by Thia Mackin
Honestly, I missed the little bird. Petting him gave me something to do with my hands. “How is Chevelle?” I asked Master Cavallo, smoothing my sweating palms over my pants.
“He’s doing well, lass. You got him to us quickly, and the swelling is mostly gone. A bit more time and he’ll be out of the infirmary.”
“Good. I’m glad. He and the red horse have a nice, matched pace.” I paused, thinking. “Why does Chevelle have a name and the other geldings don’t?”
He chuckled. “Someone purchased Chevelle but lied about buying the boyo for himself. When he left the horse with the new ‘owner,’ the Deylura decided he wasn’t having it and Gated back here. They’d named him, and he liked his name. So he kept it.”
I smiled, the sound of his laugh infectious. “It’s a good name.”
The conversation turned to the sale in a couple months, and he and Rankar discussed options for security. Then, abruptly, the demon stood and bowed. “Thank you for the meal, lass, and the company. I’ll see myself out.”
“Nice to see you again,” I offered, coming to my feet.
Rankar walked around the desk as I began putting away the empty containers and Master Cavallo shut the door behind himself. “Lunch was good. Thank you,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around me.
A long exhale escaped, and I hugged him back. “How’s your day been?”
“Better now.”
“Mine, too.” The scent of Rankar calmed the anxiety a little, though really, I had no reason to be nervous. Nothing would change between us. Instead of spending the day at Karyn and Mycal’s, I’d just be at the Banded Traveler. Still a quick Gate away. And unless he decided differently, we could still sleep at his house.
His lips brushed my forehead. “You’re thinking hard, eirlys. Wanna do it aloud?”
“Let’s sit down,” I managed, resisting the urge to avoid the talk.
He motioned me to the couch and pulled the seat over in front of me so our knees touched. Too much distance separated us. Scooting forward until my legs were between his, I set my hands on his knees. Then the words tumbled out. “My healer cleared me, so I start work at the Banded Traveler Wednesday.”
His fingers linked with mine. “That’s great news.”
The exhale sounded loud in the quiet room. “Yeah. And my boss is psychic and family, so she gave me the shift that allows me to see you at night still. So I’ll move my stuff from your mom’s to a rented room at the Banded Traveler tomorrow, and after work, I can shower there and be at your place by seven o’clock. So I’ll miss supper, but I can grab something from the kitchens.”
His eyes met mine. “Do you want to live there?”
I squeezed his hands. “Your mom won’t even let me pay her for healing me. I can’t keep freeloading, as much as I love your family. And I’d rather not go back to my apartment in California, because I have to be much more careful of Gating in and out. The Banded Traveler gives me the freedom to be with you as much as possible.”
“You could live with me.”
My mouth parted. “You want me to move in? Actually live with you?”
The twitch of his lips advised that maybe I sounded a little silly. I’d been spending twelve hours a day at his house, every moment he wasn’t working. Perhaps naiveté prevented me from seeing it as cohabitating, but labels often escaped me.
I smiled. “Well, officially live with you…”
He grinned. “Yes, please.”
“Then yes.”
“And we’ll start having dinner at seven-thirty?” he added. “Giving you time to get home and shower.”
Home. Goddess bless, the last home I’d had was blown apart by mortars. Was this a bad decision, placing him more in danger than our relationship already did?
“Kinan, whatever just went through that head of yours, the answer is no.” He stood, using our linked hands to urge me to my feet, also. “We’re partners, stronger together. Asleep or awake, we guard each other’s backs. Right?”
I nodded hesitantly. “Just promise me again that nothing bad happens to you because I love you.”
His arms crushed me. “Your loving me is a good thing for me. I promise.” The warmth of his lips brushed mine briefly. “I love you, too.”
An impatient knock at the door caused me to drop my forehead against Rankar’s shoulder. “Lunch over?”
He snorted. “Apparently. That’s Belisario again. His timing is terrible.”
I grinned. “You do your Captainy things, and I’ll see if Master Cavallo will show me the employee entrance someone advised I needed to use.”
