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Jeff was tending the bar. “Gotcha.”
“Oh, and, uh, two Yuenglings.”
Jeff poured the shots and opened the bottles.
Valdemar saluted Niles with the shot.
Niles moaned and picked his up.
They down them.
Niles waited to feel like he was going to vomit, but the licorice-flavored liquor seemed to strangely soothe his stomach. He sighed.
Valdemar motioned with his head. “Let’s go find somewhere private to talk.”
“Yeah, okay.” Niles picked up his beer.
They trooped through the front room and into the next room.
There, they could hear someone speaking. “No, what I’m saying is that there’s no proof that an iceberg sank the Titanic.”
“But, if not an iceberg, what?” said a voice. A female voice.
“Well, I don’t know. But I’m just saying that people financially benefited from the ship going down, okay? So, it’s not out of the realm of possibility, that’s all.”
“So, it was sunk on purpose?” A familiar voice.
Niles made a wounded noise, following the voice to where she was sitting down in a corner next to the shuffleboard table, with Felix Fioxe.
Dahlia looked up at him, eyes wide.
Valdemar stopped at the door, turning back to him. “Niles.”
Niles swallowed hard and then slithered over to Valdi.
Valdemar turned to take in Dahlia andhiseyes widened. He yanked on Niles and tugged him through the door into the garden. His voice was barely audible. “That’s her.”
“Yeah,” whispered Niles.
“What is she, twelve?”
“Iknow.”
“Fuck!”
Niles collapsed into the first chair he could find, upending his beer into his mouth.
Valdemar stood over him. “Well, she’s… she’s in a bar. How oldisshe?”
“I don’t know. She’s a graduate student, though, so… I mean… she’s got to be mid-twenties.”
“That’s… that’s fine.” Valdemar shrugged. “I mean, that’s… I’m going to go talk to her.”
“No.”
“Somebody’s got to talk to her. If she’s, like, traumatized—”
“You’re anorc.”
