The ‘gentleman’ wore the uniform of the Ironshore Legion, and he was only too happy to show off a few medals on his jacket as he stretched his arms over both their shoulders. His entourage and he strolled into their house of ill repute, the girls giggling and the man leering.
“Every port will have as many women as it can support,” Marc told me as his eyes twinkled. “In Cathair’s case, the large company of Admiralty men gives them a lot of support.
“So are we getting a show with our food?”
At that moment, someone crashed through the front window of one of the nearby pubs. The man tumbled across the sidewalk and onto the road, where he lay on his back staring blankly at the sky. Another man half his size stood in the broken window with his hands on his hips.
“And don’t touch my girl again!” the short man snapped as a woman sauntered up to his side. He looped his arm around her waist and looked her over. “You alright?”
She rubbed her hand against his chest. “Of course, darling. You handled him magnificently.”
The man grinned. “I’ll handle you the same if we go upstairs.”
The woman giggled as the pair slipped away from the window so he could fulfill his promise.
I stared blankly at where the pipsqueak of a fellow had stood before I turned my focus to the stunned behemoth on the ground. “Does this happen often?”
“Often enough that there are almost as many glassmakers in the city as pubs,” Marc revealed as we continued on our way.
“I meant about the small man throwing a big man,” I pointed out as I veered away from any further windows. “How did he even lift him up?”
My stomach squirmed, and my ‘baby’ spoke. “Have you learned nothing about magic?”
“Can anyone just sprinkle magic dust over themselves and become super strong?” I wondered.
A heavy sigh came from my belly. “Not without giving up something. I’m sure the man was hideous, or maybe he was missing a big toe.”
Marc smiled down at the two of us. “If I had to guess, I’d say he was a fangrel.”
I blinked at him. “A what?”
“A human who can turn into a wolf.”
I jerked to a stop, and my mouth dropped open. “You mean a werewolf?”
“Have you already forgotten the fangrel was back there?” Ramaro snapped.
I choked on a laugh. “No, that’s what people who can turn into wolves are called in my world. Werewolves. You’re telling me they’re real here?”
“They aren’t real in your world?” my little pouch buddy inquired.
“No. They’re just myths, or very old legends.” I took in my surroundings with a very fresh pair of eyes. “Are there a lot of were-I mean, fangrels?”
Marc’s sharp voice squashed my merriment. “Keep your voice lower.”
I shrank beneath his scolding, and my words were barely a whisper. “Did I say something wrong?”
He drew me closer against his side and offered me a smile. “No, but there’s an old saying among the islands: talk about a fangrel and you’ll meet one.”
“Really?”
“They don’t like to be called out,” our ‘child’ muttered. “They think it’s some sort of personal insult if you go around asking about them. They’re making up for a lack of something.”
I unconsciously dropped my gaze to Marc’s groin. He noticed and burst out laughing. The noise caught the attention of several of the merry-makers, who stared curiously at him.
Ramaro shifted against me. “What’s so funny?”
“Not that sort of lacking,” Marc assured me with twinkling eyes. “Though I assure you I’m not lacking.”
