Page 47 of Hijack the Seas: Seismic

“Plus, there are all kinds of rumors about Earth, probably planted by the Alorestri, that’s got these people thinking it’s a hell zone. And the kind of assholes who come here as smugglers don’t exactly give anybody a reason to think otherwise. “I tried talking with a few guys in a tavern a week ago, but they didn’t believe me.”

He thought about it. “Of course, I’m not exactly the poster child for that kinda argument.”

“But the dark fey do it all the time!” I said. The casino that housed my court had a kitchen full of refugees from the war, who I strongly suspected didn’t get minimum wage. But they did get housing, food, protection, and the ability to slowly assimilate into the magical community.

Why couldn’t these people do the same?

But Alphonse was shaking his head. “Some of the dark fey do it, those who can pay traffickers to get them out and have family on the other side who help them get on their feet. But plenty of groups end up being abandoned by the bastards they paid their life savings to and never make it out of Faerie or get killed by those same traffickers as soon as there’s any sign of trouble. Cause that’s easier than getting sent up on a smuggling charge.”

He shot me a look. “Don’t you read the papers?”

Not as much as I probably should, I thought grimly.

I stared around the room, seeing again the terrified witches being corralled into pens by Nimue’s people back in the sixth century, who I’d been unable to save. I wondered if any of these were their descendants. It didn’t feel good to realize that they might be.

It was harder to steal witches now that they’d banded together into a worldwide coven network, but breeding what you needed from former captives was apparently fine and dandy. Because there were plenty here, and I was damned if I’d heard anything about it. And that included in Senate sessions where there’d been plenty of talk about possible allies in the war, but nobody had mentioned a group of humans already living in Faerie!

Maybe because said humans didn’t have anything to thank us for.

“Why hasn’t the Circle done anything?” I demanded, my temper rising. “These people are human—”

“Part human in most cases, and don’t look at me like that. They’re not gonna risk a war trying to drag back a bunch of people who have never even seen Earth and would likely only be trouble—”

“They’re magical humans! The Circle doesn’t have a choice!”

“Oh, they got a choice,” Alphonse said dryly. “And these guys might be magical, but they came from the wrong side of the blanket. Namely, the covens, who don’t care much for the Circle in our day and absolutely hated them in the past. You want ‘em to risk a conflict with a mostly friendly power over people who would only strengthen their enemies? Not gonna happen. And the Senate don’t like mages period and don’t want any more on Earth than they already got. Come on, Cassie. You know how it goes.”

I was learning.

“Look, let’s just get what we need and get out,” Alphonse said, scanning the room.

“And what do we need?” I asked, distracted by my thoughts.

“That red-haired waitress.”

“What?”

“The one who gave you the fish? She’s gotta know something. She delivered the damned poison.”

“You think she’s an assassin?” I remembered how she’d been low-key flirting with Pritkin, which suddenly took on a more ominous vibe.

“Don’t know. But even if not, she’ll know who gave her the platter and if she seen anybody adding a little extra “spice” at the last minute. And that might get us a line to somebody working with Tony. But we gotta find her first.”

“Do you see her?” I asked because I didn’t. She’d been a curvy redhead with dimples, a pretty, slightly round face, a pug nose, and bouncy curls held back by a dark blue scarf to match her tunic. But while there were a lot of people here and a larger-than-normal number of redheads, none looked like her.

“No, but I see the bastard who sent me on a wild goose chase earlier,” Alphonse said grimly and darted forward.

And I do mean darted. Vamps could move when they wanted to, which was why a portly cook who must have topped six feet by another foot was soon dangling off of the floor. Because Alphonse had just hung him on a hook.

For a moment, I thought that “hung” might be literal, with the man’s tunic threatening to strangle him. But his height saved him, being enough to let him get up on tiptoes to take some weight off his neck. But not to come down because a vamp was in his face.

“You lied.”

And, you know, Alphonse might not be pretty, and he might not be eloquent, and he might be a massive gaping asshole when required. But there weren’t too many who were better when it came to sheer scare tactics. And it looked like the cook agreed.

“I—I didn’t lie—”

Which was when the fangs came out, and like everything with Alphonse, they were more grotesque than usual, being cracked and yellow and with the tip of one splintered into two, like a snake’s forked tongue. As if he needed another intimidation factor. The two-pronged fang got very close to the other man’s neck before he spoke again.

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