to cope with, but his kids,” Viktor said. “I’m wondering, should we talk to the United Coalition about this? They’re going to notice the rise in events concerning the dead before long.”
“Let me talk to Morgana and Cernunnos about that.” Herne pushed his tablet back. “All right, we need to leave now if we’re going to make the parley appointment. Everybody get to work. We’ve got a lot of long days ahead of us, I fear.”
As the others headed out of the break room, Herne caught me by the arm and, when we were alone, he shut the door and pushed me against the wall.
“You look so hot,” he whispered. “You always do but right now, I wish we had the time for me to fuck your brains out.” He pressed against me, his eyes luminous. I could feel his hunger and it roused my own need.
“Well, hang onto your hat, lover, because I’ve got a lot to talk to you about regarding that. But save it for tonight. Your mother and I had quite the discussion.” I draped my arms around his neck and pulled him close, kissing him deeply, my tongue gently sliding between his lips.
He grasped my wrists, pressing my arms over my head, holding them against the wall. I could feel him through his jeans, hard against my leg, and I moaned into his mouth.
Maybe Morgana was right, I thought as I felt my mother’s blood stir. Or rather, I thought, my blood. Maybe it was time I let my wild side out of the cage I kept her in.
Chapter Eight
The drive over to the Eastside went smoothly. The traffic was light, even on the 520 floating bridge, and we made good enough time that we arrived at Ginty’s a little early. As we stepped out of Herne’s Expedition, I shaded my eyes as a ray of sunlight hit my face.
Ginty’s Waystation Bar & Grill rested on the outskirts of Woodinville, a bedroom community of Seattle. Woodinville blended into Kirkland, which blended into Redmond, and so on. The greater Seattle metropolitan area was big, almost as large as the city of Seattle itself, and together, the area housed over three and a half million people, about half the state’s population.
Ginty’s was exactly halfway between TirNaNog and Navane, and there was good reason for that. While the bar was a Waystation for all races, it was primarily used when the Dark and the Light Fae Courts needed to convene talks. Waystations were also Sanctuary Houses for any member of the SubCult seeking safe haven until they could escape the city or receive a fair trial. If they were guilty of a heinous crime, they weren’t eligible for protection, but if there were questions, or if they were on the run because of a bounty or something of that kind, all they had to do was ask at one of the Waystations and they would be taken in.
It was too dangerous for Saílle and Névé to meet without the rules of parley and everybody knew it, so Ginty’s provided a safe haven for those meetings, and woe be to anyone who disrespected or ignored the rules. Cernunnos and Morgana made certain that the most lenient punishment for disregarding the rules of parley was still harsh, and the worst punishment was indentured servitude or death, if the infraction warranted it.
Ginty’s was at the end of Way Station Lane, off Paradise Lake Road and near Bear Creek. Looking rustic and single story on the outside, with a parking lot large enough to hold a small army of cars, the bar was surrounded by empty lots filled with wildflowers, Scotch broom, and the steady drone of bees as they danced from flower to flower.
As we headed toward the door, I made sure my dagger was peace bound, as did Herne and Viktor. Without the bindings, we wouldn’t be allowed in.
Waylin was at the door, a large, baldheaded bouncer who brooked no guff. He held up his hand, but we had already stopped. We knew the drill.
He ran through the spiel, his voice deep. “You are now entering Ginty’s, a Waystation bar and grill. One show of magic or weapon will get you booted and banned. Do you agree to abide by the Rules of Parley, by blood and bone?”
“We do, by blood and bone,” Herne said. Viktor and I murmured “By blood and bone” behind him, and Waylin nodded for us to move on into the bar.
The inside of Ginty’s was