The town looked like it'd been painted in sepia and forgotten on purpose. Gas pumps older than sin, a general store that might've been a chapel in disguise, and a diner that smelled like cinnamon, cigarette grease, and moral failure. The kind of place that didn't ask questions—just let you sit a while and pretend.
I stretched in the passenger seat, the blanket slipping off my legs. The light outside looked like it couldn't decide what time it was—part sunset, part coffee-stained morning. My bones hurt the way they do after something magical, or dangerous, or both.
Kaito stepped out first, looking entirely too chipper for someone who drove through half the state on no sleep and bad luck. Something scampered past my vision. I blinked.
Feathers. Fur. A tail that looked like it belonged on a possessed peacock.
It stood there, staring up at me with giant golden eyes and a grin I didn't trust.
I didn't scream.
I just pointed and said, "What the hell is this?"
The creature yipped and plopped onto its side like it had been waiting for me to notice it all morning.
Kaito leaned around the hood with that damn smirk. "That's Vinyl."
"Vinyl," I repeated.
"It followed us home. Spits up magical junk. Kinda screams like a banshee-dog. But overall? Very emotionally available."
I looked at it again. It headbutted my shin gently, tail feathers fanning out like it was showing off.
At first, I thought it was cute. Strange, sure—but charming in that "haunt your dreams and pee on your rug" kind of way. Then something settled funny in my gut. Like this wasn't just a tagalong critter. What if Vinyl was a setup? A test? Something sent, not found? I'd dealt with omens wearing prettier disguises.
"You keep collectin' strays like I won't eventually start charging you rent," I muttered, masking suspicion with sass. "First a dog, and still no ring. Priorities, huh?"
We'd been on the road a year and a half. Long enough to know each other's magic quirks, sleeping positions, and favorite gas station snacks. Long enough for a maybe to start feelin' like a blueprint. But the word marriage? Never once rolled off his tongue. Not even as a joke.
Kaito gave me that sheepish look — the one he uses when he knows I'm right but doesn't wanna hand over the trophy. Truth is, I didn't even need a ring. I just wanted something. Something that said, 'I'm yours, too.'
The axes were nice. The tattoo with my name? Bold, unforgettable. On his dick, no less. But still. A name on skin ain't the same as a name on a future.
Maybe I was jumping ahead. Maybe I wasn't. Maybe Kaito didn't do the whole marriage thing because his job came with too many curses and cross-dimensional tax forms. But gods, I still wanted something — a scrap of proof, a promise I could hold in my hand. Just one quiet thing that was mine. Ours.
"She likes you," Kaito said quickly, like he was tossing out a distraction. "That or she thinks your aura smells like honey and unresolved trauma."
He didn't meet my eyes after that—just crouched to adjust Vinyl's ridiculous feathered tail like it suddenly required urgent attention.
Classic. Change the subject, hide behind the dog.
I was about to sass back when I caught Vinyl's tail swishing. The eyes on it blinked. Blinked.
"Oh no," I groaned. "It's cute. Dammit."
Vinyl yipped again, then made a sound like a hiccuping accordion and wagged harder. I gave Kaito a side glance, ready to keep the heat on—but he looked so relieved to be off the hook, I let it slide.
He got his win this round. But only because the demon peacock dog played dirty with the cute card.
I crossed my arms, looked up at the diner ahead of us, and sighed. "Where even are we?"
Kaito gestured grandly. "Trekuer. Population unknown. Secrets guaranteed."
Then, like nothing happened, he popped open the van's dashboard panel and fiddled with the radio until it landed on some static-wrapped pirate station humming low jazz and glitch gospel.
I watched him too long before I said, "I want in."
He blinked. "In?"
"On the job. Whatever this is. I want in."
"You already are," he said casually, but his fingers paused on the dial.
I leaned in, wagging a finger right in his face. "Don't start lying now. You've been solo-ing this Sonter contract mess like I'm just the cute sidekick."
He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not that simple, Lettie."
"I already did a job with you. We survived it. That counts. Besides, you're the one dragging me into magical messes. Time to put me on the books."
Kaito hesitated—then popped open the glovebox and pulled out a stick of enchanted chalk and a black glass shard.
"Fine. Let's get you on the line with customer service."
