Moonshadow
Page 3
Everything might very well be related, but it might not. So far, all she had were fragments of messages, and she didn’t know how or even if they fit together. As a result, tension knotted the muscles between her shoulders and she studied everything with wary eyes.
For the meeting, she had slipped on a flowing, sleeveless linen pantsuit, undyed, the cuffs of the slacks ending above the ankle and showing off her slender feet in strappy-looking sandals that were, nevertheless, still sturdy enough to sprint in.
She had accessorized with chunky teal-colored jewelry layered over a few magic-sensitive silver pieces that she had spelled with protections and charms. The magic tinkled pleasantly to her inner ear, the jewelry shifting along her skin.
As she paused by the hostess stand, a beautiful woman dressed in a chic outfit walked up. The woman carried a pile of menus and looked bored.
“Do you have a reservation?” the woman asked, looking down Sophie’s figure in frank assessment.
The hostess’s expression was cool and calculating. Sophie wasn’t quite sure if she had passed muster.
Fuck you. I put on makeup. I look like a million bucks.
“I don’t know.” She glanced over the crowded tables. “I’m meeting someone.”
“What is the name?”
“Kathryn Shaw.”
The hostess checked the computer screen, and her expression changed. In a much friendlier voice, she said, “Very good. Please follow me.”
Kathryn Shaw’s name had clearly pushed Sophie over some invisible line into acceptability. Mouth tilting in a sour slant, she followed the hostess to a quiet booth located in a corner where a woman waited.
As Sophie and the hostess approached, the woman slid to her feet with cool, liquid grace. Smiling, she held out her hand. “Sophie Ross? How nice to meet you.”
“Dr. Shaw.” As they shook hands, Sophie sized up the other woman quickly and without being as obvious as the hostess had been.
Kathryn Shaw was not quite what she had expected. The other woman was lightly tanned and had a tall, fine-boned figure, golden-brown hair that streamed in an elegant straight fall to her shoulders, large intelligent eyes, and the kind of poise that came from education, money, and knowing her worth in the world. She had good, sensitive hands, a firm grip, and immaculately tended fingernails. A hint of Power, well contained and as honed as a scalpel, clung to her figure like an expensive perfume.
Kathryn’s cool, sleek sophistication was almost the antithesis of Sophie, who stood several inches shorter. Sophie’s pale skin never tanned, her body tended to curve at breasts and hips, and her thick black hair had a mind of its own.
After trying one short, disastrous haircut that made her look like a twelve-year-old with cowlicks, she had learned to keep her hair long enough so the weight straightened out some of the unruliness. That way she could at least braid or pin it out of the way.
At the moment, the knot at the nape of her neck had loosened as she had walked from the car to the restaurant, and it now fell in loose waves down her back. Her fingernails were no-nonsense and not nearly as well tended as the other woman’s. She had clipped them herself yesterday.
At first glance, it wasn’t obvious that Kathryn Shaw was Wyr, but then the muted lighting in the restaurant hit her just right, and her eyes flared with a golden reflection. Sophie guessed the other woman was not just Wyr but possibly some kind of avian. It would fit, with her narrow bone structure and build.
“Please, have a seat,” Kathryn said.
Sophie slid into the opposite side of the booth.
The hostess took their drinks order and left them with menus. Sophie ordered coffee. Coffee coffee coffee. After everything that had happened, she wanted to fall into a cup and bathe in it.
Kathryn set her menu aside without looking at it and folded her beautiful hands on the table. “Thank you for coming. I half expected you to not show up.”
“I thought about it,” Sophie admitted. “But then curiosity got the better of me.”
A serious flaw, curiosity. It had gotten her into trouble before. She devoutly hoped the flaw wouldn’t turn fatal.
Violent images threatened to surface. This time the images were not divination but memory, and her body reacted in response, the ghost of pain pulsing in three spots again.
She thrust it aside. No vital organs had been damaged, and the pain was getting better every day. Focusing on the present, she added, “After all, you were tenacious enough.”
Kathryn grinned. “Tenacity is a bad habit of mine.”
Sophie’s grin turned wry. “I was just thinking the same thing about me and curiosity.”
The other woman laughed, her fine-boned face opening like a flower. “And so here we are.”
“Yes.” Despite keeping her barriers up, Sophie found she liked Dr. Kathryn Shaw. Out of sight, she laced her hands together in her lap and clenched her fingers tight.
Their waitress came, brought their drinks, and introduced herself. After a short discussion about the day’s specials, they ordered lunch.
Gripped by nerves and wariness, she ordered the first thing she saw when she opened the menu, a simple chicken-and-mango salad. When the waitress left again, she cradled her coffee cup and took her first sip of the fragrant, dark liquid. It was excellent, with a smooth, roasted flavor.
She cleared her throat. “Perhaps now you can tell me what brought you all the way from New York. Especially since I threw away your letter and never responded to your first two phone calls.”
