Generally, places as crowded as this frowned upon killing your fellow vacationers. Not always, though. As we entered, there was a scuffle in the corner, and a small hooded figure darted out the door, trailing drops of blood. The crowd merely parted to let him pass, and then it closed in again.
I decided impressions counted, and tugged my hood back, exposing the hilt of my long sword in the process. I met every gaze that snapped my way, and stared them down. Such direct regard screamed volumes.
They all looked away.
We approached the front counter, where a very square male figure eyed us from his perch on a tall stool.
“We need two rooms,” Vali stated.
The innkeeper assessed her—or what he could see of her, considering her hood was pulled well forward—and then his eyes slid to me. The rather spectacular eyebrows rose as he directed his answer to me rather than her. “Don’t have ‘em. One’s as good as we can do. And if she’s yours, you’re better off in one, anyway. Or she won’t be yours come morning.”
The advice was well meant. But Vali stiffened.
Before she could give the innkeeper a blast, I stepped forward. “We’ll take it.” I tossed coins on the counter.
His eyes scanned me, assessing. I kept my gaze focused on him. “If anyone comes after her, it will be the last thing they do.”
His expression altered, subtly, as he acknowledged that I could be trouble, but wasn’t interested in starting any. He picked up the coins and handed us a key.
“Includes supper. It’s being served for another hour.” He pointed to the restaurant. “Drinks available all night. Reasonable prices.”
Kiko tugged Vali in that direction, and I followed. The restaurant was large, low-ceilinged, and slightly smoky—a fireplace in the corner took the chill off the evening. Heavy wooden tables and chairs filled the room, most of which were occupied. My greater height enabled me to spot four rising from a table along the far wall. When I squared my shoulders and stepped forward, others moved aside, and I was able to snag it for us.
Size mattered in a place like this. Although I’d lost most of mine, I still owned my space like a Centaur.
I put my back to the wall, Vali and Kiko took the chairs opposite me. A rather harassed-looking waitress came over to offer us one of two choices for supper.
As she made her way to the kitchen with our order, she was grabbed twice by patrons who manhandled her with clear intent. The man behind the bar bellowed at them, and they let her go, but with reluctance. I noticed more than one assessing look being shot at Vali and Kiko. And a few raised their heads to sniff.
I leaned closer to Kiko. “If you have any control at all, turn it off.”
Her eyes gleamed at me from the depths of her hood. “It is off. Or as off as it gets.”
“I suggest we eat fast.” Vali glanced around.
I agreed. If Kiko stayed here for any length of time, we’d have a riot on our hands.
The food came fast, and although it wasn’t anything special, it was at least hot. As I polished mine off, I wondered what Havoc was doing for supper. Remembering the eel, I decided I didn’t want to know.
I’d just swallowed the last mouthful when five newcomers entered the restaurant. They were as cloaked as the rest of us, but the way they moved as a unit immediately had me on high alert.
I pulled my hood back up and watched as the five hugged the wall, their hooded heads turning this way and that. Then they lifted them. And almost as one, they swiveled their heads toward us.
All the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Dires. I knew it as certainly as I knew they were in hunt mode.
And I thought of Havoc, alone in the forest. Why I should suddenly perceive him as vulnerable, I had no idea.
But I did.
30
Havoc
The fish I’d plucked from the nearby river steamed gently, wrapped in damp leaves.
As I stared down at the stones, I cursed. Because even if I left right now, right this minute, the damned Centaur had left his mark. Not that long ago it would have been sufficient to breathe fire over the pieces, and I would have eaten the singed but half-raw results with lip-smacking satisfaction.
The realization was almost as upsetting as the voice in my head. Well, not really. That was so infuriating that I couldn’t even begin to classify it.
