by Eva Chase
“And what would ‘happy’ look like to you?”
I waved my arm in his general direction. “Allow a few words to come out of your mouth that aren’t criticizing or ordering people around. Convince your face to appear somewhat less solemn than a gravestone. Just as a couple of options.”
Thorn drew himself up even straighter, which with his considerable height meant that his head nearly brushed the top of the doorframe. Even Ruse, who’d set the mannequin back in place, tensed at the sight. Snap peeked out of the living room and promptly ducked away to return to the TV he’d become enamored with.
“I haven’t meant to disturb you,” Thorn said, his voice even deeper and more gravelly than usual. He motioned to the living room. “I’m not one for chatter like these two. I say what I need to in order to see important matters through. And right now the matters we’re facing give me no cause for happiness. The one who set me on this quest is lost, I was wrenched from my attempts to locate him for so long the trail has gone cold, and at any moment I might lose any of you as well—”
He stopped abruptly, his expression shuttering, as if he’d said more than he’d meant to. I’d definitely heard more than he’d actually said this time, but it hadn’t been derision. The undercurrent of pain and fear had been palpable.
He blamed himself for what had happened to Omen. He felt responsible for his companions—and for me—and no doubt he would beat himself up all over again if we got hurt.
I could have told you those things already, as facts, but I hadn’t grasped how deeply he felt that shame and commitment until just now. It wasn’t simply an abstract idea of loyalty he was following to the letter. He was truly worried—about whether we’d find Omen, and also about what might happen to me at the bar tonight, to Ruse and Snap if we didn’t unravel this mystery in time.
My own frustration simmered down. I still had the urge to give the guy a cheeky prodding and tease him into cracking a smile, but I could accept that it wasn’t going to happen. And why should it? I hadn’t felt like joking around or chatting or anything much besides lashing out when I’d first lost Luna.
“If you let yourself show a little more of that emotion from time to time, it’d be easier to take the grimness,” I said, without any bite. “I admire your dedication. It’s pretty impressive that you’re working so hard to keep us all safe. Maybe we’ve all been a little on edge for good reasons.”
His stance relaxed a smidgeon. “Perhaps.”
“Well, then all I can say is that I’ve been figuring out how to keep myself safe for twenty-seven more years than you have, so I hope you can trust that I’m the authority on the subject. And I can handle asking a few questions around Jade’s bar just fine like this.” I gestured to my clothes and then couldn’t resist arching an eyebrow. “I promise I won’t stay out past curfew.”
Ruse muffled what sounded like a snicker. Thorn sighed but inclined his head. And I reached for the front door with a sudden burst of nerves.
I’d been to Jade’s dozens of times. I’d never run into any real trouble there. But somehow as I walked out to the stairwell, I couldn’t shake the twist of anxiety that Thorn might be right to worry, and everything else might be about to go horribly wrong.
12
Sorsha
You’ve never seen a bar like Jade’s, guaranteed. And not just because of the shadowkind clientele—or the human clientele, who were pretty unique beings in their own right.
Jade had taken the name “fountain” very seriously—and literally. Filtered water streamed in a waterfall across the entire back wall in front of granite bricks sparkling with mica. It was totally drinkable, and Jade encouraged customers to refill their cups there to hydrate between cocktails and shots. She’d also set up a little knee-deep pool in the center of the space, framed by matching granite tiles and curved limestone benches. People used it as both a wishing well and, when they’d had enough to drink, a wading spot.
Features like that attracted a pretty unusual bunch, but that worked in Jade’s favor. It helped her and the inhuman customers, who had their own quirks no matter how well they’d adapted to mortal-side life, blend in with the rest.
Only about half of the limestone tables that stood at random intervals across the rest of the floor were taken when I stepped through the front door. The burble of the waterfall filtered through the upbeat chatter, and the sour tang of beer and spirits mixed perfectly with the mineral scent in the air. I dragged in a deep breath of it, letting it wash away the worst of my nerves. It was hard to feel all that stressed out at Jade’s.
