Page 47 of Needed in the Night
The third shop was indeed a wine merchant, but the sight of its signage and open doors did nothing to diminish my worry. How did we know who or what waited for us inside?
In my peripheral vision, the humans and Kona continued to close in on us. My grip tightened on Isla’s hand, and I prepared to bolt with her at the slightest indication of betrayal by our little guide—whose delicate neck I would wring if she had led us into a trap.
All I wanted was to board a cruiser and share a cabin with my Isla, where I could spend our days of travel worshiping her and then every day after that doing the same. My hearts were set on this. My wounded soul had found its home and peace with my true mate. I would let nothing harm her as long as I drew breath.
This shop might be a dead end, quite literally. But Isla showed no sign of trepidation. She trusted the Sirrah—her scent and her body language told me so. And because she trusted, so must I.
As we approached the shop’s doors, I caught a scent waftingthrough the doorway that nearly made me stop in my tracks in surprise and confusion. I knew that scent and who it belonged to.
What he was doing in the market and why the Sirrah had brought us here I did not know, but we were about to find out.
CHAPTER 17
ISLA
The amountof tension in Mikas’s body made it clear he didn’t trust our guide and he certainly didn’t think much of this wine shop as a way to escape the clutches of Nubo’s agents. And the closer we got to the shop’s doors, the less he seemed to like it.
I squeezed his hand and urged him to follow me, hoping he could tell I had faith we would find help at the wine merchant.
The Sirrah’s sudden appearance out of the crowd had startled me, but the moment we’d locked gazes, I recognized a kindred soul. Survivors often recognized each other—or rather, recognized hyper-vigilance and the shadows in our eyes. She might not bear signs of captivity now, as Mikas had noted earlier, but she had faced some of the same horrors I once had. And like me, she had found a way to help those in need of safe passage.
The shop’s sign out front was as bright as any other on the promenade. Inside, though, it was quiet and dimly lit, unlike most of the market. It must cater less to raucous tourists andmore to locals interested in its offerings of expensive imported wines. And since those were outside my budget and I got my drinks for free at Zaa’ga, I’d never stepped foot inside until now.
With Mikas on my heels and the Sirrah in the lead, we entered the shop. The smell of warm, brackish water hit my nose before my eyes adjusted to the low light.
Rows and rows of bottles, pipes, and other containers in every shape and size imaginable lined the walls, which made sense for a wine shop. More surprising was a terrarium containing a small pool, towering plants, and heated rocks in the middle of the shop’s main floor.
As the Sirrah stepped aside, a trio of large, squat, amphibious creatures emerged from the terrarium, waddling on wide, webbed feet. They left trails of water on the floor as they moved. My jaw dropped.
“Singer,” the Prylothian in the center of the group croaked. He bobbed his head in greeting.
I’d never seen him outside Zaa’ga. And to my embarrassment, I hadn’t really wondered what the bar’s amphibious regular might have as a profession. Purveyor of fine wines wouldn’t have been near the top of the list even if I had.
Utterly nonplussed, I echoed his head movement, hoping that was the proper response.
The Prylothian’s cluster of eyes moved from my face to Mikas’s. “Bartender,” he croaked.
“Atlath,” Mikas said, his tone cautious. “Why are we here?”
“Embassy.” Atlath—whose name I hadn’t known until this moment—gestured at his companions, who wore plasma guns in holsters and carried rather intimidating swords.
“This shop is on interplanetary ground,” the Sirrah said in her musical voice. “Atlath is the Prylothian ambassador to Fortusia. And as this is his official place of residence, the shop and the land on which it sits is an embassy under Galactic Alliance and planetary law.”
“Entry granted,” Atlath croaked, indicating Mikas and me. Then he pointed out the doorway, where Slug stood, her hands resting on the daggers in sheaths on her thighs. Behind her, two stone-faced human men and a hawklike woman I didn’t recognize also waited. “Entry denied,” Atlath added, his voice now distinctly menacing. “Penalty…death.”
The Prylothian guards raised their swords in unison and hissed, all their eyes fixed on the people standing at the door.
For the first time since our intimate moments in Madame Ycari’s back room had been interrupted, I felt Mikas relax just a little.
“Thank you,” he rumbled, with another bow of his head. “We are in your debt.”
“There is no debt…between friends,” Atlath croaked.
I leaned back against Mikas and let him take some of my weight. No sense pretending we weren’t a couple now, and I trembled with a combination of adrenaline and nerves. The shop wasn’t cold, but I shivered.
Keeping himself between me and the doorway in case our enemies decided to do something rash, Mikas wrapped his arm gently around my upper chest and rested his chin on top of my head. His warmth banished my chills.
“He knows where you are,” a rough female voice said from behind us.
