None of that mattered as we sat in the cozy backroom of a restaurant that smelled heavenly – like grilled meat, spicy cabbage, and other delicious mysteries that arrived with a knock on the door. I was still in a state of shock after Dodge calmly relayed the events of the previous day, and not just because having a witch and a couple of shapeshifters around the table had stopped being the weirdest thing about my life. Hearing him recount the awfulness of what I’d only peeked at in the kitchen, and Dodge’s assessment of what had really happened, turned my stomach all over again. He’d seen and understood a lot more than I had.
It left me feeling so out of my depth that I wanted to just leave them all to it. I could let the adults in the room handle everything and I’d go hide in my closet until things blew over.
Dodge wrapped up with our visit to Smith’s office as a brief stop with a client, which Deirdre grudgingly acknowledged as “reasonably acceptable.” The big dude next to me paused only as the waitresses arrived with massive trays of tiny bowls filled with a wide range of bean sprouts, kimchi, pickled stuff, fish pieces, and things I might have needed the Internet to identify. He shifted in his chair and stretched, resting his elbow on the back of my chair since his wingspan was too wide for our side of the table. He didn’t go on until after the door shut behind the waitresses. “He’s going to call the detective who’s shacked up with one of the lions.”
I made a mental note: not all shapeshifters were wolves. Apparently there were also lions. How could one tell them apart in human form? I frowned as I picked up the metal chopsticks and tried to hold them without dropping one and looking like a fool. Trying to pick up a piece of kimchi took most of my concentration, though the others kept talking. We’d never bothered with chopsticks growing up, so I’d never practiced with them. If it wasn’t related to how the Romans dined, Dad didn’t care.
Miles grunted, sounding rather irritated. “I’d rather we handle this in-house.”
“It’s Bridger,” Todd said. “If the detective can handle the heavy lifting, why not?”
They kept arguing about whether involving the lions in “pack business” was acceptable, but I tensed as Dodge leaned over and picked up my hand. He maneuvered the chopsticks into the right position on my fingers, then demonstrated how to use them to pick up a piece of kimchi. He did it absently and without taking his attention off the other two men at the table, but my heart stuttered at the simple gesture. He must have seen me struggling and decided to... to what? Show that he knew more than me? Help me actually eat something instead of letting me stare sadly at the little dishes with my stomach rumbling?
I hated not being able to judge his intentions and having to fish around for motivations. As straight-forward as he seemed to play things, the man was a damn mystery.
Dodge put his elbows on the table and went back to scowling at Evershaw. “At least we can use the detective as a threat if Bridger doesn’t agree to leave Persephone alone. The loan shark doesn’t want the cops sniffing around her shady business, and we all know if O’Brien starts kicking rocks, all kinds of shit is going to be uncovered. When we confront Bridger, that’s in the back pocket. Just in case.”
My cheeks heated as I gripped the chopsticks and used the pinching motion he’d demonstrated. It wasn’teasyby any means, but I managed to get a piece of cabbage onto my little plate and tried to maneuver it into my mouth. Part of me wondered where he’d learned to use chopsticks, because he was damn good at it – picking out little pieces of cucumber kimchi and bean sprouts with garlic to put on my plate – all the while continuing to discuss whether or not they would confront Ms. Bridger.
It was definitely easier to stab a piece of cucumber with one chopstick than to pick it up with two.
I caught Dodge eyeing me sideways when I used my modified technique to finish off everything stab-able.
When Miles paused in what sounded like a rehearsed diatribe about how the lions were all rich assholes that no one did business with unless they had no other choice, Deirdre leaned forward and fixed me with an intense look. “But we’ve overlooked another little... hiccup. You don’t seem particularly... surprised by this anymore, Percy. We should still discuss what happened at the house, with Silas.”
I raised my eyebrows and waved a chopstick around to take in all four of them. “You guys stopped being the worst thing going on in my life the second I heard the b-bone saw.”
I tried to be nonchalant about it, tried to play it cool like Dodge, but I didn’t have it in me. Flashes of what I’d seen in the sanctuary’s kitchen kept surfacing at odd moments, distracting me and dragging me back to that panicked, uncontrolled feeling of pure fear. I stumbled over “bone saw” since I definitely wasn’t as relaxed about someone getting chopped up as Dodge.
She nodded but there wasn’t any judgment in her expression. “Be that as it may, since it sounds like we’re all going to be very... involved in each other’s lives for the near future, it would be a good idea for us to explain what happened with Silas and what we’re trying to do.”
I put the chopsticks down carefully and braced my hands on the table, taking a deep breath. “Okay. Shoot.”
A hint of a smile crossed her face. “It’s notthatdire. Apparently Smith already shared quite a bit with you about the variety of supernaturals who are in the city. Until very recently, we witches have kept ourselves apart from the shifters and the fae. The shifters are quite... boisterous in their engagements with each other and seem to create a lot of feuds and drama, so witches typically stayed away to watch from a distance.”
“Bullshit,” her husband said, rolling his eyes.
“Oh? What, precisely, is bullshit?” she asked sweetly.
He apparently didn’t hear the warning and scooped up a massive amount of spicy kimchi, using his chopsticks like a shovel, and tilted his head back so he could practically swallow it whole. “We don’t cause feuds. The lions do. Those fucking cats aredramatic. And you witches... are you forgetting about the nonsense with Henry and his mate?”
Deirdre poked his ribs just as he swallowed, and Miles choked and coughed as he inhaled the massive mouthful he’d only partially chewed. She turned her attention back to me as her husband pounded on his chest and struggled to breathe, his face reddening. “As I was saying, there are a lot of politics within the supernatural community. That can take finesse to navigate. We don’t want you to feel thrown into this on your own. Because we are responsible for your knowledge of the community, we’re also responsible for familiarizing you and giving you the tools to navigate these relationships.”
“Relationships?” I frowned as I studied her and played with my chopsticks. I definitely needed to practice with those things. It seemed like an important life skill. “What relationships?”
Her head tilted as she glanced at Dodge and then back to me. “Well, now that you know about... all of us, there’s no going back. Not really.”
My heart thumped a little faster against my ribs. What the fuck didthatmean? Was I going to be imprisoned in the basement along with the wolfman? Maybe I could take my chances with Ms. Bridger. I could explain that I didn’t see anything and didn’t want to know anything. I’d start over somewhere far away and she wouldn’t have to worry about me ever again.
I struggled to find a way to respond when another knock signaled the waitresses’ return. My eyebrows rose as they came in with massive platters of grilled meat, some marinated in sauces and others seasoned only with salt. I was just gearing up to tell Deirdre that I didn’t want anything else to do with their incredibly dangerous, apparently drama-filled, community, when Dodge signaled one of the waitresses and said something in a rapid-fire foreign language.
She stared at him as openly as I did, then laughed, nodded, and disappeared. I frowned at Dodge, once more completely thrown off my assessment of him. I tried to focus on Deirdre and the matter at hand despite the intense and delicious aroma that foiled my fumbling chopsticks ability. “I’m not –”
My teeth clicked shut as the waitress returned with a fork, smiling at me as she put it on the table next to me, and disappeared again. My cheeks burned as I looked at the utensil. It was alittleembarrassing that I was the only one at the table who couldn’t use chopsticks, but at least I stood a chance of getting some of the barbecue before Todd and Miles inhaled all of it.
Which they’d started doing the moment the platters hit the table.
I cleared my throat and said a quiet, “Thank you,” to Dodge. He grunted and jerked his chin at one of the platters.
