Bernie and I parked on the street outside the museum a little before six. It should have been a sunny spring day, but the storm clouds made it seem like midnight. The rain didn’t hold back when it started. Spring was trying to overcompensate for the earlier cold snap. For a moment, I could only think about the storm. About the potential flooding caused by the rain melting the snow. About which streets were most likely to close. The distractions just kept coming, and even though my mind was working, I stopped paying attention.

Avalon rapped on the car window, bringing me back from wherever my mind had drifted. I leaned across the passenger seat to unlock the door, but Bernie beat me to it. She leaned in to talk and seemed either oblivious to the car’s unnatural behavior or familiar enough with similar behavior that she wasn’t threatened by it. Or she was in denial.

Based on my interactions with her earlier in the day she seemed too smart to be oblivious. My bet was on denial, but there was a possibility she just hadn’t noticed.

“Want to go for a walk?” I offered.

“I’d prefer to do this somewhere dry and well lit.”

Not unreasonable requirements. But this felt like a way she could shake me. She could tell me to meet her someplace and then never show up. And depending on her past, she might disappear for good. And then I’d probably have to disappear as well, by my own choice before someone affiliated with the Camelots made it for me.

“I understand if you don’t want to, but can I give you a lift somewhere.”

She hopped in the leather passenger seat as if it were completely normal to get into a car with someone you just met in the city early in the day.

“You’re pretty trusting.” I said with enough suspicion to make it clear I didn’t think it was a good habit.

“You sound like my roommate,” she dismissed. Then I remembered she had lived most of her life including several years of adulthood within the strict structure of a cult. It was entirely possible that she didn’t know when it was alright to let her guard down.

She added, “Nice car, by the way. Did my grandmother lend it to you?”

“That’s a story for another time.”

At her suggestion, we drove to a diner not far from her apartment. She didn’t want to risk waking her roommate up. It was only a little after seven by the time we arrived and I wondered who on earth would be asleep so early.

We got a spot on an old brick street that was close enough to see the diner. A rare victory in a city as congested as New Cari. Plus, I knew Bernie would be happy being able to watch people come and go into the diner.

“This shouldn’t take long. We’ll go in and chat over a cup of coffee,” I said.

I stepped out of the car into a puddle so deep the cuff of my pants leg got soaked. The drizzle was so light it was more of a dusting. But it was still dark out. There was a chance more rain was on the way. The churning of water rushing to the drains was the city’s song tonight.

I was about to close the door when I noticed she was still in the passenger’s seat with her purse rested on her lap.

She said, “I feel weird having you pay for my order.”

“If it makes you feel more comfortable, it’s your grandmother who’s picking up our tab.”

She laughed and stowed her purse in the back seat.

After she stepped out I offered, “We could go someplace fancier?”

She started walking toward the diner. “No. I like the idea of someone justifying the bill from a place that doesn’t have a dress code.”

Although, the Camelot Heiress would have been happy to know we were both overdressed for the crowded greasy spoon. I was still in my second-best second-hand suit, and she was still wearing the long dark-cloth dress with subtle swaths of crimson.

The diner had served as an impromptu shelter from the storm. No one was dry, but everyone had a plateful of something warm. It was an authentic diner with metallic trim, uniformed wait staff and a checkered floor.

It wasn’t a throwback. It was the real thing: a stubborn relic that preserved a time none of its patrons had lived in. For a second, I thought we might have to sit at the counter on one of the swiveling stools that were bolted to the ground. But Avalon spotted the last empty booth, and we didn’t wait for a host to seat us or for it to have been cleared.

The waitress wasn’t thrilled about that, but given the size of the number of customers, I assumed that it was just one more irritation on top of a thousand others. She took our order and walked off without bothering to write down two coffees.

A crack of thunder interrupted everyone’s conversation. The first person to speak, or make a noise that is, was a startled woman whom everyone heard. She was amused by how loud she had been and then broke into a laughing fit with the others at her table. Everyone returned to their meals.

“Sounds like the storm is going to have a second act,” Avalon said.

I got straight to the point without acknowledging her observation. “Your grandmother thinks you’re in trouble, or a ‘desperate situation,’ as she put it. And she hired me to help figure out the mess.”

She chuckled. “A private investigator?”

“Not the kind you’re thinking of. My job requires less detective work, just knowledge of the paranormal. You know, I am an expert in the subjects no one in their right mind wants to talk about.”

I said that last bit a little too loud and got a questionable look from the waitress as she delivered our pot of coffee while holding a platter with another table’s food. The look went from questionable to dirty when I said we didn’t need menus. Not only was I someone who didn’t sound normal, but I was also too cheap to order dinner. She probably thought I’d skip out on the tip too.

She left us some menus anyway and then ran off to check on another table.

Avalon stirred creamer into her coffee as the waitress walked away. The clink of the spoon against the cup making a tink that complemented the growing drum of rain outside.

“And what do you know about the paranormal?” she asked. I heard the standard level of doubt about my profession in her tone.