My gaze didn’t catch on any explosion of tight curls or startlingly white outfit, so Vivi hadn’t turned up yet. For all her fastidiousness about her clothes, she wasn’t great at arriving on time.
That was okay. In fact, I’d been counting on it. I wanted a chance to chat with Jade one-on-one.
Jade might have owned the place, but she took a hands-on approach. Every night except Saturday, the busiest, she also served as the only bartender. Right now, she was ringing up the bill for a couple who must have stopped in for early drinks before heading on to other nightly exploits. Her dark green hair, almost the same hue as my dress, hung in neat coils halfway down her slim back.
Most people probably thought she’d picked the color to go with her name, but I suspected it was the other way around. If anyone ever asked, she gave credit to a special dye her stylist mixed for her, but I happened to know her hair grew in like that. It was the one shadowkind feature she couldn’t hide away in her mortal form. In this company, no one batted an eye at it. The color complemented her smooth skin, the same rich brown shade as the tequila she was now pouring.
I sat down on the stool at the far end of the gleaming counter, which appeared to have been carved out of a single immense slab of quartz. That seat was a little removed from the others, and it had a splash of supernatural influence on it that would discourage any mortal not wearing a badge like mine from taking it. The understanding was that if you wanted to talk to Jade about shadowkind matters, you sat yourself down there and waited until she was ready.
It only took a few minutes before she moseyed over, giving me a crooked smile. “Sorsha. It’s been a while. You’re looking well. What’s new in your part of the world?”
“Not a whole lot, but I was hoping to run something by you.” I motioned to the rack of drinks on the wall behind her. “Jack and Coke, please.” Only a cheapskate asked for info without offering their patronage first.
Jade mixed the drink with graceful efficiency and slid it across the counter to me. I took a sip and enjoyed the sweet-and-sour burn all the way down to my stomach. She never skimped on the quality of her ingredients, which was also part of what made this place popular.
She leaned her elbow onto the counter. “What’s on your mind?”
Talking with her about Fund business or anything similar required a careful hand. Jade might have been shadowkind, and I was sure she cared at least a little about her people’s well-being, but like most of the higher shadowkind I’d met who’d transitioned to living in the mortal realm, her own survival and that of her immediate friends was way higher on her list of priorities than any thought of the greater good. If she could lend me a hand without any consequences, she’d happily do so, but if the subject sounded at all risky, she was likely to clam up.
“I got a tip there might be something worth checking out at a place called ‘Merry Den’,” I said, pitching my voice low enough that the growing bar-room din would cover it. “That might be just a nickname, not something official. Any idea what that is or where I could find it?”
Jade’s thin eyebrows drew together. She tapped the glass stir-stick she was holding against her lips. “That doesn’t ring any bells,” she said in a tone that sounded genuinely apologetic. “If it comes up, I can give the Fund a ring?”
“This is more of a private matter,” I said. “Call me directly.”
“Not a problem.”
I suck
ed my lower lip under my teeth, trying to figure out how to phrase the next question in nonthreatening terms. “Has there been anything new in talk among the kind in general—about unusual behavior from hunters or anything like that?”
Her pale blue eyes went even more distant, and then she blinked, a flash of inspiration crossing her face. “You know, I have heard—and if anyone asks, it wasn’t me who mentioned it—that there’ve been advertisements going out on the down low that offer collectors big bucks if they happen to have a particularly potent shadowkind in their stash. It sounded like some mega-collector trying to create the ultimate zoo.” She gave a little shudder.
Huh. It was communications about a possible transaction to purchase shadowkind that had brought my attention to the guy who’d had my trio caged up. The way the pieces I’d seen had been worded, I’d assumed that collector was the buyer, but maybe he’d been considering selling one or more of his prizes. A higher shadowkind was about as “potent” as you could get. I might be able to get my black-market contacts to trace the other side of that conversation.
