Page 6 of Fence

3

Fence

“This is a hotel?”

The three of us looked up at the long building which looked much more like a string of townhomes than the hotel we’d been promised.

I turned my gaze to Gate, who scratched his head. “Are you sure you brought us to the right place?”

“I followed the directions. If there’s a problem, take it up with Mary.” He was barely holding onto his temper.

We were all worn a little thin.

My dragon thrashed and raged in my head, demanding I take control of the situation. To hell with Mary’s instructions and my brother’s sense of direction.

We should never have allowed anyone else to determine the plans for the trip.

My dragon was irritated and roaring. I silently pushed back. Mary knows more about this than we do.

He was tired, too. Sometimes, it was like struggling with a bratty child. A bratty child strong enough to crush a truck, with a thirty-foot wingspan.

As we walked down the block, bags in hand, it became clear that we were in the right place when a doorman helped two guests into a waiting car, then turned his attention to us.

“Staying with us, are you?” His thick brogue was thick enough to slice with a knife.

“Aye,” I replied, slipping back into it without thinking.

Gate chuckled, but I paid him no mind.

The helpful doorman tipped his cap in greeting, and took two of our bags up the walkway and through the doors.

Inside was a different story.

I would never have imagined the sleek, coffee-colored walls, the clean, modern lines of the furniture and lighting fixtures. It fairly screamed masculinity, luxury, comfort. I could instantly understand why Mary had chosen to book us here.

None of that mattered at the moment. I’d enjoy it later, after a long, deep sleep. I relished the chance to drop down on the wide, firm mattress. At least we’d each gotten a room of our own—one of the few points we were firm on. After each of us having our own space for so many centuries, it would have been torture to have to share.

We were here. We had really done it.

I gazed up at the ceiling with my hands behind my head, wondering if I should call home to confirm we’d made it. What time was it there? I slid the burner phone out of my jacket pocket and chose Smoke’s number from the list of contacts. We’d all gotten identical, pre-paid devices for the purposes of the trip.

“Tell me you’re calling from the hotel,” Smoke ordered on answering.

“I wonder why you don’t have more friends than you do.”

“Perhaps because my circle of acquaintances is so small,” he chuckled. “You’re safe, then?”

“Safe as can be. All of us in our rooms. It’s a nice place—very nice. Comfortable. I might never want to leave.”

“Eh, you wouldn’t be missed, anyway.”

“Thanks a lot. How are things there?”

“The usual. Cash and Tommy roughhousing, the girls helping Carissa create more of the antidote. Me wishing I could get away with wearing earplugs when the three of them start giggling.”

I grimaced in agreement. None of us were used to constant female companionship. It would take time to adjust.

“We agreed to start out in the morning,” I reported.

“Good enough. Keep me posted. And be safe out there,” he added, like a casual afterthought that was anything but casual or an afterthought.

The potential gravity of what we were embarking on was lost on none of us.

I dropped the phone beside me on the bed and fell asleep fully clothed, on top of the covers.

My dreams were full of shadows, fog, questions. Faint memories of the way things used to be.

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