“That’s where people learn to share.”
“Uh, yeah.” I shoved the second cinnamon bun into my mouth. Not only did I not want to talk about it, I didn’t want to even think about the fact that I couldn’t remember kindergarten.
“Thanks,” Aidan said to Connor as my friend handed him the paper cup and a bag with a cinnamon bun.
When Aidan handed over a twenty, Connor said, “Don’t worry about it. On the house.”
“Don’t give him stuff,” I said. “He’ll keep coming back if you feed him.”
“That’s the point. We’ve got to get you a man somehow,” Connor said.
“You’re the worst.” I threw the last bite of my cinnamon bun at him, mournfully watching it fly through the air. “The actual worst. Good day to you, sir.”
I hopped off the stool and faced Aidan. “Ready?”
“Yeah.” He glanced back at Connor. “Thanks, man.”
“Anytime, bro.”
Ugh. They were buddies. This couldn’t be good.
I led the way out to Aidan’s car and climbed into the passenger seat. At least the day was going to be clear and bright. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the birds were singing their butts off.
“You know the way to Darklane?” I asked.
“Yeah. Whenever we have a break-in at one of the properties we secure, there’s a good chance the culprit lives in Darklane.”
“Lead on, then.”
Aidan navigated through town while I wished I’d asked for another coffee to go. Surreptitiously, I reached for his to-go cup and took a sip.
“Gah,” I spat after I’d swallowed. “Lighter fluid.”
“Griffon fuel.”
“I guess.” I wiped my mouth. “That’ll teach me to snitch your drinks.”
He grinned. I glanced quickly out the window to keep myself from mooning over him. We’d entered the business district of town. There were a few tall buildings, none over ten stories.
“Do you have an office here?” I asked.
He nodded and pointed to the left, where the grandest building stood. “That one.”
“I should have guessed.”
The business district gave way to the historic district. These buildings had been here since the early seventeen hundreds and it showed. The architecture was like something out of the old world. European supernaturals had made it out here earlier than human settlers and established Magic’s Bend in 1712. There’d been some trouble with the Native American supernaturals—which was bound to happen when you invaded someone’s land—but that had been settled eventually with a peace treaty.
It wasn’t like supernaturals were any more peaceful than humans—definitely not. There’d been an ugly war leading up to the peace treaty, but the result had been a stable alliance that had allowed Magic’s Bend to grow into the largest magical city in America.
“Do you ever come down here?” Aidan asked as we drove through the bustling streets of the historic district.
There was a lot more foot traffic here, drawn by the shops and restaurants that made up the bottom floors of the old buildings. Though almost everyone looked human, I spotted a few fae with their wings out and one huge dude who looked like he was half giant. Though many supernaturals went out amongst humans—and even lived amongst them—non-human looking supernaturals were required by law to stay in wholly magical cities like Magic’s Bend.
“I come down here occasionally,” I said. “But I mostly hang out on Factory Row.”
My neighborhood had been revitalized in the 1990s when the abandoned factories from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries had been turned into apartments and shops, mostly antique places. P & P and the Flying Wizard were the only two bars on that side of town, but they worked fine for my socializing needs. It didn’t have quite the same charm as the historic district, but it suited me. And it was the only place where we could afford apartments big enough to stash our hoards.
“Do you come down here a lot?” I asked as we finally passed out of the historic district and into Darklane.
“Darklane? No. Only when work brings me here,” Aidan said. “But yes to the historic side of town. They’ve got some good restaurants. We’ll have to try one when this job is over.”
“We’ll see.” I turned my attention to the buildings that passed slowly by the car. Darklane was on the other side of the historic district, and it suited its name. The buildings were all three stories tall here, though they somehow managed to block out a lot of the sun. They were as old as the buildings we’d just left behind, but these really showed their age. Not only was the architecture ancient, but so was the layer of grime that covered the brick and wood.