“Thanks,” I said. “That could be just what I need.”
“Just what you need for what?” The bright voice came with a skinny arm slung across my shoulders. Vivi leaned in beside me, shooting a grin at Jade. “Hey, Jade. Looks like you two are having a good chat. Anything interesting come up, Sorsh?”
I caught Jade’s gaze for just a second with a twitch of my mouth I hoped she’d recognize as a plea to keep quiet about my inquiries. “Nothing major,” I said. “But I’m glad I checked.” I took a swig from my Jack and Coke. “What are you having? First one’s on me.”
“Well, now, that’s an offer I can’t refuse.” My bestie laughed and drummed her hands on the counter. “One Cosmo, please, with extra lime.”
As Jade went off to assemble the drink, Vivi tipped her head close to mine. “Come on now. It sounded like she said something you thought was worth pursuing. Is there a big bad hunter for us to sic the gangs on—if any of them will go for it? An illicit auction we could crash?”
I shook my head, shrugging her off as lightly as I could. I had to tell her something, but in a way that wouldn’t invite her to join in. Going with a sliver of the truth seemed like the best tactic.
“It wasn’t anything for the Fund,” I said. “Just a bit of info that might help me find out a little more about Luna’s life in general.”
“Oh, hey! I’ve been dying to know more about her. Shadowkind woman takes in a mortal toddler and raises her for years—that’s not your typical story.”
My throat tightened. It was partly because of that attitude that I didn’t feel totally comfortable getting into the details I did have about Luna with my best friend. To Vivi, it was a fantastic story. To me, it was the only life I’d known.
Vivi’s childhood hadn’t exactly been normal either, growing up with both parents already in the Fund and bringing her into that world, but she had two human parents still living—just enjoying a surprisingly ordinary retirement in Florida as of two years back—and never interacted with the higher shadowkind except for briefly.
In some ways, she probably hoped my weird history would bring some spice into her life the same way I’d been drawn to her relative normalcy.
“I’d like to look into this stuff on my own, at least to begin with,” I said, as gently as I could manage. “It’s pretty personal, and when I don’t know exactly what I’ll stumble on…”
“Oh, sure, of course.” Vivi patted me on the shoulder as she grabbed her drink from Jade, but she didn’t quite suppress her wince at my brush-off. Guilt twisted my stomach, knowing I was doing more than brushing her off—I was outright lying. Even if she couldn’t totally understand where I came from, she was a good friend. And when I’d first come to the Fund, I’d needed that more than anything.
“How’d your date go?” I asked, switching to a safer topic.
Vivi pulled a face before sipping her drink. “Like watching paint dry while his grass grows. Why do they all turn out to be so boring when I actually get to know them?”
“Maybe because you’ve got a more unusual life than most people even know is possible?”
“I’m not asking that much.” She sighed. “And it’s not like the stuff we get up to is all that exciting most of the time. Fundraising and passing on anonymous tips—so thrilling! You know, my parents went busting up hunter clubhouses and all that when they were young.”
The corner of my lips quirked up. “I’m pretty sure they only did that once—they just like telling the story an awful lot. I must have heard it about a hundred times while I was crashing at your place.”
“Maybe so. But seriously. I’m going to be thirty in a few months, and I’ve never pulled off anything like that.” She rested her elbow next to mine companionably. “You remember all the plans we dreamed up back then—epic rescue missions to free the shadowkind, sabotaging the hunters left and right?”
It’d be hard to forget those long-ago nights staying up in Vivi’s room, chatting away until one of her parents had knocked on the door and told us to get to sleep already. She’d been the first real friend I’d had, the first person I’d talked openly about my life with other than Luna.
“What was it we were going to call ourselves?” I asked. “The Shadow Avengers?” We’d been too old to see the name as more than a joke, but the kernel of the idea, going out and literally fighting for justice—that eager rebelliousness from our teens resonated through me from the past.
