Page 20 of Katya and the Young God

K (3:01 PM): Will there be any more unpleasant surprises?

FEKETER (3:03 ON): No, just me and Rory. They were at the meeting as well.

Everyone’s names were forgotten by her, but she’s not going to admit that to anyone there unless her life depends on it.

She types out an incendiary message, then deletes it, then types another, before deleting that one as well.

K (3:12 PM): I’m coming armed, and if the Demigod is there, I will shoot this time.

FEKETER (3:12 PM): He won’t be.

So she takes a deep breath, and looks out the window at the rain dribbling down the eaves of the cabin. A good eighty percent of her job has always been making nice to people, smoothing things over professionally.

She can do this.

FEKETER (3:15 PM): Though a brewery will have issues with you open carrying with alcohol.

K (3:16 PM): Then I won’t open carry.

* * *

She tucksherself into a corner table at the brewery, gets herself a raspberry ale, and continues her research on her phone.

She’s dressed to blend in, with the rough jeans and t-shirt, but still feels like she sticks out like an injured thumb. Either the town is much smaller than she anticipated and everyone knows each other already, or she needs to do something else with her hair. Or the way she stands.

Still, she doesn’t miss when Feketer ducks through the door, followed closely by the Vampire from the meeting.

Katya shifts in her chair, feeling for her knife, but she doesn’t bring it out.

Feketer had called the Vampire Rory. Implying a friendship close enough to know a name, which Vampires are notorious for protecting them.

Or just more casual out here.

Indeed, in contrast with the formal robes from the night before, the Vampire wears form-concealing but still modern clothes. Blocky jeans, unfitted shirt, loose over-shirt and a jean jacket.

Feketer spots her, strides over, while the Vampire goes to the bar to order, pulling up a chair. “So you found the place.”

“Ollo said it’s the best place to take meetings,” she answers, instead of lashing out about the Vampire. She takes a sip of the raspberry ale, to wash down the sudden and irrational lump in her throat, but it does next to nothing. “Rory?”

“They’re cool.” He studies her, narrowing his eyes, before he gives up the pretense and shrugs, helpless. “If I thought telling you would be a good idea, I would’ve.”

“Liar.” She sits back, right as the Vampire brings back two beers and puts them in front of Feketer. She finds herself tracking every motion the Vampire makes, every small movement, every small breath.

The Vampire nods at her, sitting down, looking far more normal now than before. Like, if someone didn’t look too hard, their eyes would slip off of them and focus elsewhere.

Katya knows, scholastically, that Vampires live among humans without causing any major harm, but seeing one, this close up and casual, unnerves her.

But hell. She faced down a Demigod the night before—she can share a beer with a minor fear today.

There’s that long moment, where three adults don’t know what to say, before Feketer raises an eyebrow. “Why didn’t he just kill you? He could’ve, it’d be easy for him —"

Katya gives him a bared teeth smile, and Rory the Vampire smirks at how quickly he pales. “That is a good question, isn’t it,” she says, and Feketer’s brow furrows. “It begs several other questions at the same time.”

Rory clinks glasses with Katya, almost startling her to spill it. “Indeed it does.” The Vampire joins Katya in staring hard at Feketer, and this is not how Katya thought it was going to go. “Like what does such a weak demon have over him?”

Feketer holds up his hands in a clear motion of surrender. “I don’t know what he has on anyone but me,” he says, flat and declarative, giving another little hint. “But it’s probably the promise of power.”

Katya stares down at the stained wood of the table at the brewery. “I think I can speak better than most when I say that Pieter doesn’t lack power,” she says, slow, in that way that suggests vulnerability, the way that gets people to feel sorry for her. The way that gets people on her side.

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