Pike lurched up onto the quay, then hesitated to look down at us. “Until you’re evicted. As you say, there are laws for squatters.” He looked at Piscary’s, worry pinching his ugly brow. “Why the hell are you always so nice, Pike?” he said to himself, then walked away.
“Whatever.” It was the best comeback I could come up with, and shaking, I shut the door to lean back against it. Damn vamp pheromones. I was going to have to air the entire place out.
“Maybe I could have handled that better,” I said, nose wrinkled as I smelled Pike everywhere. But damn it, boat or not, this was where I lived.
At least for the next three months.
CHAPTER
24
“You think Landon is going to pull a gopher?” Jenks asked, and I looked up from the spectacular view of the Hollows, lights just now beginning to wink off as the sky brightened. I was logy and slow from lack of sleep despite the no-doze taped to my biceps, but he was bright-eyed and awake. Legs crossed, he sat on the rim of the sugar bowl in his usual working black tights. His usual flash of red to warn off other pixies was gone since they were all underground. By Jenks’s reasoning, all of Cincinnati was his garden from November to March—and it showed.
“No, he’ll be here,” I said, then tucked a wayward strand of hair behind an ear, feeling special in my Carew Tower finest. My eyes flicked to the bar, where Trent and Zack stood, both in suits and ties despite the ungodly early hour, looking like brothers at the far ends of their parents’ fertile years. “He’ll show if only to try to drag Zack away,” I added.
“Not on my watch,” Jenks muttered. His gaze was on the honey pot that had come with my tea, but I knew he wouldn’t indulge. Not when we were working.
And that was what we were doing, even if I was in a smart business dress with my hair tamed under a charm and my spelling supplies in a new leather bag. Trent looked just as nice. I hadn’t seen him in a full suit and tie in weeks. Carew Tower’s rotating restaurant demanded the best of a person, and I smiled and said thank you when the water attendant came over to top off my glass. It was important to stay hydrated when you were kicking ass.
The man hesitated when he saw Jenks, his eyes going to the three vacant chairs before backing away. Satisfied, I sent Jenks to the ceiling with a finger twitch, for a quick recon. Fatigue pulled at me as I dug in my purse to find Jenks’s heat block under my splat gun. A quick glance to be sure no one was watching, and I artfully wrapped it in my napkin and set it squarely in the middle of the table beside the unlit ambient candle. He could sit on it when he got back, and no one would be the wiser.
Satisfied, I settled into my chair and sipped my coffee, praying for a caffeine buzz. Staying awake to stave off a baku attack was working, but I was tired, cranky, and not thinking straight. Quen was in a bad mood from researching Trisk’s journals, but listening to Trent talk to his girls on the phone had been the worst, and my eyes strayed to him, now deep in conversation with the restaurant manager.
I’d already talked to both the building’s and the restaurant’s security, but settling things with management and promises of money were likely what would keep the I.S. from being called if things got icky. And it would get icky. I could tell already.
But despite it all, a smile grew as I watched Trent work the manager over, smoothing out the coming problems before they occurred. His hair caught the light over the bar, and he had an easy, confident stance with one foot on the rail. Beside him, Zack looked like a yearling colt: lean, elegant . . . and jumpy. His suit had narrow lapels and that extra pocket that had been popular when I’d been growing up, making it likely that it was one of Trent’s old ones rather than something new. The tie, though, was this year’s style, and as I watched Zack touch his sleeve and run his hand down his side, I was pretty sure he liked the way he looked in it.