The Returned by Bishop O'Connell Page B

the promise she’d made to Brigid. Of course, she could check on them, make sure they were fine—and, of course, they would be—and then she could go find Benji, guilt free.
    She turned the music up and made her way through the Quarter, which was fairly desolate at nine thirty in the morning. Not that she could blame the city. Sleeping for several more hours sounded like just this side of heaven, but she needed to be out and about, doing something. Her depression was easier to fight off when she wasn’t lying in bed—or on the couch—in her little room, secluded from the world.
    People traffic might’ve been light, but the car traffic was heavy. She crossed Decatur Street and checked the phone again. The signal was leading her south and through a sort of shopping mall, most of the stalls selling the kind of tchotchkes that tourists love—shirts, shot glasses, snow globes, etc. When she reached the southern exit, Wraith checked the phone again. There was some kind of café ahead. That was probably where they were.
    As she approached, her stomach grumbled at the smell of coffee and something sweet and fried. Ignoring her rumbling stomach and watering mouth, she found a place to observe the tables without being easily seen. While Brigid hadn’t expressly said to not let Edward and Caitlin see her, Wraith picked up that vibe and decided it was best to go with it.
    It wasn’t easy. When she saw the coffee cups and the powdered sugar-covered donut things, she almost charged the counter to demand sugar and caffeine. That would probably give her away though, so she just kept telling her stomach that the minute Edward and Caitlin left, she’d inundate it with coffee and fried dough. The rumbling did ease up, but just a little.
    That’s when she spotted them seated at a table with a well-dressed man who looked a lot like a young Don Cheadle. She couldn’t read their lips or hear their conversation, but their body language was hard to misinterpret. Whatever they were discussing, they were keen on keeping others from overhearing it. Edward and Caitlin were talking, and by the way they kept looking at each other, it wasn’t a pleasant topic. The unknown man had his arms crossed and was looking at them like they were both insane. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what the likely topic of discussion was.
    Wraith thought she saw Caitlin mouth the word faerie , but she couldn’t be sure. After just a couple of minutes, her hunger wouldn’t be ignored. When the line was empty, she went to the counter. She was careful to keep herself hidden behind a group of people, but also keep Edward, Caitlin, and their friend in view.
    â€œCan I help you?” the girl working the window asked.
    â€œCan I get a large coffee, but half of it hot chocolate?” Wraith asked. “And a double order of whatever those fried-dough things are.”
    The girl looked at her like she was an idiot. “The beignets?”
    â€œSure, if that’s what they’re called.”
    â€œHere or to go?”
    â€œTo go.”
    Wraith paid and in less than a minute received a big cup and a paper bag. When she’d returned to her observation point, she took a sip of the coffee. It was so hot she wondered if it was brewed using a fusion reactor. With a whisper of effort, she drew an equation around the cup, whisking away some of the heat. She often used the same thing to chill the cans of soda in her safe house; when you didn’t have a fridge, you made do. Unlike with her sodas, she didn’t let the coffee get to ice cold. She just let it move from molten to hot. After taking a sip, she added a dozen packets of sugar, mostly to kill the flavor of chicory.
    Why did people feel the need to screw with something as wonderful as coffee?
    When it was palatable, she drank her sugar/coffee/chocolate slurry and ate the beignets. Those were awesome. After every bite she would dip it