I’d been seeing it through as well as I could, without her.
Vivi laughed. “Yeah. Like some kind of superheroes.” Then her mood dampened. “We were going to track down the people who came for Luna too. You know, I’m really sorry the Fund never caught them. You’d think we’d be able to pull off at least that much.”
The regret in her eyes made my throat tighten. Vivi might not totally understand what Luna had meant to me, but she knew how badly her loss had shaken me, and she’d truly wanted to make it right however she could. I hesitated against the urge to spill the beans after all—to at least tell her that I was probably on the track of those villains right now. It would be nice to share my hopes and worries with her.
While I grappled with the idea, a guy wearing a purple top hat bumped into Vivi as he passed her. She flinched toward the counter. “Hey, watch it with that drink!” she said, peering over her shoulder to make sure his beer hadn’t stained her ivory jumpsuit, and my mouth stayed firmly shut.
If I told Vivi much of anything, she’d want to know everything—and could she handle getting into a real mess? These might be the same people who’d not only ambushed Omen and Luna but slaughtered my parents as well. If anything, it’d be selfish of me to involve her. This once, I could protect the person who meant the most to me.
I raised my glass, opting for distraction instead of a confession. “Enough about the past—drink up! It’s time to hit the dance floor.”
A few of the patrons were already swaying to the music in the open area next to the pool. When Vivi and I had downed our cocktails, I slid a twenty across the counter to Jade, told her to keep the change, and headed over to join them.
Vivi grasped my hand and swung me around with her, laughing. The broad legs of her jumpsuit swished around her calves. I focused half my attention on keeping up with her and the other half on scanning the bar-goers around us.
Jade wasn’t the only being here who might have information they could share—and another shadowkind who wasn’t as tied to this spot could be willing to say more. The tricky part was identifying the actual monsters amid the mortals who made themselves up like one.
I considered and then dismissed a guy with yellow cat’s eyes—contacts, I was pretty sure—and a woman with a wolf’s tail pinned to the back of her skirt that was obviously fake when I got a closer look. My gaze settled on an older woman with a dappling of shimmering scales across the back of her neck, only visible when her hair shifted with the motion
of her head. She could have passed those off as a tattoo, but if they’d actually been one, I’d have expected her to show it off more.
Before I could think up an excuse to leave Vivi and sidle over to her table, four new figures marched through the bar’s front door together. And by “marched,” I mean they had the air of a military squadron.
An apprehensive prickle ran down my back as I watched the quartet in their business casual button-ups and slacks spread out through the bar. Each of them stopped by one of the nearby patrons, but from the other people’s expressions, they didn’t know these dudes. I got the impression the four were asking as many questions as I’d have liked to.
There was no reason to assume their arrival had anything to do with me. The clientele here could have been mixed up in all sorts of unusual dealings. But Thorn’s warning that we’d been followed at the market came back to me with a nervous jitter. Any second now, one of those guys would come over this way and spot me. What would they do then?
It seemed wisest not to stick around and find out. At the very least, I could slip around to the front of the bar and watch them on my own terms—see if they focused in on someone else, and if they didn’t, where they went after they’d finished their rounds.
I checked my phone, pretending I’d gotten a text, and wrinkled my nose at Vivi. “I’ve got to get going. Sorry to take off so early.”
“Hey, we still had fun,” Vivi said, but curiosity still shone in her eyes. “Need any help?”
“No, I’m good. Just going to duck out the back to avoid the crowd.”
“Talk soon, then. And you know if you ever do need me, I’m all in.” She made an air kiss at my cheek. “Ditto.”
The corner of my lips quirked upward. “Ditto.” We’d taken that as our way of saying, “Love ya!” ever since watching the movie Ghost together way back when.
I gave her a little wave and took off for the back door as fast as I could jet it without catching the preppy squadron’s eyes.
