A lot of gods liked to pretend they were faeries these days. It was a way for them to go out among humans and show parts of their true selves without actually coming out of the god closet. So it wasn't all that surprising to find a god in a faerie bar. Especially this faerie bar. The Wet Whistle had been approved by the Faerie God himself, and it didn't just offer a chance to mingle with the Fey. The top two public floors (Taran's office was the topmost floor but was private) were lounges where humans could buy minor magic from faeries. This alone made humans flock to the Wet Whistle. The lower levels were all dance floors that played different styles of fey music. And with walls covered in living ferns and flowers, you felt as if you had stepped into another world.
In the center of the circular club, a curving stairwell went down forming a core that connected all the floors. Above it, originating in Taran's office ceiling, hung a massive arrangement of flowering vines and glowing crystals. If you were in the first lounge and looked up around the side of the arrangement, you just might catch the wickedly handsome owner of the Wet Whistle leaning against the railing in his office, staring back at you.
But tonight, Taran met us upstairs in the cowboy bar that served as the cover for the real bar below. A sort of faerie speakeasy. He didn't have to hide the bar anymore, but people loved it so he kept it as is,
“He's in the lounge on the second floor,” Taran said by way of greeting. “I've got people watching him.”
“But the club isn't warded now, is it?” I asked. “He could trace away.”
“Not if I put him in fey manacles first. You want me to?” Taran grinned, his eyes flashing green.
“Ease up, Elphaba,” I said. “That might not be the best approach.”
“Elphaba? Really?” Taran held out his arms to display his slim, hard body, a good portion of it shown off by his unbuttoned Versace shirt. The rest of him wasn't exactly visible, but with those skintight leather pants, it wasn't hard to imagine the sleek muscles beneath.
“Mr. Grinch?” I tried one of the other names I had for him.
Taran rolled his eyes.
“Go on. Say it. I know you want to.”
Taran's lips twitched. “It isn't easy being green.”
“Yes!” I punched my fist into the air, then smacked his shoulder. “Thank you. I treasure these moments, Kermit.”
Taran snorted.
“Tell your people to close in,” Azrael said, ignoring our banter. “We'll go in simultaneously and if Ekwensu eludes one of us, hopefully, the others will apprehend him.”
I lifted my brows at Az.
“We can't let him escape, Carus.”
“Yeah. Fair enough. Just don't be rough.”
“What's this now?” Taran asked. “Is he the bad guy or not?”
“I'm not sure,” I said.
Simultaneously, everyone else said, “He is.”
Taran's dark brows rose. “Thanks for clearing that up.” He turned to face the huge faerie who guarded the door to the club. “Tell them to grab him. We're going down to assist.”
“You got it, boss,” the Spriggan said.
We followed Taran past the doorman, our large group having to single-file it down a winding stairwell that curved down along the wall and into the first lounge. Yes, down. The entire club was below ground, even Taran's office. It only took us a few minutes to reach the first public level of the club, but Taran's security guards had already done their job by then. They were coming up the stairwell from the second-floor lounge with a god held between them, his wrists chained.
“Sweet sherbet!” I exclaimed. “I didn't expect them to be able to nab him. Well done.”
Taran grinned at me. “They're professionals, Vervain.”
“Taran, this guy just wiped the floor with all of us,” I said. “Well, him and Katila, but still. They beat us, and Katila was afraid of him.”
“This guy?” Taran jerked his thumb at Ekwensu as his guards escorted him over to us.
I stared at the Nigerian god. It was him. No doubt about it. “Yeah, this is the guy.”
“Um, look, I don't know what kind of kinky games you people are into, but I'm not interested in playing,” Ekwensu said.
