Page 32 of Secret Origins
“The bartender is a troll,” Fenrir said slowly, almost like I was stupid and needed him to spell out things for me.
“He is most definitely not.” Having had enough of his shit, I shoved him away and slid onto a barstool. “I’ve known him for a long time. He is human. He might stink like a troll, but he is one-hundred percent human.” Waving my hand, I snapped said bartender from his frozen state by asking without words for my usual drink.
“You do know him?” Fenrir slid next to me, still glaring at the human. “What is his name?”
“Really, Fenrir?”
“From my observations”—I was already groaning about the incoming lecture but that didn’t stop him—“I get the feeling you don’t want to know names, besides from the supernaturals you might have to kill if they turn on you.”
“Oh, wow. They’ll build you a monument next to that crazy human. Einstein. That was really profound.”
“They should.” He was smirking. “And I’m right.”
“Whatever. How unfortunate that I know yours.” The bartender was taking his sweet ass time annoying the shit out of me.
“Do you know the General’s name?” He was a pro at ignoring my jabs.
“No. General suits him just fine without additional words.”
“A berserker. But you are right. It does suit him.”
I had a feeling I was going to break a tooth because of how clenched my jaw was.
“You just learned the name of the mage, too.” Fenrir hummed to himself, happy as a pig in mud.
“I don’t know the name of the woman we sent with Leo to Sienna.” There was a human to shut him up.
“A mother of half bloods. It counts.”
“Is there a point in this, oh wise one?”
“He”—Jabbing a finger and startling the bartender, Fenrir huffed indignantly—“is a troll. And from now on, I’ll be paying closer attention to anyone you refuse to know by name.”
“You promised I would have no trouble, Myst.” The bartender placed a glass of rum and coke in front of me with a shaking hand. Alcohol sloshed over the rim of the glass, soaking the napkin and his sausage fingers.
“Are you a troll?” My question caught him off guard enough for him to blurt out a faint yes. “You gotta be shitting me.”
Fenrir gloated next to me. I wanted to push him off the barstool.
“There is something different about you.” For the first time, the human-turned-troll didn’t run to the other side of the bar.
“Nah, it’s just pretty boy here is killing my badass vibe, that’s all. I’ll still slice your head off if you piss me off.”
“There is, there is.” Undeterred, he moved even closer, looking me up and down with a puzzled expression.
“What the hell is the matter with him?” I mumbled under my nose, glaring at the bartender.
“He is a troll,” Fenrir repeated pointedly.
“I heard you the first five times, Fenrir.”
“Majority of them followed Érenn when she left the Seelie court,” he whispered under his breath for my ears only.
“Oh … Oh!” My spine snapped straight, eyes darting around as if the cow would pop out of nowhere. Which was the case the two times I came across him.
“This is not good if he can sense you, Myst. It means your powers are leaking.” He was stiff next to me as well. “I don’t know why I didn’t notice before.”
“No female wants to hear she is leaking Fenrir, powers or no powers.”
