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He does, and I take a long sip of the tea. It’s delicious. Notes of cinnamon and cardamom mix with something lighter and almost floral I can’t quite place. When he sees me smiling, Blair takes his own sip and settles back against the bench.

“A forest sprite who works for the Bureau makes it,” he explains. “I’ve never tasted anything quite like it.”

When he called earlier this afternoon and asked if I was open to meet up with him, I hadn’t wanted to say yes. It had been on the tip of my tongue to refuse, but something small and needling in the back of my mind stopped me.

Maybe it was the conversation I had with Kenna and Holly last night. Or maybe it’s the way I haven’t been able to shake the feeling of unease that slithers into my stomach every time the last image I have of Elias comes to mind—absolutely devastated and filled with regret as I walked away from him.

Whatever it was, it made me reluctantly agree to meet with Blair. In public, not at the Bureau, and definitely not if Elias was going to be a part of it.

I’m not sure whether I want to see the kraken again, and I’m definitely not ready to have it sprung on me with no warning.

“Mr. Blair…” I start, not sure what I want to ask.

“‘Blair’ is just fine,” he tells me with another of his gentle smiles.

The softness of it doesn’t quite match up with the rest of him. He’s not as tall as Elias, but he’s broader through the shoulders—more like a football player’s build to the kraken’s sleek swimmer’s body. His hair is a thick, dark brown, neatly trimmed and styled with just a bit of gray around his temples. Like he was at the Bureau, he’s wearing another suit today, dark gray, with a deep amber tie that almost matches the shade of his unnerving eyes.

“Blair,” I say. “What did you want to meet with me about?”

He shrugs. “I just wanted to check in with you and see how you were doing after our last conversation.”

“Really? And is that a routine duty for the Director of the Paranormal Citizens Relations Bureau?”

He cracks another smile, this one a bit more wry. “Did you look me up, then?”

“No. Mr. Morgan told me.”

At that, his smile dies. “When?”

“I, uh, ran into him a couple of days ago. Almost literally.”

“Did you? Because I specifically told him not to—”

“It was an accident,” I say. “We were both trying to avoid each other and ended up running into each other anyway.”

He studies me for a few long moments. “And how did that go?”

“Not great.”

Blair looks troubled, but doesn’t speak or ask any more questions, so I press on.

“Did Mr. Morgan ask you to meet with me?”

“No, he didn’t. In fact, he’d probably be more than a little pissed off that I’m here talking to you.”

“So why are you here?”

“Like I said, Ms. Perry—”

“Nora.”

His smile starts to creep back in. “Nora. Like I said, I wanted to check up on you. And no, I don’t do much case work, but this is an exception.”

“Because you and Mr. Morgan are friends.”

“Yes, Elias and I are friends. We were business partners for a long time, too, though I left Morgan-Blair over thirty years ago.”

Hearing him say that so casually, when he barely looks over forty himself, is a serious mind-trip. I wonder how old Elias is.