Ira

I breathed a sigh of relief when they finally left.

And immediately choked on the coffee, grease, and food staining the air.

I'd forgotten about all the little details that made the world feel real. The smells, the sounds, the pain. My hand throbbed where coffee had spilled on it before, and the antiseptic stung the inside of my cut.

And it was too much.

It was all too much

I tried to breathe through the smells and sounds. And Graces, when had it become so hot? I didn't remember heat being this... intense. It was bad enough having to watch him out of the corner of my eye, just waiting for the diner to turn into a slaughterhouse, now I had to remember how to use my own senses.

They had chosen the only corner both and for the whole forty-seven minutes that they sat there, talking with the familiarity that only comes from long years, I was so nervous the plates rattled as I carried them out to customers. The quiet mummer of voices I'd grown used to had sharpened into a disorientating buzz of many conversations, but the gruff salvific language my dream and his companion spoke in was a rumbling undertone to the general chatter that was oddly comforting.

Which only made it stranger to hear his voice, so familiar and yet terrifying, with my own ears.

I couldn't help sneaking glances whenever possible. Seeing him setting down for a friendly dinner seemed so unlike everything I'd seen of him up to this point I almost wondered if this was a dream. It certainly felt like one. Who was to say it wasn't? Reality was often forgotten within the dreams, so why not now?

I wanted to believe this was a dream.

I didn't want him to be here.

I didn't want him to be real.

I studied him as much as I could without out blatantly staring, along with the mage with him. I knew he was also mage because there was no mistaking his aura for anything other, though like Urial he lacked any of the disfigurements I was used to seeing. A much older man with silvered hair and a crooked nose, Uriel's companion seemed too jovial to be friends with a killer. But then so had Uriel and he was one. If not for the shadow that prowled around them, both could have passed as normal. But like a living thing, it wove through the blindingly bright colors of Uriel's aura, reaching out dark tendrils to touch those around him only to snap back before making contact.

Yet a bright cord pulsed between the heart of Uriel's shadow and the other mage, thrumming with a hum that had my hair standing on end. It was like nothing I'd ever seen but tugged at some forgotten memory.

Catching my gaze, the mage raised a hand to call me over, and wary of being so close to either of them I approached reluctantly, wishing very much that I could be anywhere else in the world.

"What can I get you?" my voice came out a little too breathy and I had to swallow back the bile rising up my throat.

There was something dangerous yet amused as Uriel looked me directly in the eye, and I could only prey their glow was hidden by whatever miracle had concealed them from the others. I wanted to step away, but I felt trapped by the emerald green of his eyes and the otherness that peered out from behind them. His aura morphed, seeming to focus on me, those tendrils of shadow drifting closer.

"The check please"

Glancing down I unconsciously lifted my arm away from the closest of them, breaking the connection and drawing his attention to the bandages on my hand as I retreated.

"Of course, anything else?"

"A slice of pie would be delightful, packed to go please."

It took me three tries to ring them up. My hands shook so bad I couldn't seem to hit the right buttons and had to package a second piece of pie after dropping the first. I had to pause, forcing myself to just take a moment to breathe. Only when the shaking abated did I carry the sweet in its little paper box to their table.

"They must work you hard here."

It was his companion who commented, nodding inquisitively toward the red splotch on my hand and forearm, as I set the desert down.

Before I could answer Uriel spoke in my stead.

"She had an accident just before we arrived," he told the other man as he accepted the little black cardholder with their recite. "Spilled coffee, wasn't it?

"um, yeah..." I wasn't sure if I was more disturbed by the fact that he remembered something so insignificant or by the way he focused completely on me, his shadows brushing closer with unnerving purpose.

"Well, I hope it heals alright," his companion said as Uriel tucked in a fifty. "it'd be a shame to scar skin like that."

Uncomfortable with the attention, I shifted on my feet. But it was Uriel he looked at as he said it, and that sparked a dangerous curiosity. Skin was skin, who cared if it was scared? Someone who didn't want that record of their history is who.

"I suppose so," I said, daring a look at Uriel. "But scars can be good reminders."

