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“Do you ever…if you are ever in our neighborhood…We always have plenty for dinner.” I wasn’t sure what I was asking but he just laughed, softly.
“Oh Menolly, I do not travel much—not via modern conveniences. And I never drop in. I am an old-school gentleman when it comes to proper decorum, if you haven’t noticed. It is only in…private…that I wear the ringmaster’s hat.” The emphasis told me all I needed to know about his personal preferences. As he stood, I hastily stumbled back.
Carter noticed, of course, and he held out his hand for mine. “Do not be alarmed. I am a gentleman with all of my guests. If I may speak frankly, my paramours, perhaps, are of another flavor. They must have a taste for the…exotic. But trust me, you and your sisters will only receive the most proper behavior from me.”
As I gave him my hand, he brushed the top of my hand with a light kiss and pressed close to me, so that I could feel the steady pulse of his blood through his clothing. “Do not feel sorry for me, Menolly. I need no pity from anyone. I am content in my life, and I have my friends and lovers. Count yourself lucky you are among the former and not the latter.” And with that veiled warning, he escorted me to the door and waved me into the night.
As I turned to my Jag, I let out a strangled cry and the door flew open again. “What is it? Are you all right up there?”
My eyes glazing over with anger, I whirled back to him. “No! Somebody keyed my Jag!” There was a long scratch gouged in the paint of my Jaguar, and I was pissed out of my mind.
Carter shook his head. “It can’t be. I have the wards strong—wait.”
He closed the door, and a moment later, when he came out again, the horns had vanished. I knew he’d simply cloaked them, but he made a striking-looking man without the headgear. He made his way up the stairs, somewhat stiffly, but I had the feeling it was more for show than anything else.
“Well, obviously they aren’t working right now. What the hell happened?”
Closing his eyes, Carter reached out one hand. After a moment, he let out a low guttural sound that could have been either a growl or a warning. Or both.
“I don’t know, but the wards have been broken. I’ll find out and call you. Something is on the move, and I don’t like what it seems to be bringing to town.” He slid his hand into his back pocket and brought out his wallet. “I’ll pay for your car to be repaired, of course.”
“No need.” I didn’t want to hold him responsible—I had assumed it would be safe because it always was, but it wasn’t his fault the wards had been broken.
“Nonsense. Here’s my accountant’s card. Get an estimate and we’ll make arrangements. I’ll let him know. And Menolly…” He paused.
“Yes?”
“Be cautious and tell your sisters to be careful. There’s mischief afoot. I’ll call you tomorrow night with what I’ve found. Or your sisters. Either way, I’ll try to have more information for you by then.”
And with that, he nodded gravely, turned, and went back inside. I heard the tumblers of his locks click, and it occurred to me that if the son of a demoness and a Titan felt the need to lock his door, we were facing something very big, and very unhealthy.
The Wayfarer was jammed. Derrick Means, my werebadger bartender, was shooting out drinks as fast as the orders came in. He was working out really well. Derrick was talented, sober, and able to take care of troublemakers. And he knew how to use a shotgun.
Almost every booth was filled, and as I looked around, I wondered when we’d gone from being a moderately successful bar to a happening spot. “Vampire,” by People in Planes, was playing on the jukebox, and several people were dancing.
As I took a closer look, I realized that there were a number of vamps in my bar. We served bottled blood—animal—for them, but I hadn’t been very popular among the bloodsucker set and I blinked. When did this happen? I’d been so busy, I’d lost track of what was going on here. And then, as I passed through, waving at people, I heard their whisperings.
Roman’s consort—she’s here.
She doesn’t look like much. I wonder what Roman sees in her.
Look at those eyes—you can tell she wasn’t ever human.
I hear she’s a lesbian—
No, she’s bi. I bet Roman gets to fuck her and her girlfriend.
So that was it. Somehow I’d gained status—of whatever sort—because of Roman, and it was starting to play out in the bar. The continual ring of the cash register told me just how well we were doing, and as I took my place behind the bar with Derrick, he gave me a quick nod.
“Meni—we need more help.” He had five orders in front of him and I took over two of them.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I flipped a bottle in the air and caught it, pouring three straight shots of whiskey. As I set them on the tray for Chrysandra, she shook her head.
“We not only need a second bartender, but we need at least two more waitresses if this keeps up. Afternoon shift isn’t too bad, but man, around five or six, the joint’s started to jump.” She slid the tray onto her hand and wove through the milling throng, deftly keeping her balance.
I worked quickly, taking the pressure off Derrick. “As I said, why didn’t you guys tell me?”
“You’ve been busy, and we know that it’s something big, though I’m not sure what it is. But this started about three weeks ago. I’m not sure what spurred the increase, but the Wayfarer is one of the hot spots now. And every room in the bed-and-breakfast end is booked up for the next four months. We’ve got reservations from OW up the wazoo.” Derrick grunted and handed out another tray to Lena, a waitress I’d hired to help out topside, with room service for our overnight guests. I saw that they’d drafted her to the floor.
