“Hello, Dae dear,” I say with a wide smile. “Missed me?”
“Damn, Kregger!” he says, approaching. “Where have you been, you rascal? Kugi said you were in prison!”
I wave a hand. “Bah! Nothing but rumors.”
Dae laughs, shaking his head.
“I need a drink. Strong,” I say with a sigh. “And a pass to the speakeasy.”
Dae slams a copper cup on the bar top in front of me and pours me a generous amount of whiskey. He does the same for himself, too.
I raise the cup and he smashes his into mine. Whiskey burns my throat, all the way to my stomach.
“Thanks, buddy,” I say and push more frade than I must towards him.
With one elegant gesture, he sweeps the money into the pocket of his apron and hands me a copper coin. “Show it to the bouncer downstairs.”
I grab the coin with a wink and push off the bar. As I head down the stairs into the basement, my pulse spikes.
I pause at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the dimly lit corridor that stretches ahead. At the very end of it is the red door.
That’s where I’d meet Daegel to discuss…business.
Today, no large fae guard it. Which means, nobody is dealing business there.
With one last glance, I turn my back to the door and make my way behind the staircase where another door lies hidden.
It’s forest green, with a small window at the top. I knock on it twice and wait.
After a few moments, the cover slides open and an unfamiliar face appears—a fae man with a thick-as-a-tree-trunk neck.
He looks at me, disinterested, as if I had just interrupted him doing something thrilling.
“Good afternoon,” I say cheerily and hold out the copper coin for the man to see.
He grunts and slides the window cover closed. The lock clicks and a moment later, the door opens.
I nod at the bouncer and stride inside the dimly lit underground bar.
Thankfully, it’s not as crowded here as it is upstairs.
A narrow bar lines the far right wall where a beautiful young fae bartender flirts away with one of the customers sitting there while she polishes a crystal glass.
Across from the bar is a small dais with instruments where at night they have live music performances.
I’ve been to a show here once. It was lovely. Nothing compared to underground performances I’ve been to back home.
I scan the tables until my eye catches a man sitting alone. There’s a bottle of plum blossom wine and two glasses on the table in front of him. His eyes are locked on me as he watches me approach.
“Good afternoon,” I say and pull up a chair.
He only grunts.
Rude.
I don’t comment, of course. Madame Mercy is not an enemy I would want.
Nonchalantly, I set the package on the table and slide it towards him. He doesn’t look at the package, keeping an eye on me as if I’m about to pull out a knife or something.
