Chimes at Midnight

“And I’ve never seen this place before.” According to the sign in the window, accompanied by a logo that looked like an ouroboros—a red snake eating its own tail—this was the Borderlands Café. I scooped the firefly off my lapel and tucked it into the pocket of my jacket. Hopefully, the little bug was sturdy enough that it wouldn’t be squashed. “Can you see anything glowing through my clothes? I don’t want to spook the locals if we can help it.”

“Hmm.” Tybalt stepped back, taking an ostentatiously long look up and down my body. I crossed my arms, raising an eyebrow. He raised a finger to silence any objections I might be preparing and continued his study. Finally, he nodded, looking smug, and said, “Nothing but your sparkling personality.”

“You can be a real dick when you want to,” I said. “Why am I dating you again?”

“Leather pants,” he deadpanned.

I laughed. I couldn’t help myself.

“And that, too, is my saving grace: I make you laugh when you spend far too much time wrapped in the shroud of your own dignity.” He placed a kiss on my forehead. “If I may be so bold, now would be an excellent time for you to get a cup of coffee.”

“Best hiding place ever,” I agreed, opened the screen door, and stepped inside.

The Borderlands Café was a long, rectangular room, stretching past the kitchen area to meet with the back wall. The floor was polished hardwood, and the furniture was an eclectic mix of wooden tables, comfortable chairs, and even couches. It was surprisingly busy, considering the hour. People sat with their laptop computers, magazines, books, or in small clusters, sipping their drinks and talking. It lacked the hectic air of many of the local cafés—something that was probably connected to the signs saying “No Wifi.” People who wanted to hang out in a coffee shop would stay, people who wanted to get online for free would go find someplace more suited to their tastes.

We approached the counter, where a large blond man in a black T-shirt proclaiming “Carnies Need Love Too” was wiping glasses with a rag. He beamed when he saw us, showing a daunting number of teeth in the process.

“Hi!” he said, setting the glass aside. “Welcome to Borderlands. What can I get you?”

I glanced at the menu on the wall. “A large coffee.”

“Two large coffees,” amended Tybalt.

The blond man nodded, smile fading as he focused on our order. “Here or to go?”

“Here.” We needed time to figure out where Arden was, or whether the firefly had sensed my need for caffeine and simply led us to a coffee shop someone had, for whatever reason, decided to hide from most of the city.

“Should I leave room for cream and sugar?”

“Yes on his, no on mine,” I said, producing my wallet. “Hey—how long has this place been here?”

“Oh, a couple of years. The bookstore was here first, and then the owner got bored and decided to open a café.” The blond man beamed again, showing, if possible, even more teeth than before. “Alan gets bored easy.”

I paused. “There’s a bookstore?”

“Yeah, next door.” The blond man pointed to the wall where the menu was posted. “It’s through there. Alan says he’s going to open up a door between them any day now, but he’s been busy. You know. Owner stuff.”

“Right, owner stuff,” I said. “You know, I’d love to see the bookstore. When do they open?”

“Oh, they just opened.” He beamed. “You have great timing.”

“So I’ve been told,” I said, and smiled back. “Could we get that coffee to go?”

Unsurprisingly, it turned out that we could.

NINE

MY COFFEE WAS HOT AND STRONG and gone by the time we’d traveled the five steps between the coffee shop and the bookstore. Tybalt plucked my empty cup from my fingers, replacing it with his own, which was still full. I blinked at him. He smiled.

“I did not ‘profane’ the coffee with milk or sugar, much as I would have liked to,” he said. “Unlike you, I am capable of functioning without artificial stimulants.”

“I like artificial stimulants,” I protested. “They usually mean nobody’s trying to kill me. Unlike the natural kind.”

Tybalt laughed. I took advantage of the pause to study the front window of the bookstore, where a display of books about robots was arranged alongside a sign advertising the store hours. Inside, tall bookshelves were the order of the day. A woman almost pale enough to be nocturnal stood behind the register, a red kerchief tied over her near-black hair. She glanced up, saw me looking in, and smiled in the tired but welcoming way of early morning shopkeepers everywhere.

Tybalt stepped up next to me. “Have you any idea what comes next?”

“Yeah.” I took a long drink of coffee. I actually tasted it this time. “We go inside.”

The bookstore was even quieter than the café, probably because it didn’t hold as many people. The hardwood floors were older, softened by worn Oriental rugs, and classic rock played from somewhere behind the counter. The woman was still smiling at us.

“Welcome to Borderlands,” she said. “Let me know if I can help you find anything.”