Part 2 (1/2)

”True enough,” I agreed. I'd done a stint waitressing while in college.

”Can I ask a small favor?” He looked vaguely sheepish, and I was wondering if he was going to b.u.m some money from me to cover the food and drinks.

”Sure,” I said suspiciously. ”Would you tell me your name?”

”Garnet Lacey,” I said, then instantly regretted it. My stomach twisted in that way it does right after you've given the cute stranger you just met at the bar yourreal home phone number. Oh, yes, dead guy, here, have my true name. Why don't I just hand over some fingernails and a lock of hair, too, so you can have complete control over me?

I should have given him my ritual name. Because of the constant threat of Vatican spies infiltrating the coven, it was standard protocol to have an a.s.sumed name, one that was used primarily among other Witches. My coven had been strict about it, secrecy had been drilled into me, and here I was exchanging private information with a dead guy I'd only just met.Super, Garnet .

”Well, Garnet.” He smiled that harmless smile I wanted to trust but couldn't quite. ”It's nice to be officially introduced. My name is Sebastian Von Traum.”

Well, at least he appeared to have returned the favor. If this guy didn't know magic, he certainly knew the right questions to ask and how to phrase the responses. After all, he didn't just say: ”I'm Sebastian”

or ”I'm called Sebastian,” he said, ”My name is.” It was an offer of trust. Or a happy accident. The glow in those brown eyes made me doubt it was the latter.

”Sebastian is kind of an old-fas.h.i.+oned name,” I said, trying to be sly about sussing out his age. After all, at this point in the conversation it seemed a little gauche to ask him how long he'd been dead.

”It is,” he agreed, glancing out the window at a drunken gaggle of college frat boys in full barhopping mode. ”I'm named after the saint, no less.”

”I'm not big on Christian saints,” I said. ”Which one as he?”

”Praetorian guardsman, pierced by arrows, though apparently that wasn't what killed him in the end.”

”You've lost me.”

Sebastian smiled. At that moment in the conversation- i.e., me having declared my stupidity-I normally would have taken such an expression as condescending. Instead, Sebastian's grin seemed self-deprecating, almost shy.

”I do that,” he said. Again, on other men, I'd have a.s.sumed arrogance, but there was something about the way he said the words that cast them in a softer, kinder tone. ”He lived through the arrows. He got beaten to death with a stick. Anyway, do you know what I find truly bizarre? Here's this poor guy who gets shot with a zillion arrows, and do you know what he becomes? The patron saint of archers. Doesn't that seem wrong to you?”

”It does,” I admitted with a laugh.

Sebastian took a sip of his drink. He'd bought something dark that came in a big yellow coffee mug.

From here, it smelled like a dark roast of some kind. Most dead things I'd run across so far could drink if they wanted to, even zombies-at first, anyway. So, it didn't surprise me to find him able to do it. I just wondered at his choice.

”You have the strangest expression on your face right now,” he said to me. ”You're drinking regular coffee,” I said.

”So I am,” he said. ”Though this is organic, shade-grown, fair-trade, and bicycle-delivered.”

Of all the things to spend your money on, I thought. Here this guy is dead and he doesn't even spring for a fancy latte or a shot of anything. What a waste of precious digestive juices. I mean, I believed in the power of a normal cup of joe, but when you were going out for coffee, a person should go for broke.

And, if you're dead... well, you should really whoop it up.

”Does it offend you?” he asked cautiously.

”No. It's just... don't you want something more special?”

”Why?”

”To mark the occasion.” He raised his eyebrows in a way that reminded me that he wasn't privy to my inner thoughts, and I probably sounded like a complete idiot. ”I mean, you can make that stuff at home.”

”Ah, but at home I can't spend three dollars for the privilege.”

”Exactly my point,” I said with a smile.

”You're a very odd woman, but you have the loveliest smile,” he said. ”It attracted me instantly. It's rather enchanting, actually.”

Like your eyes, I almost said. Instead, I pulled myself away from those amber depths and stared at the napkin I'd been folding into a tiny triangle. ”So, uh, Von Traum... What kind of name is that?”

”Austrian,” he said a bit perfunctorily, as though he'd been asked about it a number of times.

I felt bad not acknowledging his earlier compliment, but I didn't know what to do about his/our attraction. The fact remained that he was dead. As a doornail. And dating doornails was no fun. Trust me, I tried being with a dead guy once, and it was miserable. I found that whole cold skin thing a big turnoff in the bedroom. You can only do so many things in a hot bath or shower, and even then the heat didn't... well, penetrate, if you know what I mean.

I banished that thought with a sip of my latte. The honey and milk tasted sweet on my tongue, and the hint of espresso gave the drink a perfect kick. Izzy sure knew her stuff. I looked up to see her smiling at me from behind the counter.

Meanwhile, Sebastian's attention had wandered to the street again. Two women walked by, loaded down with shopping bags. One of them wore a dress with the price tag still hanging from the sleeve. I cleared my throat to draw him away from the two laughing women. ”I'd have thought you were English from your accent.”

”I was educated in Britain,” he replied distractedly. I got the sense he'd been asked both these questions a lot.

Since I was asking all the traditional getting-to-know-you questions, I might as well go right down the list. ”How long have you lived in Madison?” He sighed. ”Since my dreams of becoming a rock star died.”

”Seriously?”

”No, my best singing is done in the shower,” he said with a smile.

My imagination suddenly flashed to an image of Sebastian naked and wet. I could almost feel my hands sliding easily over slick shoulders and down the flat planes of that broad chest to- ”I moved here from Phoenix a couple of months ago.”

I blinked, banis.h.i.+ng my fantasy with a quick shake of the head. ”Uhm, so,” I said, wis.h.i.+ng we could talk more about what Sebastian did while wet. ”What were you doing there?”

”I was a tour guide at the botanical garden.” Before I could ask him more about that, he turned the conversation back to me. ”What about you? Have you always lived in Madison?”

I shook my head. ”No, I'm a world traveler, like yourself. I must have come three, four, five hundred miles in my entire lifetime. I was born in Finlayson.” He gave me the blank look I often got when I mentioned my hometown. ”Minnesota. A speck on the map, really. I left there for college as soon as I could.”

”So, you're at UW?”

”No, I'm done. I got my degree in Minneapolis.”

He gave me a skeptical look, as though he didn't think I was old enough to be a college graduate. I was, in point of fact, nearly thirty. It was the clothes; I always got carded when I went Goth.

”If you don't mind me saying so,” Sebastian said. ”Garnet is an unusual name, as well.”

This was the questionI got asked all the time. I was the only Garnet anywhere I went, and thus I'd had to endure a lot of playground teasing in my formative years. Though I loved the uniqueness of my name, I'd developed a love/hate relations.h.i.+p with it. Frankly, I always thought Garnet Lacey sounded a bit like a stripper.

I had a pat little story I always told to try to explain the origin of my name. ”What can I say? Even though it was the late seventies, my parents hadn't given up on flower power. They'd moved to a farm to live off the land-they're raising organic chickens today. Anyway, they always used to joke that they wereso into being 'back to the earth' they named their only child after a rock.”

He laughed. A lot of people laughed when they heard the story of my name, but he seemed to share my amus.e.m.e.nt at my crazy, organic folks. ”You're not serious.”

”Not entirely. Garnet is also my birthstone.”

”January,” he said without hesitation. ”So, does that make you a Capricorn or an Aquarius?”