A heavy weight settled over me, pressing on my lungs. “No. He’s long gone.”
“But aren’t you two frien—”
“No.” The word came out harsh and clipped. “We were never friends.”
She glanced down at her feet. “Sorry.”
Hoshi nudged the back of my neck. Shaking myself, I stooped to grab my jacket and pulled it on. Beneath the black markings on my arm would be a faintly glowing replica of the design that would fade in a few days. Kind of a shame, as the pinkish blue magic looked pretty damn cool.
As I zipped up my jacket, Philip slung his duffle bag of witchy supplies over his shoulder. “Shall we head back?”
I nodded, and Hoshi spun a final circle around me before fading from sight. The three witches glanced up to watch her fly away—or that’s what I assumed was going on. They could see the sylph when she shifted into the fae demesne, but my lame human eyes couldn’t detect shit.
Oh well. Having glimpsed the secret fae world, I was cool with nice, predictable human reality.
As we followed a quiet street back toward the guild, I let the witches draw ahead of me. My thoughts were wandering again, rushing forward to what came next—to the impossible task I had to accomplish and the obstacles piling up in my path. I’d fought mages, sorcerers, witches, fae, and demons, but my new enemy was undefeatable and unstoppable: time.
When you wanted it to hurry up, it slowed to a crawl. When you desperately needed more, it rushed ahead. Time was such an asshole.
As the cube-shaped guild came into view, a gray SUV rolled through the intersection and slowed, its signal flashing. It turned into the parking lot.
“I’m going around the back,” I told the witches. “See you inside.”
Waving, Kaveri followed Philip and Delta to the front door. I veered toward the sidewalk, and as I entered the lot, the SUV door slammed shut.
Not realizing he had an audience, Aaron stood with his shoulders hunched, keys clutched in his hand. The sight of the pyromage alone, when just a week ago it had been rare to see him without one or both of his best friends at his side, made me ache.
At the crunch of gravel under my shoes, he glanced up. His shoulders went back and he flashed a grin—but it didn’t reach his dull blue eyes.
“Hey,” I said. “You’re here early.”
“So are you.” He reached out, and I stepped into his arms. He hugged me tight. “How’d the familiar reunion go?”
“All done!” I said brightly, arms around his broad shoulders. Our sentimental hug wasn’t strictly necessary—it’d been less than a day since we’d seen each other—but we both needed it. “Hoshi and I can talk again.”
“Awesome.”
I peeled myself from his hold and headed for the guild’s back door. “What about you? I didn’t know you were coming in today.”
“I want to check with the officers if there’s anything I can help with. Maybe I can cover Felix’s shift or something.”
Zora, Felix’s sword-wielding sorceress wife, was still in critical condition after the battle against Varvara’s forces. We were all waiting anxiously for good news from the guild’s healers.
Holding the door for Aaron, I didn’t point out that he could’ve called Girard or Tabitha instead of showing up at the guild. It was second nature for most Crow and Hammer members to return to the guild during times of uncertainty. This place was their safe haven.
“That’s considerate,” I began, nervousness shooting through me as I followed him into the narrow kitchen, “but instead of volunteering for shifts, maybe—”
I broke off. Almost too quiet to hear, someone sniffed wetly. Aaron frowned, and we both looked toward a nearby door, open a crack. Another sniffle sounded. Was someone crying?
Stepping sideways, I swung the door open to reveal Clara’s office, her desk piled so high with folders that it resembled a model of Manhattan’s skyscrapers.
The assistant guild master jumped when the door bumped the wall. She whirled on her chair, holding a handful of crisp white papers. A courier envelope lay in her lap, the top torn open.
“Oh!” She wiped hastily at her face. “Tori, Aaron! Good morning! Or—oh—afternoon, I guess. Good afternoon!”
“Clara …” I took in her rumpled brown hair and trembling mouth with concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!” She clutched the papers to her chest as though trying to hide them. “I’m fine.”
She ruined her firm declaration with another sniff.
Aaron pointed at the papers. “What’s that?”
“Nothing. You shouldn’t be back here, Aaron. Kitchen staff only.”
“Okay, but what are those papers?”
“Paperwork, and it’s none of your concern.”
“Clara.” I gave her a gentle but firm stare. “What’s wrong?”
All the fight went out of her, and she slumped miserably in her chair. “I guess you two already know anyway.”
She held out the papers, and Aaron took them. I leaned close as we scanned an official document, the MPD logo filling the top left corner.
“It’s just so sudden,” Clara mumbled, tearing a bit of cardboard off the stiff courier envelope. “No one so much as mentioned …”
The title at the top of the page burned into my brain: Guild Transfer Request.
“He never said anything … then to just … so sudden …”
Aaron’s fingers bit into the papers, crinkling the crisp white surface, but even as the packet shook with the force of his grip, I couldn’t miss the name on the form.
Kaisuke Yamada.
Ripping more pieces off the envelope, Clara sighed heavily. “I just can’t imagine the Crow and Hammer without Kai.”
“He’s transferring out?” I whispered. “He’s leaving the guild?”
Clara’s head snapped up. Her face paled as she took in our expressions. “You … you didn’t know?”
The documents crumpled in Aaron’s fist, then he shoved them at me. Turning on his heel, he swept out of the small office. I held the form, fighting the urge to tear it up.
“I—I’ll call him,” I said unsteadily. “Convince him to—to wait.”
Tears welled in Clara’s eyes. “The transfer is already done, Tori. That’s the signed paperwork for our records.”
I flipped to the last page. There at the bottom was Kai’s sharp, slashing signature. Below it was Darius’s scrawled autograph, and beneath that, a loopy name. The signatory: Makiko Miura, Acting Guild Master, MiraCo.
My jaw clenched so hard pain built in my teeth.
Tossing the papers toward Clara, I rushed out after Aaron. She half-heartedly called me back, but I continued through the empty kitchen and shoved through the saloon doors.
Aaron sat on his usual stool at the bar, elbows braced on the countertop and forehead resting on both hands as he stared at the scuffed wood. Aside from him, the pub was deserted, the neatly arranged chairs waiting for the dinner rush. I stopped across from him, breathing hard as I fought to calm my emotions.
“I should’ve expected it,” Aaron muttered. “They want to bury him in that guild as deep as they can. Of course they’d transfer him.”