Uriel's hand twitched but I didn't miss the way he deliberately lay down his payment instead of handing it to me. The movement was too relaxed, but I wasn't fooled. I knew the truth of what those hands could do, and it sent a spike of panic through me. Feeling the need to backtrack my words, I tried to smile.

"...Wouldn't want to waste any more coffee," I said with my best imitation of Rivers' careless humor, and inwardly hoped he wouldn't take my statement as anything more than self-deprecation.

"Of course not" His smile, as polite as could be, he slide the holder to me. "After all what would we do without good coffee."

"Or good food!" his companion added, a much more genuine smile adding more wrinkles to his face. "It was delightful by the way, please give my compliments to the chief."

"Will do," I said with short-lived relief as I scooped up the cash. "Just let me get your change first."

"Keep it," Uriel told me as he stood. "I'm sure you deserve every cent."

For a terrifying second, I was sure this was it. He was going to kill me. but he only brushed past as his fellow mage followed suit though his shadows were frozen fingers that clung to my arm before he moved away.

And then they were gone.

I sat with a heavy thud when the door swung closed and tried to breathe around the offensive odors hanging in the air.

That was close. Too close.

I should tell Emma. But what could she do? And what good would it do her? Tomorrow was the last of our finals, why should I give her another thing to worry over when she would never be able to do anything about it?

A prickle on the back of my neck had me looking up, the feel of eyes on me putting me further on edge.

Beside me, the diner's front window let in the waning light of day, and on the other side of the glass, a figure stood, watching. In the falling gloom of dusk, it was hard to make out any features, until they turned and the last rays of sunlight caught on a hundred blinking eyes.

Feeling queasy I looked away quickly, but a sense of doom settled over my shoulders.

Standing on shaky legs I headed toward the kitchen. A lady stopped me to ask something about the menu, but it was all I could do to smile through the cloud of her perfume, the cloying flowery fragrance making me want to put my dinner on the stupid menu, and nod before drifting toward the back.

"Breakfast plater for table 3" Mindy called out sliding the plate across the counter as I entered. Glancing up when I didn't immediately take it, she paused and asked with concern "Are you alright, Chika?"

I should tell her.

This was her home, she deserved to know it was in danger.

But what would I tell her, everything? where would I even start? Dad was the one to tell her about New York and everything after Emma had kept to herself by my request. How did I explain why I didn't want her to know but now there were bad people who knew I was here. Dangerous people, who would hurt her and Emma.

I had to tell her.

She's suffered enough. The thought came unbidden, stilling the words on my tongue. I watched the edges of her aura flicker with worry and really looking at it, I could see the corrosive fear eating away at its center. A thousand little scars marred her soul like scriptures of the damned from past I didn't know. It occurred to me then that Mindy was broken in her own way. I might never know why but there was a reason she'd built this safe haven, and I could not be the one to take it away from her.

"I think I'm getting a headache" the half-truth came easily, and I resented the need for it.

Wiping her hands clean she came around the counter and pressed a hand to my forehead. Frowning with concern she shook her head. "Oh, Chika you should have said something earlier, I just hope you're not coming down with something." She waved me off as she headed to the handwashing sink "go get some rest, I'll call Carisa to cover for you. She can be here in ten minutes, and I can handle things for now." When I hesitated, she shooed me away again "go, get. I won't have you getting my customers sick."

Grateful for the excuse to be away from people and their noise I escaped upstairs.

Emma was passed out on the couch when I passed through to the kitchen and seeing her lying undisturbed sent guilt twisting through my gut. She was so... normal. But I'd come here and wrecked that. It was my fault she had to keep dangerous secrets when she should only have to worry about... well the ball and grades and whatever else people our age normally worried about.

I could go. Just take what little I had and leave. I had nowhere to go but dad had done it easy enough. I had money from working at the diner. It would be enough to last me a while if I was careful...

But no, I couldn't do to her what we had done to bobby.

Rummaging around, I found paper and a pen. I might not be able to tell them the truth, but I couldn't leave without explanation either.

Just two days left till the ball, until then I could keep pretending.

Then I would go.

Something was changing, I knew it as surely as I knew that girl was already dead, and I couldn't let Emma, or the others, become victims of my tragedy. I just hoped oblivion claimed me before the dreams did because I wasn't sure I could survive whatever was coming next.