“See you tonight, Kinan.”
Belisario grinned at me as I opened the door and passed him. I inclined my head to him in greeting, and he returned the gesture. Then I followed the exit signs until I stepped outside. Numerous buildings surrounded me, but the stables were easy to find by the constant hum of activity there.
As I approached the main barn, the sounds of horses carrying on the wind turned my head, and my feet followed suit. The corral loomed ahead, revealing the same group of young Deylura crosses I’d visited last time. A scan of the lot showed the smallest one had been removed. Good. A beautiful chestnut and the blue roan both approached.
The roan put on quite a show, tail high as he pranced my way. He shook his mane and nickered a greeting. “Hello, you. I really suck. Still no treats,” I admitted, showing my empty palms. The chestnut paused, watching intently. However, the roan danced his way to the fence before stretching his neck to me.
I obligingly ran my hands over his skin and picked a couple cockleburs from his mane. Occasionally, he shifted to make sure I could reach better spots. Long minutes passed, though, as he allowed me to show him the attention he deserved.
Half the horses suddenly rushed toward the fence, and the roan half-kicked. “Calm down,” I urged, grabbing his headstall and holding until the lot settled. “There. Not so bad, yeah?”
“Boyo seems to like you,” Master Cavallo observed, revealing the reason for the surge of equine attention.
I grinned. “He likes attention, the only sucker who comes to me despite my lack of treats.”
The demon looked thoughtful. “He does like your attention.” He greeted each of the horses that sought him out, offering just enough to satiate their need for affection and send them back into the field. Even the roan followed, throwing a minor tantrum for the world to watch.
“Master Cavallo, would you mind showing me the proper place to Gate?”
“Please call me Rendle, lass. I’d be happy to.”
I followed him toward the infirmary stable. Without a word, he opened a door to a medium-sized room. Four five-by-five squares were marked out on the floor, one in each corner. My eyes scanned until I memorized the layout. “Only Gate into the boxes and don’t linger there longer than you need. Stable hands use this one, and our shift changes are seven, three, and eleven. Try to avoid thirty minutes before and after those times, and you should be fine.”
“Thank you, Rendle.” I offered a hand to shake, and he took it with barely a hesitation. “Have a good rest of your day.”
“You, too, lass.”
Stepping into the nearest square, I opened a Gate to Karyn’s to pack my things. Partners, Rankar had said. My heart liked the sound of that.
Chapter 21
The Jeep’s engine cut off, leaving the rapid beating of my heart as the main sound in the vehicle. Rankar rested his hand over mine on his thigh, and he grinned. “They’re not here yet. We get to kick the greenies out.”
I smiled back, unable to resist. “Who are we kicking out?”
He unbuckled his seat belt and opened the door, so I followed suit. “The Old Crow is a paranormal Sanctuary, which means that—while we are under its roof—we do not start fights, we avoid fights between the unEnlightened, and primarily just defend ourselves and those with us if something does happen. People who are wanted for crimes against the paranormal community can have a meal and a drink w
ithout fear of extradition if they can make it in and out.”
“But you are planning to throw people out?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
His grin turned slightly malicious. “Only those guards still considered in training at Asez Holding. See, we hold a biannual tryout. If someone retires or quits, we find their replacement from the top qualifiers at the trials. Then the selected go through additional training until they are up to par, that could take to two years. Until they graduate, they will walk their happy asses out of this building on their own as soon as the bartender rings the bell indicating the officers have arrived… or they’ll spend the next two years regretting it. The privilege of rank is that the greenies don’t get to watch us celebrate, and they aren’t where we can see them incriminate themselves.”
His hand at my back, we walked toward the front doors. On the outside, the building looked like most others off Tucumcari’s main street, though much larger than the other bar we’d passed on our way from the house. The stucco could use a bit of repair; however, the roof looked new. Landscaping followed a minimalist effect, as less to water during the heat of summer meant fewer plants dying. Honestly, after my time at the Sirach ranch, I saw the appeal of rock beds.
