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Herald raised an eyebrow. “Not quite. I know what you’re talking about, but that’s exactly why we’re staying here. Neutral ground. There’s an enchantment over the entire place that quells all magic.” He bent in closer to whisper. “The Eyes won’t find you here. It’s perfect.”
“Holy crap,” I said. “Does the Lorica know about this place?”
Gil shrugged. “Practically everyone does, but it isn’t likely that anyone will come looking for you here. It’s like the Switzerland of the Californian supernatural community. Neutral ground. No one fights at the Twilight Tavern.”
“No one?” I watched him expectantly, impressed and maybe a little perplexed by the very concept. “Or else – what?”
“Or else,” a booming voice called out from the lobby. “Or else I destroy them utterly.”
Our heads whipped around, and there, manning the reception booth, was the tallest woman I had ever seen, all seven or so feet of her. Amazonian. That was the word to describe her. She was dressed like a barmaid, which might have been strange anywhere else but Oktoberfest, yet somehow it made sense for someone running a quaint, themed bed and breakfast.
“I am joking,” the woman said, laughing in a voice that thundered around the lobby. The perfect blond coils of her hair bounced as she guffawed, as did the ample curves of her – um, let’s just say that she had the proportions to go with her height. Apparently Sterling thought so, too, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. “Please. Come up to the desk. Let Olga check you in.”
Sterling strutted up to reception, squeaking the whole time in his leather jacket, his chest puffed out. He rested one elbow on the counter, watching Olga out of the corner of one eye.
“Olga,” he said. “That’s a beautiful name. Is it French?”
Dumbass, I thought. Herald just barely restrained an amused snort. Olga, though, was tickled. She laughed again, the tavern practically shaking from its volume.
“It isn’t, and you know that, you silly creature.” She leaned over the counter, and I did my damnedest to be polite and keep looking her in the eye. Sterling didn’t. “But in truth, it is the Russian version of my true name. Helga.”
“Nordic, then,” Herald said, his voice surprisingly buttery, the way it sounded in the rare instances when he felt like turning on the charm.
“Correct,” Helga – or was it Olga? – said. “We keep the Twilight Tavern safe for all comers, you see. It is like a mead hall, one where only merriment is permitted. No fighting.” I jumped as she banged her fist on the counter. “Never any fighting.”
“Well, we’re certainly not here to fight,” Sterling said smoothly. “I’m a lover, not a – ”
“Please,” Gil said, effortlessly elbowing Sterling out of the way before he could finish his horrible sentence. “If you could help us check in?” Gil smiled broadly. “It’s been a tiring trip.” From behind him, Sterling quietly grumbled.
“But of course.” Olga ran her finger over a huge guestbook spread across the counter. “Now, let me see. We are expecting a party of four tonight. Gilberto Ramirez, Herald Igarashi, and Justin Braves. Correct?”
“Y-yes,” I said.
“And the fourth member of your party is a – ” Olga placed some keys on the counter, then looked up at Sterling with a smile. “Mister Sterling, I presume.”
“That’s right,” Sterling said. “No last name. Like Prince.” He raised his eyebrows. “Or Madonna.”
“Or failing that, Casanova,” Gil grumbled, tugging on the back of Sterling’s jacket with one huge hand. “Come on, lover boy. Time for bed.”
Sterling’s boots scraped across the floor as he tried – and failed – to resist Gil dragging him along. “See you soon, Olga.”
Olga smiled broadly, waggled her fingers at us, and winked.
“Upstairs,” Gil said to Sterling, like an order. “Now.” He tossed me a set of keys. “Carver booked us rooms next to each other. I’m sharing with Sterling. Regrettably.”
Sterling finally disengaged himself, brushing off his jacket and adjusting it as he gave Gil a fanged scowl. “What was your problem? I was doing so well, too.”
Gil narrowed his eyes. “Now is not the time to be hitting on valkyries, Sterling. We’ve got serious matters to deal with.”
Wait. Olga was a valkyrie? Holy crap.
Sterling folded his arms and sulked.
“Don’t give me that face,” Gil said. “You know tonight’s going to be a rough one, too. We talked about this. You have to chain me to the bed.”
Herald went red at the cheeks.
“You guys,” I said, staring between Sterling and Gil. “I have so, so many questions.”
