Page 43 of Faerie Fate
Cupid’s-bow lips were done up in a fake smile, her green eyes soft as a meadow. And latched on us like lances with deadly pointed tips.
I knew exactly where her hand continued to rest underneath her cloak.
Bronwen swallowed and hesitated only a moment before she reached for her drink. “Thank you. And you are?”
We paused, giving the woman the space to say her name, but the quiet stretched. It seemed to please her, the way we leaned forward, the way we grasped for something to describe her, to call her.
Her face showed none of it. “Please, grab your drinks and join me in a booth. It’s semi-private,” she offered.
Ice twisted in my veins. It wasn’t an invitation but a demand. One I felt with a pulse of magic accompanying it. The pulse was soft enough to go unnoticed by the others. But not me.
I eyed the woman sternly yet she held my stare without blinking. “Do we have a choice?”
Her smile remained fixed as she said, “Yes, always.”
“Doubtful,” Bronwen muttered. She took a sip of her drink and drew in a sharp, wincing breath at the taste.
“You’ll be perfectly safe,” the woman added with a nod. “I saved your ass with Sylvester, didn’t I?” She pointed a finger at the barkeep. “Trust me.”
Not likely. And yet I didn’t get abadfeeling from her. Her sharp cheekbones, the slightly off-center tilt of her nose, the color of her eyes—it weirdly felt like I knew her. And if she had sway over the barman, then odds were good she might know how to find Oxana the Sightless.
“Fine,” Mike barked out.
He was the first to step up, blocking me with his body, stepping between me and the woman and waiting for her to lead the way to the booth.
The four of us settled in the semi-private booth, the wood new and hard without the benefit of cushions. I wished Noren were there.
“A name,” she said, wrapping slender fingers around her drink. She leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “That’s what you want, yes? It would make you feel better?”
Bronwen’s sigh shifted to an irritated hiss. “I guess we’re just unsure why you haven’t given it to us.”
The woman’s gaze snapped to Bronwen’s face. “My name is Poppy.”
Mike crossed his arms over his chest. “Doesn’t fit your whole aesthetic, does it?”
“Look, I’m not one to waste time.” Poppy steepled her fingers. “You’re clearly not from our time. You reek of the future. I’ve never seen you before in my life so I’m guessing you’re newly arrived, probably only a few hours. Am I right?”
Her eyes never left Mike’s face and her expression was weighty and measured.
“So what the hell are you doing here?”
Chapter Twelve
Mike, Bronwen, and I exchanged stunned glances.
“How did you know?” Bronwen blurted out.
Mike lifted his hand to stop her, hissing. “Keep your voice down, Bron.”
“I’m just trying to figure this out.” Her voice quieted. “I mean, she stepped in to help us when she didn’t have to, and now she can tell we’re from the future?”
Poppy didn’t seem to care what Bronwen said. “I do what I like when it serves a purpose.”
We’d been caught so easily. I tried to get up from the seat and found my ass practically glued to the wood. Gambles and games. Magic and monsters. I scowled at Poppy and snatched my hand back from my drink, the dark liquid sloshing over the side of the cup.
“What’s the matter? Did you think you wouldn’t be caught?” Poppy’s mouth tweaked up in a lazy smile. “Let’s just say that I see things others do not.”
What did this mean in terms of changing history?
