By the time I got out and dressed in khaki pants and my work polo, Ryan had called back: the Las Vegas thaumaturge was booked on the first flight the next morning. I’d kind of hoped she’d arrive sooner so we could get started, but I couldn’t exactly blame the woman for needing a day to get her affairs in order. At least she was coming. And at least Maven was paying for it.
At ten, I drove into town, to the Flatiron Depot. I used to be the full-time night shift manager, and the store manager, Big Scott, liked me enough to keep me on despite the sudden unpredictability of my schedule now that I was working for Maven. It was a paycheck job, but I’d come to kind of appreciate the mind-numbing customer-service drudgery after all the supernatural drama that had tangled up my life over the last few weeks. I did miss the night shift, though, where my main responsibility had been organizing displays and straightening up the store. Customer interaction wasn’t my strongest suit.
A couple of hours into my shift, I was just returning from the back room, where I had organized the list for our next greeting card shipment—so fun—when I was paged over the intercom. I sped up to the front, expecting to see a sudden long line of customers, but instead, my cashier was staring with nervous awe at a single person. Lily.
She was wearing a skintight white tank top that set off the intricate tattoos on her brown arms, and a dark green skirt that clung to her skin at the top and flared out at her knees like a mermaid tail. When she saw me her eyes flicked over to my cashier, saying Can you get rid of this guy?
“Thanks, Random Todd,” I told the cashier. “Would you go check on the photo printer? The overnight manager said it was making spitting noises.”
He nodded and wandered off. “Hey,” Lily said to me. “Did you just say that guy’s name is Random Todd?”
I shrugged. “That’s what it says on his name tag.”
Lily just arched an eyebrow, demanding more information. “He rushed a frat,” I explained, “and there were three Todds in his pledge class: Gay Todd, German Todd, who is actually from the country of Germany, and him. And now he insists on using the full name.”
“Couldn’t he just have called himself Todd?” she demanded. “And isn’t he like, twenty-five? He can’t still be in the frat.”
“Don’t get me started.”
Lily’s face broke out in a sudden grin, and I couldn’t help but smile back—until I remembered our fight the night before. “What can I do for you, Lily? Or are you here for toiletries?”
She glanced toward the aisles. “Now that you mention it, I could use a new eyelash curler . . . but no, I’m here because I wasn’t happy about how we left things last night.”
“Neither was I.” I realized that I had planted my feet, a defensive stance, and made a conscious effort to look more relaxed.
Lily took a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry. At the Samhain party I told you that the witches’ bad opinion of boundary witches was archaic bullshit, which it is, but I let it get in my head too. I know you’re just looking out for your niece.”
I shrugged. “I’m sorry that I upset you, and that bringing Simon back has created problems for him. You guys have been really good to me, and I don’t want to create problems for you . . . but I won’t apologize for my oath to Maven. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“I know. And I know protecting Charlie is your way of honoring your sister.” I remembered the conversation I’d had with John the night before, and felt unexpected tears spring to my eyes. It irritated the hell out of me. I was at work, dammit. “I can’t imagine losing any of my siblings,” Lily went on. “I know we complain about Morgan and Sybil, but they mean well. Mostly.”
“Lily—” I began, but just then the bell over the door rang, and she had to step back so I could deal with the customers who’d entered. I knew from experience that business was about to pick up, as people came in for their lunchtime errands.
When we were alone again, Lily said in a rush, “Listen, speaking of my sisters, we’re having tea this afternoon. Bonding and shit. I think you should come. They said it was okay.”
That caught me off guard. “Uhhhh . . .” All three Pellar sisters at once? “It definitely sounds like I’d be intruding.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. Really you’d be saving me from the horrors of facing the two of them on my own.” Seeing the look on my face, Lily rushed to add, “Listen, I heard what you said about how the clan hasn’t exactly welcomed you with open arms. Mom’s tried a little, but I thought if Morgan and Sybil could get on board . . .” She trailed off with a little shrug.
“I don’t know, Lil,” I said, still dubious.
“Look,” she said, “maybe it doesn’t have to be like this us-versus-them thing, with you stuck in the middle. Maybe you could be, like, an ambassador in a hostile country.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that, even though I wasn’t sure which group represented the hostile country. “I get off at three,” I said reluctantly.
Her face broke out in a grin. “Great. Four o’clock at the Teahouse. I’ll change the reservation to four people. Wear something nice.”
“Wait, the Teahouse? Goddammit—Lily!” But she was already pirouetting away, throwing a smug grin over her shoulder on the way out.
Chapter 19
The idea of “town-twinning,” or creating a sort of cultural friendship between two cities that are often thousands of miles apart, has been around for a while—in fact, by now most decent-sized US towns have at least one “sister city” somewhere else in the world. It’s often just a kind of ceremonial/paperwork thing, with maybe the occasional push to send postcards or raise donations after a tragedy. In Boulder, however, we take our sister cities very seriously. We have seven of them, with murals and landmarks scattered around town in their honor. The city even built a special Sister Cities Plaza a few years ago to commemorate how awesome we are at international friendship.