She had, in fact, been convinced that Kathryn’s letter had been a scam until the other woman had left a third message at the LA precinct where Sophie did consulting work.
For the meeting, she had slipped on a flowing, sleeveless linen pantsuit, undyed, the cuffs of the slacks ending above the ankle and showing off her slender feet in strappy-looking sandals that were, nevertheless, still sturdy enough to sprint in.
She had accessorized with chunky teal-colored jewelry layered over a few magic-sensitive silver pieces that she had spelled with protections and charms. The magic tinkled pleasantly to her inner ear, the jewelry shifting along her skin.
As she paused by the hostess stand, a beautiful woman dressed in a chic outfit walked up. The woman carried a pile of menus and looked bored.
“Do you have a reservation?” the woman asked, looking down Sophie’s figure in frank assessment.
The hostess’s expression was cool and calculating. Sophie wasn’t quite sure if she had passed muster.
Fuck you. I put on makeup. I look like a million bucks.
“I don’t know.” She glanced over the crowded tables. “I’m meeting someone.”
“What is the name?”
“Kathryn Shaw.”
The hostess checked the computer screen, and her expression changed. In a much friendlier voice, she said, “Very good. Please follow me.”
Kathryn Shaw’s name had clearly pushed Sophie over some invisible line into acceptability. Mouth tilting in a sour slant, she followed the hostess to a quiet booth located in a corner where a woman waited.
As Sophie and the hostess approached, the woman slid to her feet with cool, liquid grace. Smiling, she held out her hand. “Sophie Ross? How nice to meet you.”
“Dr. Shaw.” As they shook hands, Sophie sized up the other woman quickly and without being as obvious as the hostess had been.
Kathryn Shaw was not quite what she had expected. The other woman was lightly tanned and had a tall, fine-boned figure, golden-brown hair that streamed in an elegant straight fall to her shoulders, large intelligent eyes, and the kind of poise that came from education, money, and knowing her worth in the world. She had good, sensitive hands, a firm grip, and immaculately tended fingernails. A hint of Power, well contained and as honed as a scalpel, clung to her figure like an expensive perfume.
Kathryn’s cool, sleek sophistication was almost the antithesis of Sophie, who stood several inches shorter. Sophie’s pale skin never tanned, her body tended to curve at breasts and hips, and her thick black hair had a mind of its own.
After trying one short, disastrous haircut that made her look like a twelve-year-old with cowlicks, she had learned to keep her hair long enough so the weight straightened out some of the unruliness. That way she could at least braid or pin it out of the way.
At the moment, the knot at the nape of her neck had loosened as she had walked from the car to the restaurant, and it now fell in loose waves down her back. Her fingernails were no-nonsense and not nearly as well tended as the other woman’s. She had clipped them herself yesterday.
At first glance, it wasn’t obvious that Kathryn Shaw was Wyr, but then the muted lighting in the restaurant hit her just right, and her eyes flared with a golden reflection. Sophie guessed the other woman was not just Wyr but possibly some kind of avian. It would fit, with her narrow bone structure and build.
“Please, have a seat,” Kathryn said.
Sophie slid into the opposite side of the booth.
The hostess took their drinks order and left them with menus. Sophie ordered coffee. Coffee coffee coffee. After everything that had happened, she wanted to fall into a cup and bathe in it.
Kathryn set her menu aside without looking at it and folded her beautiful hands on the table. “Thank you for coming. I half expected you to not show up.”
“I thought about it,” Sophie admitted. “But then curiosity got the better of me.”
A serious flaw, curiosity. It had gotten her into trouble before. She devoutly hoped the flaw wouldn’t turn fatal.
Violent images threatened to surface. This time the images were not divination but memory, and her body reacted in response, the ghost of pain pulsing in three spots again.
She thrust it aside. No vital organs had been damaged, and the pain was getting better every day. Focusing on the present, she added, “After all, you were tenacious enough.”
Kathryn grinned. “Tenacity is a bad habit of mine.”
Sophie’s grin turned wry. “I was just thinking the same thing about me and curiosity.”
The other woman laughed, her fine-boned face opening like a flower. “And so here we are.”
“Yes.” Despite keeping her barriers up, Sophie found she liked Dr. Kathryn Shaw. Out of sight, she laced her hands together in her lap and clenched her fingers tight.
Their waitress came, brought their drinks, and introduced herself. After a short discussion about the day’s specials, they ordered lunch.
Gripped by nerves and wariness, she ordered the first thing she saw when she opened the menu, a simple chicken-and-mango salad. When the waitress left again, she cradled her coffee cup and took her first sip of the fragrant, dark liquid. It was excellent, with a smooth, roasted flavor.
She cleared her throat. “Perhaps now you can tell me what brought you all the way from New York. Especially since I threw away your letter and never responded to your first two phone calls.”
She had, in fact, been convinced that Kathryn’s letter had been a scam until the other woman had left a third message at the LA precinct where Sophie did consulting work.
