Page 21 of The Silver Spider
Good. Then her disguise was working. She wore another long, pastel-colored skirt and matching blouse, a short-waist day jacket with embroidery at the hems and cuff, nipping in at her waist. Her hair was in a loose braid, tied with a ribbon at the end—the perfect, insipid touch.
“Stop staring,” she said.
He shrugged, and glanced around. “Not bad. I thought I was going to have to pull some strings.”
The neighborhood wasn’t the best, but the accommodations were fine. Because she was a single female, she’d been assigned to a building of efficiencies, mainly occupied by women as well. The open room was whitewashed, the old wooden floors polished to a gleam. The far corner boasted a kitchenette with white-washed cabinets, and old stove and half-sized fridge. Domes had access to basic steam powered energy, the plant heavily guarded in a section of the city. The furniture was plain, but cared for, and there was a multi-colored quilt on the bed. It was so not her style, but it was clean, and warm, and the locks on the main doors were adequate.
Though they hadn’t kept Amnan out.
He turned back towards her after he’d finished prowling. “The attendant at the main door is too trusting. You need better locks.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
His head tilted, expression knowing. “It’s very early. I knew you were going to try and sneak out without me.”
She picked up the bag that carried her borrowed books and maps and notes. “Just going to the library.”
“Lead on, my sweet.”
“Stop calling me that.”
His eyes caressed her face. “But you are.”
Was what? Sweet…or his?
* * *
They left the apartment building, entering the early morning sunshine. The light breeze was too flirty, and the chirping of the birds too cheerful. She immediately wanted to go back inside and hide until evening. This wasn’t like home, where the trees gave relief from the relentlessness of sunshine. She knew the earth needed it to exist, but did it have to be so…bright?
Hot, black coffee with a shot of something stronger in it would help.
“Tell me what you know,” Amnan said.
It wasn’t an unreasonable request, but Serephone would rather tell him to go stick his nose in another woman’s business. Practically speaking, she was unlikely to shake him without the judicious application of violence, and that would only distress her mother.
“Looking for a man with money, and no morals.”
“Like your patrons?”
She ignored him. “Probably a client in the gentlemen club circles keeps an eye on the girls there. Or has his men do it.”
“So, you’re hunting a wealthy man in a city of wealthy men.”
“Probably not human though. Coffee.”
She turned abruptly, heading into a cafe as Amnan cursed, just barely avoiding tripping on her when she changed course. He shouldn’t curse—he should just move faster.
“You have the manners of a toddler,” he snarled in her ear as she stood in line.
“You should leave me to my fate, then.”
He snorted, and she scented brimstone. But because her Ma had raised her right, she purchased him a coffee and muffin. “Bet you like cream and sugar in yours,” she said as they moved to the station with the fixings. She liked this place because it was old fashioned—no bots, no mech of any kind. Just vintage espresso machines and carafes of cream and shakers of cinnamon and sugar if one wanted it. Simple, no fuss.
His eyes narrowed as he accepted the paper cup. “I can drink my coffee black.”
Her brow rose. Amnan took a sip, paused, and then took another. Sere’s lips curved. She’d been coming to this cafe every morning since she’d arrived—their coffee was strong enough to strip bark from trees.
“Maybe you’ve got some man in you, princeling.”
