Page 21 of The Dark Hiss of Magic
I grimaced as I shook coffee droplets off my fingers. ‘That was the only one.’
His face drooped. ‘I’m sorry, Kit.’
I reached for my napkin and did my best to clean up themess. A young waiter with a bright expression that was far too cheery for someone doing the night shift bustled over with a cloth.
‘It’s alright,’ I told Thane. ‘It wasn’t getting us any results anyway.’ I sighed. ‘I’m going to the washroom.’ I gave him a tired smile, thanked the waiter profusely and turned to the door markedToilets.
Next to it was a bulletin board displaying upcoming events. I glanced at it as I passed. Then I froze and slowly turned my head to look at it again. ‘Thane,’ I called.
He was trying to help the waiter clean up the mess on the table, though it looked like he was making it worse. I repeated his name more loudly. ‘Thane. Come and have a look at this.’
He frowned, his emerald-green eyes squinting against the harsh fluorescent strip lighting, then he joined me. ‘Wait,’ he said. ‘Is that?—?’
‘The Blue Tattoos,’ the waiter said helpfully. ‘They’re a terrible band but they’re cheap and my boss likes them.’
There were three of them, all druids and all with the unsmiling, scowly expressions of young people trying to be cool. One held a guitar, one clasped a microphone and the third had raised a pair of cymbals as he prepared to crash them together in front of his face – the same face which had confronted me in the Mathers Street mortuary.
‘Cos,’ I whispered.
‘Nah, that’s not his name,’ the waiter said. ‘The drummer,’ he said. ‘That’s who you’re looking at, right? He’s Knox Thunderstick.’
Knox Thunderstick wasn’t his real name any more than Cosplayer, but it was a hell of a lot more than we’d known two minutes ago.
‘What’s his real name?’ Thane asked, his previously alcohol-glazed eyes now clear and focused.
The waiter smirked. ‘Thatishis real name. He changed it by deed poll.’ He shrugged. ‘Well, that’s what he tells everyone.’
‘Do you know where he lives?’
The waiter’s previously bright expression dimmed slightly and he looked warily from me to Thane and back again. ‘No.’
I glanced again at the poster. ‘The Blue Tattoos,’ I said. ‘They play here every Wednesday afternoon?’
‘Two till six. Every week.’ He tilted his head, his suspicion obvious. ‘Why are you so interested?’
Uh…
‘We’re getting married next month,’ Thane said. ‘We’ve been looking for ages for a band to play at the wedding reception. Druid rock is my favourite.’
‘The Blue Tattoos have more of a folksy vibe,’ the waiter said.
Thane grinned. ‘Even better. Right, darling?’
I tried to look enthusiastic at the terrible lie. ‘Right.’
‘Congratulations.’ The waiter appeared to relax. ‘I could tell you were both deeply in love the moment you walked in here.’ He tapped his forehead. ‘It’s my sixth sense.’
He might want to work on that. I couldn’t complain, though; it was partly thanks to the gullibility of the general public that I’d never once been outed as an assassin.
Thane took my hand and stroked it, then draped an arm around my waist and planted a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I was immediately enveloped in a heady cloud of vetiver scent. ‘You’re a clever fellow,’ he declared to the waiter and kissed me again. ‘We are very much in love.’
If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em; frankly, it was either that or garrotte Thane right there in the middle of the café. The waiter, although annoying, didn’t deserve to have to clean up that sort of bloody mess.
I leaned into Thane’s hard body and wrapped my armaround him, dropping my hand to graze it against his thigh. ‘How could anyone not be in love with you, Pooky Bear?’ I cooed.
He tilted his head towards mine. ‘I only have eyes for you, my sweet wifey-to-be.’
I tried not to grit my teeth: Thane was better at this than I was. I pushed myself onto my tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. ‘My snuggle-butt.’
