Demon and the Fox - 5. Mister Nice Guy

Hazel Snow was having another werewolf get-together. And she’d had the nerve to ask Sasha if she could use Espress as a location.

Espress was the coffee shop where Sasha used to work. It was closed now, actually. Too many Starbucks around. And bad management, considering the owner was on holiday, and hadn’t even come back to try to save his shop. Sasha didn’t know how his ex-boss even had the money to travel.

Sasha still had the keys to the place, and he’d accepted because he was a nice guy like that. Too nice, probably. Well, Hazel had been really sweet on the phone.

“I really liked your band,” she had said. “The Little Death; I so like that band name.”

“We’re proud of it.”

“Why didn’t you stay at the party? We were looking for you, but we couldn’t find you.”

“Hung out with a reaper. Long story.”

“Oh…”

“What do you want, Hazel?”

“Um… do you still work at that coffee shop that’s open all night but always empty?”

“It’s even emptier now, actually.”

And after that she’d gotten around to asking him if she could use the place for her second werewolf soiree. Meeting. Council. Whatever she called those.

“Sure, why not. Just answer one question for me.”

“Of course,” Hazel said on the phone.

“How did you and Nick get together? How did it happen? And don’t tell him I asked.”

“Okay, I promise I won’t. Um… well. It was after the fight in…”

“Hell.”

“Yes. After that. We texted each other, asking if everything was okay. If everybody was recovering all right. He said he wanted to take me out to a nice restaurant to thank me for my help with the wolves. By the end of the night, he’d told me that you two were really just friends, and that he thought I was really cute and amazing, and that he was actually really into me, and we kissed, a lot, and then—”

TMI. “Okay. I think I got it.”

And here they were.

The ex-coffee shop was in a building on Lexington Avenue. There was a white and red ‘FOR LEASE’ sign in the door. The large windows were covered with the old blinds and curtains that had been left behind. It was very dark because the electricity had been cut. Some worn wooden tables and chairs had been left in the corner. The green and brown barista counter was still there, too, but it looked so sad and empty without the cash registers and coffee machines. Too bad about the coffee machines, Sasha thought. He could’ve used a warm cup of coffee right about now.

Almost mid-May and it was still so cold at night. Wasn’t there supposed to be a global warming? Sasha zipped up his hoodie as he stalked across the empty space to lean against the counter where he used to work. Hazel and her werewolves—and fucking Nick of course—were all standing in a circle in the middle of the place, their shoes stirring the thick film of dust on the floor.

As Sasha let his gaze wander lazily around, he noticed that some of the lame decorations were still there; the turquoise beady curtain that gave to the backroom, the Chinese calendar on the wall, and on the shelves where they used to place coffee and mugs for sale only a Buddha statue, handmade Chinese fans and bowls full of colorful marbles remained, which was rather comical. And sad.

Hazel was explaining why she had chosen this place. “I have reason to think my father is getting suspicious.”

She wore a tiny black t-shirt, short shorts and thigh high socks. Nick had his arm around her shoulders. Sasha tried really hard not to look at them. He would just let her have her meeting, then leave and lock the door.

Hazel went on: “So I couldn’t ask you guys to meet in Kyle’s apartment again, because my father knows that address, since Jackson has been staying there too.”

Kyle was present at the meeting tonight of course, listening to Hazel intently and nodding a little too much. He had a Starbucks cup in his hand and Sasha felt very jealous of him. He wondered if Kyle was okay without his aquarium full of tropical fish to keep him zen.

The entire Harry Potter look-alike family was here tonight: nearsighted werewolf Charles with his glasses, and his sister Amanda, but also their parents. They really looked like older versions of their kids. They had very worried looks on their faces though, clashing with the blind adoration Charles and Amanda seemed to have for Hazel Snow.

Jackson stood next to his sister. He seemed thoughtful, his hand under his chin like he was a philosopher. His neatly trimmed hair was as blonde as Hazel’s pixie, manga-like locks. Jackson wore a suit again. What was it with that guy and suits? He reminded Sasha of his adoptive brother; Gabriel always wore suits, even on his off days. Sasha wouldn’t be surprised if Gabriel started wearing suits to go to the gym.

