Page 18 of Pining for the Prince
“Yeah, I know. I’ll see if I can be around this year.”
There was something about Christmas that pulled him back to his mortal life. He loved the concept, but not having anyone to share it with left him feeling lonely and out of sorts. Last year he’d been drunk for most of it, and mopey, Hyax had been busy and his other friends didn’t celebrate.
“It’ll be nice to be in by then.”
“Look, give me a couple of days. I’ve a state banquet to attend and some other boring family stuff but then I’ll remove the worst of the offending decoration.”
He wanted to pull Hyax in for a hug, but he didn’t think he’d be able to ever let go. “Thanks, Hyax. I appreciate it.”
Hyax hip-checked him. “I know you well enough, I reckon, to replace it with something you won’t hate.”
“You could aim for something I’d like.”
“I’m a fae, not a miracle worker.”
He laughed. “Brilliant. I’ll order stuff for the rooms, it’ll be easier than moving from my current place. I might see if I can rent that out rather than sell it.”
“Sounds like a solid plan.” Hyax headed towards the door. “I’d better go. I’ll text you.”
Left on his own, Gwil stared around the room. The décor could be fixed easily enough, and it was a great house. Living with Hyax would be a different challenge but he couldn’t help but look forward to it. In the meantime, he had a few cases he needed to work on, nothing major but they would keep him from brooding.
CHAPTER TEN
One of the things Gwil had been grateful for was that he was still able to eat after he’d been turned. His body had adapted in the most painful of ways in the days after he’d been bitten, he’d cried out in agony, screaming for mercy and begging for it to end. But holding the massive doner kebab with chilli sauce made it all worthwhile, and his anti-garlic shots meant he no longer had to worry about the odd rogue clove, although it still wasn’t pleasant the morning after if he got the timing wrong.
He liked to walk around London at night. Fridays were a particular favourite when the city came alive to celebrate the start of the weekend. Christmas parties had been in full swing, after-work drinks and couples on dates all mixing together. By the time he’d finished with Dr Gilgil, a gnome client wanting a track and trace on his sister, he’d hit the prime human club chucking-out time, and the pavements were as busy as the morning rush hour. As much as he liked the architecture, it was the people, in all their diversity and vibrant mess that he loved most about London. There was a clash of cultures when different clubs and pubs emptied, yet it was rare for a real fight to break out. There were scuffles and drunken arseholes, whowere usually mopped up and escorted away by their friends, but no mass brawls. Pockets of hate happened in every city, London was no different, but it wasn’t on his radar most of the time.
Gwil headed over the river across Waterloo Bridge. A group of ladies on a hen do, dressed head-to-toe in pink and with fake wings, catcalled him and he winked back. It was nice to have his ego stroked, although he’d have preferred to have been on the receiving end of a stag do’s attention. Finishing the last of his kebab, he licked his fingers and balanced his rubbish on an already overflowing bin, then took a shortcut through the arches. It wasn’t a route he’d have taken when he was still human. It had been worse back in his day, a rat-run of squalor and filth where those lost to society gathered, and there were still elements of that now.
He heard a scuffle, as a vampire his hearing was more sensitive, but even a human would have been hard-pressed to ignore the obvious noises of someone being handed a beating. If it had been humans he’d have carried on walking, but the squeal sounded fae. In the dark recess, two orcs were laying into a prone form.
“Oi, what’s going on?”
They stopped and turned to face him, the one on the left was missing a tusk, and had only one eye, his friend had a patchwork of scars running over his leathery green skin. “Move on, Bitey. No need for you to get involved.”
“I don’t think so, I don’t know what he’s done but one fae getting a kicking from a couple of orcs ain’t fair.”
“Suit yourself. We can give you a kicking too.”
Orcs weren’t known for their intelligence. They had recognised him for what he was and were still considering taking him on. Orcs did not annoy vampires, in the pecking order of the supernatural they were at a different end of the social scale. But then again so were the fae.
A few throws, and a well-placed punch or two was all it took to have them staggering away. He’d file a report at some point, and he suspected they’d be pretty easy to identify.
Curled up in a ball, trying to make himself as small as possible was the fae. “They’ve gone. Can you get up?”
He uncurled and, like most fae, he was beautiful, his white-blond hair contrasting with his brown skin and his eyes—well, the one he could see that wasn’t swollen shut, were somewhere between bronze and gold. “Why did you help me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He got to his feet, he had the typical waif-like fae build, enhanced by the skinny jeans, tight T-shirt and fitted leather jacket. “You don’t know who I am, or if I deserved the beating.”
“I’m Gwil, you tell me your name, and for a fae that’s a friendship already. Whether you deserved it isn’t my call, but you could tell what you did.”
“I’m Chase.”
“That’s not a very fae name.”
“I’m not very fae.” He smiled, then winced at the cut in his lip that started to bleed.
