“Keep your sexual habits to yourself, Basil.”
The door to the hallway opens. I whip out my wand. Bunce holds up her fist.
It’s Simon.
He’s cut his hair.…
He comes in, self-conscious, looking at the floor. His hair is cut short on the sides, the way he’s always worn it—but the stylist left most of his new length on top. It’s an extra generous spill of curls. More golden than ever from all these days in the sun.
That haircut cost more than his entire wardrobe.
“Look at you,” Bunce says. “You’re a brand-new man.”
He shrugs. “Are we ready?” To me: “Is your phone charged?”
I take a cab to the restaurant, and they follow in Shepard’s truck. I don’t want to be seen driving up with anyone.
I changed into one of my new suits before we left. Black thistime, with a heather-and-gold flowered shirt. (I suppose Bunce isn’t the only one who can’t let go of Watford purple.) “You’re going to a strip mall,” Simon said. “Won’t you be overdressed?”
“Good choice,” Shepard said, sizing me up.
He’s right again: When I walk into the restaurant, Lamb is waiting in the lobby, wearing sunglasses and a three-piece suit. Tiffany blue. Which sounds vulgar, but very much isn’t. He looks trim and fresh.
“There’s a wait,” Lamb says, “there’s always a wait.” He lifts his sunglasses. “Don’t you look rosy.…”
I raise an eyebrow, which is my go-to move when I want to look cool but don’t have anything cool to say.
Lamb’s wariness from last night is gone. He seems to have reset himself to the easy charm from when we first met. So I reset, too. (I can be droll, I can pretend that nothing matters—it’s practically my neutral state.)
A hostess takes us to our table. The restaurant is as unassuming inside as out. “Let me order,” Lamb says, opening his menu. “The thum ka noon is superb.”
He orders half a dozen things without bothering to translate for me. And then he sits back in his chair and smiles. Last night, I took that smile at face value.
“So…” he says, “Baz.” He lets my name hang in the air. “What’s that short for?”
“Barry,” I say. Which is true. For some people. (I promised Bunce I’d do my best to lie today.)
“Baz suits you.” Lamb’s eyes are sparkling again; he must be able to turn it off and on. I can still feel it working on me. “Tell me why you want to know about the Next Blood, Baz.”
“I told you—they have my friend.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know that either.”
“Whatdoyou know?” he asks. His sunglasses are pushed up above his forehead, and a lock of slippery hair falls into his eyes.
“That she was on a retreat with the Next Blood. She didn’t know what they were. And then she disappeared.”
“So you’re not looking for them because you’re interested in signing up.…”
I sit back. I hadn’t realized I was leaning forward. “What? No.”
“Because they are our enemy, Baz.” Lamb’s eyes are still smiling, but it’s a sad smile, pulled down at the corners.