He drew a circle on the diner parking lot, tapped the mirror twice, and muttered an incantation. The mirror shimmered, pulsed, and then a voice buzzed out: "Sonter Liaison Services. Please state your intention."
Kaito looked over at me with a squint, dragging a hand through his hair. "Alright, they're listening. Name first. Then the team name. Don't pick anything cursed or embarrassing, please. We're already on thin ice with reality."
"Our what?"
"Since there's more than one of us now, we have to register as a duo. It's a formality. Used to be harder. Now anyone with a pulse and a familiar gets a pass."
I smirked. "Vinyl's the familiar?"
"Barely. But yes. Makes the paperwork easier."
"Fine," I said. "Team name's Chime."
He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"It's what we are. Beautiful, loud, unpredictable. Sometimes we warn people. Sometimes we don't."
"Fair," he said. "But make sure you say 'Sonter' with a 'T'. Not 'Sonster' with an 'S.' Huge difference."
"Why? They sound close."
"Sonter means you work independently — no guild, no hierarchy, just you and the code," he said, already filling out the hovering forms. "Same powers as Sonsters, sometimes more freedom. But you're off the books. No team, no backup, no assigned routes."
He flipped the page. "Sonsters, on the other hand? They're the official network types. Work in registered groups, follow structure, file reports. Think magical law enforcement with matching jackets. Sonters just… freelance it."
I whistled. "Yeah, no. I'll take the 'T.'"
I looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the way his eyes lit up a little filling out those weird hovering forms. Kaito, proud of his odd little job. Like a man who still believed in some kind of structure, even if he danced sideways through it. I didn't say anything, but it tugged at something in me.
"Sonter applicant confirmed," the mirror chimed in, flat and cheery. "Please state your primary magical goal and designated sponsor."
I raised an eyebrow. "Sponsor?"
Kaito popped back in like he'd been waiting for that cue. "Me. I'm her sponsor."
The mirror made a spark sound. A new page appeared—too many blanks, too many subclauses.
"Oh no," I muttered.
Kaito groaned. "Here we go. Welcome to Sonster paperwork hell."
"You said this part got easier!"
"It did! This is easier. You should've seen it five years ago. We had to chant in dead languages while juggling enchanted frogs."
"Rude," the mirror replied. "No frogs required since version 7.4. They're in charge of processing now. Unionized. Consider it karmic reparation for centuries of being magically yeeted into ritual circles."
We groaned in unison.
"Let's finish this before the sun finishes setting," Kaito said, scribbling like a man on a mission.
Later that morning, we stepped into the diner. It smelled like burnt cinnamon and secrets. A ceiling fan squeaked above us like it was trying to warn the biscuits. We sat across from each other in a cracked leather booth, Vinyl curled up under the table like a weird shadow puppy.
I sipped coffee. Kaito picked at his grits.
A server came up to us, smiling like she meant it. Her lipstick was cherry-gloss and her eyeshadow shimmered in pinks and browns, the kind of palette that took confidence to pull off before 9 a.m. Her name tag read JUNE, the lettering hand-doodled in glitter pen.
"Mornin', travelers," she said. Her voice was sweet tea over gravel. "You want the full plate or just flirting with carbs today?"
I liked her immediately.
Then the bell above the diner door jingled.
A big man in trucker denim and magic-stained boots stomped in—eyes glowing faint orange, aura pulsing wrong. Monster-kind—looked like a werewolf stuck in human form, rough around the edges with nails too sharp and teeth that hadn't figured out subtlety. One of those half-transformed types who smelled like rust, wet fur, and last warnings ignored.. The slow kind that waits for daylight to hide its appetite.
June stiffened just slightly. Enough that I noticed. He stormed up behind her.
"Why'd you leave last night?" he barked.
June didn't flinch. Just turned her head enough to look him over like a bug that got too familiar.
"Because it was a date, not a leash," she said, her tone even but sharp enough to cut meat. "And you don't get to act surprised that a one-night stand ends after one night."
He opened his mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to growl.
"Shift's started, sugar. So either order something greasy or get gone."
The air got real tense. Vinyl lifted its head.
I put my cup down slow.
Kaito smiled without showing teeth. "Well. Looks like breakfast came with drama today."