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“Won’t you sit with us and have a drink?” I ask again. I don’t think I’ve seen him be social at all this week, and that can’t be a good thing.
Ronan shakes his head. “No, I have stuff to do. I’ll talk to you later.” He turns and practically flees.
“I’m so worried about him,” I tell Zac as I stare after him.
“Meh. You know he thinks we’re having a secret affair.”
I blink and give him my full attention. “What? Why?”
“Because that’s what we were talking about when he walked up.”
“But…” I glance toward the door Ronan went through. “But that was a joke.”
Zac shrugs. “He didn’t get it.”
Oh well. “I’ll sort it out later. Or he’ll realize it was a joke.”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t strike me as a person who has a sense of humor.”
Which brings me back to my original point. “Yeah, he’s not happy, and I’m worried about him. But I’m also worried about you. What’s going on with you?”
“Since when do you notice anything that’s not a puzzle or Micah?” he demands.
“Stop deflecting.” I will not be distracted.
“I’m not. There’s nothing going on with me.”
I give him a stern look. Or I try to. It doesn’t seem to have any effect. He might even be smiling.
Before I can order him to talk to me, someone slides into one of the other chairs at our table. My hope that Ronan changed his mind is dashed when I glance over and see Arne.
“Hi.” I sound surprised because I am surprised. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out from behind the bar.” Now that I think of it, does he have a lower half? I mean, he must, but I wish I’d caught a glimpse before he sat down.
“I do spend most of my life there,” he jokes. At least, I think it’s a joke. In typical demon manner, his face stays mostly blank. It’s hard to read tone without visual cues. “Listen, I need to talk to you. Or Garrett, but he hasn’t come in today and I don’t have time to find him.”
Uh-oh. “What’s wrong?” If he needs to talk to me or Garrett, either there’s a problem with the cave, or he’s planning to leave the village and live in the outside world. Considering how much people love the pub, neither is a good option.
“That Ronan guy.”
“Ronan?” Okay, that’s not what I was expecting. “What’s wrong with him? Did he say something rude?”
Arne hesitates. “It’s not what he says. He doesn’t say anything much, just asks his questions and writes things down.”
I nod encouragingly and wish Zac would step in. This is why things would never have worked out between us. Micah would have done something supportive by now—put a hand on my leg or shoulder or at least moved his chair closer, so I knew he was there if I needed him. I’m not even sure if Zac’s listening. What if I blunder and say something that destroys incubus-demon relations for centuries? Would he at least step in then?
“He’s documenting things that might help us when we publicize the cave,” I say, even though he knows that. It’s been explained several times.
“I don’t know that we want any documentation he has a hand in. What’s he going to say about us?”
Wow. Okay. This is way above my skill level. I shoot Zac a panicked look.
“I don’t understand,” he says to Arne, who makes a face that even I can see.
“A few of us have gotten a strong impression that he doesn’t like us. Demons, not us specifically. That Fabian was a good sort, but Ronan doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want to talk to us, doesn’t even want to breathe the same air as us.”
“You think he’s speciesist?” Zac asks carefully while I try not to panic. This is not good. Not good at all. We need a dragon here to go through the contents of the cave. It’s an important part of the plan to integrate Hortplatz with the rest of the community. I might not even officially live here yet, but it’s my home, dammit, and I won’t let this plan be derailed!
“He can’t be,” I blurt. “He’s just antisocial. He doesn’t spend much time talking to me or Garrett either.” Too late, I realize that wasn’t the flex I was hoping for.
