Page 49 of Bonding Beasts (Bonding: The Ultimate Guide #3)

Popping is a little different since Ben started giving me tips on controlling myself in the gray realm.

He recommended walking the lines like a tightrope, so I come out the other side right side up.

It's a life-changer right there. Bonus? The lines get shorter with each step, so I don’t lose any time when I want to quickly get from point A to B.

I walk into the hallway from the gray realm confidently. Ben’s trick on how to stay upright seems to be working well. I didn’t fall out onto the floor or land on my head.

Tip-toeing to the stairs, I try to see into the pub, but it’s a waste of time.

The stairs are too narrow for me to have a clear view.

I make my way down slowly and assess things as I go.

By the sounds of it, several males are downstairs, murmuring.

No one seems stressed, and no screaming is going on, so either berserkers are cool with gore, or they feel no pain. Possibly both.

On the third step, I pause. Al sees me from his vantage point and then returns to the glass he’s drying.

When he sets it down, he flicks the towel over his shoulder and turns to grab shot glasses.

He sets out eleven of them but doesn’t fill them with alcohol.

Instead, he begins cleaning each one as slowly as possible.

Eleven people. Your service, Al.

I nod to show him I saw, and he never takes his eyes off the glasses he’s started to wipe down as he dips his chin back .

Nudging the spark back awake is like shaking a toddler dosed with melatonin.

There’s an opening of the eyes but a vacant expression.

I stretch out for a scan and find lifelines leading to eleven figures in the center of the room.

There are no traps or hexes, just the people.

Once I’m done, the spark hides as if to say, ‘No more wake-ups.’

I come down the rest of the steps as if I belong here and turn to the table. The males seated there have steins in front of them, but no one is drinking. The mood around the table is somber.

They’re all dressed like Humans in denim and casual shirts, some with longer beards, others clean-shaven. But they’re all broad and strong and probably tall as well. Go figure. Four of them have sunglasses on. Inside. With the bad lighting in the pub? Weird.

One is wearing an eye patch. There are five on one side of the table and five on the other, with one sitting at the head. Evil boss position.

A lot of shoulders tense when I come into view.

“I heard there’s a missing eye?” I ask calmly but don’t move any further into the room.

There are tables around them with all the chairs pulled out randomly as if they tried to create a maze on the path to where they sit. Lots of chances to trip.

In a fight, a clear pathway would be easier. These guys are big enough that I don’t think it would matter to them as much as it would me. I don’t see any exposed weapons, but I also can’t see under the table where they sit to find hidden ones.

“Aye, it pains me so,” the one with the eye patch says with an Irish brogue. Sue me, I love that accent, so I recognize it. “Over here, little girl, and ease me.”

The comment is met with chuckles from several around the table. They watch me warily. It’s like they think I’m going to go straight up Kimi and attack them, laughing the whole way. Why are they so on edge?

“Why don’t you on come over here and let me look then my delicate little flower?” I pull one of the chairs closest to me with my foot and pat the seat, making my Texas accent thick enough to slice.

Eleven eyes (sorry, ten pairs and a single) look at me with surprised frowns. One guy with sunglasses is trying not to smile. I guess I’m not supposed to snark back but come on. Little girl? Give me a break.

Eye patch turns to the man sitting at the head of the table. He doesn’t look any different than the rest of them, not obviously older or grimmer, but he’s clearly the ringleader here. He looks me up and down, elbows resting on the table, and then nods at eye patch.

Patch gets up and makes his way to me. For a male with an eye covering, he’s undoubtedly agile and has a great sense of spatial awareness. If he can navigate the maze they’ve set up, this injury is very old.

I step aside and gesture to the seat before pulling up my own to face him. He sits with his knees spread and arms crossed, leaning away from me.

“Is there anything left of the eye?” I go through the motions, unsure if I’m doing this.

“Would it be a problem if there wasn’t?” He shoots back with a smirk.

“Yeah,” I sigh in exasperation. “I can’t magically poof an eyeball to you. I have to have something to work with.”

“Why don’t ya just see what ya can do, girlie?” Damn my weakness for accents!

“Fine,” I roll my eyes and wave a hand towards the patch. “Would you remove that, please?”

I should just junk-punch this guy and bail.

