The Lost Heir (Book I)- The Violet City

Behold

Seth's dream was not to be realized. He had tucked away a few dollars before coming on this adventure, but dollars were no good here, a long-nosed, auburn-haired waitress told him. They traded in "testoons" down here. The diner looked like any diner one would find at home, except the tables shimmered with a calming, watery-violet tone and the waitresses looked like they'd stepped out of a 1940s glamour magazine.

"Do they never leave here?" Isabella whispered. "We are still in L.A., aren't we?" She shook her head. Seth did not respond, instead salivating over the pecan pie on display. "You'd think they'd take both dollars and whatever the heck a testoon is," she said as she saw a man dropping several shiny, black coins into a small cup on his table.

It was the man they'd seen with the horse. He placed his bowler hat on top of his head and tapped it twice. He was mumbling to another waitress about being out late every night and keeping things in order.

The second waitress, this one with shiny, black hair and a tawny complexion, smiled at him. "Good luck out there and thanks for keeping our city safe for the 'Tide."

"You kids look lost. Is everything okay?" the man said as he passed them on his way out. He poked a long, black baton in their face. "The Shadows are watching, you know."

"We're fine," Isabella said, thrusting out her necklace instinctively.

"Young lady," he said, examining it authoritatively. "You're not to be here."

"What?" Isabella asked. Her eyebrows bunched together and she bit her lower lip. She knew he could have probably helped them, but she didn't go into hiding from the police so she could be taken into custody by someone else's cops.

"You should not be underground alone," he went on. "Or have they sent you on an errand?"

"Who? I mean, yes. They did. We're on an errand."

He looked at Seth. "Oh, yes. I see. You must be a new recruit. I won't say a word then. Very strange outfits they have you in. A bit cold for all that," he said. "Are you sure you're all right, deary?" he asked Isabella.

"Yes. I'm good."

"All righty. Have a good night, Dolores," he said to the waitress with the dark hair, who smacked her gum and winked.

"That guy was acting like he knew who you were and like he thought I was someone I am definitely not," Isabella said to Seth.

"I know. I just—"

"Wish you'd asked him for some of those black dimes or whatever they are so we could eat?"

"Oh, sorry, Seth! I wasn't paying attention."

"It's fine."

The auburn-haired waitress reappeared from the back of the diner. "All right, kids," she said, handing them two ill-fitting sweaters she'd retrieved from the café's lost and found. "No one's claimed these ones for a while now. You can have 'em," she said with a shrug.

"Thanks!" Isabella said brightly. She realized the waitress must have felt bad after seeing two kids waltz up to her diner with no money and wetsuits.

Seth made no remark as he slipped the Los Angeles Dodgers sweatshirt he'd been given over his head and frowned.

"It's Dodgers. I hate the Dodgers."

"Angels fan?" Isabella laughed, thinking he'd been about to complain that the sleeves stopped midway down his forearms.

"Yankees, duh," Seth said, then turned back to the waitress, who was pouring a man coffee and had forgotten all about them. "You'd think she could spare us a scrap of something. She gave us these."