Page 45 of Fang Fatale

Barnaby wanders over, carefully positioning himself between us before releasing an impressive gassy sigh.

Alaric eyes him.

"You know he used to belong to a warlock."

"I've heard."

"Apparently he snored too loudly."

"His loss."

I slide a mug across the counter.

"Barnaby's lungs are a medical marvel."

"Are you always up this early," I ask, "or is work slowly consuming your soul?"

"Both."

He settles onto a stool.

"I was reading case files until two in the morning."

"Light bedtime reading."

"Soothing."

I join him with my own coffee.

"Should I be worried..."

I tip my head.

"...or is this a social visit?"

A tiny muscle jumps in his jaw.

"Leland is still... persistent."

He exhales.

"But I'm not here because of him."

"No?"

"I..."

He clears his throat.

"I was in the neighborhood."

I look around the bakery.

"The neighborhood being the only place in Blackthorn Bay that sells coffee?"

He shrugs with admirable commitment to the lie.

"People get attached to routines."