Hazel was still talking. “I’ve been trying to contact all the wolves my father kicked out of his pack for cruel reasons. I’ve succeeded in reaching some of them, and I told them they were welcome to come back. My pack will be very different from my father’s.” She put a hand against her chest. “My pack will be welcoming, and forgiving. We will stick together, for better or for worse.”

Now it sounded like she wanted to get married to her pack.

Sasha suddenly felt a shift in the air right next to him. But there was no wind inside, what the—

Cyan was smiling at him. He wasn’t wearing a cloak this time, just his boots and black clothes. And that delicate blue chain around his neck and the fingerless gloves. But his long pale hair was loose instead of tied. It fell on his shoulders as he did a little bow.

“Hello there.”

Sasha secretly liked his ridiculous British accent. “You should wear one of those bowler hats.”

Cyan tilted his head, like he was considering it, then said: “No.”

It had been five days since the Devin Cook incident. Sasha and Cyan had been hanging out.

Sometimes Cyan showed himself just to Sasha.

Other times he took full on human form and everybody could see him. The fact that the werewolves looked very shocked right now revealed that this was one of those times.

Jackson looked most unamused. He jabbed a finger at Cyan accusingly from across the empty coffee shop. “What is a reaper doing here?”

“Dark angel,” Cyan said. “Do you want to see my wings?”

“No one wants to see your wings, Cyan,” Sasha retorted.

Well, in Cyan’s defense, they were nice wings. Sasha had seen them before. They were huge and their thick, fluffy feathers were all gold and shiny, especially in the sunlight. He didn’t look much like a ‘dark’ angel, in all honesty.

“Sasha, what is this about?” Jackson asked with his accusing tone, still pointing.

“Well,” Cyan muttered, “I suppose I still prefer reaper to being referred to as ‘this.’”

“I like to keep him around,” Sasha deadpanned, “you know, just in case.”

Jackson was fuming. “That reaper almost killed me once.”

“Yeah, because your pack almost killed me just so your sister could have my hybrid babies.” Sasha kept his tone very detached and casual. Cyan had taught him that cool lines always had more impact that way, and it pissed people off way more.

It seemed to be working. Jackson’s face was flushed red, like he was either embarrassed or angry—probably both.

Hazel stepped forward, Nick’s arm falling from her shoulders. Instead Nick crossed his arms. And he kept sending cautious glances toward Sasha. It was really irritating. Sasha tried really hard to not return those glances.

“Calm down Sasha, please,” Hazel pleaded.

“I’m calm.”

“What we did to you,” she said, “we’re not proud of it.”

Charles added, “We’re really not! We regret it.” His sister nodded, but his parents just looked morbidly worried. Like a doctor had just told them they both had cancer.

Hazel spread her arms like she was some kind of messiah. A messiah dressed like a manga heroine. “What my father did to you, and what he wanted to do to me; that’s part of why we’re doing this,” she said. “A new pack. A different way of doing things. My father pushed so many wolves away that now he doesn’t have much of a pack left,” she added, now addressing everybody. “He has my mother, and two others, and I know…” A shadow crossed her gray eyes. “I know I couldn’t convince them to join us, even if I tried to. I know how my father is, how scary he is… Which is why,” she lifted her chin, determined, “I really appreciate each and every one of you being here tonight, and listening to what I have to say.”

The ones who had been glancing uneasily toward Cyan now gave Hazel their undivided attention. Even Charles and Amanda’s parents. Hazel was charismatic, Sasha had to give her that.

“My pack will be compassionate, and free,” she said. “We won’t chase stray wolves away. We will welcome them with open arms. We will be equals. No wolf will ever be forced to do anything they don’t want to do.”

Cyan leaned over to whisper in Sasha’s ear, his soft hair tickling Sasha’s neck. “I find it rather amusing that she keeps referring to them as wolves. I assume they’re human beings most of the time, and not furry four-legged creatures.”

“You assume correctly,” Sasha whispered back, “but I don’t think you have a right to make fun of her. You keep calling me fox.”

Cyan raised a finger. “Little fox. It’s a nickname. It’s different.”

