Stolen Magic. Esri Rose

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СКАЧАТЬ He chuckled. “No. She’s my cousin, but it’s more like she’s another sister. That’s why I first came to Colorado. She was having trouble with a stalker.” He leaned against the bar on the wall behind us. “She hasn’t been returning my calls, and when I go to her apartment she’s always out. I’m starting to wonder if she’s gotten involved with a cult.”

      “She wasn’t with anyone when I saw her. She was just sitting, eating a brownie.”

      “At least it’s not an anti-brownie cult. Good to know.” He shifted, then turned when his arm hit something with a small clunk. “Your drink is still back here.”

      “I tasted it. It’s not really my thing.”

      “A woman who doesn’t like cider. Butch will be shocked.”

      “You can have it if you want.”

      Mark picked it up. “Trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?” He smiled and took a sip, dark eyes looking at me over the edge of the glass.

      There was probably some recognized response I could make to that statement, a code phrase, but I didn’t know it. I cursed myself for not knowing how to flirt. “Um, are you going to play some more pool?”

      He put the glass back on the ledge. “Not tonight. I made it through about a third of the players before I got shot down, though, which is an improvement. Butch will probably win. He usually does.”

      I leaned back to hook my elbows on the bar, my shoulder resting lightly against his. Should I move? Should I stay put? I could feel his body heat through my shirt. Perversely, it made me want to shiver.

      He leaned toward me, resting his fingers on my upper arm and speaking close to my ear. “See that guy in the red T-shirt? That’s the only real competition. Butch has been calling him Red Shirt all night to psych him out, but I don’t think it fazes him.”

      I turned my head toward his slightly. “How do you play this game, anyway?”

      “It’s straight eight ball tonight.”

      “And that means…” I waved a hand vaguely.

      He leaned forward so he could look me in the eye. “You really don’t know?”

      “I was homeschooled.” A standard elf excuse. It seemed to work for a lot of things. Mark explained the basics of pool to me, his voice intimate, his breath smelling of apples. I told him about the chicken-game antecedent, and he thought that was hysterical. We were laughing together over some nonsense when a roar went up from the pool table.

      Butch shook his opponent’s hand and clapped him on the back.

      “I guess they’re finished,” I said.

      “I guess so.”

      Butch came over, took the glass out of Mark’s hand, and downed the last of the cider. He looked at the empty glass, then at me. “Was this yours?”

      “It’s possible.”

      He grinned at me. “How about a kiss for the loser?”

      “Um…”

      “Forget the loser. He doesn’t deserve it. How about a kiss for me?” He leaned over and gave me a smacking kiss on the cheek.

      “You won again?” Mark asked.

      “So much for counting on you to cheer me on.” Butch shook his head sadly. “Why do I even ask you to these things?” He took a wad of cash out of his jeans pocket and flicked it against his fingers. “Dinner, anyone? Sushi’s on me.”

      Mark looked at me. “I was just thinking I might—”

      “I should probably go home,” I said, not wanting to spend the next few hours pretending to eat raw fish.

      “…teach Adlia to play pool,” Mark finished. “But if you need to go, I can walk you to your car.”

      “Teach me to play pool?” I asked, and then remembered I was supposed to be at work now.

      Butch winked at me. “Mark can’t play worth shit, but he’s a good teacher—very conscientious about making sure you bend over the table just right.”

      “Don’t listen to him,” Mark said, smacking Butch in the ribs. “I play fine.”

      “Maybe some other time,” I said. “I really should get going.”

      Butch gave his money a last fondle and put it away. “You two kids do what you want, but I’m finishing the night with a mouthful of raw octopus.”

      Mark lifted his hand in a brief wave. “I’ll catch you later.”

      Butch disappeared into the crowded bar, and we got up.

      “So where are you parked?” Mark asked, holding the door open for me.

      “I walked.”

      “Then I’ll walk you home.” He smiled and tilted his head. “Or I could, you know, get you a cab, if you’re not in the mood for company.”

      “No, I like company.”

      We stared at each other. I felt the impulse to lean toward him, to touch, and wondered if he felt it, too. Mark was so friendly in general, it was hard to tell if he liked me in particular.

      “Okay, then. Let’s go,” I said abruptly, and started walking.

      The air was still balmy outside, with even more people around than before. As we reached the sidewalk, I heard the sound of a band from the nearby Pearl Street Mall.

      “So where do you live?” Mark asked.

      I needed to get to work, so I gestured vaguely south. “I’m just a little past the library.” We walked in silence for a while before I asked, “How long have you and Butch been friends?”

      “A year? Maybe a year and a half?”

      “Is that all? I thought you grew up together or something.”

      “Nah. We met when he had me take a picture of him with his Boxer. Yoda.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “Yoda is his dog, a white Boxer. He brushed him with green food coloring last year for Halloween.” Mark chuckled. “It was frickin’ hysterical, although Butch’s sofa will never be the same.”

      I laughed. This was exactly the kind of weird humor that attracted me to humans, but what had Yoda the dog thought of the experiment? Since elves could communicate with animals, I might get the chance to ask him. “Do you have a pet?” I wanted to know more about him—everything, in fact.

      Mark shook his head. “Not with the traveling I do. If the money’s there, I try to take a trip every year—some place picturesque, so I can sell a calendar of the pictures. Last year I went to Italy. The exchange rate was terrible, but I stayed with relatives.”

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