“And how old are you?”
Wade walked around the car and opened the door. “Twenty-three. Old enough to drink if that’s what you were worried about.”
Wade got behind the steering wheel and started the engine. Riordan stood there on the sidewalk for a few seconds more, staring in disbelief at the car, before shaking his head and getting into the front passenger seat. The leather seat was contoured in a comfortable way, but he still had to move it back a little farther than Wade’s so he could stretch out his legs.
Wade fiddled with the GPS on the car’s dash touchscreen, frowning as he poked at the map there. “Ella said Niall is some wannabe hotshot CEO but that he didn’t look or smell like fae when he attacked. You said he was fae, so I’ll trust your insight there. What’s his background? Seelie? Unseelie? Please tell me he’s not related to the Sluagh in any way.”
The casual way that Wade spoke about the Unseelie fae’s undead hunters that made even other fae run and hide had Riordan side-eyeing Wade. “You seem to know a lot about the fae.”
“Nope,” Wade said far too cheerfully as he finally tapped at one of the addresses listed in his search and pulled into the street. “I just know what I’ve fought against.”
“Niall isn’t tied to the Sluagh. Most of us fae think he’s prayer-born, or maybe he got lucky and fell into the Cauldron.”
Wade’s fingers stilled on the touchscreen. “That sounds like a god. I hate dealing with gods.”
“You’re not too far off.”
Wade groaned. “Ugh. I’d ask Gerard for help with the bastard, but he’s on his honeymoon with Órlaith right now.”
Riordan suppressed a twitch at the casual way Wade spoke about one of his people’s most dangerous warriors. He knew Cú Chulainn had gone by several names over time, each one intertwined with the one of legend. That Wade named him like a friend was more proof he had people behind him who wouldn’t like it if he got hurt. “How do you know Cú Chulainn?”
“He was Patrick’s captain when they were both in the Mage Corps together. Good guy. Has a spear I want but he keeps too close of an eye on it for me to nick it.”
The British term was odd. Riordan never heard Americans use it all that much. “You seem close enough if he invited you to his wedding.”
“I went for the food, and I like Órlaith. She’s nice.”
Riordan couldn’t really remember if anyone had ever called Brigid’s granddaughternice. The Summer Lady was ruthless in defense of her Court and queen, to say nothing of those people she considered friends. “Niall isn’t like them.”
“You said he’s practically a god. That’s what prayer-born means, right? Sort of like Santa Muerte. Some kind of folklore believed by enough people to earn a godhead. So, I mean, technically, he’s like them.”
At that, Riordan did twitch because mundane humans didn’t know much, if anything, about godheads. He himself didn’t have one, being a mere immortal like almost every other fae in Underhill. “We don’t know for sure. Niall does what’s best for Niall and has ever since he held court in Ireland as a mortal.”
Wade sighed, sounding aggrieved in the way Saoirse got when he or Donal asked her to do something she didn’t feel like doing. “I hate gods. I’m not cut out to deal with them. That’s Patrick’s specialty.”
“Then why didn’t he come?”
“Because the government is paying a huge expert witness fee to him for a trial in DC, and we’re all about making the government pay through the nose in my pack.”
The GPS finally spouted out a direction, and Riordan looked at the dashboard screen as Wade dutifully turned left onto American Legion Highway. “You’re going to Mike’s Pastry?”
“You can’t pretend to be a tourist if you don’t do touristy things.”
Donal was going to kill him if he ever found out Riordan had stepped foot in that tourist trap. “Look, if you want cannoli, I’ll take you to Modern Pastry.”
“No, no, we’re going to Mike’s Pastry.”
Riordan frowned at Wade, studying the younger man’s profile. He didn’t have any freckles, but Riordan was struck by the length of Wade’s eyelashes and how he didn’t have even ahint of stubble. As attractive as he was, it wasn’t enough to stop Riordan’s annoyance from rising. “How is acting like a tourist going to stop Niall when we’re on a countdown?”
“Ella’s research said his business is downtown but that he lives in Beacon Hill. We’ll get some food, then do some scouting.”
“The North End isn’t within walking distance of Niall’s office downtown or Beacon Hill.”
“I bet you swim for miles in Boston Harbor. Don’t tell me you can’t do some long-distance walking?”
“I have a car with air-conditioning for a reason.”
Wade shrugged, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel for a few seconds. “Heat doesn’t bother me. Letting some asshole enslave the supernatural and preternatural communities up here in one of the bigger cities in the Northeast does. Trust me, seal-boy. I have a plan.”
