elbow on the bar, looking away. Sebastian noticed it. “I came here, to this tiny town in the middle of nowhere, to satisfy my curiosity. I fully intended to leave at the end of the week.” His eyes were still on Austin. “But that display earlier… I’ve never seen a shifter at work. I am…fascinated. Their magic is built in. They don’t need spells and incantations, potions and magic-built eyes in the back of their heads. Their primal senses fill that gap. Their strength and speed—if I had been that man with the odd haircut, my neck would’ve snapped before I even realized I was in trouble. I am not that fast on my best day. My very best day. Even standing here, now, I am holding on to courage with two fists. I am worried about his temper breaking and killing me before I can even think of a magical deterrent.” He shivered. “I rather like the feeling. I feel…alive. Reinvigorated.”
Austin had turned slowly to look at Sebastian, his face unreadable but his emotions akin to what he felt when listening to Edgar talk about his flowers.
Niamh mumbled, “He’s as mad as a hatter.”
“I find it,” Sebastian said, dropping his gaze to his shoes, “very surprising, all of this. But I have a very cushy job, separated from the more unpleasant parts of the magical world. It would be quite a change to come here. However, I will not close my mind to the possibility. I agree to the trial period, and I’ll decide what to do at the end of it.”
“Maybe you’ll find the small-town life suits you,” I said. “I have, for what it’s worth.”
Sebastian looked around again. “Do you even have delivery?”
“Ah, sure, just stop by Ivy House and have that eejit Mr. Tom make something for ye.” It was probably the first time I’d heard Niamh use his made-up name. She was making fun of the idea, yes, but she’d still used it. Baby steps. “That’s his only real use these days, anyway.”
Austin pushed his glass to the top of the bar and connected eyes with Paul, silently asking for another, before resting his elbow on the edge again. “You do need better fliers, Jess. Jasper and Ulric have their uses, as do Mr. Tom and Niamh, but they won’t be enough to protect you when you are forced into aerial combat. That is where you’re weakest.”
I sighed, finishing off my beer. I pushed the bottle away.
“Here, Donna, swap this out.” Niamh pointed at the bottle. “Thanks so much.”
“No, no,” I said. “I’m done. I need to head—”
“You might as well, like.” She motioned for Donna to step to it. “That lad of yours will be fine on his own. He’s got enough to be gettin’ on with, seeing as Earl bought out that store for video games. Besides, he’s probably sleeping. You’re grand. Two won’t hurt ye.”
“No, honestly, I need to be…” Donna deposited another bottle in front of me. I wouldn’t be going anywhere. That was always the hazard of drinking with Niamh.
“Okay, then, what sort of fliers do I need?” I asked.
“Masters of the sky,” Austin said.
“Formidable,” Niamh added. “Ruthless in battle.”
“Even better if they can also fight on the ground in human form,” Austin said.
“What we need is pure power.” Niamh wiggled her drink, the ice tinkling against the glass. “We have Ulric for maneuverability, we have Jasper for coasting, but we need someone explosive. Thunderous in power.”
“How about someone who seems like they’re beneath notice but transitions into a form that wreaks vast damage?” Sebastian asked.
“All good ideas.” I chewed on my lip. “And I need another gargoyle. Ivy House said so when Ulric and Jasper were given their place.”
“You can speak to the house?” Sebastian asked. His slate-gray eyes showed no surprise or disbelief, but his tone was one of delight. He really could take crazy in stride. That could only help him with my crew.
“It’s not a normal house.” I thought about everything that had been said, then went over what I knew of gargoyles. “How many big personalities can I handle, do you think? People who might keep trying to push for the alpha role?”
“You?” Niamh shook her head. “None. Ye don’t understand the subtleties of the magical world or those who are ruled by, or rule as, alphas. Dalmatian or whatever his name was proved that. He was trying to subtly manipulate ye the whole time. Good thing he was piss-poor at romance and not so