Chapter 28 #2
Once the bartender turned to get the drinks, Sebastian peered around Edgar to speak to Nessa. His words were lost to the murmuring of the Guardians, but his crinkled nose suggested he was questioning her choice.
Her voice rose above the din.
“He has two options of wine, and they are colors, not varietals,” she replied.
The Guardians quieted to hear. “We are at the top of a mountain, and they don’t seem to trade with anyone but their own kind for some reason.
The desire to be poor, maybe? Their trading partners are also very likely in high places that don’t favor grape growing.
The wine is probably shit. If you make it cold enough, you won’t taste it as much. Hence the ice cubes.”
“Jesus,” Jasper said on a release of breath. “She understood the assignment.”
She winked at Sebastian, who’d widened his eyes at her response. A few of the bigger Guardians stiffened. She did understand the assignment. She was helping Niamh create a problem and doing it with a smile.
“Jessie is going to be pissed if they actually start a fight, though,” Aurora said.
“They won’t,” Ulric said with assurance. “Gargoyles like the buildup. We don’t break and fight as easily as shifters. We like to get good and mad first. Niamh knows this. She’s tested the limits on a great many gargoyles in O’Briens. She knows what she’s doing.”
“Hey, guys!” Fred walked in wearing a thick jacket and spikey green hair.
She’d liked the humid heat in North Carolina.
The crisp air of snowy mountains was not her jam.
“Oh, cool capes!” She leaned against the bar.
“I wish I’d known! I found a cape at a costume shop in Drex’s city.
I figured it would be a neat statement piece. I should’ve worn it. Next time!”
The bartender came back with an individual-sized bottle of white wine and a pint glass filled with ice. He was clearly trying to be obtuse on purpose.
“Fantastic.” Nessa beamed. “Exactly what I was expecting in a place like this.”
“Oh, man,” Jasper said under his breath, shaking with silent laughter. “She’s excellent. Look how uncomfortable Sebastian is.” His laughter grew. “I wish I would’ve been there when Niamh took Sebastian to the shifter bar outside Kingsley’s place.”
The bartender slung up three empty shot glasses before pulling well whiskey from the alcohol trough below the bar. He poured the shots, spilling some on the bar as he did so, and dropped the bottle back where it belonged. He didn’t bother distributing.
“And whatever the one at the end wants,” Niamh finished.
“Hi! I’m Fred. What’s your name?”
He didn’t answer.
“Blank slate. I like it!” Fred replied, undaunted. “Do you have any fresh coffee?”
“No.”
“No, huh? Hmm. You drive a hard bargain. What kind of bourbon do you have?”
John started to chuckle.
“The brown kind,” the bartender answered, and a few of the eavesdropping Guardians snickered.
Fred looked at him in confusion, glanced at the wall of alcohol behind him, and surveyed the bar. “Is this some kind of practical joke or something? This is a real bar, right, not an integrated theater performance or something? I was a part of one of those in New York. It was pretty cool.”
She wasn’t joking, but because of her over-the-top nature, it came out like she was. Nessa spit out laughter and John laughed harder, clearly trying to be quiet about it. His face turned red.
The bartender tensed in anger.
“Get her the best bourbon you have,” Niamh said, and even though she had to have been delighted with Fred’s help, she didn’t crack a smile.
The bartender pulled a shot glass over and reached down for the well alcohol again. He brought up the whiskey and poured it before pushing it toward Fred.
He moved away, stopping to refill a beer for one of the Guardians before bothering to help Ulric and Jasper, and Fred loudly whispered, “After meeting that guy, I don’t feel like such a dick.”
She clearly meant to keep it between them, but she didn’t know how well supernaturals could hear. It reached all the way down to the end.
John’s laughter boiled over. He covered his mouth, but his body shook with it. Guardians looked over, their eyebrows settling low. They knew their kind were getting made fun of.
“I assume those wings are real, if micro-sized?” the bartender asked as he reached Ulric.
“Like your dick, yeah,” Ulric shot back. “A beer, in a bottle. Looks like you won’t bother doing your job, so whatever kind you feel like grabbing.”
“Same,” Jasper said. “And maybe a smile to go with it.”
The bartender leaned a hand heavily on the bar.
“You guys holding a grudge after we took your female to task, huh?” He smirked.
“Gimerel is falling apart, everyone knows that. We got a new leader, but we got the same Guardians. If I were you, I wouldn’t rile them up. I’d let them take it easy on you.”
“Says the guy who’s never been a Guardian,” Jasper responded.