“So you don’t remove them yourself and break Sanctuary. You just let the cards fall, and deal the deck back at Asez.” He nodded as he opened the door. A stool sat in the atrium. No one collected cover or checked IDs yet. “And the owner doesn’t mind the lost revenue?”
He waved at the man behind the bar and visually checked the tables. “Once you see Alala and Belisario eat wings, you’ll understand her lack of concern. Also, we tip extremely well and only come in on special occasions.”
The music playing overhead stopped, and a bell rang once—echoing loudly through the room. As the vibration faded, the music started back. However, a table of three men in the corner waved for their check, and a couple at the bar appeared to be paying their tabs. Some glanced up, looked around confused, and shrugged before going back to their conversations. Others looked up, nodded in our direction, but didn’t run for the doors. For five o’clock on a Saturday, the place had quite the crowd.
We walked across an empty area that probably converted to a dance floor, though no one occupied it. Taking a left—away from the bar and past the bathrooms—we moved into a second room that held booths, larger tables, and a billiards set up. On each wall hung multiple televisions, broadcasting a mixture of sports and news.
Rankar headed to one of the high top tables meant to seat eight people and moved the extra three stools against the wall, leaving a lot more elbow room for when everyone arrived. As we sat down, a waitress eyed the remaining stools and asked what she could get us to drink. Rankar ordered a gin and tonic as I eyed their drink menu, settling on their version of rum punch. “Jamaican crow, please.”
She moved to the kiosk in the corner to input our orders, looking up as the music paused again. The bell rang a solemn three times, but no one on our side stood up. “Alala is second-in-command. Belisario is fourth. But I didn’t know Treyv was an officer?”
Rankar shook his head, glancing toward the entryway. “It’s cumulative. Three officers in the building, three chimes. If Fwen came in, they’d do four, and the building would probably empty of all Asez paranormals.”
The energy of the room shifted, intensifying. A moment later, three people stepped through the doorway. Alala and Belisario were easy to identify, their identical heights and similarities in features broadcasting their relation. A few inches shorter, Treyv led the way. His expression held amusement, like he’d just heard something funny—or seen people abandoning tables and tossing money as they ran. He waved, and I stood as the group approached.
“Kinan, this is Alala Veracruz and Treyv Osman. You’ve met Belisario a couple times now. Everyone, this is Kinan.”
Treyv extended a hand, laughter in his brown eyes. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Shaking his hand, I nodded. “Happy birthday. Thank you for inviting me. I’ve looked forward to meeting you all.”
Belisario stepped forward. “Good to see you again.”
I tried not to think about the times Belisario interrupted us in Rankar’s office. “I’ve heard a lot about you two,” I offered in Tulevri to both him and Alala.
Alala bared her teeth in a pseudosmile, and Belisario nodded as he moved to take the stool beside Treyv’s. Clearing my throat, I sat back down and sipped the rum punch the waitress set in front of me. She took down Alala’s gin martini, Belisario’s vodka soda, and Treyv’s beer. As she left, Treyv asked if we’d already ordered.
“We haven’t been here long,” Rankar admitted.
Taking the cue, I glanced over the food menu and quickly settled on a burger and fries. “In the booth over there,” Belisario began. “Isn’t he one of the guards from this past trial?”
I glanced in the direction he—and the rest of the table—looked. Obviously, none of them were concerned about discretion. Whoever it was, he wore a trucker hat pulled low and had turned so he faced away from us as much as possible without sitting sideways in the chair.
“Ardal Sinton,” Treyv confirmed, accepting the drink from the waitress. She took our orders, appearing quite impressed when the twins ordered a catering-sized serving of their hottest wings in addition to appetizers.
Once she walked away, Rankar moved back to the conversation. “Tuatha de. He was the final contestant accepted, lowest scoring that made it in.”
