Alastair’s gaze locks onto something just over Jaylie’s shoulder, and his eyes suddenly widen in horror. “No, no, not again,please—”
A ribbon of pink shoots past Jaylie’s cheek with alarming speed. She yelps in surprise and stumbles backward, tripping over a rock. Mid-fall, she realizes with disgust that the pink rope was Alastair’stongue.Loren dexterously steps to the side and winds an arm around her waist just in time to catch her. He flashes her a quick wink before setting her back safely on her feet.
Alastair is gagging, having just swallowed the poor bug that his froggish instincts compelled him to catch. “Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, everytime! Fine. Fine! I’ll help you. But I really don’t know how much of a difference it will make.” Alastair fists his webbed hands on top of his head as if he were tugging at his hair. “Come. Sit. We’ll strategize.”
Alastair leads Jaylie and her companions off the path and through waist-high ferns until they come to a mossy fallen tree trunk, which makes an excellent seat for the party to perch on. Morgana sits to Jaylie’s side and begins sharpening her daggers while Kain stands behind the group, muscled arms crossed threateningly across his chest.
“Clearly your greatest weakness is that you’re defenseless against her magic.” Alastair eyes the party. “Her tower is riddled with arcane traps. She’s carved glyphs into the trees surrounding her land—they’ll explode if you come within thirty paces of them.There are alarm spells woven into the wildflowers, alerting her to any uninvited guests who pass her border. She can summon barriers over her front door, her windows, and the damn basement on a whim. Lady Shira herself is a force to behold, and her home is as armed to the teeth as she is.
“You need something that will get your foot in the door—literally. Something that will allow you at least to have a conversation with her. My spellwork allowed me to dispel her defenses, but…” He pretends to wince sympathetically. His frog mouth forms one big squiggly line. “You haven’t even got that,” he condescends.
“But I’ve heard a rumor of a great artifact hidden in the corrupted caves to the west, an artifact that—if used correctly—can nullify the effects of even the strongest of magics. I’ll tell you exactly where to find this legendary orb, and if you can brave the craggy tunnels where it’s hidden to retrieve it, Shira won’t stand a chance against you.”
Chapter
Fourteen
“Good morning, sunshine,” Noah says warmly, dodging raindrops as he jogs to meet me at my car. It’s a sweet greeting for a gloomy Monday, but I don’t mind the weather. It’s impossible to dampen my enthusiasm now that I’m finally getting started on this mural.
“Hey!” I’m usually a ghost without my first cup of coffee, but my excitement has me practically dancing on my toes with energy. I can’t imagine what caffeine will do to me next. With my latte in one hand, I offer Noah an identical paper cup. I don’t know how he likes his coffee, but Busy Bean’s cinnamon spice latte is my favorite, so I got two. “Had your wake-up potion yet?”
His expression brightens. “I have, but I’ll never turn down another.”
Noah helps me gather my supplies from the back of the car, hefting Liam’s borrowed projector under his arm with ease. As we walk into Alchemist, I hold a yardstick out before me like a sword while shouldering a small bag of masking tape, chalk, and pencils. It’s not much, but it’s all I need for the first day of work.
Armed with a piece of chalk and my half-finished latte, I balance the projector on top of the bar and turn it on. My finalized outline for the mural flashes to life on the opposite wall above the fireplace.
Making use of the deep green that already coats the brick, I drew out a scene centered in a forest. Dark emerald and violet trees creep up the edges of the wall, looming over a small clearing. A horse is left to graze to the side, tied to a tree branch. Far off in the distance and deep into the trees are two glittering yellow eyes set in the face of a white, golden-antlered stag, hidden among the foliage. Near the middle of the image sits a traveler with a steel tankard in one fist, his features shrouded by his cloak’s hood.
But it’s the campfire at the center that’s truly the star of the show. I drew it so that tongues of orange, gold, and white flame appear to emerge from Alchemist’s electric fireplace, illuminating the traveler and warming his outstretched hands. A campfire is a place to take a break, to sit and rest for the night. It’s home, even if just for a little while. That’s the sense of comfort I want people to feel every time they visit the brewery.
“I get so excited every time I look at it,” Noah breathes, his eyes wide as he takes in the projection. “But seeing it like this—fuck, it’s going to be incredible, Sadie. It’s spooky for a second, if you only look at the trees and the shadows, and then…it’s warm. It’s welcoming.”
“That’s what I’m going for.” I roll my coffee cup between my hands, letting what heat is left seep into my palms. Seeing a glimpse of what the art might look like in a few weeks…I can’t tell if it’s the coffee or the project making me giddy. Probably both.
Probably Noah, too.
All morning we’ve done a graceful dance around each other, but with each moment of contact—my shoulder bumping against his side as he holds the door open for me, or his fingers brushing mine when he passes over the projector—I’m transported back to Saturday night. I can still remember the way his laugh felt while my arms were wrapped around his waist, and how he was close enough on the porch that I could feel his breath against my cheek. I wonder if the memory of it hangs over him, too, but before I candetermine whether I’m brave enough to ask, the bell over the entry door tinkles merrily.
Noah takes a sudden half step in front of me; he’d locked the door behind us. But it’s just Dan, smiling sheepishly as he takes off his damp beanie and walks over. “I know I told y’all I won’t be comin’ in on Mondays, but—I just couldn’t help myself. Wanted to get a peek of your first day at work.”
“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” Noah says, gesturing to the projection.
Dan lets out a low whistle, rocking back on his booted heels until his back connects with the bar. “You really found us somethin’ special, Noah.”
My cheeks warm as Noah tosses a wink in my direction. “We got very lucky,” he agrees.
Dan pulls out his laptop while Noah and I set to work on our separate jobs for the day. Noah wanders off to the back of the brewery to dobeer things—I remind myself to ask him sometime what happens in those great big vats where he brews the stuff—as I start outlining the projected sketch with white chalk. Dan sets the speakers to fill the building with a funky, jazzy indie band I’ve never heard of while I allow myself to relax into the blissfully mindless task of tracing.
Hours later, I stand atop Alchemist’s small ladder, finishing the stag’s curling antlers in the upper right corner of the wall when someone clears their throat below me. I nearly jump out of my skin, and Dan lurches forward to hold the ladder steady.
“Sorry—didn’t mean to scare you. Just wanted to give you a heads-up that we’ll need to start wrappin’ things up soon.”
I check the time—nearly evening.Already?“You got it. I’m almost done here.”
He nods but insists on staying, with one hand braced on the ladder. He seems content to let me continue working in comfortable silence, but my curiosity gets the better of me. “Noah says you’ve been friends for a long time.”
That brings out a grin hidden only somewhat by his overgrown mustache. “Oh hell, it’s gotta be a decade at this point.”
