Nate strode up to us, frowning in bewilderment at Johnathan. Then he held out a hand. Johnathan hesitated, then let out a composed breath, extending his hand to shake with Nate, but I could tell it irked him.

Nate nodded, still holding Johnathan’s hand. “Sorry about that. We were just waiting on Callie. Thanks for getting her groceries. I’m sure your manager appreciates your extra effort.” He moved so quickly that I don’t know who was more surprised, me or Johnathan. But he was suddenly holding the bags of groceries, and walking towards the trunk of the car, popping it open and placing the bags inside. Then he closed it and walked up to the driver’s side door, watching us with a patient smile. He was fiddling with that coin again, looking bored.

Johnathan’s face was almost purple with outrage, and I saw that he held a twenty-dollar-bill in his shaking fist. Christ, did Nate have to belittle everyone he met? I quickly stepped in front of him, not wanting anything bad to happen, especially if Johnathan opened his mouth. Nate was unpredictable.

“I told you he’s trouble. Don’t worry. I’m almost finished with him,” I murmured to Johnathan. “We’ll grab dinner. Soon. Okay? He didn’t mean anything by it. I promise.” Or maybe Nate had meant something by it. Looking at Johnathan now, with his white polo and khaki shorts, he kind of looked like he could be an employee at first glance. Still, I could completely understand his embarrassment and outrage.

He gritted his teeth, adjusting his glasses with a finger quivering with anger. “I am no one’s fucking employee,” he growled. “He has no idea who he’s talking to…”

I placed a hand on his shoulder, and was surprised to feel his flexed muscles beneath, hot to the touch and quivering slightly. “Please. Leave it alone. Please…” He was lithe, but had more muscle than I had thought. Not a lot, but what he had was functional.

He finally met my eyes, and for a few seconds, I wasn’t sure if he was going to listen. Then he let out a deep breath, nodding stiffly. He leaned to the side as if to say something to Nate, so I quickly stepped in front of him again, turning to Nate.

“He doesn’t work here, Nate. He was being a gentleman. Something you ought to learn.” I could practically feel Johnathan’s surprise behind me. Claire slid further into the seat, recognizing my tone. “Johnathan is a friend.” I realized my poor choice of words too late. “A very good friend.”

Nate shrugged. “Oh. My mistake, Johnathan. You ready, Callie?” he asked, not bothering to hide his lack of care, more important things on his mind.

Johnathan strode up to the car, and tossed the money underhanded into the back seat. “Use it to buy some courtesy lessons. Or to help with Grimm Tech.” Nate had begun to laugh at the first comment, but I saw storm clouds suddenly roll across his green eyes at Johnathan’s mention of Grimm Tech. But Johnathan was already walking away, cursing and muttering under his breath. I watched him, fascinated.

I finally climbed into the front seat, since Claire had jumped into the back while I stared at Johnathan. “Let’s go, asshole.”

The reporter, Alyssa, was standing beside the car, watching the scene unfold. “I’ll talk to you later, Nate,” she said, smiling encouragingly at him.

“We’ll let you know when we’re finished with him, Alyssa,” I said with an overly sugary smile on my face, and then put my sunglasses on. “Drive, Temple.”

Claire coughed in the back seat, and I heard her saying goodbye to Gabriel, of all people. I had assumed it was her mother, or Roland.

Alyssa’s smile was frozen on her face, but her eyes were daggers. I waved in her direction, but turned my head to face forward, dismissing her. I saw an expensive black Ducati motorcycle speed away in the opposite direction as I stared into the side mirror. The man wore no helmet, but I recognized that white polo, and let out a sigh as Nate did as commanded and drove out of the parking lot.

A Ducati meant that Johnathan had money. Serious money. And he had hinted — for the first time to my ears — that he was an important person, no one’s employee, he had said. But he had seemed to have contempt for that flashy bastard, as he had called Nate. But Johnathan was obviously wealthy if he owned a Ducati motorcycle. I doubted I would have ever learned that in one of our talks. He had said he worked for some corporation, but he had changed topics before I could push for details, and to be honest, I hadn’t cared anyway. Especially when he didn’t seem interested in talking about it.

He was humble, but also wealthy.

