Page 47 of Wooing the Wiccan
“The Warhammers suck. I was cheering for the Glaives.”
His gasp is so shocked, I look over my shoulder to see if a serial killer with a knife has somehow appeared in the corner of the elevator. When I look back, he’s clutching his chest.
“How could you? The Warhammers are our local team! It’s our duty to support them even when they suck.”
The elevator doors open before I can reply. It’s just as well, since I think me laughing in his face would probably revoke my temporary bro-hood.
“Tell me about the team,” I say instead, then glance around. “I mean… if you can.” There are a lot of people in the lobby, and more outside on the street. I don’t want to be the reason a nine-thousand-year-old secret gets out.
Alistair waves dismissively. “We can talk about anything we want. People who overhear will just think we’re talking about a movie or book, or that we’re role-playing something. It’s a lot easier to keep our secret on a day-to-day basis than most people think. I just avoid anything that’s too hard to explain, like shifting into my canid form with fifty people watching.”
“That’s not something I need to worry about doing,” I say wryly as we exit the building and he guides us to the left.
“See? Easy. But back to the travesty that’s you supporting the Glaives. How can you break my heart like that? I thought we were going to be bros.”
“I even bought a jersey,” I tease, then wince. “I threw it away when I realized… you know. I wish I hadn’t, now.”
He slings an arm around my shoulders. “You can get another one. They’ll probably go on sale when they finish last this season.”
This time, I do laugh. “With the Warhammers in the league? No way they’re finishing last.”
The restaurant we’re going to is only a block away, and I hesitate at the door. “Am I dressed okay? This is fancier than I was expecting.” I hope I’ve got enough left in my account to pay for my lunch.
“Pfft.” Alistair pushes open the door. “It only looks fancy to stop too many passersby from coming in. It’s a community restaurant, and mostly only people who know come here.”
That’s so cool. Sure enough, once we get past the host stand, I notice that a lot of the people at the tables aren’t human. The demons are easiest to tell, because of the horns, but I also spot some fangs and claws.
The table we’re led to is tucked into a corner and more private than many others, which I’m grateful for. There are two men sitting there already, one studying the menu, while the one who looks much older is juggling chunks of bread. He looks up as we reach him.
“This is Jared,” Alistair announces, sliding into one of the chairs and leaving me to take the other. “Meet Noah”—he points to the younger guy, who’s only just putting down his menu—“and Andrew.”
Andrew smiles at me, treating me to a discreet flash of fangs. “Welcome to the community, Jared. I’ve been around a lot longer than these two?—”
“Or dirt,” Noah adds.
“—so I can answer any questions you have. Ignore my husband. He’s just mad because he’s only lived in two centuries.”
My ass drops the remaining few inches into my seat faster than planned. I guess I need to get used to being around people who’ve lived in more than two centuries. It might even be fun to talk to people who were born before 1900.
Noah studies me. “You knew about the lifespan thing, right? Xiao Wei usually tells people.”
“I knew. I just… haven’t finished processing it yet.”
He snorts. “Yeah, I hear that. I’ve been part of the community for more than a decade, and I still have to process sometimes.”
Our server comes over to ask about drinks, and I pick up a menu. Best to decide what I want to eat before I get too distracted.
Once our order’s been taken, Noah says, “Give me your phone, and I’ll put my number in before I forget. I’m sorry these two idiots are here, but you can call me anytime if you need to talk.” He takes my phone from my hand.
“Thank you, but I don’t mind asking questions in front of them. Alistair’s granted me temporary bro status.”
“Poor you,” Noah mutters, tapping at my phone.
“Noah doesn’t understand the sacred bond that is bro-hood,” Andrew informs me. “It’s okay, though, because sometimes couples need time apart.”
“Lots of it,” Noah confirms, handing my phone back. “I texted myself, so I have your number too. Hope that’s okay.”
“It is.” I hesitate. “I’m really grateful, but I feel like this level of personal welcome isn’t something every human gets. How much… I mean, what did Sam tell you?”