“A nickname I haven’t approved of.”

“I don’t care,” Cyan whispered, a little too close, and his breath tickled Sasha’s ear.

Sasha laughed and pushed him away lazily.

“Stop it.”

“Little fox, little fox, little fox,” Cyan taunted, leaning closer again.

Sasha rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Oh my God. Stop.”

When he turned his attention away from Cyan—if he kept giving him his attention, Cyan would never stop—Sasha realized that Hazel was done with her speech, and instead the werewolves had broken into divided conversations. Charles’ family were talking among themselves, and Hazel was talking quietly with Nick. Their arms were all over each other, too, like it was perfectly natural. Nick’s pale brown eyes landed on Sasha from across the room, and Sasha abruptly looked away.

Jackson had joined Charles and Amanda’s efforts to reassure their worried parents. And while nobody was paying attention, Kyle left. He just slipped out, shutting the door quietly behind him, making the ‘FOR LEASE’ sign in the door’s window dangle for a bit.

Sasha couldn’t believe no one had noticed. Kyle had the kind of presence you wouldn’t normally ignore; tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired, the kind of guy chicks were into in crappy romance novels. Why had he just left like that? It was kind of weird.

Cyan seemed to be thinking the same thing. “Do you want me to follow him?”

“I’ll come with you,” Sasha said. Any excuse to get out of here.

They crossed the room but Jackson looked over his shoulder and said something before they could grab the doorknob.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” Sasha said defensively.

Charles was replacing his glasses, glancing around the dark room.

“Hey where did Kyle go?”

“Probably just to get a coffee or something,” Jackson answered, smoothing his short hair. When the others stared at him he added, “He’s my best friend. I trust him.”

The conversations resumed. They didn’t seem to care about Sasha and Cyan anymore.

So they stepped out the door, letting the cool wind blow in their hair and slip under their clothes. Sasha rubbed his arms for warmth and glanced across the street.

“I think I see him.” Sasha had spotted a tall, dark-haired guy walking briskly.

“You still want to follow him?” Cyan asked.

Sasha started walking before answering, and Cyan fell into step next to him.

“He already had a coffee,” Sasha mused. “Normal people don’t drink two coffees in the evening. I do that, because I’m crazy, but no one else does that.”

“Quite the detective, aren’t you?” Cyan said.

“Oh, shut up.”

“What about locking the door to your old job?” Cyan asked as the keys in Sasha’s pocket clinked with every step.

“Oh, who cares? What would people steal anyway? The Buddha statue?”

They walked along Lexington Avenue, keeping Kyle in sight from the other side of the street. They passed big apartment buildings, bodegas and little restaurants that were still open this late, with cars and buses droning on with their headlights washing over the street.

“He’s getting into a cab,” Cyan pointed out. They stopped short.

“Shit.”

Sasha shrugged. “Oh well. What do I care anyway?”

“Oh, come on. This is fun.” Cyan took out his cell phone.

Wait, what?

“You have a cell phone?”

“Sure I do. I just don’t have reception in Hell.”

“Huh.”

“I’ll follow him, and then I’ll call you to tell you what he’s up to.”

Sasha arched an eyebrow. “And how are you going to follow him?”

Cyan’s lips twitched into a smile. “I can teleport in that cab and stay invisible.”

“Oh, I guess I forgot you could do—”

Cyan disappeared. In the middle of the sidewalk, and leaving just a thin film of black smoke that quickly dispersed in the wind. Sasha blinked and looked around. But people walked by unbothered. They hadn’t noticed that a person had suddenly just vanished. Either that, or Cyan had switched to invisible mode a while back without telling him, and Sasha had looked like an idiot talking to himself just now.

…

Sasha wasn’t too far from his place so he decided to just go there and wait for Cyan to call him. Gabriel was sitting on the couch, reading The New York Times and watching CNN at the same time. And he was wearing a suit. Some people never quit. Sasha rolled his eyes.

He headed to his bedroom directly.

“How was your day?” called Gabriel from the living room.

Sasha stopped. “Nothing special, yours?”

“Just work,” Gabriel said without looking up from his newspaper.

