Talking about Brett to my family wasn’t going to happen, but I really wished I could ask my father about the voice. I no longer thought it was a figment of my psyche. It was real. It belonged to something or someone here in the Square. The blistering fire that accompanied it in my dreams seemed less like an illusion as well. Telling Dad about the voice would be harder than talking to him about the supposed bathhouse, and that was never gonna happen.
Crossing over to Hemlock Street, I cast a glance over my right shoulder. Sure enough, there she was, her sour face watching me from the window of Gifts. As before, she neither looked away in recognition of being caught staring, nor offered any acknowledgment of any awareness of me.
Without a response of my own, I turned back around in time to throw open the door to Bar and slip inside. The red light radiating from behind the glass bar fell over the few patrons, giving them a unifying washout of color.
The blonde barely spared me a glance as she handed a froth-laded tumbler over to a rotund witch. “’Sup, Finn?”
“Same as ever.”
I took my place on the barstool at the end. I couldn’t see the front door from my vantage point, but I could see nearly every other inch of the narrow space. My gaze slid over each figure. At first, this new little paranoid, hypervigilant twitch of mine was rather exhausting, but now I kinda liked it. A new second nature. I’d never realized how much was really going on around me until I sat back and started looking. I never would have noticed the odd tremor in the hands of the witch Marina served or the spill of the vodka on the counter as she lifted it to her lips. Was she nervous? Scared? On her way to passing-out drunk?
I might have missed Marina’s habitual covert glances at the clock on the wall, judging to see how much more time until her shift was over. It was this longing act that had let me know Marina wasn’t as hard or tough as she played at being. She wanted to leave her job early, just like everyone else.
Even the gorgeous redhead in the corner would have escaped my notice before. She held her boyfriend’s hand across the booth but kept her attention focused on me. Be happy where you are, sweetheart. Wrong tree. Wrong time. Wrong guy. Wrong everything.
The massive hulk that seemed to appear from thin air at the back of the bar would have caught my notice even if I hadn’t been paying attention. He was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome. Handsome in a serial killer kind of way, but handsome nonetheless. The last thing I’d been looking for in my men lately was sweet or tender. Judging from the sneer on his face, this one was right up my alley. It seemed I wasn’t the only one observing the surroundings. The man’s dark eyes swept over me as he took in the room, then returned to meet my stare head-on. His eyes grew darkerin anger or passion, I wasn’t sure. With any luck, both.
I began to get up, but a hand grasped my wrist. Jerking away, I tore my eyes off the man. Before I could get out the curse words that were on my lips, Marina slammed down a frosted pint. “Don’t even think about it, Finn.” She wiped up some of the foam that had flowed over onto the bar. “He’s nothing but trouble.”
“Trouble is fine, especially packaged like that.” My gaze flickered to where he’d last been. He was now seated a couple of stools down from the large witch. He drummed his fingers on the bar. “I think he’s in need of service.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not hardly. He’s probably just trying to make the room stop spinning. Although you’d think he’d be used to it by now.” She glanced over her shoulder, gave a chin thrust in way of greeting, and turned back to me. She lowered her voice, but not enough to keep others from hearing. “I wish we didn’t have to serve humans in here. Disgusting.” She shrugged. “Gotta keep the buffet line going in case a vampire or someone wants a snack.”
“He’sa human?” I gave him an incredulous look. His eyes were still drilling into me.
“Don’t let the packaging fool ya, sweetie. He’s just a Happy Meal in four-hundred-dollar loafers.”
“Really? I would have guessed demon. Or at least part. He’s huge.”
“Nope. Just biggie sized.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “I’d forgotten your thing about demons.”
A sigh escaped. “I never should have told you about Brett. Not sure what I was thinking.”
“I’m not sure what you were thinking either, but I’m sure glad all the waterworks have stopped. That was getting pathetic.”
“Wow. Thanks, Marina. Your support is overwhelming.”
Another shrug. “Well, it was. Just because you’re one of my favorite new regulars doesn’t mean I’m gonna sugarcoat the truth. Hell, you’re lucky I like you at all. Neanderthal over there’s been coming a lot longer than you have, and I won’t say more to him than the price of his bill. And he’s here for days at a time. You just pop in and leave again.”
“He’s in here days at a time? You let him sleep at the bar?”
Marina gave me an icy glare. “For all your heartbroken, angsty anger and your random hookups, you’re still nothing more than a Boy Scout, aren’t you? Of course he doesn’t sleep at my bar, the piece of filth. Who said anything about sleeping? That’s the last thing he’s doing back there.”
“Back there?” I looked around her to the shadows at the rear of the bar where I’d first noticed him. “The bathroom.”
“For fuck sake, Finn, not the bathroom. In the back room. I keep waiting for you to ask to go back there, but as I said, too much of a Boy Scout.”
The witch put her trembling hands on the bar as she leaned forward. “Can I go? I’ve always wanted to try the back rooms.”
“Seriously, Devinia. You? In the back rooms? You know there are standards.”
Fury flitted across the witch’s face. Her hands began to tremble more violently as her vodka tumbler rose in the air, spinning, gradually picking up speed. “You let a human—”
“And for what fucking purpose, do you think, you old cow? You really wanna take his place?”
The old witch’s eyes bulged.
“And if you break one of my glasses, I’ll make sure you get to see the back rooms, and I get to pick. They could use you for a long time in Restaurant.” The spinning tumbler returned to rest on the table, and Marina filled it once more. “Shut up and drink. And know your place.”
