Page 19 of Roaring Spell

“Morning.” I sidestep as one twin tumbles off the other and rolls directly into my path. “Working on your coordination?”

“Working on dominance!” The twin on the ground grins up at me, furry face smeared with dirt. “I almost won that time.”

“You did not,” the other twin protests from somewhere in a nearby bush.

Their mother sighs. “They’ve been at this since dawn. Any wisdom to share?”

“Try honey. Works on most bear-related disputes.”

“I meant wisdom about patience.”

“Ah.” I consider. “In my experience, patience is just stubbornness with better marketing.”

She laughs, and I continue on my way, the sounds of twin-wrestling fading behind me.

The Crescent Cup is already open when I arrive—unusual, since Marcus normally leaves the morning shift to his human staff. But today the vampire himself stands behind the counter, polishing glasses with supernatural precision and radiating the energy of someone who’s been awake for three centuries and finds mornings personally offensive.

“The usual?” He doesn’t wait for my answer. “Of course, the usual.”

From the back room, Thalia’s voice drifts out: “He’s being dramatic. Don’t listen to him. Romance and professionalism coexist beautifully in certain circumstances.”

“Name one.”

“Our marriage.”

“That’s different. We’re vampires. We invented complicated relationships.”

“We invented nothing. We simply refined.” Thalia appears in the doorway, dark hair perfectly arranged despite the early hour. Her gaze finds me with unnerving accuracy. “The weather witch. How is she?”

“Fine.”

“And you? How are you?”

The question catches me off guard. People don’t usually ask how I am. They ask what I’m doing, what I need, what problem requires solving. Thalia watches me with the patient curiosity of someone who’s seen enough centuries to recognize when a simple question lands differently than expected.

“Working on it.”

“Ah.” She nods like this explains everything. “The mist has opinions about you two, you know.”

“So I keep hearing.”

“The mist is usually right.” She glides back toward the shadows. “Usually.”

Marcus slides her coffee across the counter—the one with her name written in his neat, familiar handwriting.

“Never stop being curious about the person you love,” Marcus says, out of nowhere. “That’s the secret. Works for centuries.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Do.” He picks up another glass to polish. “And, Torin? Don’t wait too long. Patience is a virtue, but so is action. Change is coming.”

I nod and head for the door, two coffees in hand and centuries of vampire wisdom rattling around in my skull.

Radiant Aura Studio is quiet when I arrive.

The door’s unlocked—she leaves it that way now, an acknowledgment of our routine that neither of us has addressed directly. The bell chimes my entrance.

“Your coffee.” I set the cup on her desk, careful to avoid the precarious arrangement.