Page 23 of Problematic

Work mode.

I understood work mode.

I tied my apron, filled the grinder, checked the syrups, pulled a test shot, and wiped down a counter that didn’t need wiping because I needed control over something given that my door had become haunted by rich-people magic.

Mandi stumbled in fifteen minutes later with a travel mug gripped in one hand like a holy relic. She was five feet tall if the gods felt generous, and somehow still entered every room like she planned to win a bar fight.

“You look like hell,” she said.

“You smell like tequila.”

“Tequila and victory.” She dropped her bag under the counter. “Any hot customers yet?”

“The door’s been unlocked for twelve seconds.”

“Coward. Manifest faster.”

I slid a cup under the machine, then hesitated. “I need to show you something on break.”

Her brows lifted. “That sounds either sexy or criminal.”

“A ward.”

“Sexy and criminal.”

“On my door.”

Her grin dropped by half. “Your apartment door?”

“Yeah.”

She whistled. “Okay. Show me when Sam isn’t breathing down our necks. I did three semesters of Sigil Theory before I dropped out.”

“Comforting.”

The bell over the door chimed. Both of us turned. The man who walked in belonged in a tower lobby, not a coffee shop with chipped mugs and a pastry case that cried for help every winter. Dark suit. Long coat. Neat tie. Close-cropped hair. A face too composed to be friendly.

“Morning,” I said, my customer smile snapping into place. “What can I get you?”

He didn’t read the menu. “Triple espresso. To go.”

“Sure. Name?”

His eyes landed on mine. “Lux.”

My brain sizzled like bacon and left the building. “L-Lux,” I repeated, laughing nervously, since, apparently, public humiliation was my morning beverage of choice.

“Draven,” he added.

Like there was another Lux. Like everyone in New Abaddon didn’t know that name. Mandi’s head turned toward me with dangerous slowness.

“Cool,” I said, voice pitched strangely. I coughed once. “Triple espresso. For Lux. Great. Normal amount of espresso for a normal . . . person, guy, uh, lord.”

Gods kill me now.

I had a vague idea of what Lux looked like—tall, red eyes, white hair, not the skinny dark-haired man standing in front of me. The man slid a black card across the counter.

Vale Ryker.