Page 112 of Cry of the Firebird

"Stop worrying, Trajan. I think I know where he'll be. I'll go get him," she said calmly inwardly cursing.

"Thank you, Isabelle. Help yourself to any of the cars downstairs. The sooner he's back, the better. I don't want him causing a bar fight somewhere and drawing attention to himself."

Isabelle smiled but didn't reassure him because a bar was exactly where Hamish was going to be.

Hamish saton a stool in the newly refurbished Dirty Rose Bar. It was the first place he had met Isabelle fifty years ago, and he had secretly hoped it would have been burned to the ground. He had been a soldier, and she had been masquerading as a stunning bar singer that happened to say yes when he offered to buy her a drink.

"Another?" the bartender asked uncertainly.

"Yes, no ice." The boy nodded and didn't say a thing. He was probably wondering how Hamish was still alive after all the alcohol he had consumed. Hamish loved a 24-hour bar and was making the most of it. He had been drinking steadily for nearly twelve hours and had no intention of stopping.

Hamish really couldn't understand why Isabelle was so angry at him. Surely he was the one entitled to be angry. All the years he had thought her dead. He had never felt any connection like that with any other woman. He had looked for it, and nothing had ever come close.

The bell chimed on the bar door, and there she was. A drunken man's dream made real. In his hallucination, she was dressed in tight black jeans, a lacy cream top, and a black leather jacket. Her long hair fell in waves over her shoulders, and she still had those perfect, kissable red lips.

The bartender broke his concentration as he placed the rum in front of him. Hamish drank it straight down to clear the illusion away. He couldn't even get drunk without her ghost haunting him.

"Hamish," her warm voice washed over him. Maybe he should stop drinking. Seeing and hearing things are usually a sign to sober up.Nah.

Isabelle sat down beside him. "I thought I would find you here. Trajan is worried about you. Martini, thank you."

The bartender nodded and hurried to mix it for her.

"I can't believe the old place still stands," she murmured.

Oh, great. She really was there talking to him. "Trajan is too wrapped up in the Russian witch to notice if I go out for a drink."

"Maybe if you hadn't been missing for nearly twelve hours, it would have been less obvious." Isabelle took her drink from the bartender, who blushed when she smiled at him. "This is weird, isn't it?"

"I don't know how I ended up here last night. I feel like I'm in the twilight zone except you aren't singing."

She reddened at that, maybe surprised he had remembered. The first night they had met, she had climbed up on a table and sang for a bar full of people. Later on, he had found out that she was a hunter. He foolishly confronted her about it, thinking she had been sent to kill him, and she had shot him in the ass for his audacity. She had no idea he was an immortal shifter. She had wanted to drink with him because she had actually liked him. It had been a hell of a first date.

"Do you still sing?"

"Only in the shower."

"I'll have to catch your show sometime."

Isabelle laughed loudly, nearly choking on her drink. That really surprised him. She had a great, big, filthy laugh, and it reminded him of the days when they didn't hate each other.

"I assure you the sight isn't what it used to be." Isabelle finished her martini and ordered another one.

"I saw a bit last night, and it looked just fine to me." Hamish waved his glass at the barman, and he refilled it.

"You still look exactly the same. Are you still finding wars and saving the day?" she asked, referring to his old past time.

"I'm back home on a cattle station again. You get tired of killing men. It's too easy and disheartening anyway. Supernaturals present much more of a challenge these days."

"Very true. I think that's why I'm staying around. Trouble flocks to that witch, and it's going to be a killer of a fight when it comes to ahead."

"We might even get the chance to die in this one if it's big enough."

"Just for something different." They both burst out laughing at that. The bartender was looking at both of them with a perplexed expression, which made them laugh more.

"Make me another, please." Isabelle had a glow in her cheeks, the first sign of her getting tipsy. It made Hamish smile that she still couldn't hold her liquor. "We really should get back to the mansion after this round. Trajan is fretting like a mother hen."

"I have a better idea, Isabelle. How about we stay here and you can keep on drinking. You're less hostile with vodka in your system." Hamish gave her a sideways grin over his glass.

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