He takes it off while the rest of his group watches closely. Some are leaning back for a better view, but the leader is glaring at me with an edge of hostility I don’t understand. He acts like I pissed in his beer.

The scarring around Patch’s eye looks like they were caused by a fire. His upper lid overlaps the lower and is sealed shut as if it had melted. I lean forward and prod the spark awake again.

At first, it’s ragey, and then it seems to realize someone needs to be fixed up because it goes straight to work with a flash of spite. The orb is still inside and can be repaired.

“You couldn’t have it removed?” It’s kind of a no-brainer question. It obviously scarred shut, and only surgery would have helped. I don’t see this guy heading for the ER any time soon, if ever. He’s too macho. “I bet you’ve had constant problems with infections over the years.”

“You didn’t flinch,” a voice calls from the table, but I don’t turn to see who spoke. I’m busy.

“Why would I?” I ask absently.

“All the women flinch,” another voice says mockingly.

“Or run screaming,” another jokes, and they laugh.

Patch tenses up slightly. The joke doesn’t sit well with him, but he’s not letting it show to everyone else. I’m sure it’s been used more than enough times for him to get sick of it.

I make a noncommittal noise and meet Patch’s single blue eye. “Screw them. If they can’t handle it, they don’t deserve an Irish ride, am I right?”

His eye widens as he bursts out in surprised laughter.

The table falls into silence again, and I refocus.

I tap into my awareness. Ben is here, and the body next to him is Kimi because I can see Alzghoul out of the corner of my eye. Ben, at least, won’t let them touch me. The jury is still out on broken Kimi .

“I’ve heard you accept payment for healing,” the first voice says.

I don’t answer him.

“Is that not against a mender’s code?” He interrupts my thought process again, and I can’t help sighing in irritation. He has no idea how much work goes into repairing an eye.

When I still don’t reply, he says, “And you heal villains? That, too, is against a mender’s code.”

I know he’s waiting for me to focus back on healing this guy before he makes his snarky comments, probably to catch me off guard or something, but it’s annoying.

“I wonder if you’re truly a mender at all.”

“Okay,” I lean back and glare at every male at the table.

I’m not sure which one of them is the jerk, but I’ve had enough.

It’s official. They’re douchebag frat boys.

“I’ve had enough psychotic bullshit to last me for one day.

Can I get to healing this guy, or will the pointless interview continue? ”

“What’s wrong? Not able to focus?” one of them mocks, a different voice, so not the interrogator.

“No, I’m not able to focus,” I glare at him. “ Someone keeps interrupting me. Reinflating an eye is a little complicated. Now, if everyone could shut the fuck up for five minutes, that would be awesome.”

All their heads turn toward the leader.

“Carry on then,” he scowls, and I notice that he’s the one asking the questions. What a jerk.

“Your service,” I say with all the surgery sweetness I can, saluting him sarcastically and returning to work.

It takes longer than five minutes, and I can hear them muttering faintly in the background, but I’m able to give the wound the attention it deserves. I’m actually proud of myself as I finish .

His lid is closed, the muscles controlling them not quite up to opening yet, so I’m unable to see my work. I lean back with a smile, and my spark nestles back to sleep.

Both his eyes are closed, and he seems almost like he’s falling asleep before my voice jolts him.

“You’ll want to keep that eye patch for a little while.

Your equilibrium will be off, and your eye will need a break.

Maybe stay seated when you take it off at first, just until you get used to it, and don’t push it.

It will get tired, but that’s normal, so don’t freak out when the lid starts to droop.

You can rub your eye if it itches or anything.

No more infections. There shouldn’t be any pain in the lids, either.

If anything comes up, just have Al call me again, okay?

Maybe leave your douche-bag friends outside. ”

He stares at me with his one open eye in surprise. The rest of his group seems to be holding their breath. Guess they thought I couldn’t do it.

I grin at Patch, “Open your eye, delicate flower, and tell me how many fingers I’m holding up.”

He takes his time opening it and ends up squinting as it waters heavily.

“Oh shit,” I realize the problem and turn to his group. “Can one of you toss me your sunglasses? He’s going to be sensitive to light.”

They all stare at me as if I’m insane.

“Hellooo,” I wave my hands above my head at them. “Is this thing on? Sunglasses. Need. Light. Hurt.”

One of them smiles and removes his sunglasses to toss them at me. I lean forward to catch them and hand them to Patch.