking quietly, “Promise me you won’t scream if I tell you the truth.”

“I shared dinner with a creature with horns last night. I’m certain I can handle whatever you’re going to throw at me.”

The air around him shimmers. The smell of sweet tea and chicken and dumplings fills the air for a moment. When the air clears and I can see him again, he’s still clad in the sweatshirt, jeans, and tennis shoes. When I look up, I notice his horns.

“We’re demons and devils.”

I take a slow, deep breath, hold it for a count of four, and slowly let it out again.

He tilts his head. “You’re curious, surprised,” he stops for a moment before continuing. “Concerned, but not scared.”

“Mr. Toyotomi...”

“Hakeem.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Sadie, you know me for what I am, knowing my name is only polite. I’ve already said I’m not fae. Formality seems a little ridiculous at this point.”

I open my mouth to protest before closing it and nodding politely to him. “Agreed. My name is Mercedes, but please, call me Sadie.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sadie.”

I bite into my sandwich and smile at the simple pleasure of grilled cheese.

“Pleasure’s mine,” I reply when I finish my bite. “To answer your question, when I was growing up, my mother would tell me stories. There were many characters in them, but the myths never matched the faerie tales Disney makes movies about. I grew up surrounded by stories about dragons, angels, devas, elves with mottled skin, werewolves, centaurs, and faerie kingdoms where the castle moved on its own.”

Hakeem seems to hang on to every word. I stand up and walk over to the clock on the mantle.

“Before she passed, my mother taught me to see people as they are, not as they want me to see them.” I run my finger down the clock’s intricate body. “I’ve known demons and devils, Mr. Toyotomi. Whatever you are, you are not one of them.”

Hakeem stands beside me as the clock strikes the top of the hour. The dancing angels appear with their swords.

“Erinyes.” He whispers.

“What?”

He nods to the angels. “Erinyes. In your world, the Greeks called them ‘the Fates’, demons of vengeance.”

“What do you call them in your world?”

“Angels of Mercy.” He whispered. “We haven’t seen them in centuries.”

“In my world, demons and devils are evil entities sent to tempt mortals.”

Hakeem scoffs. “Only because we lost a propaganda war to Heaven.”

The bitterness in his reply made me chuckle. “I’m all ears if you want to tell me about it.”

We sit at the breakfast bar and I resume my dinner, giving him space to decide where to start.

“It’s a long story. Too long and filled with a lot of mistakes and misunderstandings,” he begins. “But your world did not always think we were wicked creatures. There was a time when we were considered helpful spirits who could be persuaded to assist mortals in a variety of tasks. Those of us who are more in tune with emotions could help heal broken hearts or quell rage. Those who are talented healers could help fight ailments. A few gifted folks would ask us for aid and we would answer or not. I am a demon.”

“What is your talent?”

“Emotion. The stronger the emotion, the easier it is to sense, but that’s where my talent lies.”

“Have you had to heal broken hearts?” I ask, suddenly very curious. He nods.

“More than a few in my day.” He lifts his shoulder in a half-hearted, almost helpless shrug. “It’s better than watching them suffer.”

He takes a bite of his grilled cheese that seems more an attempt to get himself to stop talking than a desire for dinner. When he’s done, he continues where he left off.

“Devils can be helpful, should the spirit move them. Under normal circumstances, they are more mischievous. Often when someone seems ‘stamped...