Dangerously Charming (29 page)

One that she clearly made an effort to downplay, Sun thought, based on her attire and attitude. She seemed friendly enough as she dished some unidentified brownish mass onto the plates of those who paraded past her with their trays, and chatted lightly with the people standing beside her on the serving line. A restrained smile flickered over her lips from time to time, and she made a small boy laugh at some joke she'd told him. But Sun's second sight, a dubious and erratic gift most likely left over from his massive dose of the Water of Life and Death, showed him her aura as a subdued dark silver glow that reminded him of nothing so much as a suit of armor. On the surface, she might seem as open as one of the books at her library, but the reality he saw was as closed down and defensive as a castle with its drawbridge up and its moat filled with alligators.

Intriguing.

None of his business, but intriguing nonetheless.

Eventually, the director of the shelter, a soft-spoken man named Philip Roman with the muscular build and battered face of a former boxer, finished up his instructions and brought him over to join the others.

“Gregori, these are a few of our regular volunteers.” He pointed at a stocky woman in her fifties with short-cropped iron-gray hair and a tattoo of a broken chain wound around one wrist. “This is Elisabeth. She was one of our clients, once upon a time, went back to school, got her GED, and now she has a steady job and helps out here when she can. It's good to have a success story, to show it can be done, you know.”

Elisabeth rolled her eyes, probably tired of being introduced as a shining example, but she gave Sun a cheerful enough grin anyway. “Welcome to the asylum, where most days it is impossible to tell the inmates from the guards. As long as you're not afraid of hard work and the occasional knife fight, you'll do just fine.”

Phillip shook his head. “Elisabeth,” he scolded, sounding like he was trying not to laugh. “Try not to scare away our new volunteer. You know it is hard enough to find them in the first place.” He turned back to Gregori. “Elisabeth is exaggerating. We don't allow weapons or fighting here, and for the most part, to be honest, the folks who come in don't have the energy to waste on making trouble. They just want food and maybe a warm bed for the night.”

He indicated the tall, skinny young man standing next to her, whose long straggly ponytail and blond beard made him look like a California hippy who had somehow taken a wrong turn and ended up in chilly Minnesota by mistake. “This is Bryon. He's a student at the University who is studying sociology.”

“Extra credit, man,” Bryon said with a brisk nod. “Plus, you know, it's cool. Makes me feel a lot better about my crappy
dorm room and all.” He held out one bony hand for Gregori to shake, wiping it off on the apron he wore first, in case the day's meal was clinging to the plastic glove that enclosed it.

“And this is Ciera,” Phillip continued. “She works at the University library.”

“I know,” Sun said, inclining a tiny bow in her direction. “I actually met Ms. Evans there earlier, when I went to do some research. She was kind enough to help me, although it is an unexpected pleasure to see her twice in one day.”

Ciera's expression grew even more shuttered as she stared at him. “It's quite the coincidence, all right.” Her full lips pressed together as she turned away to serve a group of teens wearing clothes almost identical to hers, but not as clean.

The odor of unwashed bodies warred temporarily with the aroma of overcooked institutional dinner and stewed vats of coffee, making Gregori long for the sparkling scent of the forests. Or at least, the solitude of his barren room back at the monastery.

Still, this was what he'd signed on for. And at least he had a clean, warm place to go back to, which was more than most of these folks had. Not to mention the freedom to go elsewhere, if he decided he'd made the wrong choice.

“Very nice to meet you all,” he said. “I look forward to being of service.”

“Excellent,” Elisabeth said with another grin, this one wide enough to reveal a missing molar. “There's a mountain of dishes in the kitchen, just waiting for someone brave enough to tackle them.” She waggled unkempt brows at him. “Think you're up to the challenge?”

“I would have preferred the knife fight,” Gregori said with perfect honesty. “But I am certain I can manage the dishes almost as well.”

“A man of many talents,” Elisabeth said. “You'll fit in just fine around here.” For a moment, Gregori thought he saw a ghostly image echoed behind her—a younger, thinner Elisabeth with the clothes of a well-to-do housewife and the
expression of a woman imprisoned by a life that was slowly devouring her soul. Then it was gone, and only the solid, present-day woman remained.

“Indeed,” Sun said softly. “But am I one of the inmates or one of the guards?” Then he walked toward the kitchen to do battle with a stack of plates and his own demons.

Deborah Blake
is the author of
Veiled Magic
and the Baba Yaga novels, including
Wickedly Powerful
,
Wickedly Wonderful
, and
Wickedly Dangerous
. She has published numerous books on modern witchcraft with Llewellyn Worldwide and has an ongoing column in
Witches & Pagans
magazine. When not writing, Deborah runs The Artisans' Guild, a cooperative shop she founded with a friend in 1999, and also works as a jewelry maker, tarot reader, and energy healer. She lives in a 120-year-old farmhouse in rural upstate New York with five cats who supervise all her activities, both magical and mundane. Visit her online at deborahblakeauthor.com and deborahblake.blogspot.com.

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