The host said something in Hungarian.
“Do you speak English?” I’d downloaded a translation app, so there were options if she didn’t.
“Yes.” Her expression, though, said she’d prefer not to be tested on it.
“I’m sorry. I know it’s late. Can I still get food?” Pleasepleaseplease.
She was about to say no—I could see it—and then she paused. “I’ll ask kitchen.” She turned and went deeper into the restaurant.
There was a chair by the door, so I sat and began rubbing my thigh through my jeans. “Come on. We’re still friends, right?” I murmured to my leg. “It was just a little running. Did Doc Underfoot warn me not to do it? Of course he did, but I had a vampire on my butt. I’m sorry and I’ll try not to run anymore. Please don’t seize up on me.”
The host came back. “He said he can”—she paused, clearly trying to find the right words—“bunch what is left to make meal. Different from menu.”
I nodded and stood, so very grateful. My leg buckled, but I caught myself. “Great. Thank you so much.”
She looked down at my leg and then checked a piece of paper in her pocket. “He has sea bass, lamb, or chili shrimp and whatever vegetables he can find.”
“Yes. Thank you. I’ll take it all, please. I’m very hungry.” I patted my stomach. At her confused expression, I added, “I can eat a lot.”
She didn’t seem convinced, but she waved me in. Oh! It was beautiful, three stories high, with a glass roof. There was a huge light fixture in the center of the open space. Long black poles radiated from the center and at the end of each was a round glass ball illuminating the room. There were plants everywhere. Vines dripped down from the balconies above. Tall potted plants with oversized leaves were placed throughout the restaurant, creating intimate eating areas in the open expanse.
She led me to a secluded table, far to the side. I heard the low hum of voices, the clink of glasses, and then caught a glimpse of a bar at the far end of the building. The tables and stools over there were full, but it was quiet and dark where I was, which was perfect.
“To drink?” she asked me as I sat.
“Water’s good.”
She nodded and left.
My stomach grumbled. Whatever the chef was willing to let me have would be wonderful. It didn’t take long before the woman returned with a tray as well as a man holding a second tray. They placed the plates around me on the table and then paused, as though believing my ordering everything had been a misunderstanding.
“Thank you both.” I nodded, trying to convey that she’d understood me perfectly. “It all looks wonderful. I appreciate you making an exception for me tonight.”
The man looked at all the food again and then at me before scratching his cheek and walking back to the kitchen. The woman returned to the podium by the front door. The food servers had probably already left for the evening. Thank goodness the host was willing to do double duty.
The sea bass was delicious, in what tasted like a ginger broth, with rice on the side. I inhaled it all and then slid the empty plate under the lamb dish. A couple of groups of people had already passed me on the way to the bar. Since I’d received some funny looks, I was now trying to hide empty dishes.
The lamb shawarma came with some kind of spicy tahini dipping sauce, and pita triangles. It was amazing and my body finally stopped shaking from running when I was already starving. By the time I finished this plate, I was feeling more myself.
Tucking two plates under the chili shrimp with cherry tomatoes, celery, and what looked like sautéed clams, I continued my feast. They’d even given me some bread to soak up the chili sauce. I took my time with the third plate, savoring every bite.
When I was done, I pushed the plates away, finally feeling content. The man returned with a dessert plate holding a brownie in sauce. Raising his eyebrows, he handed it to me.
I smiled and nodded. “Thank you!”
Shaking his head, he walked back into the kitchen.
I took a bite. Mmm, amazing. The sauce was an interesting mix of coffee and cherry, with a hint of lemon. It made me very happy.
The host returned with the check and I pulled out my wallet, handing her my card. I had no idea how many Hungarian forints there were to the dollar, and I didn’t care. I needed the food, whatever they were charging me. After adding a big tip, I put my card away and struggled to my feet. My leg had started to stiffen. I needed to take a nice, leisurely walk back. No pushing it this time.
I paused a moment to check for vampires. It wouldn’t do to walk out of the restaurant directly into one. Unfortunately, I found a cold, green blip far closer. Glancing up, I met dark eyes staring down at me from the interior third-floor balcony.
Six
Well, Shit
It was the dark-haired, mustachioed vamp who’d been staring at me in the hall of the Guild. Apparently, he was the one following me. Fine. Fuck it. I couldn’t run again. If he wanted to attack me, I’d kick his ass. Possibly.
