Erasing Faith(32)

“Eight!”

“Before you freak out — three of them are overnights. So, really only five more tonight.”

“But I’ve never done an overnight.”

“I know, but Istvan just told me you’ve been approved for them. Couriers usually have to be here at least four months before they’re eligible, and not everyone gets the green light. They must like you.” He grinned.

Damn. Ever since my after-hours encounter with Istvan the other night, he seemed to think we had a special connection of sorts. I’d caught the typically gruff guard smiling at me twice today. Now, he was making sure I got promoted up the work totem pole. What was next?

“Don’t make that face,” Konrad said. “This is a good thing! It means you’re trustworthy. Plus, it comes with a bonus.”

I sighed. Bonus or not, I’d heard from several other Hermes girls that overnight deliveries were a pain in the butt.

Often, customers dropped off packages at the end of the day, after most businesses were closed, with instructions to deliver them to their destinations first thing in the morning. Rather than have couriers come all the way into work to retrieve the packages — only to head straight back out and potentially miss a crack-of-dawn delivery deadline — the sorting staff would occasionally send a package or two home with the girls overnight. That way, we could simply drop them off on our way to the office and, joy of joys, get an early jump start on our workdays.

Efficiency was highly prioritized, here at Hermes.

I rolled my eyes.

“So, how does it work?” I asked. “Do I keep my bike with me, too?”

“Yep,” Konrad said. “And I’d lock it up, if I were you. If it gets stolen, you’re the one who has to shell out the cash to replace it.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” I grumbled. “Where am I supposed to keep it, under my bed? Stuffed inside my pint-sized closet?”

“When you see your bonus check, it’ll all be worth it,” he said, winking. “A few months of this, and you’ll be able to afford a bigger apartment.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just give me my damn packages already.”

“Here are the overnights.” He handed me three thick business envelopes — probably some poor suckers’ divorce papers. “And these three are regular delivery.” He passed over several more parcels.

“And the last two?” I asked, looking at the final bundles after I’d stored the others in my satchel.

“These are special delivery.” Konrad’s eyes were twinkling with mischief. “Both to the same destination. Make sure you deliver them last tonight.”

“What are you up to, Konrad?” I asked, taking the first package from him. Enclosed in a black plastic bag, whatever was inside felt soft, slightly squishy. Like a stuffed animal or a piece of fabric. The second parcel was a smallish box, wrapped in black paper.

“You can thank me later,” he said mysteriously.

I stared at him for a moment, riddled with questions, but he failed to offer up any more details.

“Whatever, weirdo,” I finally said, zipping my messenger bag closed. “See you tomorrow.”

“Have a good night, Faith!” he called after me. “Enjoy that bubble bath!”

I shook my head in exasperation as I hurried to retrieve my bike.

***

Standing on the sidewalk with my head tilted up at the sign, I felt my brow furrow in confusion. My last destination of the night wasn’t a private home or an office building — it was a restaurant. A really nice one, from the looks of it. The patrons filtering through the front doors were all dressed semi-formally — women clad in expensive summer dresses, men clothed in dress shirts and ties.

“Elvarázsolt.” I sounded out the name in butchered Hungarian, my eyes scanning the sign overhead.

“Enchanted,” a smooth, male voice said in perfect English.

My eyes snapped from the sign to the elderly man in an impeccable suit who’d just addressed me. He was hovering not three feet away on the sidewalk.

“I’m sorry?” I asked, eyebrows raised.

“The restaurant’s name. It means enchanted.” He smiled. “I am Hugo, the ma?tre d's here. We have been expecting you.”

I nearly smacked an open palm against my forehead, but managed to restrain myself. “Oh, yes! Of course. You need your packages.” I hastily unzipped my messenger bag, rooting around for the two black parcels. “I’m so sorry for the delay, sir.”

A gentle hand landed on my arm and stilled my movements. I looked up into Hugo’s smiling eyes.

“Miss Morrissey, it is not the packages we’ve been waiting for.”

My jaw dropped at the sound of my name. “What?”

“Please, follow me,” he said simply, gesturing to a young busboy hovering nearby before turning toward the doors.

Before I could so much as dismount from my bicycle, the busboy was at my elbow. “Your bike, miss,” he said, his English poor but intelligible.

“I— What—”

I heard Hugo sigh before he pivoted to face me. “Daniel will take your bicycle. It will be well looked after, locked away in my office for the duration of your meal.”

“Meal?”

He smiled indulgently. “Come.”