Vee pulls away first, pink cheeked, tears still held in her eyes. She touches my lips. "I wanted you to know I care about you, Xander. Thank you for showing me how you feel." Her smile joins the bright day in lifting the shadows. "Maybe one day you'll tell me too."
Over the years, I've learned to read people's eyes, searching for their intent. I know that as much can be spoken with a look and a touch as with any words, another reason I avoid both.
"You know I care about you," I say my eyes silently telling her more.
"And I care about you too."
She emphasises the words care about. We both know the truth runs deeper, but for now those words are as far as we go.
Without her lips on mine, I'm snapped back to our other reality. "We have shit to do."
"Of course." For one awkward moment I think Vee's about to hold my hand to walk back, but she loops an arm through mine again. "Let's get back to the shit we have to do."
With the freezing day heated by Vee, and the world suddenly twice as confusing as ten minutes ago, we head back to the house. Side by side. Silently.
7
HEATH
La Fee Verte.
I stand with the others and examine the facade in front of us. To humans, the darker side street between the main road and the shopping area behind appears nondescript. The building itself looks like an unused clothes shop with printed signs in the window stating “closing down sale” and the glass doors filthy. The place is sandwiched between a tattoo parlour and a pub, useful for disguising the strange mix of people who hang around outside.
A glamour prevents humans seeing the true venue, but it’s one all supes can see past. In unglamoured reality, the building has the same front as many clubs throughout the local towns, including a sign lit in green neon with the name. They have guys on the door to warn off any non-fae who try to gain entry. Most wouldn't be stupid enough to try.
Dodgy shit happens here. Human clubs have their drugs and dealers; fae clubs have dealers too, but they trade in magic.
Generally, we ignore the subculture created by the fae who attend the club. They're no threat to anyone but themselves. This is where the vicious element of the fae hangs out, those who embrace the darker uses for their magic and shun the world. Light fae such as Portia claim superiority and self-control; but scratch the surface, and you'll find the same malevolence in them. Fae can manipulate and confuse, harm those who anger them, and many have no qualms about killing other kin who stand in their way of ambition and greed.
We last visited here to speak to the owner when we initially looked into the Portia plot, in case someone here was connected, but these fae are too stoned on magic to give a shit about anything.
Every fae visiting the joint knows who we are and will avoid us if necessary. We're not concerned with fae, or their activities, unless we detect something more sinister around. We’re more bothered by activities at the Warehouse since humans and supes both visit the place and humans could be targets.
We've met Syv here before. Although we keep ourselves and activities strictly separate, she has extra knowledge about underground activities in the supernatural world. This helps when the forces connected aren't visible in the human world. In the past, we've contacted Syv for the lowdown when we have names that need tracing, but often we can't find her. She's not entirely reliable anyway.
Taron's death brought us back together, and I hope this means she'll help out rather than disappear.
The narrow venue contains four floors. Two hold small dance floors and bars, the other two a quiet “chill out” area, and at the top, the room used by Mac. He's another fae who goes by a single name, no doubt due to his profession.
I've met him, and he's basically a stoner and a dealer who holds enough sway over the club to have his own quarters. The clients he attracts pay a large entry fee, and indulge in alcohol, so the gig is mutually profitable.
We're not entirely sure how or what magic is dealt, nor do we care. The Horsemen aren't here to police this shit.
Portia's court pretend the addicts don't exist, and they barely do. Hell, the idea they could cobble together any kind of plot against others is laughable. These fae are too stoned on magic to give a shit about anything. They're so far on the fringes they're falling off the edge into oblivion caused by their addiction. Us? We have more important things to deal with than fae social issues.
Especially now they want fuck all to do with us.
Xander strides through the crowded entrance, jostling past fae taking up space in the small hallway as they stop and chat. Nobody looks at us as we pass; I avoid making eye contact with anybody, but as Seth trips after us he fails to hide his open-mouthed staring at the bizarre outfits and hairstyles.
I've never been in the presence of so much latex and leather in my life, and definitely not around as much naked flesh. A girl beside me wears so little it's a good thing the tattoos cover enough skin to give her some modesty.
I follow Xander into the brightly lit bar area filled with loud music and louder hair colours. Xander's arranged a meet with Syv in a quieter bar area on the third floor, and we push through to the narrow staircase. The small room we reach has walls painted in purple with murals of forest scenes. People are draped on sumptuous sofas, around tables holding drinks, some talk in soft voices, others stare into space, hypnotised by the lyrical voice in the music playing.
Syv lies horizontally across a sofa close to the bar, jacket under her head, holding her phone above her head and texting. Her hair hangs half way to the floor, and her motorcycle boots rest on the other sofa arm. She turns her head and watches impassively as we approach.
"Wow, you're all here, including your pet human. I didn't realise I was so alluring."
She saves her sweetest smile for Seth who grins back like an idiot at her seductive tones. He stumbles back to sit on a nearby sofa, and Vee sits beside him, Ewan on her left.
"We're sticking together right now," replies Xander and looks down at her. "Move so I can sit. Please."
"Buy me a drink." She smiles up at him. "Please."
Syv knows how to push Xander's buttons, but who doesn't? Try to control the control freak and watch the sparks fly.
"Joss." Xander doesn't turn around.
Joss mutters something about being his slave and stands. Seth shifts along the sofa, closer to the sofa Syv sits on, transfixed. I've no interest in her—never have—and find her choice of dress amusing. It takes something to be able to pull off the leather pants look and not appear tacky. She also wears a tank top with low cut arms, revealing her naked side and a black bra strap. Several necklaces hang around her neck, some spoils she's kept for herself from her travels. Are they magical? I'd lay bets at least one must be.
Syv's tempting to many, but hates male advances. Not that she invites many, unless she's in the mood. I've never seen her with any guys apart from Taron and Abel, but I have no interest in her personal life.