Chapter 1

1

Of all the coffee shops he frequented, there was one Sean saved for those particularly difficult days, the ones where he had an overwhelming stack of papers to drag himself through, or a favor to do for a friend, or a pile of mail to address. Or something ridiculous to look up. And at nine in the evening on aFriday, Crypt Coffee was one of the few places still open.

Situated on a tiny plot of land in front of the Old Blue Cemetery—itself clinging to the Blue Falls River—the coffee shop was all theme, from the faux-marble front to the dim interior. Coffee was servedin ceramic skull mugs, and the options were named ridiculous things like Roast the Dead and Six Beans Under. Sean had other places he preferred, but Crypt Coffee easily had the best sweets. And Sean loved sweets.

“Caffeine for you this late, professor?” asked the barista behind the counter. She’d been one of hisstudents in a Greek Mythology 102 class last year, a trans woman who’d had to email him ahead of the semester and explain her name was Winter and not whatever the hell the school had given him. He liked her, as far as students went—although she’d always been exactly five minutes late like she timed it, she’d done all her work and spoke up in class. She looked like she was still into the goth aesthetic, long black hair and black lipstick making her skin look even whiter. It was a look that fit in well in the basement of Crypt Coffee.

“I’m not that old yet,” he said, knowing thirty-nine was still ancient to someone barely twenty. “I’ll have a Grounds Keeper, two shovels.”

“That means two espresso shots.”

Sean knew what it meant. It was posted right above them on the sign. She really did think he was old.

“Sure you don’t want a Drop Dead Decaf, professor?” asked the owner as he walked behind the counter with a plastic box of ceramic mugs straight from the washer. Sean glanced at him only briefly—Dane was good-looking and by virtue of not being one of his students, safe enough to admire even if he appeared to be in his mid to late twenties. He was tattooed and tanned, and seemed to be perpetually scruffy. A black shirt made him fit in well here, too, and his eyes were such a dark brown they almost hid his pupils.

Still, Sean was not about to be kept from his highly-caffeinated beverage by anyone.

“I have a lot of work to do,” he said.

Winter nodded solemnly and rang him up.

“I have a couple extra muffins that haven’t sold,” said Dane. He replaced the mugs so loudly, Sean was surprised none of them broke. “If you like streusel.”

Sean nodded at Winter and she rang that up, too. Although it was a standard muffin, Crypt Coffee’s version never went light on the cinnamon, and Sean did come here for the sweets when he wasn’t coming here to escape running into someone he knew.

Generally, if a student could catch him out at one of the coffee shops near the campus, he considered it unofficial office hours. His office at college was cramped and smelled weird, and the local shops had comfortable chairs and more air flow than your standard coffin. But tonight he wanted to be someplace where none of the other faculty would bump into him. He wanted to research something shameful.

He set up at one of the tables with open coffins for seating, complete with plush red velvet cushioning,and pulled out his laptop. How someone as young as Dane could afford to build someplace like this was confusing, but mostly because Sean knew that meant Dane must come from money, and Sean would be lying ifhe didn’t admit to himself that was something he looked for in a potential mate. What he didn’t want to get himself into at this point in life was more debt. Of course, having his eye on Dane in the first place was probably a little presumptuous, but hell, Sean could dream he could still pick up young men ifhe wanted.

It’s not like he really believed he could pick up anyone anymore. He was past his prime, fully set into his dull, overworked life, and up late alone on a Friday evening typing werewolves into a search engine. He knew exactly how much of a catch he was, and he was about to drown that knowledge in caffeine and buttery cinnamon.

“Hey, Dane, it’s nine-thirty,” said Winter as she made up the Grounds Keeper, two shovels.

“Clock out when you’re done with that and go fuck something up. It’s Friday.”

Sean refused to look over at them, but opened his email to have something normal to check when Winter brought him his steaming skull mug. He smiled, thanked her, and waited until she’d left to pull up his werewolf tabs. He’d made the right choice—there was no one else at Crypt Coffee at this hour. Although its hours ran late, obviously there were few customers if Dane kept it going on his own.