Death and Relaxation (Ordinary Magic #1)(57)

I shifted on the balls of my feet and looked up at her and the heavy gray clouds behind her. We’d get rain within the hour, I was sure of it. “She said penguins can only thrive in the wild. And I’m hoping to make Ordinary a safe habitat. Understand?”

She nodded.

“So.” I stood. “I’ll get my rope and my Jeep and see if we can pry Super Penguin here free. Can you swivel the cannon?”

“Or fire it,” Treana suggested. I was sure that had been the hope of all the kids involved in stuffing the poor thing in the cannon.

Stella raised one eyebrow, but a smile played across her lips. “We do not use historical artifacts to shoot penguins.”

Treana shrugged, but over her mother’s shoulder, her eyes glittered with hope.

I dusted my hands. “Well, it won’t be the first thing we try.”

Treana burst into a grin, and I turned toward my Jeep to get out from under her mother’s stern gaze.

~~~

IT HADN’T taken much to pull Super Penguin to safety. Mrs. Yates had accepted the little caped waterfowl with a disapproving humpt and placed him firmly back in the flowerbed below her window. I noted she left the cape on him.

It was early still, and I yawned hugely as I got back in my Jeep and headed at a leisurely pace through the quiet neighborhood.

Once Jean had sobered up, she had sent me home with a firm order to get some damn sleep. I had not gotten any sleep, damned or otherwise.

Ever since Heim had died, his power had been railing and shouting in my head. At first, I could ignore it, but it seemed to be growing louder with each passing day. After two glasses of warm milk and a white-noise machine cranked up loud enough to overpower a jet engine, I’d been hit with a new, slightly terrifying realization.

If I didn’t give the power over to someone really soon, by midnight Monday, as a matter of fact, I might not have the strength left to do it at all. It wasn’t a comforting thought. So for comfort, I decided I needed copious amounts of coffee and several donuts.

The Puffin Muffin was more crowded than I’d expected, but it was Thursday, and the festival would officially begin tomorrow morning. Tourists were already in town, filling up the hotels and apparently indulging in their love of baked goods.

I walked into the bakery and only made it three steps toward the counter. It was so crowded in here, even the fruit flies looked claustrophobic.

The line was twelve people deep, the two out-of-towner women ahead of me wearing coats that were too heavy for the weather and perfume that was too strong for the heat of the bakery. I scanned the people seated at the six small tables that took up all the space beyond the counter. No faces I recognized. Maybe I’d just grab my order and eat it in the Jeep. I rubbed at my temple and the power song thrummed louder.

Not helping.

“Grande mocha and a bear claw,” a familiar low voice said in my ear, close enough I could feel his breath on my cheek. “I’ll hold down that table for us.”

My pulse raced for two reasons. One, I wasn’t used to someone coming up behind me without me knowing it, and two, it was Cooper.

Terrific.

I twisted to look over my shoulder, but he was already moving, his hand briefly on my arm as he slid past me and wove between the tables to the little booth in the corner where a mother and teen daughter stood, preparing to leave.

He gave them a smile they both fell for, and they gave him the booth.

He could certainly charm a person when he wanted to.

I’d followed the line closer to the counter and tried to breathe through my mouth to filter out the overwhelming stink of perfume. The line moved along faster than I expected, but by the time I reached the counter, the roaring song in my ears had turned into a full-blown headache. I rubbed at both temples and scowled at the pastries behind glass.

“…help you, chief?”

Hogan stood behind the counter, a smile on his wide, expressive lips. The light blue Velvet Underground T-shirt clung to his muscular chest and thick shoulders and complemented his dark skin and surprisingly blue eyes.

“Long night?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Isn’t Jean supposed to be pulling the night shift?”

I nodded. “It’s been busy with the rally coming up. All-hands-on-deck kind of thing. Can I have a double-shot café breve, and a mocha, both grande. And I’ll take a bear claw and one of your strawberry cream crullers.”

“You got it.” He rang up my total. I paid in cash while he wrote on a couple cups and passed them to Billy, who was pulling coffee for the rush. Billy was ninety if she was a day, with thick glasses and short, curly hair dyed traffic-cone orange. An unlit cigarette hung out of the corner of her mouth. “Anything else?”

I shook my head. “Just make sure that coffee’s strong.”

He smiled, and it did amazing things to his eyes, making the cut of his high cheekbones even more pronounced. I could see why Jean stared at him. “Extra shot for the chief, Billy.”

I took the receipt he handed me, dropped enough to cover the extra shot and more in the tip jar, and moved down to wait while Billy made our drinks.

Cooper was watching me. I didn’t look over at him, but I could feel his gaze on me like a hand between my shoulder blades. Something in me jumped knowing he was here back in town. I was happy about it, though I didn’t know why.