Page 83 of The Devil’s Feather

“He’s a tortured soul, my Bubbeleh, but he means well enough. So long as you’re not a fucking idiot, anyway. That man has never abided a fool.” Wind crackled across the receiver. Maybe she was already on a smoke break at 8am. “He’s got it bad for you, hon. I’ve never seen him act like this about anyone. He’s smiling with his teeth!”

From the way she paused, I could only imagine she was mimicking Rafael’s smile. I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from giggling.

Kathy’s voice crackled over the connection. “You be good to him too, you hear me? Rafael Nazim might be all spit and vinegar on the outside, but he has a beautiful heart. He’s been hurt real bad in his life, and sometimes he doesn’t know how to behave.”

“I know, and I’m doing my best.” My lip quivered again. It felt good to know someone else genuinely cared about my beloved trickster god—and me, by extension.

“Now, I’m gonna say this and I want you to listen. You know he’s a little bit feygele, right?”

I almost dropped the phone. Did she just call Rafael a slur? “What are you saying?”

“My Bubbeleh is a little bit queer. Half a queer, he says. Been with plenty of boys, and some they/thems too.”

Why was everyone so obsessed with warning me about his sexuality, like it was something to fear? My protective instincts flared.

“He’s bisexual, Kathy. I know all about it, and it’s fine.” It came out more harshly than I’d intended.

“Hey, don’t get mad. I don’t know what you kids are calling it these days. I just wanted to make sure you knew because lots of girls can’t handle it. Some guys too. They run out on him, and it breaks his heart, and that breaks my heart.”

“Yeah, he told me about that, too. Their loss.” Their incredibly stupid loss, and my incredibly fortunate gain.

“Rafael’s always been real faithful—sometimes to a fault—so don’t you worry. He acts like a tough guy, but he’s a secret softie.” She meant well, even if she was biphobic in the process of trying to protect him.

I stifled my sigh. “Thank you, Kathy. It’s his temper, not his loyalty or sexuality, that worries me.”

“Ok, honey. I got the sense you understood, but you can never be too careful.”

“I’m glad you’re watching out for him.”

There was a sound like snapping fingers. “I also wanted to let you know I passed the title of your book on to some friends. Maybe something will come of it, who knows?” She paused, her raspy breath fuzzing the connection. “I mean it, though; you call me if you need me, Elaine. Calling, not this texting thing you kids love so much. I only texted you first so you wouldn’t screen my call by accident. I talk too much for all that typing.”

She hung up without saying goodbye. I grinned at the screen. Rafael was right again. I adored this woman just like he did; rough edges and all. Though she couldn’t have been more opposite, she somehow reminded me of my Gramma.

Rafael’s raised voice from the den drew me out of the bathroom, still toweling my hair. I had no intention of eavesdropping, but damn, did that bass carry.

“WHAT?” he roared from somewhere near the kitchen.

“Is everything ok?” I called

The front door slammed.

Fuck. I grabbed the nearest clean clothes and threw them on. The house slippers would have to do. The elevator stood empty; Rafael must have taken the stairs.

Shitfuckshitfuck! I dashed for the stairs too, fear weighing so heavily in my stomach it might as well have dragged along behind me. Fucking goddamn stairs. Why did we have to live on the top floor?

Gasping, I burst into the café. Three big, burly, unfamiliar white men in black, tactical-looking clothes confronted Rafael. Nowhere near as tall as he was, but one likely outweighed him. They were an ugly smear on the colorful canvas of Telve. Even the composer added color with his striking red hair.

The baristas were nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, neither were the regulars.

“Get the fuck out of my building,” Rafael snarled.

“We’re just concerned citizens.” The tallest one, a youngish guy with dark hair and one of those fuckass mustaches—caught sight of me. “Miss, are you aware of how dangerous this man is?”

“I have a hunch he’s about to get real fucking dangerous for you.” I drew myself up, realizing belatedly how ridiculous I looked in My Little Pony pajama pants and a t-shirt that said, ‘Would you still love me if I was a wyrm?’.

“Elaine, go upstairs.” Rafael moved to block the man’s view of me. “You talk to me, not her. Get out or I will throw you out.”

“What in the Kentucky fried fuck is going on?” I couldn’t help myself.