40. Vesper #2
My frown deepens, but I don’t argue. I do look at Locke from the corner of my eyes and, after a moment of consideration, take his hand in mine.
He looks down at where our fingers are joined and then releases me to pull off his glove before doing the same to mine.
Then he threads our fingers together properly, flesh against flesh.
He doesn’t say anything, but his grip is just a little tight, a little desperate.
“So, I don’t get run down by the box machines,” I say, smiling.
“Of course,” he nods. “They’ll run into me first.”
“No,” I laugh. “You’ll make sure I don’t walk out in front of them.”
“Oh,” he replies. “Right.”
“Wait for me, babes!” Stevie declares, rushing to hover behind us. “I’m living for this aesthetic. Oh, look at all these people! It’s, like, totally a party here!”
We look both ways and when there’s a gap in the machines, we run across the street together, our hands still locked.
Stevie hovers behind us, a glowing light that is somehow brighter than those of the city around us.
Svetlana stays perched on my shoulder, happily along for the ride now that we’re out of the cold.
The Speakeasy Sprawl seems to be a thriving area.
Upbeat music pours out of every doorway, but when we look inside, we don’t see anything except stairs, as if whatever party is happening is beneath the street.
It’s like they’re hiding from something, and I grow curious enough to stop at one.
There’s no sign over the door. There’s nothing saying welcome, but people stream down the steps and disappear into the darkness.
A man stands out front in a black version of the men’s pajamas with his arms folded over his chest.
“It is a suit,” Cipher offers helpfully. “The men of this era often wear suits.”
“Can we come in?” I ask the man in the suit with a raised brow.
“Don’ know,” he replies, eyeing me up and down. “Can ya?”
I hesitate. “Does it cost Coins?”
He leans in. “I ain’ sayin’ you ‘ave t’pay me, baby vamp, but I ain’ gon’ say no t’some coin.”
I pop out two Harrow Coins from my inventory and hold them in my hand. “Is this enough?”
He swipes the coins from my palm and gestures over his shoulder with his chin. “Go right on in,” he welcomes. “Watch yer back, baby vamp.”
Svetlana raises her arm toward the guard and he pumps his fist against her as if they’re longtime friends.
“You know him?” I ask her as we move past the man.
“No,” she responds. “I was just appreciating his warning. And he had a very nice, thick neck.”
Shit. The guy might need to be careful if Svetlana starts feeling a little . . . aggressive.
I tug Locke down the stairs with me. It’s narrow, so narrow he has to move behind me as we trail, single file down while some people stream up the opposite side.
The music grows louder the deeper we go, the walls and floors vibrating with it.
I can feel the music like a pulse, trailing up through the floor and into my feet, making me want to move with the violent revelry of it.
The stairs seem to go on forever, trailing down, down, down until finally, the end is in sight.
A sign above the staircase reads, “The Back Room” just before we hit the base and step out into a dimly lit area.
It’s smokey here, giving the room an eerie feeling of being haunted by phantoms as people move through the smoke.
I can’t tell how large the room is because of the smoke, but it feels as if it goes on forever as I look around.
Laughter and the clinking of glass against glass fills the room in between the thrumming notes of the music.
On our left, there’s a bar, people clustered around it eagerly reaching for small, dainty teacups.
There are no bottles behind the bar. Instead, the bartenders reach under the bar to pour something into the cups that we can’t see.
Everywhere we look, there are people laughing and having a good time, people dancing, people flirting.
“’scuse me, doll,” a woman says as she slides past me, making me realize we’re blocking the entrance. We shift to our right so people can get by.
I glance up at Locke. “Want a drink?” I ask loudly, so he can hear me over the music
He shrugs and leans down, placing his lips against my ear. “I’d kill for a drink right about now.”
His warm breath against my skin nearly makes me shiver. His lips brushing my ear sends a jolt through my body, and I can’t help but to lean a little closer. Harrow, the things I’d like to do to this man if we weren’t so fucking focused on staying alive.
I straighten and nod, gesturing for him to follow me to the bar.
His words are a reminder that the Shatterlands had been less than enjoyable.
None of the safehouses there had anything close to a bar and while the Howling Wind Ice Hotel had good food, it was hard to think of that place with anything but disdain after what we’d found.
At least players will be able to get inside of it now. We’d left it unlocked and Gustav in charge.
We cut through the crowd and make our way slowly to the bar where we have to muscle through the scrambling people.
This isn’t a safehouse, so there’s no reason for anyone to avoid hurting anyone.
When I catch an elbow to the ribs, I grimace at the sudden pain, reminded again of the fight we’d had with the Yeti.
I’m still sore from it, though I don’t have anything broken.
A good night’s rest in a healing room will perk me right up.
Locke growls at the man who elbowed me and shoves him back violently into the crowd, causing me to grab him before he can follow and beat the guy to a pulp.
“He hurt you,” Locke growls against my ear.
I shiver this time. I can’t help it. He sounds so upset at the thought of me hurting, the gravel in his voice thick with anger.
“I’m okay,” I tell him, pressing my own lips against his ear. “Don’t worry about me. Let’s just have a drink and enjoy ourselves.”
He looks down at me through thick lashes and nods, but he stays close enough that his body is pressed against mine at the bar to make sure no one else can hurt me.
“Two drinks, please!” I shout at the bartender so he can hear me over the music.
He leans in. “What kind?”
“What do you have?” I ask, frowning. Every single safehouse has been different and I’ve barely known what I’ve drank at each of them.
He raises his brow. “We don’t say that out loud ‘rough here, doll face. Ya either know what it is, or ya get a surprise.”
I make a face. “Well, I guess just give us something strong then.”
“That I can do,” he says, setting two teacups on the counter before us and pulling a bottle from under the bar. He pours the liquid and then tucks the bottle away with a quick look around. “Try not to cause any trouble, ya hear?”
And then he wanders off to serve the other people.
“This place smells atrocious,” Svetlana comments as she hovers on my shoulder.
“Too many sweaty bodies in one room, but at least it’s warm.
” She crawls down my arm and leaps onto the bar top before dipping her razor arm into the drink.
She presses it to her mouth and hums. “Vodka!” she cries. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!”
I gesture for the bartender again who immediately fills another glass.
I look over my shoulder at Steve where he glows and floats behind us.
I’d forgotten he was there, suddenly worried people were pushing against him, but there’s a nice bubble of space around Stevie, as if people don’t want to be near him. “Do you, uh, drink, Stevie?”
His rings turn rapidly and then slow. “I do not partake of any human delights. Unfortunately.” He sighs heavily.
“Sad for you,” I say as I pick up my glass. “Human delights are pretty great.”