My eyes tracked to Nate, watching him out of the corner of my eye. He was still twirling the coin in one hand, driving with the other. The coin would disappear as he moved to shift gears on the car, and then resume rolling across his knuckles again a moment later. His hands looked scarred from work, causing me to frown. As he moved his hand on the steering wheel, I noticed a very pronounced scar — what looked like a brand — on his palm, but it was back on the wheel before I could get a good look. That was what I had felt when we touched hands. Was it a shield tattoo like Roland wanted me to get for my fan? But why put it on his palm? And I had never seen him use a shield in our fights. I would keep an eye out for it later.

Before I could open my mouth to chastise him, the car began to ring from the Bluetooth speaker. Nate casually touched the phone tucked into one of those mounts on the dash. The screen flashed to a pretty dark-haired girl. Her eyes furrowed and she leaned closer, studying Claire and I. “Well, Nate. You are one dirty dog. Two of them? I guess your breakfast date went well?” she asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Hey, Othello. What’s going on?” Nate replied, ignoring her question.

The woman hesitated, her eyes darting to me and Claire. I feigned not to notice, but was suddenly paying much closer attention as I stared out the window. What didn’t she want us to know?

“I got a call earlier from… Hemingway. Said you spoke with him earlier. Everything alright?”

Nate nodded casually. “Everything is fine. I should be back in St. Louis in a few days. We need to catch up.” His tone had an edge to it. A warning. For Othello to drop whatever it was she might say.

“Okay. Sounds good. Just checking on you with all the… well, you know how it is.”

Before Nate could respond, I spoke. “Don’t worry, Othello. We’ll keep him out of trouble.”

Othello let out a burst of laughter, surprising me. “You must not know Nate very well.” Then she shot a teasing grin at Nate. “Work trip, my ass. Later.”

Then she hung up. Nate let out a sigh, shaking his head. “My friends are pretty blunt.”

I didn’t press. I knew he wouldn’t be completely open about it anyway, not if he had discreetly tried to warn Othello from speaking, but also, because I didn’t care. I was still upset with his treatment of Johnathan, and him flirting with that reporter. How the hell had she just happened to show up?

“She asked for a ride. We grabbed breakfast together,” Nate said casually, as if reading my thoughts.

“You went on a date?”

Claire chuckled. “If that was a date, then I was the third wheel,” she chimed in. “We tried calling you,” she added, sensing my silence.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and saw she was right. I had slept in later than I wanted to, not checking my phone before leaving for the grocery store. She had called while I was still asleep on the couch. It was now late morning, later than I had thought, almost noon. I looked up at her, and she shrugged.

“Who’s looking after Roland if you two are brunching together?” I asked.

Nate glanced over at me. “The less movement at the storage units, the better. We don’t want to attract attention. He’s safe. He helped me put up some wards after you left. A second line of defense inside the storage unit. And Claire gave him a sphere that will send him to the church.”

I muttered under my breath. One, because it was smart, two, because Roland shouldn’t be using magic while injured, and three, because no one was there to guard him right now, even if he had a sphere. “He’s probably bored out of his mind. We should get him a radio or something.”

Nate was fighting a grin. “I gave him a bible before we left…”

Claire coughed again, muttering something about a bug.

“Fucking asshole, Nate. Truly.”

Nate’s smile was proud, as if I had complimented him. I realized I was grinning, even though I was upset with him, because giving Roland a bible for entertainment was hilarious. I could just imagine the look Roland gave Nate in response. And Nate’s innocent return smile.

“What are you two doing here?”

“We swung by your dad’s place, and he told us you went to the store. So we came to get you. Nate wanted to help you with the wards, or something,” Claire said, leaning over the seat as she tucked a few strands of my hair behind my ear. I reached up and grasped her hand, squeezing it.

“Thanks, Claire. Sorry. It’s been an… eventful morning.”

She squeezed back as we pulled into the street where my dad lived.

We pulled into the driveway slowly, but Nate suddenly slammed on the brakes, shifting it into reverse with a smooth motion to put us back in the street.

He jumped out of the car after pulling the emergency brake, and stared at the lawn.

I was too astonished to speak. What the hell?

Then I saw it. A piece of paper fluttered in the light breeze, hammered into the grass by an aged piece of wood. I could feel the familiar pulse of power oozing from it now, as well as the pungent stench of rotten eggs.

“The Demon,” I gasped. The door to the house opened, and my father strode out, smiling absently with a pitcher of iced tea in one hand and a book in the other. He frowned upon seeing us standing in the street and the car parked halfway in the drive, halfway in the road. I let out a sharp sigh of relief. He was safe. Not even aware of what had happened.

“Is everything okay?” he asked nervously.

Nate only grunted.