22
FENELLA
The brooch got a lot of curious glances, first from Atzil and then from the bar's clientele, but surprisingly, no one asked about it. They must have assumed that it had been a gift because someone like her would never buy a piece of such jewelry for herself.
It looked expensive, but even if she'd had the money, Fenella doubted she would have gotten something as big and as bold. It looked ridiculous on her simple T-shirt, and yet she wore it with pride that bordered on reverence.
It wasn't just that Din had held on to it for fifty years, though that alone would have made it precious. There was something about the brooch itself that was reassuring, comforting. It felt like an old friend found after a long separation.
The brooch was more than just a beautiful piece of jewelry.
It was special.
Maybe it was her newly discovered psychometric abilities playing tricks on her mind, but she could swear she felt a subtlepulse of energy from it, like Kyra's pendant but different. More subtle and patient.
Was it possible that the brooch could channel her abilities like Kyra's pendant channeled hers? The thought seemed fanciful, but then again, a week ago, she would have laughed at the idea of reading memories from objects or being descended from gods.
Her definition of possible had expanded considerably.
Someone cleared his throat, pulling her out of her head, and she realized that the vodka she'd been pouring into the shaker was overflowing.
"Sorry about that." She emptied the contents into the sink and started on the Moscow mule from scratch. "Lost touch with reality for a moment."
"It happens," the guy said with a smile. "Has the shaker revealed some hidden truths?"
She chuckled. "Even if it did, I wouldn't be able to understand them. I don't speak Chinese."
The guy cast an amused glance at Atzil. "I'm sure your boss has plenty of interesting stories to tell, and he's been using this same shaker for months."
Fenella shrugged. "You know that I'm making it all up, right?"
The guy arched a brow. "Not all of it."
She was about to come up with a rebuttal when the bar door opened and Ruvon walked in.
He paused just inside, scanning the half-empty room with uncertainty. Then his gaze landed on her, and he offered a tentative smile and made his way to the bar.
"Evening, Ruvon," she greeted him. "What can I get you?"
"Just a beer, please. Whatever you have on tap." He sat on the barstool next to the talkative client.
During Kian's party, Ruvon had said something about coming over to hear her amusing readings, but he was early. She wouldn't start the performance until the bar was full and all the patrons were at least slightly drunk.
It was no fun performing for sober immortals.
Perhaps Ruvon realized his mistake because his eyes kept darting toward the door.
"Expecting someone?" she asked as she put the beer in front of him on the bar.
He accepted it with a nod of thanks. "I'm actually waiting for a friend, but I'm not sure she'll come."
"She?" Fenella raised an eyebrow. Had he asked Shira out on a date?
Perhaps that was what they'd been talking about during Kian's birthday celebration.
"Would this mysterious friend happen to have red hair and freckles?"
Ruvon looked confused. "No, I'm waiting for Arezoo."
