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I had no idea when I’d last eaten. Since the AAM hadn’t followed us from Washington House, I requested food before we turned in for the night—wherever that turned out to be.
Connor called an Auto, requested an address in what I guessed was the Humboldt Park neighborhood. I didn’t know the place, but since I was too hungry to make a suggestion, I had to trust him.
The building was low-slung and stubby, with a gravel lot filled with cars. The few windows had neon beer signs, and above the door was a blinking neon sign in brilliant pink and blue. Of a hot dog trying to jump out of a taco.
“Why is there a hot dog in the taco?”
“No one knows,” Connor said. “Looks like they beat us here.”
Lulu stood outside the building, sketching in a tiny notebook. Alexei sat on the steps a dozen feet away, watching her with an undecipherable expression. An intense one, though.
“She’s working very hard to ignore him,” Connor said.
“She’s probably in the zone,” I said. And knew that both were probably true.
When they saw us approach, Alexei stood, and Lulu slipped the book into the back pocket of her jeans.
“Light enough to draw?” Connor asked.
“Streetlight,” she said and came to me. “You okay?”
“I am. You have any trouble?”
“No. You?”
I’d texted her at Washington House, let her know what had happened at the loft. “No. They either didn’t guess we’d gone there, or weren’t fast enough to follow us here.”
“Where is ‘here’ exactly?” Lulu asked.
“An experience,” Connor said and opened the door.
The smell of sautéing meat rolled out like a wave, all but dousing us with deliciousness. “Welcome to Taco Hole.”
“Oh, mama,” Lulu murmured. “I have come home.”
We walked inside to squeaky floors covered in thin, grimy carpet. A long bar stretched across the wall opposite the door, every leather-and-brass bucket chair occupied. A couple dozen round tables filled the rest of the space, and restaurant staff were in matching yellow T-shirts and shorts.
It was... a supernatural dive bar.
Shifters in their NAC leathers at the counter, fairies at a high top, River nymphs in their tiny dresses toasting each other in a low banquette.
“How is this possible?” I asked, amazed and curious and still hungry.
“It’s neutral territory,” Connor said, using hand signals to order drinks from the man behind the bar after we’d taken seats at a small table.
“I can’t believe I’ve never been here before,” I said.
“Look around again, Elisa,” Lulu said.
I lifted my brows at her, but did. And realized that, for all the magical diversity, I was the only vampire in the room.
“No vampires allowed?” I asked, glancing back at Connor. And wondering if I was going to have to fight someone for a damned burrito.
“Vampires allowed,” he said and poured something red from a small carafe on the table into a little bowl. “But vampires not encouraged—most don’t like the setting. Not quite fancy enough for the average vamp.”
That was a damn shame, although I couldn’t say I was surprised, having grown up in, let’s be honest, a vampire mansion. It occurred to me that since we were surrounded by Sups, at least one of us might be uncomfortable with that. I glanced at Lulu.
