The Marquis (The 13th Floor)

Chapter 2


“Three sugars. That means something heavy is weighing on your mind.” Mae raised her brows at him from behind the counter, wiping it even though it was clean. Marc reached out and stilled her hand. A hand that seemed so small and feminine under his. He pulled back when he realized he was lingering too long.

“What’s worrying me is that you work these ungodly hours in this neighborhood by yourself.” Marc turned his attention to his coffee and raised it to his lips, hissing when he felt it was too hot. Too hot for a demon. His life had turned into one long joke.

“My café. I can work any time I want. Besides, the neighborhood isn’t bad. Just a lot of working girls.”

“Hookers packing more heat than the army itself.” Marc amended, his voice still dry and gravelly. “Very safe, indeed.”

Mae swatted his shoulder and shook her head. Her black hair was hanging loose just past her shoulders. It made her look younger. The gray that usually peeked out when she wore her hair up was hidden. Marc couldn’t manage a smile for her tonight, but he wanted to.

“The girls aren’t bad. Everyone’s just looking for a hot drink and someone to talk to.” Mae gave him a smile, though. Closed mouth and warm. “Besides, I think I can offer a word of wisdom or two to them. Maybe help them get off the streets. Or help someone taking in way too much sugar for this time of night.”

Marc looked down at his coffee. If only it could solve all his problems. It had seemed so easy once upon a time. After he had served his time in Hell, he left his Master’s ranks with the hope of a reward that never came. Now he was neither welcome below or above. He was stuck on Earth and staring at his aging face in the reflection of his beverage.

He blew on it, making the coffee ripple and disperse his pitiful reflection.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” Mae rested her hip against the counter.

“You’re just figuring that out now?” Marc flashed her an amused look that almost contained a smile.

“You know, for a while, I thought you were a pimp, but pimps talk too much. Then I thought you were a cop, but cops ask a lot of questions. I also thought you could be one of the girls’ fathers, but when you look at them, and it’s not often you do, you don’t see their faces. And you don’t ogle them like a customer either.” Mae pursed her lips and shifted, leaning toward him. “I can’t figure you out.”

“Not everything here revolves around those girls.” He wasn’t interested in the other girls at all. No, he preferred the way Mae filled out her sweater and how her eyes crinkled up when she laughed.

“It usually does.” Mae held his gaze for another few seconds before straightening. “You can tell me what’s on your mind, hon. I won’t judge.”

Everyone judged, but there was only one that mattered. Marc wanted to believe her. She had such a good heart, but if she ever knew what he truly was, she’d run straight to the asylum and lock herself in. He wanted to give her something, though. He wanted her to feel good, and she felt good when helping people.

“Tenant of mine, a friend, is starting to slip, go back to his old ways.” He didn’t want to tell her lies, but part of the truth would work just fine. “He was an addict. Been clean for a few years now, but it’s been hard on him.”

“Ah,” Mae sighed and nodded. “Tough dealing with addicts. Only a few truly ever recover, you know? All your friend needs is for you to be there. Distract him from his addiction.”

She didn’t get to say anything more as the door opened and three women walked in. They wore too much make-up and their skirts were too short. Marc took a mouthful of coffee. Still hot, but the taste settled heavily on his tongue. He swallowed, closing his eyes for a few seconds as he felt it make a trail of warmth down his throat.

Mae greeted the girls by name and told them they needed something to eat with their coffee. She was making sandwiches before they could protest. Marc smiled against the rim of his cup.

One of the girls came over to fetch the coffee. She wobbled slightly on heels that looked more like weapons than shoes. She flashed Marc a smile.

“Hey, handsome. Looking for some company tonight?”

Disgust roiled up in him. His upper lip curled just a fraction and his jaw hardened. He wouldn’t disrespect the woman in Mae’s establishment, but with one look, he made it clear he had no interest. He didn’t say anything and didn’t need to. She cringed and hurried with the coffees back to her table.

Mae glanced over at him. He said nothing more. There was no fear in her eyes, not like the girl’s. Only here with Mae could he find temporary absolution. He never wanted to leave.

He wouldn’t bring Vetis and the denizens of Hell down upon her, though. So he downed the rest of his coffee, set down a tip that was larger than his bill, and left the café.