Tempted to suggest the man didn’t know the unspoken rule, the lie wouldn’t cross my lips. Whoever the kid was, he appeared to be hiding as much as possible. He had chosen to stay when the bells rang.
“I’ll go say hello,” Alala offered, taking a long drink and leaving the table. The demon casually slid into the booth across from Sinton. Whatever she said left the fae a bit pale around the edges. The color turned greener as a friendly hand patted his shoulder before coming back to our table and climbing back onto the stool. “He said tell everyone hello.”
The waitress appeared with the appetizers and asked if anyone wanted a second drink. No one turned her down. “We are just waiting on the final batch of wings.”
Shortly after, a parade of our waitress and three others brought the orders. The table filled with wings hot enough the smell of the sauce burned my nose. I gratefully took a bite of my burger, finding it cooked to perfection and delightfully juicy. “Good?” Treyv asked.
I nodded, trying to chew so I could answer aloud. He laughed, taking a large bite of his own burger. The twins seemed to be in competition on who could finish more wings faster, and the only appropriate word for the scene was impressive. Somehow, by the time I finished the last of my fries, they were also cleaning up the final tray of wings. Rankar and Treyv discussed the Super Bowl; apparently, the game airing on the television was a replay of the 1998 Super Bowl. One of the two teams playing represented Treyv’s city of Denver and ultimately won the game by a touchdown. The other team had been the defending champions.
The conversation flowed between the group, rarely touching on work or Asez unless the teller deemed it humorous enough to outweigh the drawbacks. However, they endeavored to pull me in when possible. Most important was the warmth of Rankar’s hand on my leg and the relaxed set to his shoulders.
Another round of drinks and a couple more dishes hit the table. The time under the Budweiser sign read quarter after seven. “Do you play pool?” Treyv asked, leaning toward me.
“Not usually on this Plane and never for money,” I admitted. “My mentor has owned a bar for almost a century.” Treyv grinned, obviously still game. If anything, his interest peaked. “Sorry,” I murmured, leaning into Rankar.
Though the smile wilted slightly, he shrugged it off. “Worth a shot. I can always use extra cash.”
Rankar bumped my shoulder lightly. “You’re off the cane. How about that dance?”
A laugh snuck out. “That isn’t going to help much with my awkwardness and
inability to dance, but I keep my promises when able.”
His fingers wrapped around the hand I offered, pulling me toward him as he stepped backwards toward the dance floor in the main room. “I have ulterior motives. I won’t mind.”
Without my noticing, a band had arrived and played on the stage, replacing the jukebox. Remaining on the outskirts of the cluster, he pulled me close with an arm at my waist while our hands remained linked. The rhythm of the song moved faster than we did, but the beat of his heart beneath my palm counted our steps.
“Thank you,” Rankar murmured, his lips near my ear.
My fingers brushed an invisible speck of dust from his shirt. “I’m always willing to be held by you.” A shiver raised the hairs on my arms, but Rankar’s heat washed over me.
His hand shifted at my lower back as he pulled me even closer. “We can dance our way through the rest of our lives.”
“Even if we are dancing back to back, sword in one hand and gun in the other, I could never wish for a better partner,” I vowed.
His lips settled over mine, sealing the promise. A few songs later, we made our way to the table to find all the dishes had been cleared away and drinks refilled. The laughter and protectiveness exuding from the people at the table for one another left me feeling safe and assured me that Rankar had people to fight loyally by his side when I was not there.
Sometime well after midnight, we paid the tabs and headed to our cars. Treyv hugged me, and I shook the hands of Alala and Belisario. “Wonderful to finally put a face to the name,” I offered in Tulevri. “And a pleasure to meet you, too, Treyv.”
My hand rested on Rankar’s leg the entire ride home. This. This was what I’d been missing in my life before.
Chapter 22
Yawning, I sipped the coffee one of the waiters had handed me when I walked into the tavern to say good morning to Triswon and Elie. He’d slipped the mug between my fingers and advised the couple were off on a supply run with Rezqwa, to return soon. Luckily, the caffeine would hold me over.
