Page 17 of Double Mager

I didn’t know what kind of fancy-pants journalist Xavi wanted us to wine and dine, but the very last booth in the hotel’s swanky Chinese restaurant seemed like overkill. It resembled a four-poster bed more than anything, or maybe a very elegant cabana, red drapes spilling down from ornate wooden pillars.

I settled on the delicately embroidered cushion of my chair, sighing as I sank into it. Comfier than my own couch. Yet again I thanked my lucky stars that Morrow had a company card. I didn’t need to see a menu to know that this place would bend me over its lap and spank my poor ass for the price of the appetizers alone.

But what else were we supposed to expect from a place called Heavenly Concubine? I tried to ignore the small coincidence of the restaurant referencing beautiful celestial women. I quickly studied the table, checking again for reflections.

Porcelain tea cups, enameled plates, lacquered chopsticks. Good. Freyja might have skipped harassing me in my car, but it was nice to know that I could at least eat dinner in peace.

So I told Morrow about how she’d appeared in the bottom of my glass at Club Debussy, then again at home. His brows furrowed as he listened, absently digging at the tiny bowl of peanuts the server had brought for us.

“It sounds like she wants to help you grow,” Morrow said. “Is that so terrible, really? I mean, learning how to better use your magic at the feet of an actual goddess?”

At her feet. I frowned. That was the problem. I didn’t like the obvious power imbalance. Mentorship under a human mage would be different, though I knew that any mage who took me on would be driven insane within weeks of trying to teach me anything.

“I think you and I both know that I have — issues with authority. And this isn’t just Director Sakamoto, who’s terrifying enough on her own.”

Morrow nodded. “Point taken. Maybe it’s best to avoid attracting attention as much as possible.”

“Which is way tougher than it sounds, let’s be honest.” I glanced to either side, as if I might catch Freyja listening. “I can’t look at my phone. I can’t shave. I can’t admire my beautiful mug in the mirror. She loves showing up on shiny surfaces.”

“Except on the way here. Otherwise I would have had to pull you out of some burning wreckage or something.”

“Or something,” I said, rolling my eyes. “That’s exactly why she didn’t manifest. She wants her plaything alive. Like a cat playing with a mouse, except it’s Godzilla playing with a termite.”

“Hah. Weird analogy. I’ll be honest, I think you might have to accept that she’s going to keep showing up.”

I threw my hands up in frustration. “It’s not fair. Why isn’t she stalking you, too? You’re just as interesting to her. She said so herself.”

Morrow rested his chin on the back of his hands, grinning. “Maybe she thinks you’re cuter.”

“Shut up,” I snapped, lifting my teacup to my lips, practically biting on the rim. This man needed to stop immediately.

“Oh, don’t take that as a compliment. She thinks you’re cute.” He adjusted his tie. “But she probably thinks I’m hot. She’s intimidated.”

I tossed back the rest of my tea, wincing as it burned my throat. I didn’t know how much more of Morrow’s bizarre brand of flirting I could take. I poured myself a second cup of tea, pretending that it was a shot of tequila. Liquid courage, right? Down the hatch.

“Whoa,” Morrow said. “I didn’t know you were so thirsty.”

I grimaced at the searing heat in my chest. “You have no idea. You know, I thought that you of all people would know to be wary about the you-know-what distribution system. Occultech trains you about entities, too. Why all the jokey-jokes?”

Morrow pursed his lips. “Maybe I’m trying to lighten the mood so you don’t feel so frazzled all the time. Maybe I’m more comfortable cracking silly jokes around you now. I don’t know.”

My insides withered, my anger fading fast, but it was now or never. Man, that was some strong tea.

“Okay, point taken. Sorry that I’m so snippy with you all the time. It’s fucking weird. Maybe your seriousness is rubbing off on me. Who the hell knows? Maybe I’m more comfortable with you now, too. Which is why I really, really need to ask you something.”

Morrow folded his hands on the table, all intent and attentive. I swallowed hard. Now or never, right? Before I lost my nerve.

I opened my mouth.

Then the drapes opened, too. Our waitress swished gracefully in, her red cheongsam matching the furniture perfectly. I gritted my teeth.

A second server, a handsome young gentleman around my age wearing a silken shirt with a mandarin collar, pushed in an ornate cart positively heaving with food. Not a tray, mind you, but an entire cart, both of its levels filled with a massive variety of dishes.

My jaw dropped, my eyes going wider as more and more plates hit the enormous lazy susan that sat in the middle of our table.

I was still stunned by the time our servers had finished laying out what was clearly far too much food for two people — even three, if you counted our still-missing guest.

I stared at Morrow in disbelief. He shrugged. “Xavi did say that we were supposed to order ahead. He even gave us a list. I guess his contact wants to show up with everything ready to eat.”