Page 35 of Vameer

Rune

Ihit Play, starting my movie over again. But this time I lie down. And close my eyes.

Listening to the familiar opening, I curl on my side and hug my pillow.

The pressure in my chest is…warm. And comforting.

I push away all the ways that should worry me and focus on the way it calms me.

The warmth inside me grows. The weight filling my rib cage increases. And with a feeling of peace, I slip into sleep.

Chapter 15

Vameer

Friendly shouts of goodbye float through the night from the front of the bar. One minute later, the back door opens, and the Irishman leans out.

He looks around before he spots me, back in the shadows. “Coast’s clear.” He waves me forward.

My steps are slow as I cross to the building.

For me, the time that passed felt like a nap. Like I’d lain down, rested my eyes, and rose again.

But it wasn’t a nap.

I was away from this world, missing, hidden, for over a century.

But I’m awake now. And it’s time to adapt.

I press the hilt of my sword to the door, holding it open.

The Irishman steps back, and I duck through the doorway, following him inside.

He looks back at me with a grimace. “The ceiling is taller just ahead.”

I keep my knees bent and my shoulders hunched, passing by a couple of doors until we reach the end of the short hallway.

I glance up at the wood paneling overhead, making sure I have clearance, then I stand straight.

“Holy shite,” a feminine voice whispers.

The Irishman laughs. “Ten-foot ceilings never looked so short.”

I look around, taking in the first building I’ve entered in over a century.

The walls match the ceiling. And the floor is a darker shade of wood, scuffed from use.

A substantial bar runs the length of the back wall, lined with stools, ending beside me where the hallway leads to the back door. On the other side of the bar is a staircase leading up to the living space above. And the wall beside me is lined with old whiskey barrels.

Electric lights hang from the ceiling over the bar, and more lights hang down over the tables and chairs. All of the lights are surrounded by amber glass, filling the bar with a pleasant glow.

A century means electricity is everywhere. Not just for the rich.

Last, on the far wall, on either side of the front door, is a pair of windows with wooden shutters pulled shut.

And a pair of strangers.

Inhaling the scents of three humans, beer, whiskey, and a trace of cooked meat, I nod. “The lighting is different. But it reminds me of a pub I visited in Dublin.”