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“Kat’s Bakery.”
“You back on with your sweet tooth, boss? They’re open today?”
“Yeah, it’s never going to go away, no matter what I do. And for me, they’re always open.” The giant folds himself up into the front seat, and we slide into the back.
Heavy traffic makes it take almost as long to ride there as it would to walk. When the car pulls up in front of a cafe, my leg vibrates. We need to get the info for Eros and get back home.
Hagen hops out. “Circle if you have to; we’ll be right back.” He taps the front window. “I’ll bring you back a box.”
“You’re the best.” The driver salutes him, and Hagen shakes his head, then darts down an alley. For someone as large as he is, he doesn’t lumber. No, Hagen Brakenridge is surprisingly light on his feet. Most big guys aren’t fast. Eros and I trail him.
Hagen stops. “Wait here.”
“Who exactly do you work for, Eros?” I ask.
Eros swallows. “You know. People.”
“I’m sure. Which people?” My insides are firm.
He glares at me.
“I see.” Someone in the government. There are all kinds of strange groupings of governors and odd alliances between domes. Some that are centuries old. Most of them should have gone away a long time ago.
Hagen is back. “They’ll see you.”
That’s interesting. He said he had a contact—not contacts. The wind howls between the buildings. Down the alleyway, which opens up into a courtyard, the snow has been carefully pushed off of a set of little green café tables. Kat’s is clearly closed. The blinds are tightly drawn over the door, and the neon “open” sign is dark. Hagen lets us in.
It’s divine in here. And the case has a few pastries left. Most I don’t recognize, but at the bottom are two that look suspiciously like ones from home. I really didn’t expect to find anyone from the Veiled City living among humans. Yes, I know that’s something Skyrothasians permit. But not us.
A small female comes through a back curtain. Her eyes are wide. “Hagen, you’re sure?”
“Yes, Kat.”
“Okay, then. Come this way. Arthur will see you,” she says. Her clogs shuffle back through the curtain, and I get a better hold of her scent. She’s human, but she’s mated to someone who isn’t.
There’s a kitchen directly off the pastry shop. She marches us through it to a spiral staircase. Hagen winds up the stairs, leading with his head, his hair scraping the step above him as he does. On the second floor, a thin mustard-colored door creaks when she opens it. Beyond it is a minuscule sitting room, big enough for a mid-century sofa, a bookcase, and a small overstuffed chair.
“Arthur?” calls Kat.
I’m taken aback. Arthur sits on the end of the sofa, a book on his lap. He’s very much a merman. His long hair has grayed, and he has a patch of scales behind his ears that shine from the light of the reading lamp next to him. Visible scales sometimes happen in older mermen who don’t shift regularly. It’s like their body craves the salt of the ocean and needs to remind them they have two identities—one with a fluke and the other with legs.
Arthur stands, and his appearance loses some of its age. “Forgive me. It’s Boston in the winter and I’m not as excited about sneaking off to shift as I used to be. I’m old. And the harbor is wicked cold.” His lips turn up in a smile.
“Oh, I understand. My great uncle would put off shifting because he was too busy studying. He’d try to go three or four months until he’d wake up in the night partially shifted. I’m Eros Herod.” Eros extends his arm for the traditional Dorian greeting. But Arthur takes Eros’s hand instead, shaking it. “Right.” Eros gives it an extra pump. “I’ll come right out with it. I’m really hoping you can help me, or rather, my sister.”
“Well, it’s not me you would be interested in talking to but Stavros.” He sits back down.
“Oh, and is Stavros here?” I take a step forward. I don’t have time to float; I need to race with the jet stream.
Kat nods. “He’ll be home from work soon. Stavros rents a room from us.”
“They’re mermen, Kat. You don’t need to cover for how we live with them.”
“Yes. Force of habit.” Her eyes flit to the braided rug on the floor and back to me.
“Of course it is.” Eros breaks out one of his over-the-top charming smiles, and Kat’s shoulders relax.
She takes a cloth from a tray of pastries on the table behind her and puts them on the coffee table. “Please help yourself.” She sits down next to Arthur.
