Page 48 of The Hive Queen

Stepping beneath the light it casts eases my nerves.

The Harbor is one of the few truly neutral zones, welcoming to all beings, no matter what. The wards and spells carved into its structure predate any magic known to the modern world and ensure that those within its walls keep the peace.

As I step inside the building, the sense of danger that prickled against my skin vanishes, and tension melts from my muscles. The sounds from the street cut off, separating The Harbor from the world outside, and the soft strands of a piano drift from the bar deeper within.

I stride to the concierge desk within the lobby, and a tacito demon drifts over, his large, black eyes inquisitive. The mouthless man is nearly identical to the other pale demons who drift through The Harbor, serving guests.

“I’m here to collect the items Darius of Fumontis left in our room.” Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a gold chit that I had found there the first night after Darius’s death. I kept it with me all this time, knowing I would eventually return here. “We had a room here a month ago.”

The narrow vents in the center of the tacito demon’s face flutter before a ghostly white hand without fingernails rises to take it. He dips his head, then turns and drifts to a room behind the desk.

While I wait, I glance around at the opulent interior of gold and black marble. Darius had felt perfectly at home here, spending nearly every day in the bar, listening to the piano and drinking expensive, fire-laced alcohol.

“Hey, I’m here to pick up a package. The tracking number said it arrived twenty minutes ago.”

At the sound of a familiar voice, I turn away from the bar to find a skinny, dark-haired woman standing a little farther down the desk from me. “Amalia?”

Her head jerks toward me, and her eyes widen. “Marc? Fancy meeting you here.”

“Didn’t you swear off this continent?” Then I frown toward the doors. “Or did you come from across the ocean?”

“No, I’m local.” She scoots down the counter. “You haven’t talked to Pen or Flint?”

I shake my head. “I just got back into town. Swung by to pick up some belongings that are being held here.”

She leans closer. “Oh, where are you coming back from?”

I take in her wafer-thin appearance and nod toward the bar. “Want to catch a bite, and I’ll fill you in? My treat.”

“Dinner at The Harbor?” She takes the large, slender box the tacito demon brings her. “I’m in.”

I catch his eye. “Once my possessions are found, can you hold them up front, and I’ll get them before I leave?”

He presses his hands together and bows.

“Come on, kid.” I gesture toward the bar. “Anything you want, within human reason.”

“You know, you immortal beings really need to learn how to judge age.” She pulls back her shoulders. “I turn thirty this year.”

“I’m immortal, not senile,” I tell her. “Try that lie on someone who didn’t buy you your first box of sanitary napkins.”

“How dare you!” She thumps her fist against my arm. “Well, how oldcanI pass for?”

I assess her appearance. “Twenty-six, if you’re stretching it. Why are you trying to age yourself up?”

Her shoulders sag. “Bounty hunter bullshit.”

I gesture to a free table. “Age doesn’t matter, only results.”

“Yeah, tell that to the people who keep trying to steal my jobs because they think I’m too young to do the work.” She flops onto a chair, sets her box on the edge of the table, and grabs one of the slender, leather-backed menus. “I should just scar my face.”

I curl my lip at the suggestion. “Only slow people have scars.”

She laughs. “Okay, no facial scars. Even though I’d look totally badass with one.”

A waiter drifts over to take our order.

Amalia sets her menu to the side. “I’ll have a medium-rare steak, French fries, chocolate cake, and a glass of top-shelf whisky on the rocks.”

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