Page 10 of A Subtle Scar
Deacon looked at me, his expression hopeful. “I’ll take anything.”
I sighed. “Not like that. You should let it go. Lionel and Lucy aren’t going to break up, and frankly, I don’t think you have any chance with Lionel. I saw him during that last case, and believe me, he’d come at a zombie or a horde of zombies with his bare hands to protect the Devil, and he wouldn’t think twice about it.
“And we can argue that that’s stupid love, but it’s love all the same. I don’t think you’ll change that.” I shrugged. “Maybe find something else that brings you joy?” I gave one of the eager couples a glance. “Like those two. They found joy.”
Someone behind me cleared their throat, and I turned.
“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” said a tall, broad, and golden-haired stranger who my mage sight confirmed was an immortal. He had an unusual complexion for someone so blond and curly-haired, skin a tan topaz, that rust-dark and beautiful stone.
“Right. Thanks. I’ll see you around,” said Deacon and headed onward into the bowels of the party. If Mistress Trony was done with dinner and already enjoying dessert, I feared for Deacon’s poor heart.
“I guess you weren’t,” I told the blond.
He had warm eyes the color of wildflower honey, and they narrowed slightly when he shot me a mildly wicked grin. “Oh, good. Say, how are you with your tongue?”
I returned a polite version of his smile. I might’ve told him that I was excellent with my tongue, which was true, but the realization that immortals could be needy like the Devil made me stop short.
I could do a fling; I enjoyed a good time. There was a club I went to semi-regularly back in New Cassel, sometimes to give, sometimes to receive, sometimes just to watch, but the kind of neediness an immortal might require? I was pretty sure I didn’t have that in me.
“Not here for that, but I appreciate you asking,” I said, grabbing that other lemon square and walking away.
I had no particular destination, but Hades was still in the next section of the house, playing barkeep and being very Scottish while he was mixing drinks and putting colorful umbrellas in them.
I took one of the unoccupied barstools, and before I could even consider the mixed nuts, I was being poured two fingers’ worth.
“Dram of Acheron for ye,” Hades said. He was an impressive character, easily towering over most and with keenly observant eyes that held a metallic shimmer. Like all bartenders, I was reasonably sure he paid more attention to things than most people gave him credit for, even though I’d just met him for the first time earlier that day.
“Thanks,” I told him. “I didn’t get a chance to compliment you when Mistress Trony introduced us earlier. You seduced one of the strongest necromancers in the country to spend most of his time across the ocean and grow mushrooms, or so I hear.”
Hades snorted. “Aye, but I never did any seducing with the lad. He simply likes taking care of them mushrooms.” He leaned in. “Sephy would not have any proper seducing, and Lucy would challenge me to far more than a snowball fight.”
I couldn’t stifle the chuckle and reached for my glass.
“Ah, wait, you’ll want some water with that,” Hades said and poured me another glass full of the stuff, adding a spoon. “Least one full spoon, I’d say.”
“Let me try it neat first so I know what I’m working with here.”
Hades gave me an approving smile when I took a sip. I added a little more than what he’d suggested, and he nodded. “You’re good on your own, I’d say.” He pointed down the bar. “Got a redhead over there who needs my attention.”
I rolled the glass in my hand and watched Hades pour an obscene amount of hard liquor for some ginger-haired immortal.
I was just considering that there were a whole lot of interesting immortals in attendance when one of them plopped into the seat next to me.
“Hello, lovely human,” he said. This one had dark eyes the color of old volcanic glass, long, straight black hair, and he was pale as starbursts against a midnight sky. I liked his delicate features too. He was tall and built like a figure skater or ballet dancer, thin and reed straight with his posture, and definitely wearing clothes as tight as a dancer might. I could get behind the black jeans, but to my surprise, he pulled off the print shirt with the neon skulls on it and made it look good. The skulls on the shirt matched his dangly earrings, also skulls. His nail polish glittered as he fished a cashew from the bowl in front of us and crunched down on it.
“Human, yes. Lovely, maybe not,” I said and tried my whiskey. It was good, and I could taste smoke and berries, licorice, but I added a half spoonful more water. There was a hint of smooth leather or heather there, and I wasn’t sure which, but wanted to get to that.
“Humans are always lovely, in the sense they are all unique, like an abalone’s coloring,” the immortal said. “That’s what makes them interesting.” He leaned on his hand. “And I suppose trains, airplanes, and horse-drawn carriages built by humans are also interesting. Oh, and the subway. Tell me, lovely human, do you enjoy riding the subway also?”
I had never before considered that immortals could be socially awkward, which this one was, but not in that way where he was shy about using words. It was the chattiness and the glow that lit his dark eyes at the mention of trains and subways.
“I drive, mostly,” I told him and sipped more of the whiskey. There was definitely a hint of heather there—just a touch—pale pink heather moving in a Scottish breeze.
The immortal considered me, and before he could respond, a low bark made both of us look down. The double-tailed dog was doing her best to get the immortal’s attention, and he petted her head.
Hades came back to this corner of the bar, beaming. “Murray, sweetcakes, found a new victim, did you? Charon, well met this Equinox.”
Charon. Not just some random immortal then, but one with his own myth and everything. Maybe I could get Mistress Trony to show me the guest list and point out who was who.
