Grave Visions(99)

I felt vulnerable, unable to truly see the pedestrians on the street, to recognize who might pose a threat—and I took a moment to feel sorry for myself that I’d reached a place in my life that I considered the fact any crowd might contain a threat—but nothing was wrong with my ears, and from the gasps and whispers I could hear, no one was paying attention to me. No, everything I heard pointed to all eyes being on the disheveled woman striding down the sidewalk with a giant sword. Which was probably for the best, as Falin was bringing up the rear with what looked a hell of a lot like a dead body in a tarp. Actually, that was exactly what he carried, so no big surprise. I hoped he had it glamoured because that was the kind of thing that would draw attention, and if we didn’t get off the street soon, the police.

Thankfully, we weren’t far from the Eternal Bloom.

I’d be able to see once we reached Faerie—for whatever reason, the magical damage my eyes had taken over the years vanished inside Faerie—but there was still more than a block to walk and then there was the Bloom itself. While the bar may hold a pocket of Faerie, I couldn’t see there much better than in the mortal realm.

Opening my shields made the world around me pop into focus, even if it was a slightly different version of the world than everyone else on the street saw. There were more planes of existence than I had names for, and while my psyche seemed to naturally focus on the ones I intentionally interacted with on a regular basis, I occasionally caught sight of others that changed the street into an alien world of glittering crystal, or made the buildings bleed color where they’d absorbed strong emotions. I kept the bubble shield that reined in my psyche in place and tried to ignore the less normal aspects—if I focused too much on any one plane, I was more likely to accidentally touch it, and possibly draw it into mortal reality.

We reached the steps of the Bloom without incident. One of the trolls worked the door tonight. I recognized his particular shade of blue skin and hulking size as a bouncer I’d run into several times before. He wasn’t the brightest.

“Check iron and sign ledger.”

“You’re blocking the door,” the queen snapped.

The bewildered troll looked around, as if unsure of which door she meant. The queen made a harsh sound, somewhere between a curse and a growl. She lifted the sword, pressing it to the trolls jugular. His large eyebrows knit together, but he shuffled only one step sideways.

“Sign ledger?” he asked again.

“I got it,” I said, slipping around his hulking form. The queen made an inarticulate sound, but she didn’t say anything else as I jotted my and Falin’s names in the ledger. I didn’t actually know the queen’s name, and she wasn’t likely concerned with arriving back in Nekros at this exact time, so I left her and her remaining council members off.

Mollified, the troll shuffled his enormous girth aside until he revealed the door to the VIP area. “Check iron.”

“No iron,” Falin assured him, and then gestured for me to follow the queen into the bar.

I sighed. With the queen so distracted and Falin injured and carrying a body, I’d hoped they’d both enter the Bloom first, and for a moment I’d entertained the idea of turning around and going home. But Falin had been commanded to ensure I made it to Faerie, and apparently he hadn’t forgotten that fact.

In the past few months I’d become something of a regular at the Bloom. In that time, I’d grown accustomed to the kind of crowd that frequented the bar—I could even recognize many regulars on sight. Typically, the patrons were primarily local independents who wanted to feel the homelike resonance of Faerie without actually going to Faerie proper and have to deal with court politics. Occasionally fae from other territories and courts visited since the bar served as neutral ground, but the regulars were locals. The winter court fae who passed through the bar were typically doing just that: passing through from mortal realm to winter court or vice versa. Few ever stopped to dine or gamble or dance or whatever other activities took place in the darkened corners of the bar. Except, apparently, today.

I stopped just inside the door, staring around a room that had gone eerily silent and trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Fae filled every available seat, but not one held a familiar face. Considering most of the faces belonged to Sleagh Maith—the nobility of Faerie—that wasn’t surprising. There weren’t any noble independents in Nekros. Well, hopefully I’ll be the first.

The queen had also stopped, taking in the room. Her grip around her sword tightened, and she glared at what had to be a large contingent of her subjects. For their part, almost every head turned downward, avoiding her gaze, as if they’d all suddenly become extremely fascinated by the food in front of them.