Page 48 of Scythe & Sparrow
Fionn’s brow furrows as his gaze travels across my face. “You didn’t take it with you?” I shake my head. “How come?”
“I did a reading before we left and had a weirdly strong feeling to pack it in my suitcase. When Gransie tells me something, I’ve learned the hard way not to ignore her, even though sometimes I try,” I say as I gesture down to my cast. “Doesn’t usually work out so well to disregard her direct messages.”
“You named your deck Gransie?”
“No. It was my grandmother’s deck. Gran died on it. Literally.Boom.” I clap my hands and Fionn startles. “Smack down on the deck, God rest her soul. Now she’s like … attached to it.”
“O … kay. I … I’m sorry for your grandmother’s passing,” he says, though it sounds a bit like a question.
“Don’t be. She’s living her best afterlife.” I pop another Cheeto in my mouth. We slow to a stop across the street from the Langham Hotel, an impressive-looking granite building, the blood-red awnings giving it an air of sophistication in the ambient light of thecity night. While Fionn gets the bags out of the car, I head to the corner of the street to wait for him. The rain has tapered off to a refreshing mist and I turn my face to the sky, closing my eyes.
That makes itextra shockingwhen I’m hit full force with a blast of cold water.
It’s on my face. In my hair. Soaking my clothes. It trickles down my legs, into my cast and my boot. I look over in time to see the car drive away, probably totally unaware that it just splashed the fuck out of me when it sped through the giant puddle at the corner of the road.
“Oh, my Christ,” Fionn says, his accent stronger with worry and surprise. “Are you okay?”
“Dandy,” I say, wiping my eyes with the heels of my hands, which accomplishes nothing. “I get it now.”
“Get what?”
I gesture to my open jacket. Even the interior pocket is drenched, hit with the full force of water. The pocket where I always keep my deck. “This is why Gran wanted a vacation to Florida.”
Fionn gives me a sympathetic smile and slides his coat off, waiting as I peel mine from my body so he can settle it on my shoulders. When I glance up, he’s annoyingly even more handsome than usual with the dusting of mist on his face and hair. “Let’s get inside.”
A few moments later, we’re entering the austere lobby of the Langham Hotel. “We have a reservation for Fionn Kane,” Fionn says when he places a credit card and his driver’s license on the pristine white counter of the reception desk. The woman on the other side has a perfect manicure, a perfect smile, perfectlyobedient hair that’s swept back in an impeccably sleek bun. Me? I look like I’ve been dragged through the apocalypse, fought some zombies, and narrowly escaped with some horror stories and a bag of wet Cheetos. And I would rock the apocalypse, I really would. I’m a circus girl, we’re built to survive the end of the world. But I’m not sure I’m cut out for the fanciness of the Langham with its brushed gold and cool gray and muted blue decor. It evensmellsexpensive. Decidedly not like Cheetos.
Doc, on the other hand, looks completely at ease as he watches the woman type in his details and pass his license back. At least, he looks at ease until she opens her mouth.
“Welcome to the Langham, Mr. Kane. I have you checked in for four nights with a king bed.”
Fionn blinks, his cheeks crimson. “I reserved a room with two queen beds, actually,” he says as he leans closer to the counter, his eyes darting to me.
“Oh, I’m sorry, sir,” she says. Her brows lower as she stares into her computer monitor and clicks the mouse repeatedly. “I apologize for this mishap, but it seems we only have that king premier room left from our standard rooms. There’s a jazz festival going on in the city. It’s quite booked.”
I smile at her, though her focus is still on the screen. I’m about to open my mouth to tell Fionn and the receptionist that it’s fine, when Fionn leans against the counter, a look of dismay in his eyes.
“Do you not have an executive suite? Something with a pullout sofa bed? I’ll pay the difference,” he says.
The receptionist subdues a subtle cringe of doubt as she taps her mouse. “If we have one available, I can offer you a fifty percentdiscount, which would bring it down to about eight hundred and ninety-six dollars per night.”
“Doc—” I groan.
The woman behind the desk lets out a sigh. “I’m so sorry. There’s really nothing else available, sir. Would you still like to proceed with the premier room?”
The disappointment in his voice is obvious when Fionn agrees. She processes his card and passes over the room keys and then we’re heading through the lobby, me already a couple of steps ahead. “It’s not a big deal, Fionn.”
“You used my name,” he says, and I dart a questioning glance over my shoulder. “You usually call me Doc. Or McSpicy. Are you pissed off?”
“Frankly? A little bit, because I know I look like a Cheetos apocalypse horror show—”
“What?”
“But the room isfine. I can just sleep on a cot.” I toss an eye roll at him as we head to the elevators. “I’m, like, half your size.”
Fionn scoffs. “If anyone is sleeping on a cot, trust me, it will not be you. That’s the last thing I want.”
“I’ve literally slept in the Berry Go Round. You know, the strawberries that spin round with the flat wheel thing in the middle? Yeah. I can sleep anywhere. I don’t mind.”
