Page 19 of The Malevolent Eight
For months, Corrigan had been insisting that Temper possessed hidden talents and it was a major flaw in my leadership that I failed to recognise them. Of course, I never failed to remindhimthat the kangaroo had demonstrated no talent for anything except eating people, although I freely admitted he was pretty good at that.
Now, at last, I was proven wrong.
Temper bore down, the impressive muscles of his arms and torso clenching tightly. His mouth opened wide– and he belched, a rumble so deep and continuous that for a moment I would have sworn I could make out words.
When he was finally done and the other patrons had stopped fleeing the restaurant, he sat back on his haunches and smiled at us.
‘Welcome to the Malevolent Seven,’ I said.
‘Got room for one more?’ asked the stranger none of us had seen come in who was somehow standing behind the empty seat at our table.
It hadn’t occurred to me before, but not all the tables in the restaurant were octagonal. There were at least a couple suited for seven diners.
And yet, Tenebris had seated us at this one.
It’s the little details you miss that can get you killed.
Chapter 11
The Stranger
She was not like anyone I’d ever seen before, although for the life of me I couldn’t say what made her so distinctive. It wasn’t her dark skin or the subtly upturned outer corners of her eyes. Corrigan’s complexion was a truer black, almost onyx, while the stranger’s was more the burnished bronze of the Western Saphirs in their high-towered cities and sprawling garden enclaves. The almond shape of her eyes was more common to the Blastlands from where we’d descended as we’d blazed our trail of mayhem through the small towns the Infernal and Auroral armies had been plundering in their never-ending quest for human recruits.
The woman standing before us holding a tray of brimming pewter beer steins came from none of those places.
You’re not from around here, are you, stranger?I thought. I didn’t say it out loud because I hate frontier clichés.
Hair almost as dark as mine glistening with some sort of scented oil came tumbling in a cascade of curls past high cheekbones and a firm yet sensuous jawline. There was a leanness to her that spoke of a dancer or fencer’s athleticism rather than the bulkier musculature of a soldier or those who labour in fields and factories. Had I been standing next to her, I might have had the advantage of an inch or two.
Everything about her was sleek, from the fitted tan waistcoat over a blousy plum shirt far sturdier than its silky sheen suggested, to the black riding trousers and matching boots. The way she cocked one hip told me she didn’t mind the admiring stares she doubtless attracted wherever she went.
None of this set her apart from a thousand other women. Admittedly, the amber irises were unusual, but a discolouration of the eyes is hardly rare among wonderists. And this woman was definitely a mage of some kind.
‘Somebody get this boy a canvas and oils,’ she said, shooting me a sideways grin as she set each of the eight steins down on the table before tossing the tray behind her to clatter on the floor. ‘Happy to pose for a portrait if it’ll speed this up.’
‘A moment, if you please,’ I said.
The accent. . . smooth, refined. Someone who could pass for a native speaker if she was bothered. Her voice lilted at the ends of her vowels, adding an almost musical chime that drew my gaze to her wry smile. Did everyone she smiled at that way assume they must have met her before, I wondered? Or was it just me being mesmerised by her presence?
If the intensity of my scrutiny is leading you to anticipate that this woman was going to play an outsized role in my immediate future, well, sure, that much was obvious. But if you’re imagining the two of us falling in love,hand over your prophecy cards and tear up your astrological charts, because your talent for divination has let you down badly. And don’t go getting it into your head that she and I are destined to have a night of wild, passionate sex at some point, either. Not. Going. To. Happen. One of my cardinal rules is never to sleep with people who aren’t bothering to hide the fact that they intend ruining my life.
Seriously, take a second look at that Cheshire grin on her face and tell me that’s not the knowing, enchanting smile of someone who’s already figured out she’s fated to put me into an early grave.
‘She has the stink of wonderism about her,’ Alice observed, her own cat-like eyes narrowed, and she placed one hand on the bone hilt of her whip-sword. Her upper lip curled, slowly. Demoniacs do that so you catch a glimpse of their fangs. Petulant teenagers, too, I guess. ‘Her attunement isn’t one I recognise.’
Aradeus casually brushed his fingertips along the whiskers of his moustache, performing a subtle totemist spell particular to his specialisation. That’s why all rat mages grow those stupid, wispy moustaches.
‘Nor can I discern the plane of reality from whence her powers come,’ he said, sufficiently troubled by the fact that, for once, he managed not to leap up from his chair to perform an elaborate bow before pronouncing, ‘Though I cannot yet say whether it is a pleasure or an honour to make your acquaintance, radiant lady, I shall eagerly await the hour whence we shall discover which it shall be.’
Ugh. How does he manage to make all that foppish oratory sound so suave?
‘Maybe one of us could justaskher what kind of wonderism she practises?’ Galass suggested, rolling her eyes at the rest of us.
I wasn’t the only one staring. Did you notice Corrigan hadn’t uttered a word since the woman showed up? Or Temper? The kangaroo was looking almost as entranced as the rest of us.
The stranger settled into the empty chair as if her name had been engraved on the back in glittering gold letters. ‘Oh, you know,’ she replied vaguely. ‘A little of this, a little of that.’
‘That is not an answer, child,’ Shame observed.
