Jerem nodded. “I was here once. A long time ago. But I remember it looking pretty much just like it does now.”
A tourist couple walked by. The man went right through Fi.
“Hey!” She shook her fist at him. “Ghost hovering here.”
The man looked around like he’d heard something, but the couple kept moving.
“It’s like they didn’t even see me.” Fi put her hands on her hips. “And you know, they didn’t even look at you. I know the covenant’s broken and humans are getting used to othernaturals, but how many people don’t at least take a second look at a dude the size of Jerem, a woman covered in gold tattoos, and her friendly neighborhood ghostly sidekick?”
“I don’t think they see us,” Chrysabelle answered. “Mortalis said the place was covered with a diffusion spell. It keeps the mortals from thinking it’s another French Quarter hot spot and protects the patrons from being stared at.”
“Sounds right,” Jerem said. “Why don’t you let me lead?”
Fi bobbed at his side. “Cool with me.”
“Yes, that’s fine.” Chrysabelle pointed to the right-hand set of doors. “That way, I think.” Hopefully this wouldn’t take long. Khell was the city’s Guardian. That alone should make him fairly accessible.
Jerem pushed through the right-hand set of doors, Fi and Chrysabelle behind him. She stepped over the threshold. The doors swung shut and the wave of sound hit her. Patrons talking, ice clinking against glass, rollicking music, laughter, and a few random shouts here and there.
“Okay,” Fi said looking around. “Definitely not out of business. That diffusion spell is pretty wicked. I’d never have known all this was going on in here.”
“That’s the idea,” Jerem said. He kept his gaze on the crowd while he talked to Chrysabelle. “You want to do a walk-through? See if this guy’s here?”
“I doubt he will be, but sure.” The bar’s insides only just exceeded its exterior. Apparently, people came here for the music, not the atmosphere. A jazz quartet with a gravely voiced singer played on a dais near the front. They looked like the same group that had been here the last time. House band, maybe.
And if they were here, maybe Khell would be too. She reached into her pocket for the plastic bills she’d stashed, palming them for easy transfer to whoever might give her the info she needed. She strolled among the tables, avoiding direct eye contact but skimming the crowd for the fae she’d helped make Guardian.
A body moved in front of her, blocking her path. “Well, now,” the shifter drawled. “Long time no see, Goldilocks. What brings you back to our corner of the Vieux Carré?”
“I almost didn’t recognize you on this side of the bar.” Actually, she’d recognized him instantly. The scales flanking the bartender’s neck and the bullet shape of his canines made him very hard to forget.
“Gotta keep my tables clean.” He tossed a towel over his shoulder. “Who y’all looking for this time?”
“Same person. Just wanted to see how things are going for him.” If the bartender remembered her, he must also remember what she’d done when she was here. How many othernaturals lived in this city and didn’t know who the Guardian was?
The flash of red-green fire in his slit-pupil eyes didn’t scare her the way it had the first time she’d seen it. He clutched at his heart, smiling. “I’m wounded. Here I thought you’d come back for me.” Laughing, he tipped his head toward the back corner. “Khell’s here. Why don’t you ask him yourself.”
“Thank you.” She reached out and tucked the bills in her hand into his shirt pocket. “I appreciate it.”
He glanced down at the money. “Much obliged.” Then looked toward Jerem and Fi where they were still standing by the front doors. “I’ll send a coupla sweet teas to your friends. Something to occupy themselves with while you do business.”
She just nodded and slipped past him toward the spiral stairs in the corner. That’s where she’d found Khell the last time. The fae were such creatures of habit. She traced a path through the crowd, which was thinner than she remembered, but maybe that had to do with the early hour.
And there he was. Same table, same black-rimmed glasses and brainy-professor look. Different girl, but still a redhead and still plenty curvy. Chrysabelle smiled and approached cautiously. If things weren’t going well for him, he may not be thrilled to see her.
“Khell?” She kept her thumbs hooked into the pockets of her pants, close to the hilts of her daggers.
He stopped moving his head to the music and looked up, his gray eyes carrying a little more edge than she remembered. He studied her for a moment. “Chrysabelle. I didn’t expect to see you again.”
“Nor I you.” Still no idea how he felt about her.
Then he smiled. “Nice to see you. Join us.” He shoved the extra chair out with his foot. “What brings you to town? If you’re here to find a new Guardian, I should warn you I’ll have to kill you.” He laughed, but his eyes were serious.
She smiled in a way that said she understood. “It’s nice to know you’re still ambitious.” She took the chair.
“This is my lovely fiancée, Beatrice.” He clinked his beer bottle against hers, then pointed it at Chrysabelle. “And this is the woman I’ve told you about. She’s one of those comarré.”