Heart of Vengeance (Alice Worth #6) - Lisa Edmonds Page 0,132

as we got close to our destination, he slowed to a walk.

We stopped outside the threshold of a dark stone building that looked very much like all the others on this street. Above the arched doorway, several words were carved into the stone in a language I didn’t know. The letters pulsed with magic.

“What does that say?” I asked breathlessly.

“The name of the tavern.” Ronan read the name aloud. The words rolled off his tongue like music. “It means ‘Slay your enemies and pour the wine.’”

“That’s a solid name for a tavern.” Lucy indicated another set of inscribed words beside the door. “And this?”

“A warning that drawing weapons inside the tavern is forbidden, by order of the management. That includes both blades and magic.”

“Any advice on how to approach this?” I asked. “Given what you know about them?”

He considered. “The sisters will do as they will. I see little hope of changing their minds once they’ve made a decision, but they’ll weigh the case fairly. Our only choice will be what to do once that decision is made.”

“I won’t let them get topside, and I won’t let Mariela get away with what she’s done,” I told him. “This ends here.”

He didn’t remind me they were fallen angels, or chthonic deities, or infernal goddesses, or that I was more or less just a mouthy human mage currently being eaten alive from the inside by dark magic, or that a clairvoyant witch had prophesied I wouldn’t succeed in my mission here. None of that needed to be said. We all knew the score.

“Damn skippy,” Lucy said, sheathing her sword. “I know Daisy and Esme are with us. You’ll end up having to pick a side one way or the other, Ronan.”

He tried to stare her down, but he should have known better. She stared right back. “It’s not that simple,” he said finally.

“Actually it is, if you think about it.” She punched my upper arm. “I got you. Let’s do this.”

I freed Daisy from her halter, rubbed my fingertip on Esme’s velvet paw, and led the way into the bar. I didn’t sense any wards on the threshold, but what use were wards to goddesses or archangels?

The interior was lit by firelight and welcoming, though I probably shouldn’t have been surprised by that. A bar is a bar is a bar, even in the Underworld.

Even more surprising than the bar’s welcoming design was that it was empty except for tables and chairs—no patrons, no bartenders, no servers, no cups or dishes left on the tables. I’d half-expected a crowd like the one we’d seen at Hawthorne’s. Instead, the tavern was ominously silent. Even the street noise was muted, though the front doors remained wide open.

Behind the bar, neatly arranged bottles and jugs filled long shelves. I wondered what constituted top-shelf booze down here. I could have used a drink, but whatever they served probably wasn’t safe for a human to consume.

“Either this is Edis’s least-popular watering hole, or they cleared the place out for our arrival.” Lucy’s eyes narrowed. “Not sure how I feel about that.”

Ronan stepped in front of me. Before I could object, he warned, “We are not alone here.”

“You spoil my fun,” a woman complained, her voice coming out of thin air from deeper within the tavern.

I had magic spooled, but kept it contained. Lucy’s fingers twitched as if she wanted to pull her sword.

Like a curtain had been drawn aside, a large table appeared in an open space in the middle of the tavern. A woman in a long black robe, its hood thrown back, sat with her chin in one hand and a cup in the other. Her white-blonde hair was very long and loose like a cape, her glacier-blue eyes fiery with irritation. Her power crackled painfully on my skin, raising goosebumps.

On the table were two ceramic jugs, a tray of empty cups, bowls of what looked like various jams and honey, and two loaves of bread. They’d known we were coming. I wasn’t surprised.

Ronan inclined his head in a respectful greeting. “Tis.” His voice was carefully neutral.

The woman at the table studied him and said nothing.

In the back of the tavern, a door banged against the wall. A second woman strode in. Her long dark hair was braided and wrapped with a thin strip of leather. Unlike her sister, she wore the clothes and boots of a fighter—and she was splattered with blood from head to toe. Clearly she’d come straight from work, and she