“Yeah.” He looked relieved to be back on sure footing. “My boss wants to meet you.”
“Me?” I said, startled. “Why?”
He shot me a “don’t be stupid” expression. “Because you’re a witch, but you’re unaligned with any of the witch clans. He wants to make sure you’re not a threat.”
I thought that over for a moment. Ideally, I’d like to just try to forget that the Old World existed and go back to my life, but Darcy was still out there, and I wasn’t going to be able to relax until I knew my niece was safe. “Well, good,” I said, climbing to my feet. “I want to understand what Sid and Nancy wanted with my niece.”
Alarm sparked in Quinn’s eyes, maybe the biggest reaction I’d seen from him yet. “You can’t go storming in there demanding answers, Lex,” he warned. “It’s very, very important that you show respect.”
“You mean like the respect your boss showed for Charlie when he let Victor and Darcy go after her again last night?” I said tartly.
“Technically,” Quinn pointed out, his voice cool, “that was my fault. I was supposed to clean up the Depot mess, and I should have spent less time working the police angle and more time looking for them. I just never thought they’d go after the same baby a second time.”
“So you thought they’d go after some other baby instead?” I demanded.
“Don’t put words into my mouth,” Quinn snapped. Then he forced his face into its usual implacable expression. “Look, just come talk to Itachi, and this will all be straightened out, okay?”
“Fine,” I retorted. Then I glanced down at myself and sighed. With as much dignity as I could muster, I added, “But I have to change my pants first.”
Chapter 11
As it turned out, I had been to Boulder’s big vampire hangout at least half a dozen times before.
Like most college towns, Boulder has dozens of coffee shops, but so far as I know only one of them is open all night: a little place called Magic Beans, located on Pine Street, not far from Boulder’s pedestrian mall. It had been around since Sam and I were in high school. I’d been in once or twice to get a caffeine fix before my shift at the Depot, but I hadn’t noticed anything special about it, except maybe that it was a hell of a lot larger than the average coffee shop in notoriously expensive Boulder. Despite the size and the plum location, though, the prices were pretty comparable to any other coffee shop in town. If I’d bothered to wonder how that worked, I would have figured there was an underground casino in the back room or something. My mind probably wouldn’t have made the leap to “secret vampire headquarters.” But I guess I’m just naive like that.
Although it was after nine-thirty by the time we pulled up, there were no open parking spots on the street in front of Magic Beans, so Quinn had to find a spot a couple of blocks west. The outside of the building was unremarkable, just a big brick box that was beginning to crumble a little at the corners. “Remember to be respectful,” Quinn said uneasily as we approached the building. “You can’t go in with guns blazing. You don’t want to be on his radar as a threat.”
“I don’t have a gun, remember?” I said, a little sourly. Quinn had searched me and my purse before letting me get in his car. “And I don’t care if I’m on his radar. I care that Charlie isn’t.”
“It might be too late for that,” Quinn said ominously, but when I glanced at him he just shook his head. “Come on, let’s go in.”
Unlike most coffee shops, which are more or less one big room with a cash register planted somewhere, Magic Beans was labyrinthine, a maze of small rooms with tables and chairs scattered around at random. Each room featured art by a different Boulder artist, and each had a door, which you could close if you wanted to have a conversation without disturbing the other customers.
There were fluorescent arrows stuck to the carpet just inside the door, leading first-time visitors through the entry rooms to the coffee counter. The girl behind the cash register was maybe eighteen or nineteen, and she was covered in a pile of bad fashion: several T-shirts and cardigans on top of one another, a handful of cheap costume necklaces, and an enormous baggy skirt that truly looked like it was made from burlap. Her hair was an unattractive bright orange, cut in an unflattering, chin-length bob, and she wore large, square-framed glasses. In most cities, she might have been taken for a homeless person, although everything she wore was perfectly clean. In Boulder, however, she seemed right at home.
“Hi,” she said cheerfully as Quinn and I approached the counter. “Welcome to Magic Beans! What can I get started for you guys?”
“Maven,” Quinn said matter-of-factly, “We’re here to see the boss. He’s expecting us.”
The young woman—Maven—squinted at him. I realized with a start that underneath the layers of clothes, the odd hair, and the huge glasses, she was strikingly attractive. Sam had been cute, and I had a certain youthful appeal according to some, but this teenager was launch-a-thousand-ships levels of beautiful, even though she was trying to cover it up. It wasn’t just her face, I realized, looking at her closely. There was something inviting about her. I found myself leaning forward, eager for her response. “Oh, hey, Quinn. Forgot you were coming. He’ll see you in the back office,” she said pleasantly. “This way, please.”
We followed her through another quiet study area and a massive room I hadn’t seen before, which was nearly twice the size of the next-largest room at Magic Beans. The floor was polished concrete, and there was a sort of mini-stage set up next to a set of double doors that led outside, judging by the darkness that I could see through the window. “We have poetry readings in here,” Maven said, sensing my surprise. “Sometimes even a band. Here you are.” In the back right corner of the big room was a tiny office. An Asian man in shirtsleeves and a navy tie was hunched over a desk with neat stacks of papers on it. He looked up as we approached.