Page 57

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

I hope Rime and the others understand that my willingness to talk to him doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to help.

I need a shit-ton more information and some time to think—time they apparently don’t have.

Honestly, I don’t know why I agreed to this chat.

Maybe underneath, I’m hoping Rime will tell me they need me to do something so preposterous and impossible that I won’t have to feel guilty for walking away.

It’s a cold walk downtown, but I’m too busy being on the lookout to notice. Unless Rime takes the bus, which I can’t see him doing, his only way to get here is if Leo drives him, and Leo’s is not a face I want to see right now.

Luckily, I make it to the cafe without incident. I order some coffee and find a cozy, inconspicuous table alongside the back wall. Not that Rime won’t draw everyone’s attention, but hopefully once he sits down, the other patrons will forget about him and get back to their own business.

Sure enough, when Rime blows in with the cold, every head turns in his direction.

He spots me, smiles, and makes his way through the tightly packed tables.

Literature and writing majors, budding anthropologists, art historians, and philosophers all look up from their drinks.

How can they not notice Rime? He’s over six feet tall, broad and imposing, and gives off strong warrior vibes.

He said he was in the militia, didn’t he?

Well, it shows. The only thing that helps him blend in among Mountain Brew’s clientele is the fact that he’s wearing all black.

“Cold night,” he remarks as he shrugs out of his coat and folds his long limbs into the tight space across the table.

Cold night? Such a mundane thing to say. But then, he’s temporarily in a mundane world, talking to a human.

“Get some coffee,” I urge. “It’ll warm you up.”

He leans and whispers, “I’ve tried it. I don’t like it.”

“Coffee?”

He nods. “Too bitter.”

Leo likes coffee.

“They don’t have it in...where you come from?” I hope he’ll say the name again, so I don’t have to admit I’ve forgotten it.

He shakes his head. Oh well.

“How about tea?” I suggest. “They have that here.”

“Tea. Now there’s an idea. I’ll be right back.”

“Do you need some cash?”

He smiles and shakes his head. “I have that taken care of.”

How? It’s not like they take Northern Isles money at the currency exchange. So what do he and the other fae do for cash? How do they pay rent? Buy food and clothes? I’m mulling this over when Rime returns with a cup and saucer and a steaming pot of tea.

He asks, “Can you pass me a napkin, please?”

I bend back to grab a few from the empty table behind me and hand them to him, wondering if he’s spilled his tea somewhere I can’t see.

But instead of using them to wipe, he takes one off the stack, and hovering a hand over it, says “watch.” Before my very eyes, it transforms into a five-dollar bill.

I cover my gaping mouth and stare at the bill, waiting for it to—I don’t know? Jump up and bite me? Rime gestures with his hand again and it turns into a credit card.

“A glamour?” I whisper. Ethically, it’s questionable, but what else are the fae supposed to do? It’s not like they have work visas or IDs. Unless they charm themselves some, of course.

Rime nods and turns the card back into the bill. “This can be used forever, by anyone, as long as no one looks up the serial number.”

Well, damn, if I were him, I’d buy myself a chateau in the French Alps. Or diamond earrings.

“Can you take things back with you?”

“To Nàdar? Yes. But only what we can carry with us.”

Nàdar. That’s the name. “So you can’t drive back in a Lamborghini?”

He blinks and tilts his head.

“Lamborghini? It’s a very expensive, very, very fast car.” Just for grins and giggles, I pull up a video of one on my phone.

As he watches, his eyes grow wide and his mouth spreads into a grin. “Where can I find one of those?”

“Nowhere around here,” I laugh. “Asheville maybe. But you’d need a hell of a lot of napkins.” Too bad, because I’ve gotta admit, Rime would look hot in a sports car.

“Your technology is truly incredible.”

“You don’t have cars or computers in Nàdar?”

“No, we live simply. Off the land, as you call it.”

Oh, sounds primitive. And impossible if they live underground like the internet claims faeries do. “You don’t have the courts and all that? Seelie and Unseelie?”

“No, those are a colorful human invention. Nàdar isn’t an aristocracy, it’s an egalitarian society.”

“Really?”

“Yes. We’re clan-based. No royalty or central government, no social classes.”

“What about the Tuatha Dé Danann? ”

Rime chuckles. “Somebody’s been doing her research.”

I shrug, unashamed.

“There’s some truth to the story, but mostly it’s humans’ way of explaining our existence.” He takes a tentative drink from his cup, his eyes widening. “This is good. Can you buy it in the stores?”

