Gunmetal Magic(153)
Santa pivoted to the speaker. “Don’t tell me to settle down, you stupid son of a whore.”
“You don’t talk about Mom that way.”
“I’ll talk about her…I’ll…what is this shit?”
“I also hear that the Pack has been called in to mediate.” Ragnvald looked at me for a long moment so I’d register that it was important.
“Aha.”
“We have fifteen full-time members in the Guild,” Ragnvald said.
I nodded. “I know. You put in what, eight years?”
“Seven and some change.”
Santa rocked back, took a deep breath, and spat on the vamp.
Awesome. “Are you going to do anything about that?”
Ragnvald glanced over his shoulder. “That’s Johan. He’s just having a bit of fun. About the mediation, Kate.”
“What about it?”
The vamp unhinged his maw. “Only a fool fights with drunks and idiots,” Ghastek’s voice said.
“Are you calling me an idiot?” Johan squinted at the vamp.
People at the other tables stopped eating and trickled over to watch closer. They smelled a fight coming and didn’t want to miss the show. This wasn’t going well.
The vampire shrugged, mimicking Ghastek’s gesture. “If a certain drunk spits on my vampire again, he will regret it.”
Johan leaned back, a puzzled expression on his face. Apparently, Ghastek had managed to stump him.
“Which way are you leaning?” Ragnvald said.
Nice try. “Where is Dagfinn, Ragnvald?”
“I’ve told you twice now, he isn’t here.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. His house is here, his mother still lives here, and his stallion is out in the pasture.”
“He gave him to his mother,” Ragnvald said.
“He gave Magnus to his mother?”
“Yes.”
“That horse is a bloody beast. Nobody can ride him except Dagfinn. The only reason Magnus hasn’t bitten Dagfinn’s hand off by now is because every time he tries, Dagfinn bites him back. And you’re telling me Dagfinn gave him to his mother? What is she going to do with him?”
Ragnvald spread his arms. “I don’t know, use him for home protection or something. I’m not a psychic. I don’t know what goes through that man’s head.”
“You mean me?” Johan roared. “You mean I’ll regret it?”
Oh no. He finally got it.
“Do you see any other fat old drunks making a spectacle of themselves?” Ascanio asked.
Johan swung over to Derek. “You! Slap a muzzle on your girlfriend.”
Derek smiled. It was a slow, controlled baring of teeth. I fought a shudder. The couple of guys to the left of us grabbed their chairs.
“Derek, we’re guests,” I called out.
Curran chuckled quietly to himself. Apparently he found me amusing.
“They need a lesson in hospitality,” Ghastek said.
“I’ll show you hospitality.” Johan sucked in some air.
“Don’t do it,” Ghastek warned.
Johan hacked. The gob of spit landed on the vamp’s forehead.
“Suck on that!” Johan pivoted to Derek. “You’re next!”
Ascanio shot from his seat in a blur and punched Johan off his feet. Vikings swarmed. Someone screamed. A chair flew above us and crashed into the wall. Grendel bounced in place, barking his head off.
Ragnvald heaved an exasperated sigh. “Which way are you leaning, Kate? Veterans or Mark?”
“Are you going to tell me where Dagfinn is?”
“No.”
Bastard. “Then I guess I don’t know which way I’m leaning.”
Ragnvald looked at Curran. “Seriously?”
Curran shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’s her show.”
A tankard hurtled through the room and crashed against Ragnvald’s back. He surged to his feet roaring. “Alright, you fuckers, who threw that?”
The second tankard took him straight in the forehead. He staggered and lunged into the full-out brawl raging in the middle of the mead hall. Fists flew, people growled, and above it all, Ghastek’s vamp crawled up the wall to the ceiling, its left paw gripping pissed-off Johan by his ankle.
I sighed, jumped on the table, and kicked some Viking in the face.
My butt hurt, because a Viking woman had kicked me from behind while I was busy, and the motion of my horse wasn’t doing me any favors. The red spot on my shoulder promised to bloom into a baseball-sized bruise, but other than that I’d gotten away scot-free. Derek sported a cut across his chest and Ascanio, whose shirt had somehow gotten mysteriously ripped to shreds in the heat of the battle, was black-and-blue from the neck down. It wouldn’t last more than a couple of hours and by the evening the lot of them would look like new, while I would still be nursing a sore shoulder. Shapeshifters.