Reach | The House of Voices #1.5

ONE

ONE

I was about a second away from slamming my head against a wall. And I’m pretty sure Gomez knew it.

He’d called me an hour ago from the airport, just to give me a very lengthy set of rules to follow while he was out of town. I was in charge of the magic shop where we worked, you see. His precious little baby that couldn’t possibly be left in Ace’s unsupervised care. This was the first time years that he was leaving me alone – all alone­ ­­– to mind the shop.

Not that I can blame him, really. The last time I’d been left all alone in the shop, I’d accidentally invited a werewolf and a Salamander over for a house party. Emphasis on the “accidentally”. How the hell was I supposed to know they weren’t human? It wasn’t like they’d been wearing t-shirts that read, “Fireboy and Wolfgirl” when I met them.

Long story short, Rick (aka Fireboy) started a fire in the den, in a drunken stupor, the fire department got involved, and Gomez ripped me a new one for being the “most naive person he’d ever had the misfortune of knowing”. Direct quote. And from that day on, I was never allowed to mind the Black Tarot without the aid of one of my coworkers.

On the plus side, I did make a couple new friends, so I guess that night wasn’t a total bust.

In case you’re wondering why on Earth Gomez was trusting me this time and actually leaving me alone unsupervised, it’s because he didn’t have a choice. All my other coworkers (aka the Ace babysitters) were scattered across the globe – two of them on holiday, the rest were working cases. And he couldn’t get out of his trip to stay with me – not unless he wanted to suffer his fiancé’s wrath. Between running the shop and his very busy day-job, this was Gomez’s first vacation since he and Mari got engaged. Two years ago.

You can see why she wasn’t going to let him weasel out of it.

Besides, that whole Salamander/Werewolf fiasco happened years ago. I’m older and wiser now. That, and Gomez really needs to get over it.

He let out a loud sigh that captured my attention. “You haven’t heard a word I said, have you?”

“Not in the last ten minutes, no.”

“Ace!” He groaned.

What? Did he want me to lie?

“Aren’t you the one always saying I have the attention span of a flea?” How he knew what the attention span of a flea even was, I’ll never know.

“It wouldn’t kill you to try to pay attention.”

“Hey, come on now. We don’t know that,” I argued. “What if trying to pay attention caused me to, I don’t know, have a stroke and die? Then what? Do you really want my death on your conscience, Gomez?”

“I’m going to be your cause of death if you don’t start being a little more serious—Ow! What was that for?!” He hissed at someone else. Mari. Gotta love her.

“Oh please, we both know you’d never do that to me,” I said. The kettle whistled, and I shuffled over to turn off the stove and pour myself a cup of tea. “What if I promised to not invite preternatural or paramount persons into the shop without your consent? Would that make you happy?”

A pause. “Yes. It would.” And then, as an afterthought he added, “and no taking in any stray animals either.”

“When have I ever done that?” I demanded, a little indignant. I plopped the tea bag into the cup and poured the hot water over it. A coco-ey smell filled the air and I sniffed it in appreciatively. Golden Monkey tea was one of my favorites.