Page 45 of What Fools These Immortals Be
“Ah. Bad news?”
“We still can’t come to a consensus on Augustine.”
“Just tell him to fuck off,” I scoff. “You’re all—” I cut myself off. Just because I have been hiding out in the Highlands for decades, it doesn’t mean everyone else has.
“We’re all what?”
“Civilised.”
“You say that like it’s a dirty word.”
I flash a grin at him. Why not have some fun? My voice lowers when I reply, “Maybe it is.”
I am playing with fire when I specifically told myself not to, but after everything that happened last night, I can’t bring myself to fight the urge. Njáll hears the innuendo—his eyes widen, the tips of his ears going pink.
I will never tell him, of course, that I spent the better part of last night thinking about him. Once I had called Vlad and yelled for an hour or so, anyway. Despite Reijo’s little temper tantrum, Njáll was useful to have with me. I certainly would have lost my own temper, but he is more level-headed, which is probably why he was chosen to be crai in the first place.
He does not know it. He acts as though he is terribly off-kilter, and yet I have hardly met a vampire so even-keeled as he is.
Perhaps Vlad, though I am not even sure about him anymore.
“We’re here,” I say.
We’re heading for Beyond the Veil, another pub, this time in Shoreditch. It being the weekend, the streets are full of groups of young humans and the scent of stale beer.
Magic buzzes from the wards around the pub. It is more disguised than the last; all I see is the narrow entrance to a block of flats, but I can taste the power behind that. I expect there will only be fae inside.
“Will they attack us again?” Njáll asks, sounding wary. I don’t blame him.
“No.” I grimace and add, “Probably not. Vlad called ahead, this time. He said Spectra is expecting us.”
Njáll wrinkles his nose. “Spectra?”
“I didn’t ask,” I say with a shrug and press one of the buzzers next to the door.
It doesn’t matter which one I press. The wards flare as my hand passes through them, probably feeling out my magic, what kind of creature I am. I suspect that without Vlad’s call, I would have trouble getting inside.
These wards weren’t set by a high fae—that’s not possible; theycan’tbe here without express permission—but by someone nearly as powerful.
The buzzer sounds and I pull open the door, ushering Njáll in ahead of me if only because I’m not certain what will happen if I go in first. He makes a surprised sound, and when I follow him inside, I can’t help an impressed smile.
This pub is nothing like the one we visited last night. Humans built that, once, and a long time ago at that. This is enchanted, looking like some kind of American speakeasy, with depths even I cannot truly reach.
“Stay close,” I say to Njáll and slip past him, heading for the bar.
I don’t know the species of the fae behind the bar at first glance, but that doesn’t matter. They slip two drinks in front of me before I can even ask them a question, and when I raise an eyebrow, merely shrug in response, shaking long dark hair back from their face.
“She knows you’re here.”
“And we’re supposed to just drink these?”
The fae gives me a baffled look. “If you want.”
I roll my eyes and turn my back on them, looking out around the room. Quiet jazz music is playing, and groups of fae are huddled in the booths that line the walls. When I look to my left,I see a small dance floor. A couple, both women, are dancing together. One has wings that glint in the lights.
“It’s nice here,” Njáll says. I pass him the mystery drink. I’ve already checked it with my magic; there’s nothing but whiskey inside.
“Don’t get used to it,” I reply. “There’s every chance things will end as poorly as last night.”
