“Look, why don’t we all just ask around and see what we can find out?”
They murmur in agreement and the air shimmers around them one by one as they all disappear.
SIX
ATLAS
The temptation to drink the sleeping potion again is strong. It’s a solid chance to find Rune again but considering how long I slept before and that I’m unattended, I resist.
Instead, I shimmer out of the underworld to an old hangout of mine. It’s been decades since I’ve been here, having outgrown the seedy environment, but one thing it was always good for was finding my merman friend, Meravis. He always knows what’s going on in the supe world.
My booted feet land on a damp street that smells of piss and blood. It’s in the worst part of Paris, far away from where most mortals would dare to venture. Just beyond the fence separating our world from theirs, the sounds of car traffic, voices, and nightclubs pierce the darkness. It’s not great over there, but it would be far worse for any of them who stumbled onto this side.
I’ve never been into the exploitation of mortal naivete, but I do understand the appeal. We supes spend our long lives hiding from mortals, having learned the hard way how far humans are willing to go out of fear, or even worse, the desire to control ourabilities for their own devious motives. Certainly, gargoyles have experienced firsthand the exploitation that humans are capable of. Still, revenge was never on my mind. I’ve been too busy chasing peace.
There’s no bouncer at this door. It’s unnecessary. You can’t even find the place if you aren’t a supe, and if a human somehow stumbled upon it anyway, they’d never make it through the door.
I step through, and I’m immediately hit by a blast of pheromones, thick, humid air, and bass from the speakers blaring music. This has to be an awful environment for the vampires with their sensitive senses of smell and hearing, but that’s their problem, not mine.
Navigating the crowd, I scan everyone I pass, looking for Meravis. I get the sense that he’s here, but that could be wishful thinking. I spot another merman from his pod and make my way over to the handsome man surrounded by a variety of supernatural beings.
“Tolani.”
He looks up, his already pretty face lighting up with a smile. “Atlas. What brings you here? Slumming?”
Chuckling, I offer my hand. Tolani shakes it, using it to extricate himself from the harem surrounding him. “How are you, friend?”
“Nothing to complain about. You?”
“Mostly good, but I heard a rumor I wanted to check out. Is Meravis here?”
“He sure is.” Tolani puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me in the opposite direction, pointing above my head.
I spot a glittery gold cage, floating in the air thanks to some kind of enchantment, and inside it, the merman Meravis dances for the crowd. He has his head thrown back, his long, silky white hair flowing in a waterfall down his back. Instead of clothing, his teal and purple scales cover his flesh, catching the lights ininteresting ways. His cock is hidden by the tiniest pair of white briefs. I’d forgotten how truly beautiful Meravis is.
“He’ll be down after this song,” Tolani says. “You’re welcome to sit with me.”
“Thanks.”
I plop down on the semi-circle couch and watch as Tolani pours me a drink from the bottle in the ice bucket.
I sniff it, unsure what it is. “What is this made of?”
Tolani shrugs. “Bartender special. They got a new wolf shifter working here. Just started a few months ago, but he knows his drinks.”
I take a sip and almost cough. “Damn, that’s strong, and I’m a gargoyle.”
Tolani chuckles. “He’s popular around here.” He leans forward, tucking soft blue hair behind his ear. “So why are you here, Atlas?”
“I told you why.”
“Fair enough.” He waves his hand and a pretty twink of a fairy settles on his lap.
The two turn their attention to each other, and I glance around the bar, waiting impatiently for Meravis to make his way over. When the song finally ends, the cage the merman occupies is lowered to the ground and he’s helped out by two massive bear shifters.
Unaware of me still, he saunters in my direction, swaying his hips and accepting compliments and gifts from the crowd. He looks up, his gaze settling it on me, and his smile grows.
“Oh, my Poseidon. Who do I see before me? Is it really you, Atlas?”
