Free Magic Rising by Camilla Chafer

above?”
    “I’m a demon, not a miracle worker, and the daemon is unavailable. Will you settle for coffee?”
    “Yes, please.”
    Micah moved faster than I could see. One moment, he was sitting on the edge of my bed, the next he was by the door, with his hand on the handle. “Do you still have the ring Evan gave you?” he asked unexpectedly.
    I held up my hand. “This one?”
    He nodded. “Keep it with you. Is Etoile alone?”
    “No,” I lied.
    For once, I got a reaction, but it was little more than a dark frown before his face evened out. “Who’s she with?”
    “The New York Yankees. All nine of them.”
    He laughed and left, closing the door behind him, but not before I yelled, “Etoile! Company.” They got on pretty well from what I could see. Micah might even have liked her; a thought that was mildly troubling because he was lethally dangerous and not averse to using his super sharp teeth as well as other innate traits. It was only fair to warn her that a demon was in her apartment.
    I dressed quickly in my nicest clothing, granted the grave schedule for the day, and followed the scent of coffee to the kitchen. “The trial starts today,” I told him. Micah focused his eyes on the coffee pot and quadrupled the brewing speed. “Don’t mutilate the coffee. It might be my last chance for a decent cup with a demon,” I added, thinking of my own half-demon and wondering where he was. I checked my phone for texts, but there weren’t any, not even a little message to show he’d gotten mine. I had to suppose Micah was a fairly big reply, but it would have been nice if he’d returned the two calls I’d left him.
    “Keep it up. There won’t be a dry eye in the house.”
    “Are you going to take this seriously?”
    Micah pulled a thoughtful face and appeared to be trying to make up his mind. I rolled my eyes. His superior expression showed me precisely what he thought of the “pesky” witch business. “Forget I asked. Where is Evan, anyway? I tried calling him twice and all you said is that he’s ‘indisposed.’ What does that mean anyway?”
    “He is unable to answer, hence moi.” Micah bowed with a flourish.
    “Clearly, he can get in touch with you. Or were you with him?”
    “Trust issues?” he asked, dodging my question.
    “No!”
    “Stella, he is aware of your troubles and asked that I take care of you. Do not worry.” He turned away as the coffee pot beeped.
    “Oh, God,” Etoile groaned from the doorway and Micah whipped around, a pleased expression warming his face. “Does that mean you’re staying?” she asked him as she tightened the belt of her robe. It was blue silk and hung to her knees. She even dressed up for bed.
    He smiled brightly. “Yes.”
    “Here?”
    He looked past her to the couch. “Do I have to sleep on that?”
    “Yes.” She raised her eyebrows in an invitation to argue.
    Micah took the bait. “It doesn’t look comfortable. Do you have any spare beds?”
    “Stella’s in my spare bed.”
    He looked at me and pulled a face, purely for my benefit. I was fairly certain we shared the same opinion on sharing a bed. “No, thanks. How comfortable is yours?”
    “Incredibly.” Etoile sidled up to him and stood on tiptoes, her lips an inch from his ear. “Not that you’ll ever know.”
    “This is the last time I come to a witch’s aid,” Micah told us as he began to bang through the cupboards in search of mugs. Finding them, he set three on the counter. “You are so unaccommodating.”
    “I like your suit,” said Etoile, ignoring him. “It matches your pretty eyes.” Behind his back, she winked at me.
    “I do not have pretty eyes,” Micah huffed, but he didn’t sound offended. “They are dark and dangerous.” He winked at Etoile and she smiled.
    “Evan sent him,” I clarified before they could start making digs at each other or, even worse, affectionate repartee. Etoile had taken a shine to him when they first met and apparently, it was