Saving Rafe (Lords of Discord 2)

A hostess walked up with a couple of menus in hand. She was dressed simply in a pair of black slacks and a chunky cream knit sweater. Her light-brown hair was twisted up on her head in a messy bun.

“We’re meeting someone,” Rafe said as she greeted him. With a little nod, she stepped out of their way, allowing Rafe and Philippe to continue into the coffee house.

They carefully wove their way between the nicely spaced tables. Shelves overflowing with books lined the walls along with locally made art. The entire place looked as if it had been lifted out of Old-World Europe and dropped on a quiet, unassuming street within downtown Boston. Nothing could have felt more out of place and hidden than the café. Rafe had a feeling that Philippe had no clue how lucky they were to find it in the first place. Only by the grace of Zelda.

At the back of the coffee shop, Rafe found a small woman with rich black hair threaded lightly with white. It was gathered together in a thick braid and tossed carelessly over one shoulder. Her face was turned down as she concentrated on a square board neatly lined with hundreds of little squares. Black and white stones about the size and shape of M&M’s dotted the board. She was playing Go, an ancient two-person Chinese strategy game, but there was no one sitting opposite her.

Rafe and Philippe waited silently beside the table for Zelda to acknowledge them.

“Just a sec,” Zelda murmured as she picked up a white stone from the table and placed it on the board where the horizontal and vertical lines met. A second later, a black stone magically appeared on the board at a point adjacent to the stone she’d just placed. “Bastard,” she muttered under her breath before looking up at Rafe and Philippe. “Come along, then. Take a seat. He can wait for my next move until after we’re done chatting.”

Rafe motioned for Philippe to take the interior seat across from the strange woman while Rafe sat next to him. Philippe sat slowly, seeming to stare at her.

“You’re not a vampire,” Philippe said softly.

Zelda directed her gaze over to Rafe and smirked. “You found yourself a smart one.”

“Play nice, please. We need your help,” Rafe pleaded. Now was not the time for Zelda to upset Philippe, and he definitely couldn’t afford to have Philippe on Zelda’s bad side.

“He knows I’m only teasing, don’t you, kid?”

Philippe’s eyes widened until Rafe was sure they were going to fall from his skull. Yeah, Philippe had lived for more than two centuries. There were very few people in the world who could comfortably refer to him as a kid, and Zelda was one of them.

“Yes, teasing,” Philippe murmured. His voice still carried a distracted, almost disbelieving quality, as if he couldn’t quite understand everything he was seeing.

“Who are you playing?” Rafe inquired, trying to redirect the conversation.

Zelda’s smile turned to Rafe. “I’m sure you can guess. He’s the only one who can give me a run for my money.”

“Aiden?” Rafe asked, stunned by the wobble in his voice. “Is he back?”

“Soon.”

A thousand questions rushed to the front of his mind, but he swallowed them. If Zelda had more to tell him about Aiden and his plan, she’d tell him. Rafe closed his eyes to regain control of himself. He wanted Aiden to return from his self-imposed exile. It had only been a couple of months, but they needed him.

A strong hand closed on his forearm and squeezed, bringing a small smile to Rafe’s lips. Philippe was there with him, and the world felt a little easier.

“But that’s not why you’re here,” Zelda said, drawing them back to the present. She turned her gold eyes over to Philippe, her expression unreadable. “No, Master Arsenault, I’m not a vampire. I’m a witch, plain and simple. I’ve been around for a very long time, seen plenty, and known more people and creatures than I care to remember. This one,” she paused and pointed a bony finger at Rafe, “has done me a few favors over the years and has been amusing where most of your kind tends to be tedious.”

“Lovely, Zelda,” Rafe grumbled.

“The key fact being that he called in a favor to get you a meeting with me,” Zelda continued, throwing Rafe a placating look.

“I appreciate all he’s done to help my clan,” Philippe said. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with us.”

Zelda stared at Philippe for a moment, then turned over one of the little white stones between her fingertips. The rest of the noise of the coffee house grew muted and slipped away. It was like everyone else forgot they existed. Philippe smiled at her, patiently waiting as if it was perfectly normal for a strange old woman to stare at him.