Sun Broken (The Wild Hunt #11) - Yasmine Galenorn Page 0,35

Up’?”

“That’s the name,” Wendy said. “Glad you like it.” She glanced over her shoulder at the clock. “Ginty’s on the way. He got slowed down by an accident, but he should be here soon.”

“Are Saílle and Névé here yet?” Herne asked.

“You know I can’t tell you that. I’m not allowed to tell you who’s in the suites upstairs. So relax and enjoy your drinks.” Wendy brought out a bowl of pretzels and a bowl of potato chips. “Here, eat something. I’ve got to check in the back to see if the chef’s ready to take on the lunch crowd. Ring the bell, will you, if any customers show up? I’m on duty alone until eleven-thirty.” She headed toward a door in back of the bar.

When she was gone, I took another sip of my drink and grabbed a handful of chips. “How long has Ginty’s been here? I don’t remember it from my days before the Wild Hunt. Of course, I never had the need to attend a parley, either.”

“Ginty’s has been around since the 1980s,” Herne said. “There was another Waystation bar, but it was farther out, and a lot less accessible. Ginty’s uncle owned it, and when he decided to return home, Ginty won the right to be the Waystation guard of the next bar. He had this one built and opened up in 1987, I think.”

“That’s the year I was born,” I said.

“You’re just a sprout,” Viktor said with a grin.

Herne arched his eyebrows. “No, the sprout is all grown up, I guarantee you that.” He leered at me, and bopped my nose.

I blushed, once again thinking of my conversation with Morgana.

“What did my mother say to you? You seem a little on edge today,” Herne whispered, leaning close. His lips brushed mine as he pulled back, and I shivered. Every time he touched me, it set me off.

“I’ll tell you later. I really don’t want to discuss it in public,” I said.

At that moment the door behind the bar opened and Ginty strode through. “I’m here. Sorry I’m late—there was a bad crash on the freeway. We’ll get things started in a moment.”

Ginty McClintlock was a dwarf, around four foot five, all beefcake with ripping muscles and a braid of blond hair that fell to his waist. He was handsome and though he seemed a little gruff around the edges, he actually had a soft heart. He wore jeans and a polo shirt, along with a pair of motorcycle boots, and he drove a beat-up old pickup that was souped up like a bat out of hell.

He jerked his thumb toward the roped-off staircase and, carrying our drinks, we followed him. Turning to Wendy he said, “Hold down the fort while I’m gone.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing, old man?” Wendy said, flourishing her bar towel as she began to polish the counter.

“Eh, woman, you’ll be the death of me yet. But my Ireland would beat me senseless if I let you go.” Ireland was Ginty’s wife, and I got the distinct impression that while Ginty ran the bar, she ran Ginty.

Ginty led us to the velvet rope that cordoned off the staircase. He held his hand out, whispered an incantation, and the rope moved aside on its own, then neatly closed again after the four of us had passed through. I had been here often enough to know that the rope was actually a creature, summoned for protection, and it masqueraded as a velvet rope. I had asked Ginty once what would happen if someone tried to break through without permission. Apparently the rope turned into a snake with very sharp teeth, and a venom that could be lethal.

We started up the stairs. I glanced over my shoulder to see a swirl of fog rising behind us. We had entered the interdimensional space of the Waystation.

Four steps up we came to a landing and the staircase turned to the left. The mist grew thick, shrouding our ankles as we ascended. The fog was magical, that much I knew, and it didn’t feel composed of water vapor. A moment later, and the mist completely encompassed Ginty. Another moment and I entered the fog, and few seconds later, I stepped out into a long hallway. The hallway had three doors on either side, but I knew this was only a small portion of the Waystation. We were now in protected space.

Ginty led us over to the first door on the left—the room we always met the