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“A way to contact Christy would be good,” I say, my eyelids beginning to droop as exhaustion takes hold. “If I can’t be with her right now, then there’s no way I’m going more than a day without speaking to her…”
Shakingmy head free of the memory, I follow Christy and my brothers into the club feeling cautiously hopeful. Christy has spent the last month working on Grim and Beast. I know in the early days after she told them we were in fact alive, Grim had wanted to finish what they’d started, but somehow Christy had managed to persuade her not to act, and more importantly not to tell the Deana-dhe we were still living and breathing. Over time Christy had worn her down enough to get her to listen, and after several conversations and lots of heated disagreements, we ended up here, at the infamousTales,to make peace officially.
“You okay?” Christy asks me, as we step into the main area of the club.
“Apart from needing to be alone with you, I’m good.”
“Soon,” she whispers, squeezing my hand.
Inside, the club is deceptively spacious, with a large central dancefloor and a raised stage situated at the back of the club. The walls are painted a deep scarlet with matching velvet booths dotted around the space, and to the far right of the club is a huge bar with a mirrored wall behind it and shelves lined with bottles of liquor.
Music is being played through the speaker system, the volume turned low as we make our way over to the booth furthest from the door. I can hear people talking and a rumble of laughter, but it is neither of those things that makes my steps falter.
“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to a prosthetic arm resting on a stool beside the booth.
“That? Oh, that’s Dax’s arm. He’s just popped in to see Beast after picking it up from the shop. He’s a good guy, you’ll like him.”
“Who’s Dax?” Leon asks, the possessive note in his voice unmistakable.
“That’d be me,” a man covered neck to toe in tattoos replies as he slides out from the booth we’re heading towards and holds out his hand to shake, Beast getting up behind him. They’re both huge men, intimidating I’m sure to many. Not to me. Though after our encounter with Beast, I do have a heavy dose of respect for him.
“Don’t mind Dax, he’s ‘armless,” Beast says, with a smirk.
“Seriously,old man, it’s been over two years of the same damn joke. You need to get a better repertoire,” Dax retorts, holding his hand out to me.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I reply, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake.
Dax nods his head, offering his hand to my brothers who shake it in turn. “I must admit, you’re not what I expected.”
“And what did you expect?” Konrad asks.
“Someone more like The Collector. He was a sick fuck, had a bad aura. Know what I mean?”
“If they were more like The Collector, they’d be dead…Permanently,” Grim says as she strides across the dance floor with two more men in tow. One of them has a shock of white blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, the other is dark-skinned, with curly hair and sharp green eyes that assess us all. “This is York and Xeno, our friends.”
“We come in peace,” Leon says tensely.
The blonde, York, holds up his hand and makes a v-shape with his fingers. “Live long and prosper,” he says with a grin.
“You fucking idiot,” the man they call Xeno grumbles under his breath.
I frown, looking at Christy who’s trying to hide her smile but failing. “What’s going on?”
“Star Trek,” she replies, like I should know what that even means.
York drops his hand. “Okay then, straight over your heads. Don’t you have a television in that castle of yours?”
“We don’t, but we do have two libraries,” Konrad replies.
York pulls a face. “Well then, shall we sit? I’m dying for a drink.”
Beast leans over and whacks York around the back of the head. “This is Grim’s club, arsehole, we wait for her to start proceedings.”
“Proceedings?” Leon questions, as bemused as I am. I expected more of a battle, honestly, not this strange banter that I don’t really understand. A month ago we were beating the crap out of each other, and now we are in the same room having a conversation like decent, civilised people.
“Ignore Beast, he’s trying to broaden his vocabulary because he’s scared Iris’s first full sentence is going to include the words cunt, prick, arsehole and dicknugget,” York explains, dodging a punch this time, laughing raucously as he slides into the booth.
Grim rolls her eyes. “Am I the only adult here this afternoon? Take a seat,” she instructs, straight down to business. There’s no denying the distrust in her eyes. I don’t blame her in the slightest. In fact, I’d be concerned if there wasn’t at least a little bit of hostility. I don’t know what Christy said to persuade Grim to at least be open to the idea of peace between our families, but whatever it was, it worked.
