Page 4 of Echoes in the Void

The customer let out a low growl and turned his head half way to face her. I caught a glimpse of something silvery in hisgaze that lanced the side of his face almost to his neck like a shard of metal was embedded there, before he turned away, and flicked a hand out, holding a rectangular device in her direction. Abeeplater, and the witch was satisfied.

I watched the transaction with bemusement. “Your tavern is an interesting cover,” I murmured, forgetting to study my ale dregs for a moment.

The witch’s green and coal black gaze lit on me. Eyes that had seen a short eternity recognized the depths of time that had passed on my own, perhaps.

Or not.

Who knew what Sebastian saw when he stared into the serpentine pits, but he seemed beyond enamored with her. For my part, I was done with witches after our last encounter with one, no matter what name this one went by in this strange age. A smile twisted her carved lips as she leaned forward, her many colorful shawls draped around her like so many faded rainbows.

“People see what they want to see, stone heart,” she rasped, her imperial nature of a moment before as easily discarded as one of her many outfits, I suspected. “They come here, because they can be themselves. Like you.”

She nodded to where my hand gripped my glass too tightly. The finest network of spider web cracks created a mosaic on its otherwise pristine surface.

Some of my warmed beer leaked through as I hastily placed the ruined glass on the countertop. “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged. “Don’t pay no mind to folk like you. It’s the ones who are malicious that bother us.”

A hum arose around us in agreement, and I wished I’d kept my mouth shut.

“I need to leave,” I murmured to Sebastian, but the vampire sat back on his low backed stool, the edges of his lips curling upward. “We heard about the fires. And the crypt.”

“What crypt?” Already I'd fallen in over my head in Sebastian’s strange game. Clearly, he had a history with this woman and this place that I knew nothing about. “What fires?” He had mentioned something on the journey here. I’d barely paid attention then, still studying the inside of his enormous carriage.

The vampire at my side I swore I barely recognized anymore laughed, leaning back on his barstool. “Tifa, this is Dolion.”

“Ah, the gargoyle has come back to life.” She thumped her chest and one of her shawls drifted from her shoulder, baring skin. Sebastian’s attention wandered until she dragged the colorful material over the strap of her dress. “It is good to see Sebastian with a friend. He has been so alone.”

“You make me sound like a lost puppy,” Sebastian grumbled.

“But it is true.” She covered his hand for a moment, and he didn’t pull away.

I turned my head, unable to watch the display of affection, not ready for it. “You mentioned fires,” I said sharply. “What does that have to do with us here?”

Tifa smiled, her green gaze lancing through me. “Ah, the firebird. She hides in the shadows, bursts into flame. But the fires, those hurt people. This we cannot have. Here in the supernatural community, we take care of our own. Sebastian, he helps.” She shrugged. “If the fireling does not harm others, she will be left alone.”

“And what fires has she set?” condensation gathered at the edges of my glass and dripped in long runs down the sides to pool around the base.

“Several around the city. One at a laundromat.”

“What’s a laundro?—”

“And one at a school.”

I didn't have to ask about that one.

“I see.” I didn’t have a clue what this had to do with either Sebastian or me apart from the fact that at sometime in the last three hundred years, my friend had left off his mourning cloak and become an intolerable flirt.

“Shall I read the cards for you?” Tifa offered, withdrawing a tarot deck from inside her mass of shawls.

I shook my head, recalling the last time I saw a deck of cards in action, and the reaction from the reader. Salt stung the back of my tongue and I managed not to lurch upward from my seat, but it was a near thing.

“No, thank you for the offer.” My tone remained civil, but the look I shot Sebastian was not.

He waved me down. “We shall investigate. Thank you for your help.” A fresh beer appeared in front of him, and he turned to engage the man on his other side.

The witch, however, studied me. “You should tell your friend to wear thegris grisnecklace.He’s the one who isn’t fireproof, unlike you.” Her French lilt that sounded all sorts of wrong dropped like another of her personalities as she tipped her head to one side.

“The what?” I watched the cracks grow up the side of the glass, a bare millimeter at a time. “Sebastian can look after himself.”

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