“Tell me again what the plan is.” Reynard nudged the car close to a large square expanse of concrete. It was not the first time that I had repeated this plan back to my friend, but I did not begrudge Reynard his caution. Much rested on this series of actions, this arrangement.
The emphasis on repetition was possibly due to the unfortunate meeting between me and the matchmaker Reynard had hired. I’d found the questions prying and impertinent and had so informed the minion questioning me. Possibly I had loomed over the unfortunate young human as well. The interviewer had been swiftly replaced by an older woman with a presence forcibly reminiscent of the now long- deceased troll queen mother.
A terrifying woman, that.
So, for this next meeting Reynard was earning a small revenge for the scene I had made by making me repeat over and over what I needed to do. I reminded myself to be patient. Reynard might have had a small point.
"I will proceed into this building. Find the elevator, enter it and then press the button marked twenty-three. When that number is in lights, the doors will open, and I will step into a hallway and turn right. The first door on the left will have a small sign saying RepuPair etched on an internal window. I will enter this area and request to speak with Mister Grady. Then I shall give him his instructions.” Reciting the list had become almost a reflex.
The other metal vehicles behind ours made more of the hideous noises. Honking.
Reynard nodded. "Yes. I’d do it for you, Bran, if I could. But you lead the council, and the agreement has to be made for all of us. And you know what they’d do if I presumed to make it for them.”
So much pride in my brother king. I, of course, was untouched by that vice. I smiled a bit at the foolishness of that thought.
Tilting his head and sniffing the air, Reynard continued, "These repairers of reputations are very good at what they do, and we need to have the wheels turning now, before the less-human of our people follow. The mages have done a very good job of making this world hostile to us."
I frowned. I remembered the dreams. The magical races had been transformed into monsters by stories the mages, now called scientists, had spread amongst mankind. I changed the subject before my temper soured further. "Have you ever met this Franklin Grady?"
“Not in person, though we have spoken at a distance and he has signed all the needed papers. In blood, I checked.”
“Good.” Too many humans did not keep their word. Of all things good to change, that one remained the same. Untruths seemed to be the universal truth, both of Dream and this world, no matter how much I hated that it was so.
I brushed my fingertips against the sleeve of the garment that Reynard wore and used my magic to duplicate the style on my own person. Illusion was good, but I had no desire to appear too strange if my focus wandered. Better to physically alter the garments.
Reynard nodded. “The style suits you. The jacket is often removed when working and hung off a finger at your shoulder or on the back of a chair. The shoulder hanging action seems attractive to many females.”
“Noted.” I yanked the door-lever and unfolded myself from the car, then headed for the entrance to the huge building. Concrete buckets of red and blue flowers tried to soften its lines—without success.
If nothing else, the structure was a testament to ambition. If only it were not so ugly in its lines.
Like all goblins, I enjoyed creating new things, from homes to clothing. The building should have been beautiful, if not for the fact it lacked all grace. Still, I appreciated the craftsmanship if nothing else, the work it had taken to create a structure this large.
The door opened as I approached. It must’ve been manned by invisible beings, so I noted their presence as potential guards. A wide expanse of marble floor, patterned black and white, met my eyes, and a human female sat at a nearby desk, flanked by two men wearing blue. The men glanced at me as I approached but did not move. Some sort of guardians, then.
“May I help you?” the woman asked.
“Yes. I have an appointment with RepuPair, on the twenty-third floor.”
“Use these elevators.” She pointed.
Pleased at navigating the new hazard, I turned in the direction she indicated. Reynard had shown me a variety of pictures of what elevators looked like. An attractive, fierce but small human female in a long, white dress joined me on the elevator just before it swallowed us.
The velvet brush of a witch’s power against my own magic raised my brows. This woman was witch-blooded, though her power felt unused and untrained. Still, the encounter was a relief. Back before the mages had exiled me, witches, strong users of human magic, had been uncommon but not rare. I had encountered many humans since I arrived back in the material world seven nights ago, but this was the first time I’d felt the presence of power. It was odd that I would find a witch here, of all places, but not unwelcome. Strangely comforting, if nothing else, to feel human magic here not spent maintaining science.
She didn't speak, staring forward at the doors. I enjoyed the subtle scent of her perfume. It brought summer flowers to my mind, and I sensed no direct animosity from her. Perhaps her silence was typical of strangers, although my people would have greeted anyone they met, especially someone they were trapped in this strange metal box with.
The door opened and she strode out after glancing over at me, the hem of her dress flashing over bright red heeled shoes that increased her height and made her gait sway enticingly. She entered the same place I planned to, so I paused, watching through the window as she spoke a few words then vanished behind another door.
Only then I followed. A dark-skinned female smiled at me in a pleasant manner. “Do you have an appointment, sir?”
I did not correct the form of address. I’d learned it was standard in this language.
"Yes, I am here for my appointment with Mr. Grady."
Her fingers tapped the not-magic scrying table. “Your name please?"
"Bran Smith."