“To the guy who’s too small to be in any cairn but a female-driven start-up.” The bartender smirked and moved on to get the beers.
“Ah,” John said softly, his humor having dried up with the exchange. “I see. She’s the underdog, then, in the gargoyle community?”
“Very much so,” Aurora said.
“She’s the only one of her kind. People haven’t seen a female gargoyle in generations,” Ulric said. “They were beginning to think female gargoyles were a myth.”
“And she was a Jane who got her magic in a strange way.” John nodded as the bartender put the beer down in front of them and walked away. It was anyone’s guess who’s tab it was going on. “She’s no better off here than Austin is with the shifters. Maybe worse, right?”
Ulric took a swig of the watery beer. “And now you see the struggle.”
A large Guardian headed toward Niamh’s group at the bar.
“Here we go,” Jasper murmured.
John tensed and started to stand.
“Leave it,” Aurora said, putting out a hand. “That crew is more than capable. This is part of the plan. Let it play out.”
John glanced at her, something unreadable in his eyes.
Aurora could clearly discern his body language in her peripheral vision. “You’re not an alpha anymore, remember?” she said, not looking away from the Guardian strutting down to the others. “You’re not even in the pack. You’re a rogue. Taking a command will do you good.”
“Miss Alpha-in-Training-Wheels, indeed,” John murmured, a little smirk playing across his lips. “My sisters would like you.”
“What’s with the capes?” the big guy asked Sebastian. Ulric could only see his back, his wings down to his knees. The shoulders said he was a strong flier, but without seeing the gargoyle form, Ulric couldn’t tell anything else.
Sebastian hesitated, glancing at Niamh for help. The space in conversation allowed Edgar to answer.
“We are paying homage to the mighty gargoyle.” Edgar put his spindly fingers on the bar. “I once created a shrine to honor your god.”
“What is your god?” John asked quietly.
“One Edgar made up randomly and insists is real,” Ulric replied.
“If I had a phone,” Edgar said, “I would’ve taken a picture and could now show it to you. I don’t have one, though. A phone, I mean. I’ve created a few shrines, many out of dead mage bodies, and it is assumed I am something of a liability.” He chuckled silently. “I beg to differ. Art is art.”
Nessa nodded sagely and looked at the gargoyle for a response.
“What?” the gargoyle said.
Granted, yes, that was a lot to unpack.
Sebastian realized he was getting no help from Niamh and said in a rush, “We’re experimenting with fashion. They look great on you, so we thought maybe we’d try them out?”
“They look great on us?” the gargoyle growled. His wings fluttered. “Are you trying to say our wings look like frumpy capes?”
“Well…” Fred blinked at him. “They do, right? Look.” She pointed between his wings and the capes.
“I mean, your wings aren’t lopsided—most of you—but they do look like capes.
That’s what I thought they were when I first saw gargoyles.
” She tilted her head at them. “Haven’t you spoken to non-gargoyles before?
I’m sure everyone agrees— “ She flinched and flung up her hands when he hit her with a wave of power. “Sorry, bro. I didn’t know wings and their resemblance to capes was a sore subject. Our gargoyles aren’t touchy about it. I apologize.”
Ulric ran his hand down his face. “Niamh hadn’t accounted for Fred in all this.”
“Are you kidding?” Jasper wore a crooked smile. “She’s perfect for this. We know she’s utterly genuine and clueless, but they don’t. They think she’s talking crap on purpose.”
“This is going to break out in a fight,” John murmured with a warning in his tone.
“Here, relax.” Niamh waved it away. Everyone in the bar was now listening. “She’s a Jane. What sort of Guardian gets riled up by a Jane? Do ye have any training at all in this cairn?”
More of the Guardians stiffened. Niamh glanced down at her lap. Her arm moved a fraction before she looked back up.
“She’s texting,” Aurora said.
“No wonder ye got a new leader, like,” Niamh went on as more Guardians stepped away from the bar and headed for them. “The old one clearly didn’t know what to do with ya if yer gettin’ riled up like this.”
“And what are you exactly?” the big Guardian asked.
“Mindin’ me own business, that’s what,” she replied. “Yer ruinin’ the taste of me cheap whiskey. Now that’s a feat, that is. Bugger off down the bar, would ya?”
The other Guardians joined the first as a large shape ducked through the doorway.
Phil walked in with a hardhat, a construction worker vest, and a kilt, his garb for blending into Dicks and Janes when he went to the bar.
Ulric had no idea why he was wearing it now.
He surveyed the scene before his hair puffed up and his gums pulled back from his teeth in a snarl.