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“I did. And I’m going to remind you of this later when the universe decides to be a little shit about it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” She sang it this time, fake innocent. “Normal is overrated,” she said. “And you aren’t simple.”
I glanced at my reflection in the espresso machine: plain brown hair pulled into a low knot, green eyes, simple makeup, standard café apron. No glowing mark, no crackle of power under my skin. Just me.
“I kind of am,” I said.
Sam’s gaze went to my bare neck, then back to my face. At first, I thought she was going to say something poetic and annoying.
Instead, she said, “Your line is backing up.”
I jerked and turned. Three demons had appeared at the counter while we were talking, all waiting with varying levels of patience.
“Sorry,” I said, turning the fake smile back on. “What can I get you?”
By the time my shift ended, my feet were killing me, and my entire body smelled like espresso.
“Text me when you get home,” Sam called as I untied my apron.
“I’m not going home yet,” I said, stuffing the apron into my backpack. “Flower shop.”
She groaned. “Right. Your secret life as a petal-packing superhero. You better at least read something filthy tonight.”
“That’s the plan.”
Daniel lifted his hand from the corner table. “Be safe, Liv.”
“Try not to make out on my way out,” I muttered.
Sam flipped me off, heart eyes and all, and I stepped onto the street.
The air outside hit cooler than it had this morning. Late afternoon sun slid down the glass of tall buildings flanking the road, turning everything gold and a little unreal. Traffic hummed and demons moved in clumps along the sidewalks, power glinting at throats and wrists. I tucked my chin into my scarf, instinctive, like it could hide the bare skin of my neck.
Only a few more hours, I told myself. Then I’d get to go home, fire up the kettle, and have a mug of something hot and sweet to go with the book on my nightstand that had been burning a hole in my brain for days.
It had everything I didn’t. A fearless heroine. A demon general who looked at her like she was the last star in the sky. Just a little betrayal, blood, stalking, and kissing that made my toes curl. Last night I’d stayed up, telling myself “just one more chapter” until my alarm tried to murder me at five.
I dodged a kid on a hoverboard and turned the corner onto Rose Street. The coffee stink faded, replaced with the gentler scent of flowers, damp earth, and the faint, metallic tang of old wards.
Bellflower & Bone sat squished between a potion supplies place and a pawn shop for cursed objects. Its crooked sign swung in the breeze, hand-painted blue letters surrounded by wildflowers. The front window was full of arrangements, some normal, some spelled, some that glowed faintly when you looked them in the eye.
I loved it here. I really did.
The bell over the door clinked as I pushed in.
“Afternoon, Liv,” Mrs. Kori called, not looking up. She was hunched over the front counter with her glasses low on her nose, trying to force a demon lily to behave. The thing hissed, petals snapping at her fingers. She hissed back, more offended than afraid.
“Hey,” I said, warmth finally sliding into my voice. “You two having a moment?”
“She thinks she knows better than me,” the old demon rasped. Her horns, small and curved tightly to her skull, gleamed under the shop lights. “She . . . does not.”
The lily snapped again. Mrs. Kori lightly smacked its stem. It wilted in theatrical offense.
I grinned and headed for the back, weaving between buckets of stems and half-made arrangements, keeping my backpack snug against my side so I didn’t knock anything over.
The dispatch clipboard waited on the small metal desk near the back door, paper forms held in place by a rusty clip. My name was scrawled across the top of the first sheet in looping handwriting.
