in the window. It had a bell above the door that tinkled when Valkyrie entered. The place only had five tables, and only one of them was occupied, right at the very back.
Militsa stood as Valkyrie walked over.
“Hey, you,” Valkyrie said, kissing her. “Am I late?”
“Not at all,” Militsa answered.
“Really?”
“Of course you’re late. You’re always late. But that’s all right.”
They sat, and Valkyrie looked around. “I’ve never been here before. Is it good?”
“I have no idea.”
“Hello there,” the waiter said, appearing at their table. He smiled as he handed them the menus. “The soup of the day is leek and potato. Could I get you some drinks to start?”
“I’ll have a glass of still water,” Militsa said.
“Me too,” said Valkyrie.
The waiter smiled again. “Absolutely. Coming right up.”
He gave a little bow, which transformed into a turn, and then he swept away. A little dramatic for a café in the early afternoon, but fair enough.
“How did your meeting with Temper go?” Militsa asked.
“We haven’t had it yet,” Valkyrie said.
“Oh, I thought it was this morning. Any idea what it’s about?”
“None at all. He was being cagey, though.” She shrugged. “I’ll find out soon enough.”
“And then you’re heading off to America?”
Valkyrie nodded. “We shouldn’t be too long. We just have to find this Oberon Guile guy and work out if he’s got anything to do with that missing White House aide. Just a normal day at work, all in all.” She gave Militsa a smile.
Militsa tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. “Something’s up.”
Valkyrie frowned at her. “How can you tell?”
“You just have that look about you. So what’s on your mind, pretty lady?”
Valkyrie sighed. “Ah, I don’t know. Everything? I’ve got so much going on that it’s hard to keep it all straight.”
“Then tell me what’s uppermost in your mind.”
“Well, I suppose, right now, that would be Omen and Auger. I’m worried about them.”
Militsa leaned forward slightly. “Is this the vision again?”
“I had another one last night. It’s about to happen.”
“Any idea when?”
“Soon. Weeks. Maybe days. Omen’s going to be shot and killed. Auger’s going to be shot. I don’t know what happens after that.”
“Any other details?”
“It happens in America.”
Militsa frowned. “OK, then we make sure they don’t go to America in the next few weeks and boom, lives saved.”
“I don’t think it’s that easy.”
“Of course it is,” Militsa said. “You know better than anyone how much future timelines can change because of the slightest alteration. Actively stopping them from leaving the country? That entire timeline will probably be rewritten just like that.” She clicked her fingers.
“Maybe,” said Valkyrie.
The waiter came back, produced the bottle of water with a flourish, and filled their glasses. “Have you decided what you’d like to order?” he asked.
Valkyrie snatched up the menu. “Oh, sorry, let’s see …”
“Take your time,” said the waiter. “Take all the time you need.”
“How are the wings here?” Militsa asked.
The waiter shrugged. “Fine.”
Militsa smiled. “You don’t sound overly enthused.”
He sighed. “They’re grand. Order them if you want.”
Valkyrie raised an eyebrow.
“OK,” Militsa said slowly. “Then I’ll have the wings, I suppose.”
The waiter made a note.
Valkyrie closed the menu and handed it back to him. “And I’ll have the chicken.”
“What a wonderful choice,” he responded, smiling broadly. He bowed, backed away, turned and disappeared into the kitchen.
“I think he fancies you,” Militsa said.
“Oh, then that’s a wonderful way to impress me, by being rude to my girlfriend.”
“I do like it when you call me that.”
“I know,” Valkyrie said, giving her a smile before getting back to the subject. “So what are the Darkly boys getting up to these days?”
“You don’t know?”
“I haven’t spoken to Omen in weeks.”
“You really should, you know,” said Militsa. This is when the teacher in her came out – when she used that disapproving tone. “He’s such a nice lad, and it’s not really fair that you only check in on him when you’ve wrapped him up in whatever might get him killed next.”
“I don’t only talk to him then,” Valkyrie answered, a little defensively. “I just … I don’t have a reason to talk to him at any other time.”
“Friendliness isn’t a reason?”
“We’re not exactly friends, though, are we? He’s fourteen.”
“Fifteen.”
“When did he turn fifteen?”
“New Year’s Day.”
Valkyrie winced. “You think I should send him a birthday card?”
“Almost two months late? Probably not. And you don’t have to be friends in order to be friendly.”
Valkyrie sighed. “Yeah … maybe. So are you going to tell me how they’ve been?”
“Omen’s struggling with classwork because he doesn’t put in the effort, as per usual, and he’s also trying to figure out what he wants to do with his life. And Auger … Auger’s the Chosen One. He’s off doing