I look at the tag hanging from the tea bag. Earl Grey. “Yep.”

He winks. “Much better than coffee.”

“Have you tried beer?”

“We have beer in Nàdar. What you humans have is swamp water.”

Can’t say I disagree. “Coca Cola?”

“I don’t care for the bubbles.”

I can’t keep from giggling. Here’s a guy tough enough to take on The Rock, yet he’s as fussy as a little kid about his beverages.

For a long moment, he watches me through his lashes. “I can see why Leo’s so besotted with you.”

I choke on my laughter as my heart twists in my chest. Leo is besotted?

I’m not convinced that’s true. Infatuated maybe, yes.

He got carried away while he was playing his little let’s-wear-down-the-psychic game and his pumped-up faerie sex drive overtook his common sense.

But he wouldn’t have gone so far with his lies if he truly cared about me.

Rime frowns. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve said that aloud. I won’t mention him again.” He turns his body perpendicular to the table and crosses an ankle over one knee.

I clear my throat and force my expression back to neutral.

When someone says clans, I think of Scotland, and weren’t the Scots always warring with one another? I ask, “Is there a lot of fighting between clans in Nàdar?”

Rime lifts his chin and squares his shoulders. “I can’t say there’s never any, but it’s rare. The clans are self-sufficient. There’s little need to compete or fight.”

Sheesh. As an American, I can hardly fathom a society that doesn’t thrive on competition.

If we had clans here, they’d be like our football teams—with t-shirts, flags, banners, and mascots.

We’d badmouth our rivals, brag about our superstars, and tear down our cities’ monuments in the ecstasy of victory. Or in the agony of defeat.

“Then why a militia, if there isn’t competition or fighting?”

One of Rime’s golden brows shoots up. “Good question. Occasionally, there are tensions we need to mediate. But primarily, the militia’s role is that of protector. We serve when there’s a natural disaster or crisis, or when someone needs rescued.”

So, more fire department than police force. I suppose bad stuff happens no matter how peaceful a society is.

I ask, “Do the clans have names?”

“Yes.” Rime swallows a gulp of tea. “Leo, Topaz, and I are from the Stag clan.”

Stag ? I lean across the table to look at his hands. “Do you have one of those rings?”

“This?” He holds up his right hand. On his ring finger is a silver band almost exactly like Leo’s.

“Yes.” I eye it so eagerly, he slips it off and hands it to me. It feels like Leo’s ring, too.

Squinting in the lousy light, I make out the familiar middle symbol. “The antlers are for your clan, right?” Leo said family, but a clan is a sort of family, isn’t it?

Rime nods.

“What are the other symbols?” I recognize the spear, but I want to hear him explain it.

He pushes aside his tea so he can lean close enough to study the ring with me. “This is a spear, and this is a hawk.”

“And what do those mean?”

“Well, that would require a long explanation and since we only have until eight, I’ll give you the short version.

The spear represents which of the islands I’m from.

” He slides the ring back on and spins it until the symbols are where he wants them to be.

“And the hawk is my specialized form of magic.”

“Specialized magic? ”

I must be gawking because he humbly smiles. “Each fae bonds , I guess you could say, with a living species. We promise it our loyalty and guardianship, and in return, it gives us one of its unique abilities.”

All the random pieces of information come together at once. “Your red eyes. They’re hawk’s eyes, aren’t they?”

“The Northern Goshawk’s, yes.”

“Can you—” Holy shit. “Can you see like a hawk?”

“For miles. And in the twilight.”

“Wow.” I don’t think I’m breathing.

Rime shrugs like it’s no big thing. “But that’s not the most important part of the bond.”

It’s not? What can be better than seeing like a hawk?

He smiles like he knows what I’m thinking. “The close connection allows us to communicate with our species.”

“Communicate how?” Like Dr. Doolittle? Yeah, there’s no way Rime knows who that is.

“Not with words.” He taps his head. “In our minds, I guess you could say. I can make requests of the birds, and if they’re willing, they’ll do what I ask.”

“All birds, or just goshawks?”

“All birds.”

I’m sure I’m gaping at him, but what? I can’t even. There’s no wrapping my brain around this.

He smiles. “I’ll tell you about Leo’s if you want.”

I urge him on with a wave because—shame on me—I do want. I very much want. Even if his answers reveal more of Leo’s lies.

He rests his elbows on the table. “Do you know what hawthorn trees are known for? In particular, the berries?”

Hawthorns have berries? I blush at my ignorance and shake my head.

“They’ve been used for millennia for physical healing. The whole body, but especially the heart.”