Sasha nodded and engulfed himself in his bedroom. They had great conversations like that. But seriously, Gabriel was so weird. Who still read newspapers?

Home sweet home. Sasha loved his bedroom. Small and messy everywhere, but he didn’t care because it was his mess. He shook off his shoes and tossed them on top of the heaping pile of converse sneakers in the corner.

He had a dark brown work desk with a worn-down computer chair that matched. He never sat there. He just always dragged his laptop to his bed. But he was too lazy to do anything right now. He just threw himself on the bed; a comfy double bed with a green and blue striped comforter and matching sheets and a ton of pillows. He didn’t even turn on the light.

But he couldn’t sleep. He threw one arm over his head, with his cell phone clutched in his hand. His eyes got used to the dark. They always did, and pretty quickly.

His closet door was open. Not very many clothes were hung properly. But there was one place in his bedroom that wasn’t messy at all, and that was the top shelf in his closet, above the pole where the clothes were—or were supposed to be.

Lilya Koval Reed’s old collection of supernatural-themed books and journals. Sasha’s mother used to be a really powerful witch and fox spirit. She was intense. Sasha wasn’t sure he was nearly as powerful as his mother had been. There were some pretty freaky old spell books in that collection. And his ancestors’ journals, handed down from generation to generation. And of course there was Lilya’s own personal journal. A thick leather bound volume neatly placed in the middle of the top shelf, between all the others. Sasha hadn’t read them all—that would take forever—but he had read his mother’s journal from start to finish. Several times. He hadn’t missed a page.

Sasha sat bolt upright when his phone started to vibrate noisily. God, he was so on edge these days. Sleep deprivation, maybe. Too much coffee? Nah, it couldn’t be that.

Unknown number.

“What’s up?”

Cyan’s voice answered him. “Do you always answer the phone like that?”

“How should I answer it? Oh hello there. This is Alexander speaking, how may I be of assistance?”

“Your fake British accent makes me grind my teeth.”

“Good.”

Sasha could hear the bustling noises of circulation and people strolling by; Cyan was outside.

“How come your nickname is Sasha and not Alex?”

“My mother was Ukrainian. She called me that and it stuck.”

“Oh! That’s why you have that adorable golden skin tone, you lucky bastard.”

“Where did Kyle go?”

“Oh, right! Of course. You know how Jackson said Kyle was his best friend and how he trusts him and all?”

“Yep.”

“Well it turns out Jackson’s best friend took a taxi all the way to a very elegant condo building just North of Central Park. I recall you’ve had the misfortune of visiting that very building’s basement yourself, not that long ago.”

Sasha’s stomach knotted as he remembered the pack’s underground hideout. The wolves had roughened him up as he was still in his fox form; biting his neck, his four legs, his ribs, before giving him some kind of drug to put him to sleep. Then he’d woken up as a human in chains, vulnerable and exposed and hurt…

“Why did Kyle go there?” Sasha asked.

“To report everything back to daddy dearest,” Cyan chirped. “Kyle’s still at the top floor of the building chatting with Papa Snow as we speak. I can go back and spy on him some more if you’d like.”

Sasha felt cold.

“Sure,” he said in the phone, “keep me posted.” Then he hung up, and shoved the phone in his pocket.

He looked up at his window. The moon, big and round and shiny, seemed to stare back at him. He felt his legs shaking. Itching. He could probably transform if he wanted to. It was easy to transform the night before the full moon.

Sasha gathered himself up, took a deep breath.

Great. Just great. Now he had to go warn the werewolves. Hazel and her brother, and Charles and his family; they didn’t deserve to die. If Kyle had given Mr. Snow the address of the ex-coffee shop, and if they were all still there, then they were in danger. Sasha didn’t want to have their deaths on his conscience.

He really was way too nice.

Plus Nick would be there, too. Sasha scratched his hair. Squeezed his eyes shut.

Damn it. He stepped in the first converse sneakers he could find and stormed out of his bedroom. As he passed the living room, Gabriel peered up from his newspaper.

“You do realize you’re wearing one purple shoe and one green one?”

“I’m aware of that, thank you very much.”