AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I held the bag up against my shirt. “Well, at first I thought it wouldn’t go with my outfit. But then I realized it wouldn’t go with anything, anyway.” I made sure to look her in the eye, relishing the opportunity to be just as petty. “It’s kind of hideous, if I’m honest.”
Something gleaming and metallic whizzed past my ear. I dodged at the very last second, adrenaline rushing through my veins. I had my nephilim reflexes to thank for the fact that I survived that day. I didn’t know that Beatrice Rex, or any person on earth, for that matter, could throw a pair of knife-like shearing scissors quite as hard and as accurately as she did.
6
I chugged the last of my iced latte like an animal, relishing the coolness and the faint sweetness of milk spilling down my throat. It was a hot day in Valero, like I said, and having Beatrice’s exceptionally gaudy bag pressed against my skin didn’t help. Who knew leather was so clammy and hot? Gave me a newfound sympathy for women, I’ll tell you that much. Well, women and people in the S&M lifestyle.
Florian reached across the coffee shop’s table. “I can take that if you want.”
I hugged the bag closer to my chest despite the sweltering heat. “No,” I growled. “I’m carrying it. It’s the principle of the thing.”
Some dude in a tie threw me a sidelong glance as he walked past our table, giving Beatrice’s bag the stink eye. I glowered at him, and he looked away hurriedly. Hey, a man should be allowed to carry a pink leather pocket dimensional handbag. I looked down at it in my lap, frowning at its garish ugliness, wondering when I’d lost my mind and fallen into the habit of defending Beatrice’s questionable fashion choices.
We were at Human Beans, one of my favorite cafés in Valero, hidden away in a grimier part of town. Great spot for people watching, and even better for overpriced coffees – which, granted, I shouldn’t have been spending on considering the sorry state of my finances, but shush.
“So,” I said, narrowing my eyes at Florian. “You want to tell me what happened back at Beatrice’s shop?”
He sniffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
My eyes went huge. I raised my shoulders, bending over the table. “Dude. You were supposed to be our trump card, the master seducer. We could have sweetened the deal, convinced her to actually give us this – this horrible thing, instead of just lending it to us.”
I lifted it above the table, holding it pincer-style in my fingers, like a dead fish. Surely, somewhere out there in the arcane underground, someone would pay a few hundred dollars for this abomination. Although, again, it had my stuff on the inside and still weighed nothing. Beatrice was talented, sure. Maybe her leatherworking partner just had really specific tastes.
“You left me hanging back there.” I put the bag back in my lap, leaning into my chair, folding my hands behind my head, and sighing. “Last time you saw Beatrice you practically charmed the socks off of her. What the hell happened?”
Florian stared at his untouched café mocha and said nothing.
I bent in closer, speaking just above a whisper. “Is it an age thing?”
“No, of course not.” Florian’s eyes darted left and right, like he was watching fo
r anyone that could hear. “It’s just – I’m only getting comfortable with admitting what I really am to people, and now there’s the pressure of her finding out I’m not really a dryad.”
“Then don’t tell her you’re an alraune. At least not yet. Florian, you two haven’t even been on a date yet. You can’t already be thinking about big secrets. What’s next, planning the wedding?”
He chuckled humorlessly, scratching the bridge of his nose. I rubbed the back of my neck, my skin still damp with sweat, and grimaced. I had to hope that Florian wouldn’t throw my perpetual singlehood in my face. I was eighteen, never been in a relationship. The hell did I know, right? Well, compared to a dude who’s been asleep in the ground for centuries, fucking plenty, I’ll tell you that.
“It’s just, it’d be weird to start this with a lie,” Florian continued. “You know? I mean, she’s so young and all. Would it even work?”
I smacked my hand on the table. “So it is an age thing. She’s twenty-five, you’re four hundred. So what? It could work.”
“Well, no,” he stammered. “I’m – uh, I’m actually just under a hundred years old.”
My lip turned up. I could feel my eyelids drooping as I squinted at him, the suspicion building in my belly. “Wait. You told me last time that you’ve been alive four hundred years.” The numbers were too much for me to comprehend. I could hardly think in terms of decades, much less centuries. But the news flash here was that Florian was lying to me again.
“Look,” he said, trying to head me off. “I didn’t mean to lie to you about that. I thought telling people I was much older would help explain why I’m so confused, why I don’t know enough about the modern world. It’s weirder admitting I was born more recently. I’m only just beginning to understand things because I’ve been asleep most of the time.” He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “You know what? You’re right, this is pointless.”
I folded my arms. “First it was the alraune stuff, which, granted, I understand. I’m not new to the concept of being uncertain about my own parentage. But why would you lie about your age, to me of all people?” I frowned at him, leaning in closer over the table. “What else have you been lying about?”
“Excuse me,” said a hoarse, almost cracking voice from behind us.
I shook my head at Florian. Saved by the bell, I wanted to tell him. But we had to deal with the interruption first, which, I hadn’t noticed until then, included the fact that the day had gotten just a bit darker, as if a cloud had passed across the sun. I turned around, taking my cues from the shocked look on Florian’s face, and understood why. The man standing behind me was so tall and so broad that he blotted out the sunlight, at least from where I sat in the coffee shop.
“Can I help you?” I said, trying to piece together if I knew him from somewhere. I didn’t mean to be so snotty, and thinking back, I didn’t have to be. He was offering a nice bit of shade from the sun, and – I realize this sounds weird – it felt like his body was radiating cold air.
Wait.
Something was wrong. I reached out to the Vestments for support. Human beings, no matter how large or weird they looked, didn’t run cold and crisp like people-sized cans of refrigerated soda. And this dude was wearing a suit, just like Sadriel’s angels, but he didn’t look very much like them. He was just as huge and muscular, sure – probably even bigger than her bodyguards – but his hair was white and slicked across his scalp, his cheekbones and jaw protruding at powerful angles. This was someone else. This was something else.
