Page 19 of Vipers and Vendettas
I let out a sigh. If I danced, it would be four times that. Maybe I should have just done that from the beginning. I don’t know why I didn’t.
‘Stop lying,’ I mutter, rolling my eyes at myself.
The truth is that it didn’t feel right; it felt like some kind of betrayal to the clan. It still does.
Stupid.
Anyway, it’s too late. It’ll be easy to see I’m pregnant in less than a month. I mean, some of Spice’s patrons would probably be into that. I let out a dry laugh as I boil the kettle. But Stephan would never go for it. Probably some liability issue if I give birth on the stage or something.
The thought makes me cackle. I can just imagine Stephan’s horror.
I brew my English Breakfast tea and add a splash of milk, bringing it back to the couch with me and opening the folder Jack gave me last night.
I look over the papers slowly and meticulously, making absolutely sure I know the plan and the timings precisely. I go through the building’s blueprints with a fine-tooth comb and realize with a sinking sensation that my first suspicions were correct. The building this powerful artifact is housed in is definitely fae-built. The blueprints Jack picked up are for human eyes and human records so the fae can pretend their world is transparent, but they’re bull.
I study it closely. The thing about the fae is that so much of what they create is based on tradition. Their leaders are ancient and timeless, but that comes with cons as well as pros. They’re typically quite set in their ways, and they don’t like progressives. Their artisans have been making the exact same wares the exact same way for hundreds if not thousands of years. And that includes their architects.
I get a pen, and I mark the places that probably won’t match up in reality, making a note for Jack. I glance at the clock and let out a sigh, gulping the rest of my tea and stuffing some crackers into my mouth. Turning on the water, I strip out of my clothes from last night and throw them in the hamper. I shower quickly and dry off, putting my wet hair up and throwing on some nondescript jeans and a shirt. I grab the folder and throw it in my backpack as I leave my apartment. Outside, vendors are already open. I keep my eyes on the ground in front of me as I walk down the road, staying out of the way and off supes’ radars as much as I can. I take the folder out of my bag and post it through the mailbox at the door of Jack’s place so he can see my notes for tonight before we meet.
Then, I walk back to Spice for my morning job, the journey not nearly so harrowing in the daylight. I let myself in through the back and grab my cleaning supplies from the closet. I was lucky two jobs were going when I came here asking for work. By night, I waitress, and the morning after, I clean.
It’s not bad, really. It only takes a couple of hours now that I have my routine, and Stephan pays for the job, not the time. As long as it’s done, he doesn’t care.
I tidy behind the bar first, restocking and putting away glasses. Then, I wipe down all the surfaces and clean the poles and the stage. I disinfect the tables and wipe down the pleather seats, not looking too closely but using extra germ-killing power on those areas.
‘You have it down to an art.’
I jump and let out a startled scream at the voice, my hand curling protectively around my abdomen in an action born entirely of instinct.
I belatedly spot Stephan sitting at the table with a coffee and some paperwork and let out a long breath.
‘You scared me,’ I say.
‘Sorry.’
I nod and get back to work.
‘Come and sit with me for a minute. I want to talk to you.’
My stomach sinks. He never wants to talk. Is he firing me?
‘Sure.’
With leaden feet, I walk slowly over to the booth and slide in across from him.
He lets out a small laugh. ‘Jeez, Marie. Don’t look so scared. I won’t bite.’
I give a slight nod, hoping that’s true because I know Stephan’s a supe. He lives human, but he’s partsomething.
‘Mark showed me that picture you sent last night.’
Oh.
‘Right. Yeah. He followed me down the street, but I gave him the slip.’
Stephan’s eyes narrow. ‘You need to park closer,’ he murmurs.
I frown. He sounds like he’s actually concerned. Stephan’s a fair guy, and I haven’t had a problem with him, but he doesn’t usually scream ‘protective’.