“Enough to tell fact from fiction most of the time, which is pretty much what I’m billing your grandmother for. So, what about you? Are you really in trouble?”

She stared into her swirling coffee and relaxed her posture. Her defenses were coming down, but she still had a ways to go. I’ve seen clients do this before. What she was about to say would sound so crazy she was afraid I would not take her seriously, or worse, laugh at her.

“Do you know anything about dark magic?” she asked, not looking up from her cup of joe.

It was like we had been talking about collecting coins and then she asked if I knew anything about robbing a bank.

“More than I’d like to.” I tried to keep my twitching to just my legs. Never a good idea to show fear in front of a client or a client’s grandchild.

That earned a smile from her. “And how much is that?”

“I know if someone uses it, they owe the universe something terrible.”

“Does that make me terrible in your eyes?”

I couldn’t respond because of course the waitress would show up and of course she’d hear a fraction of the conversation that put me in a bad light. She probably assumed I had been continuously berating Avalon since she’d dropped off the coffee.

After staring me down, she said, “Look, we’re packed, customers are waiting and more people keep coming in.”

A crack of thunder reinforced the reason why.

She continued, “I’m going to need you to either order a meal or leave.”

I was about to ask Avalon how she wanted to handle it, but she told the waitress, “We’ll have a couple of burgers.”

“That’s it?”

“For now. We’ll order dessert later.”

Another customer waved to the waitress from across the diner and shouted, “Hey, can we get our check?”

The waitress rolled her eyes and mumbled something about being understaffed as she trudged off. I didn’t hear it because I was studying Avalon.

She didn’t have the fear that people who owe an obligation always have when talking about dark magic. No, she was controlled. Like when she took me on the second tour of the museum. For a moment, I thought she was in the clear.

Avalon spoke a little louder, less afraid of people overhearing. “There aren’t many people I can talk to about this. I’m not proud of what I have to pay, but you have to understand, I am not upset about what I did.”

Case closed.

“So, you are in trouble. And there is nothing I or anyone, including your grandmother, can do to save you.” About the only thing I could do was go back to my office and send Mrs. Camelot a bill for ten hours after only putting in two.

“Yes, but there is something else you can do. You can undo the terrible thing I am going to do.”

This time I laughed. “You expect me to follow you around for the rest of your life until you have to pay up? And then reverse the transaction?”

She spoke somberly. “You don’t need to follow me around. I know enough of the details.”

This was a first. “I didn’t think that is how it works.” No one I know who has owed a debt like this has ever known what they were obligated to do or when it was due.

“Consider me an exception.” She teared up.

I looked away. Probably not the friendliest thing to do. I glanced in the direction of a man arguing with one of the staff.

“I want to talk with the manager. I want a seat right now!”

Another person sitting in a booth called out to him, “Don’t know what good that will do ya, you’re talking to the owner.”

Avalon blotted her eyes with some paper napkins pulled from the dispenser on the table.

“Ok, I believe you. For now.” There was a possibility that she was making this up. She seemed to know enough about dark magic to tell a convincing story.

The waitress delivered our meals and the angriest look she’d given me all night. I hadn’t said anything upsetting, but it was clear Avalon had shed a few tears.

“Honey,” she spoke to Avalon, “do I need to call you a cab?”

“No thank you,” she said.

“You let me know if you change your mind,” she said before giving me one more disapproving look and moving onto her next table.

To Avalon, I said, “Let’s just eat and you can elaborate on your story.”

She talked through dinner about her history. Her parents were members of a “cult,” as she put it. She didn’t have a better word for the group she was born into. They practiced some obscure form of magic, which didn’t make them a fraud like most cults, but there was a central figure who controlled the whole operation, including the members’ interactions with the outside world. Anyone disobeying his wishes faced abusive penalties. I was tempted to ask for more details, but I didn’t want to push my luck with our waitress. Who, I assumed, was prepared to have someone from the kitchen to treat me to the diner’s back-alley special if she saw Avalon in tears again.

When cake and ice cream was delivered, it was sheer luck neither one of us had said anything that could have been misinterpreted. We held a comfortable silence until the waitress left.

Avalon moved on to her several attempts to escape. All of which failed and which she was undoubtedly punished for. The only way she figured she could escape was to use dark magic.

She only learned of her extended family after she broke out. Even more surprised to learn of her grandmother's fortune.

With Avalon in better spirits, the waitress decided there were other patrons more deserving of her disdain. It also helped that the rain had stopped and the place had turned over.

When our dessert was nothing more than creamy cake crumbs, we ordered more coffee, and Avalon asked about me. Which, on my own couldn’t really tell anyone all that much. But the questions she asked made the stories come out. I even told a few jokes, and we had a few belly laughs.

Under the darkness of the storm, it was easy to lose track of time. It had gotten much later than either of us had expected.

A light brown moth with the wingspan the size of a playing card, landed on the table. It was too early for them. We had barely entered spring and winter was still strong enough to make good on a few threats.

“Would you look at that, a moth.”

I might have said it was a werewolf for how frightened she became.

“Dammit how did it get this late? We need to go.”