Knight's Curse by Karen Duvall

come up with. Or Zee, with her ridiculous portal paintings. I felt eager to get inside and find out.
    I followed him down the steps and through the door.
    Still no sign, no lights, no noise. “Aydin, come on. What’s going on?”
    “I’m taking you for coffee at my favorite coffee shop. What do you think?”
    It was obviously an underground coffee shop because the basement walls funneled into a tunnel of dirt and rock. Bare bulbs hung from the ceiling, and the farther we ventured in, the lighter it became. Finally I saw a rusty, old tin sign that said Elmo’s.
    So maybe Aydin really was on the level, and this was a real coffee shop, but it would definitely go out of business if Elmo didn’t work on getting some exposure. Did he even advertise? And who wanted to have coffee inside a dirt tunnel? The door to the entrance was made of wood, the hardware on it rusted and very old-fashioned. Maybe it was some new restaurant trend. I’d heard of a place in Southern California where meals were served in pitch darkness. The appeal had something to do with it being a journey of the senses. Sounded scary to me. I liked to see what I was eating.
    “After you,” Aydin said.
    I palmed the copper door handle and pushed. The heavy plank heaved on its hinges and a rush of voices and heat spilled out into the tunnel. The light was so bright that I had to shade my eyes. There were a lot of people here, if I could call them that. They were of varying sizes and colors, some with hair, some without, and a couple with so much hair that clothes would have been redundant. The hairy ones were chimeras. Not the literal kind from Greek mythology that had a lion’s head, goat’s body and serpent’s tail. The faces of these people were human. The bodies? Not so much.
    “Hey, Elmo!” Aydin called over the din of happy coffee drinkers. And they were indeed happy—lots of laughter to go with the music playing through speakers mounted high on the dirt walls. “Elmo, I’ve brought someone I’d like you to meet.”
    The festive atmosphere was more of what I’d expect inside a pub, but my senses detected no alcohol. I slipped one nose filter free and inhaled the aroma of coffee and honey. And yeast. Baked treats, too? My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten. Looking around, I recognized a variety of magical species that I’d always associated with those who had enslaved me. I wondered if these were spies.
    I edged my way to the door, snagging Aydin’s jacket sleeve as I went. “We have to get out of here. These people are Vyantara. They must be spies or assassins, or both.”
    He laid a gentle hand on my arm, and as much as I wanted to jerk away, I couldn’t. His touch soothed me and made me want to get even closer. The soft look in his eyes told me he felt it, too.
    He cleared his throat and dropped his hand. “No, Chalice, they’re not spies or assassins. These are my friends. And they can be your friends, too.”
    “They’re your friends, Aydin, because you report to the Fatherhouse. I can’t associate with these people. It’s bad enough I’m forced to serve them.”
    Aydin sighed. “That’s why I brought you here, to show you that not all beings from beyond the veil serve the dark side. There’s a light side, too.”
    “That’s hard to believe.” What I really meant was that it was hard to trust.
    “Because you’re not supposed to know.” He reached out to try touching me again, then thought better of it and stuffed his hand in his pocket. “Look, give them—us—a chance, okay?”
    Change was in the air. A shift was coming. I’d been sensing it ever since I’d held the saint’s hand. Maybe this was part of it. I stared into Aydin’s eyes. Pale green, like frozen jade.
    I nodded as if to agree, but the reservation in my expression must have been clear because he looked frustrated. It wasn’t like I could easily dismiss what had been pounded into me my whole life. Light or dark, magic couldn’t be