Midlife Blues - Victoria Danann Page 0,49
were a circus exhibit.
“We need a table out of the way,” Keir told the aproned man behind the bar as he pulled some notes from his pocket in the universal gesture of “‘big tip coming.”
The man nodded and motioned for us to follow as he walked toward the end of the bar that served as his exit. Behind the main room was a smaller room with its own fireplace. Brits wouldn’t think much of it, but the place screamed ancient history to an American. It was a part of the inn that was probably three hundred years old.
The four of us sat at a roughhewn table that would seat six. A boy came in hurriedly with an armload of split wood and, without speaking or making eye contact with any of us, set about laying a fire. We were silent until after he left.
“Did you know they were coming?” I asked Keir.
My gaze flicked toward his brothers so there was no question about who I meant.
“Yes.”
“You invited them?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you mention it?”
The boy who’d started the fire returned with a tray of mugs with water.
“I thought it might be a worry or distraction for you. It’s not our job to be a worry or distraction. It’s our job to keep order and enforce your rulings.”
“But you anticipated trouble.”
He glanced at his brothers. “I always anticipate trouble when Irish are involved.”
Killian barked out a laugh. “A good policy.”
“I think so. Especially where you’re concerned,” Keir teased Killian.
The man from behind the bar came in and stood at the end of the table. “What can I get you?”
“Four bowls of Guinness beef stew. Four bread puddings with the sauce.”
“Drinks?”
We all stuck with water, but I had to be different. “Do you have bottled water?”
“Gas or no gas?”
“No gas, please.”
I enjoyed the moment as much as was possible, all things considered. The case of the captured kelpie was never far from mind. Still, I let my consciousness float amid the comforting atmosphere of a room with innumerable stories to tell, windows so old the sand had shifted into random opaque shapes, and the mixed sounds of a light rain, a cheery, crackling fire, and quiet baritone banter between Keir and Killian.
It had the potential to be one of life’s perfect moments, but I found my thoughts drifting toward melancholy. Nearing the conclusion of my first Court Meet, I was left with the stark reality that the job was about hearing how utterly dreadful magic kind could be to one another. And I wondered how I might be changed over time, for the worse. I wondered if every one of these cases would eat a bigger hole in my soul until I was no longer horrified by the horrific.
I’d heard a case about the most heinous, sadistic form of cruelty imaginable, a case about utter neglect and disregard for the well-being of another creature, and a case that was all of that compounded by being extended to an entire subspecies.
I wouldn’t say I felt a full-blown depression coming on, but I was definitely feeling a mild case of the blues begin to settle on my heart.
My attention was brought back when I heard my name.
“Yes?” I looked at Kier, but was aware that all three were staring at me.
“Lost in thought?” he asked.
“Yeah. For sure. One thing I know, humans do get some stuff right. This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Let’s steal the recipe for Olivia.”
Keir chuckled. “I guess we should head over there.”
“Do I need preparation? For, um, you know, Rita’s visit to the mound.”
“Does she talk in third person?” Killian asked Keir.
“Only if she’s anxious,” Keir replied.
Do I? Talk in third person when I’m anxious? Huh.
I wouldn’t be able to find the location of the mound again without a fae guide. There were, I was told, some kind of weird wards that messed with human perception. I had acquired enough magic to be able to see magic kind, but that left me far short of actually being fae.
When all the named participants were assembled at the entrance, which gave every appearance of being a small grass hill flanked by a river that appeared deep, but not wide. The air shimmered and a doorway appeared. As an art lover, I itched to be able to shoot a photo of that door. It was a thing of beauty, a mass of intricate Celtic knotwork framed by dragons chasing each other around the edges, and an enormous crest featuring two winged lions