Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 109329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Yep. Just waiting for Fred.”
“Right.” I hesitated in sitting down. “Given that you are dressed very casually, you probably need to choose one of the many other rooms to wait. We’re doing that small meeting thing.”
“She’s just being nosy.” Mr. Tom bustled in with a glass of wine. “Here you are, miss. Something to calm your nerves.”
I frowned at him. “I’m not nervous.” I hesitated. “Should I be nervous?”
“He’s talking about whatever ye were reacting to there just now,” Niamh said. “What was it?”
“Oh.” I took the glass and sat on the loveseat. “I don’t know. Felt like unease. It didn’t increase, though. Now it’s dimmed. Someone probably got suspicious of something, but not enough to raise an alarm. Could’ve been anything.”
Mr. Tom stared at Niamh. “Is there a reason you are still darkening this parlor with your presence?”
“Parlor? Look at this now, Mr. High and Mighty.” Niamh took a sip and made like she might get up. “Ah sure, we have time for one more, don’t we? Go get us a beer, would ya, Sir Tom?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Why? So, you can hide that God-awful doily somewhere in this room? You weren’t invited here, you lush. Go someplace else.”
“Okay, all right.” I held up my hands. “When Aljoe arrives, Niamh can go then, okay? Let’s compromise.”
“You shouldn’t compromise with her,” Mr. Tom warned. “Give an inch, as they say.” He left the room in a huff.
“What’s got him in a tizzy?” Niamh asked.
“You, I think. As usual.”
Tristan’s footsteps touched down on the walkway. He stalled halfway, and I worried the gnomes were lying in wait. Edgar had done a good job keeping everything trimmed and removing all the flowers along the walkway, so the little buggers had nowhere to hide, but they’d started digging trenches for cover. Something needed to be done with them.
Thankfully, Tristan didn’t start running toward the door. Must’ve been something else. Maybe the sound of the golem down the street. That thing needed to be taken for a walk.
The door opened as Tristan reached it.
“Tristan, welcome.” Mr. Tom met him just outside the sitting room. “Coffee? Whiskey? A monetary incentive to kick out the horrible Irishwoman in the parlor?”
“Whiskey would be great, thanks.”
Tristan had on a gray striped shirt, buttoned down to nearly the center of his chest, with three metallic necklaces falling between his pecs. Metallic bracelets adorned both his wrists, one nestled into a watch with a glittering face and black straps. He also wore jeans, but his weren’t a run-of-the mill style like mine. His were light blue in places with stressed colors in others and artful kinda stitching. They probably cost a fortune. Where my struggle was in dressing up, his was in dressing down. He didn’t really fit the brief, but I doubted anyone would hold it against him, especially Nessa.
“Hello.” He nodded at me and then glanced at Niamh. “Crashing the party?”
“Not at all.” She flicked a magazine page. “Just waiting on a meeting.”
“Is that right?” He sat with his back to the window, kitty-corner to me and facing Niamh. “And what meeting is that?”
“The kind that isn’t any of yer business, that’s what kind.”
“Oh yeah? The top-secret kind, huh? The meddling kind, maybe.”
Mr. Tom entered with ruffling wings, probably having heard that and letting Tristan handle it. He handed over the whiskey, checked the Spider-Man watch that he’d gotten from Jimmy, and gave Niamh a poignant look before leaving.
“Well, if he won’t serve me…” She pushed to standing and then ducked behind the couch. A cooler lid popped.
“Fabulous,” I murmured before taking a big sip of wine.
“Since you’re here, Niamh.” Tristan took a sip of his whiskey. I felt Sebastian leave his room. “Do you guys have any info on the shifters who would’ve already RSVPed?”
“Loads, but none of them are the big fish. Fred is compiling various spreadsheets with their information, but we won’t need to bother with them. One thing of note: a dozen of them have reported mage interference at various times, whether it’s mages skulking around or perhaps interfering with shipments—things like that.”
I lifted my eyebrows at her as Sebastian entered the room. He had his hair styled in a spiky, messy look and wore a deep navy button-down with black slacks, weird, crocodile-looking shoes in tan, and a watch with gold accents.
“Since when is a gold watch casual?” I asked.
Sebastian crinkled his nose at me. “Gold is often casual. It’s just a lot, you know? So, you reserve it for when you’re dressed down to compensate.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
Tristan chuckled as Niamh went on. “Almost all of those packs had the activity cease after Kingsley’s thing.”
“Almost?” I asked.
She put up a finger before falling into the couch again. She popped the top on the can. “Yes. Almost. Two of them are being harassed by mages. I’m guessing these mages aren’t part of Momar’s faction. Independents. They are squabbling over business and land. The mages have brought in mercenaries, but the pack was able to fight them off. They took losses, but they came out ahead.”