You Must Fall In Love

Chapter Forty-Eight

"You'll have to forgive me for saying this, Jen, but this is up there in my list of all-time stupid plans. And I've made a few."

"I know, Rob. But hey, look on the bright side! At least you don't have to talk to Yusuke!"

Jen's plan was simple, and based on four very pertinent facts. The way she had explained it to them, they were:

A) Yusuke could sense demons.

B) Christine could smell magic.

C) Jen Travers, mage extraordinaire, had a small handheld device that detected suspicious things.

C) Rob knew where the carts went.

Hence, it was most efficient for Yusuke and Christine, the ones with the noses, to go off in search of magical clues, while Jen and Rob took the more mundane route and just asked the staff.

"Are you sure you have a small handheld device that detects suspicious things?"

"Well, yeah," said Jen. "It's called a phone."

"I..."

Don't challenge her, there's no point, she's smarter than...

"How does a phone detect suspicious things?"

"When I don't know things," said Jen sweetly, "it asks Google for me, and then I understand it all."

"Great," said Rob. "Perfect. Flawless."

"And you're going to ask your manager for me, aren't you?"

"Nothing of the sort," said Rob. "I'm just going to take you to where the carts are, and you're going to do a magic scan or whatever, and then we'll find out exactly what's going on and who's behind all this."

"Oh," said Jen. "Really?"

"No."

"Bummer. Hey, see that help-desk over there? Maybe we should ask them."

Rob had been suspecting this more and more over the last two months, but Jen was almost certainly his fated opposite, one of those cosmic counterparts that the universe threw at mortals from time to time and for absolutely no reason.

He was sarcastic because he didn't know enough to be otherwise, and she was earnest because she knew too much to assume that anyone else would be different.

He didn't read, but wore glasses to pretend that he did. She wore glasses because she couldn't see, thanks to all the reading.

She was Christine's best friend. He didn't even like...

"Hello, Rob. Fancy seeing you here."

Rob froze. It couldn't be. There was no reason for him to be here at all. He didn't even know...

"August! Wow, you're here too? What a coincidence!"

As Jen bustled past him, all smiles and good cheer, Rob rubbed his nose furiously, aware of a sharp burning in his nostrils. It smelled like brine and cockles, mixed with a healthy dose of ammonia.

His curse was trying to warn him of something. But what?

"Good to see you," said Rob, as cordially as he knew how to. "I hope your back's okay."

August smiled. He was wearing the same green hoodie that he always did, the one that made him look like one of those clothes-flaunting kids on the Internet, but the danger in his eyes was real.

"Quite," he said, very casually. "Will you walk with me?"

Sister Constance had told him once of the fae folk, how they stole infants from cradles and bread from the pantries, and how the only thing they feared was cold iron and the woven charms of wise men. Enid Blyton had written stories about sappy brownies and twee imps and excited elfs, in which the only danger seemed to be bad intentions and the threat of the book running out.

But none of the fairies from his childhood had ever pulled a real sword from thin air, and he still remembered how August's neck had felt under his hands; as hard and supple as a willow branch, and quite unbreakable.

He remembered how August had held her.

"No," said Rob. "I don't think I will."

"If you're here to find Christine's luggage thief," said August, "then trust me, you won't. Not with what I know about it."

"How..."

He glared at Jen, who turned a strange shade of cream.

"I thought we might need him!" she protested.

"You know Christine didn't want him to come!"

"Yes, but that doesn't... look, Rob, we need him. He knows things we don't."

"I thought you were better than this," said Rob. "Do you usually do things like this to your friends?"

"I..."

Jen shut her mouth, clearly hurt. He could see it in the way her eyes swam, just like the foster-mothers' had, all of them, before they went ahead and kicked him out anyway.

"Go do whatever you want," he said. "I'm leaving."

"Rob, don't —"

"Let him be," said August, with that infuriating ease, the one that made it seem like he had no problems at all. "I wasn't expecting him to be reasonable, anyway."

"Shut it," snarled Rob. It felt like he was gargling blood. "One more word and I'll..."

"You'll what, Rob Slade? Get yourself fired, maybe arrested? Violence doesn't solve anything."

It was true. As much as he hated the idea, the plain truth was that there was no way around this.

And he had spent so much time running away that if he did here, August would win.

So he had to control himself, somehow. He had to get himself under control and...

Rob turned around, aware that if he took one more step away, August would laugh or smirk or do something equivalent, and then there would be no choice left except to lay him out on the floor, in full view of the help-desk and possibly his manager.

"You'd better have a good explanation for this," he said.

"It depends on your definition of good," said August. "Then again, I'm not entirely sure you'd understand it."

"August, please," said Jen.

"You're not innocent here either, Jen. But as long as it'll keep him from getting to Christine, I don't care what he says."

"How noble. But I wasn't trying to be coy, as hard as that may be to get into your thick skull. Have you ever heard of the Hunters Three?"