Claimed by Shadow Page 0,37
one buttock to the stencil. Most of his back was, like his arms and face, a light gold color, as if he spent a lot of time in the sun but didn't tan easily. But his lower back and hips shaded into peach and then to cream, although there was no obvious tan line. I found myself wondering whether there was a difference in texture between the areas, and how they would feel under my fingertips, before I abruptly snapped out of it.
I looked away, horrified that I'd been checking out Pritkin of all people. Obviously, proximity to incubi has some weird side effects.
“Take a break, John," Mac said heartily. “This pretty young thing brought lunch!”
Pritkin sat up, scowling, and kept his back to us while he zipped up his jeans. He'd either bought new ones or borrowed some of Mac's, because these were blood free. I grinned at him to cover the awkwardness. "John?”
"It's a good, honest English name," he snapped, angry for no reason I could see.
"Sorry," I held out the bag of food placatingly. "It just doesn't sound like you.”
"Which part?" Billy Joe asked. He floated over from the back of the room, near where the golem stood propped against the wall, as silent as the statue it wasn't. "The good, the honest or the English?”
I ignored him and grabbed half a meatball sub before handing the rest of the food to Mac. The smell in the car had reminded me that the only nutrition I'd had all day was a handful of peanuts at Casanova's. The sandwich did a lot to improve my mood, and after a few bites, I was even able to muster another smile for Pritkin, who was tugging on a green T-shirt. "You forgot I was dropping in?”
"I wasn't sure you would be," he said curtly.
I decided I could either waste time getting into an argument over the value of my word or I could eat the rest of my sub. I chose the latter. A glance around showed that the back room was no more interesting than the front, and wasn't going to provide much in the way of entertainment. Its bare brick walls contained a metal thing that looked sort of like a washing machine but probably wasn't, a mini fridge, a cot piled high with old books, an overflowing wastebasket and the tattoo table and equipment.
I swallowed the last bite and wiped tomato sauce off my chin. "Tick tock. You have fifty minutes left. If you want to spend them eating or getting tattooed, go right ahead. But when your time is up, I'm outta here.”
“To go where?" Pritkin demanded, peering at his sandwich as if he thought I might have slipped something nasty inside. "If you have the ridiculous notion of surviving a trip into Faerie on your own, allow me to point out one small fact. Your power won't work there, or will be very unpredictable if it does. For that reason, Pythias have made it a habit to leave the Fey strictly alone. You can go against tradition, but with your power unreliable and your ward blocked, you won't last a day.”
He sat on the cot and began dissecting his sandwich while I mulled things over. Mac was perched on a stool by the table, munching his way through the other half of my sub and staying quiet. Billy floated over and tipped his hat back with a hazy-looking finger. "He's got a point," he commented.
"Gee, thanks so much.”
Billy hoisted his insubstantial backside up onto the edge of the table and looked at me seriously. That was an expression he used so rarely that it got my attention. "I don't like the guy any more than you do, Cass, but if you're determined to do this thing, a war mage could be a real asset. Think about it. We got to get into Faerie, which ain't exactly easy anytime and will be 'specially hard with all the security from the war. Then we got to avoid the Fey, who don't like trespassers, while we look for the fat man and that seer chick. And, assuming we manage all that, we have to deal with them at the end of it. And if the Fey are hiding 'em, that ain't gonna be fun. We could use some help.”
"We haven't had an offer yet," I reminded him. Mac seemed surprised by my apparently random comments, but Pritkin ignored them. I suppose he'd learned that, wherever I was, Billy