Crimson Death
Page 151

   “It’s all right,” he said in a voice that was the thickest accent we’d heard yet. “Auntie Nim says trusting you we are.” Or I was pretty certain that was what he said. I’d double-check with Flannery later.
   Slane swept back his hair on one side and showed that his ears really were like long, silky dog ears. They were colored like a beagle’s ears, brown and white, but they were longer and looked more like a coonhound’s, or a shorter-eared basset hound’s maybe.
   “Nifty,” I said.
   “I don’t know that word,” he said.
   “Cool, or nice, or interesting. They look silky,” I said finally, because I was suddenly having a socially awkward moment. Slang travels badly from one country or language to another. I’d have to remember that nifty wasn’t that common here; hell, it wasn’t that common back home.
   He smiled wider, pleased at the compliment. “They’re why I wear my hat inside most times. Helps keep my hair down over them, because most women don’t think they’re . . . nifty.”
   “Their loss,” I said, and seeing the puzzlement on his face, I added, “If they can’t see that different is interesting and not bad, then it’s their loss for letting differences keep them from getting to know you.” Again I got that I was verbally digging out of the hole I’d just dug my way into with my feelings, but at least I was digging out and not in deeper.
   “A lovely thought,” Nim said, “but you are no more human than some of my descendants, so I would expect you to be more open-minded than most.”
   “Thank . . .”
   “Don’t finish that,” Flannery said. “Don’t say that phrase to my auntie, or to any of the older Fey. It’s an insult.”
   “Okay, I’ll try to remember that.”
   Nim put back her shawl enough to show off her dark auburn hair. It was almost the same color as Nathaniel’s. “You look like you could be one of my get, Nathaniel Graison.”
   “Get? You mean descendant?” he asked.
   “I do.”
   “I don’t know much about my family. I don’t know if any of them were Irish or not.”
   “Are you an orphan?”
   “Something like that,” he said. He squeezed my hand as he said it. Dev petted his face and the side of his neck more, picking up on his need for more touch. I hadn’t thought that it might bother Nathaniel that he didn’t know his ancestry.
   “A lot of us don’t know much about our families,” Domino said.
   “You and Mr. Flynn could pass for Fey here, with your hair and eyes, for most of us bear something that sets us apart, but your energy is not ours.” Nim pointed a black gloved finger at Nathaniel. “But that one, that one feels more like home.”
   “I honestly don’t know if I’m Irish in any way,” he said.
   “Those eyes could be our mark upon you.”
   “You get eyes like that and I get dog ears,” Slane said, smiling so that I couldn’t tell if he was actually complaining or just remarking.
   “I do want to find out more about my family,” Nathaniel said, “but we came to find out what you know about the vampires and the magic being damaged here in Dublin.”
   “You don’t know what’s doing it, do you?” I asked.
   “I hate to admit it, but I do not.”
   “This meeting was mostly so they could see you and feel your magic, Blake, and all of you,” Flannery said.
   “It’s been interesting, but if you knew they couldn’t help us solve the case, then wasn’t this a waste of daylight?” I asked.
   “Many of my people did not believe that a necromancer, especially one about to be wed to a vampire, would be someone we wanted here in Ireland,” Nim said. “They did not believe you would help us. We all feared you would make things worse, but my nephew here said he would bring you to meet us if he thought your power was positive magic and not negative.”
   “Cousin said you were life energy, fertility, not death,” Slane said.
   “Well, I do my best, but I do raise the dead. I won’t hide that I am a necromancer.”
   “I saw some of the stuff on YouTube from Colorado last year,” Slane said. “You are the stuff of legends, Ms. Blake.”
   “I never know what to say when people use words like legend,” I said.
   “It is just the truth,” Nim said. “Accept it and stop being embarrassed by it.”
   “I’ll try,” I said.
   She smiled. “Since we can be of so little help, we will let you go so that you do not waste all your daylight, for I fear for our city once night falls again.”
   I nodded. “Me, too.”
   She got to her feet and both Slane and Flannery moved to help her up. I wasn’t sure if it was a sign of respect, or if she really needed the help, but Nicky stood up as if he’d help, too, and we all stood up then, though I put Dev’s hand in mine, along with Nathaniel’s on the other side. My gun wasn’t going to help me as much in here as whatever Dev was able to do. I’d be asking him in private exactly what he had done and how he’d known to do it, but not yet.
   Auntie Nim leaned more heavily on her cane than she had before, and I realized that part of what her glamour had done was to give her that smooth gait. Now I saw how much she needed the cane. Her skirt had caught on itself, and I had a glimpse of her feet. One old-fashioned black shoe and one black hoof, split like the hoof of a goat. No wonder she needed the cane.
   I watched her walk back to the table with Slane at her side. Flannery went ahead of us, leading us toward the outside door. I couldn’t help looking at him harder than I had before. He looked like a normal human, but there was always something to mark us, Nim had said. For the first time I was wondering what a man was hiding under his clothes and it had absolutely nothing to do with sex.
 
 
49

   FLANNERY GOT CALLED back into the pub for one more private word with his aunt, so he sent us ahead to the car. Fine with me, because that meant we could talk in private, too.    “What did you do in there, Devereux?” Nicky asked from behind us. I was holding Nathaniel’s hand and Dev was holding his other one. The three of us abreast were taking up all the sidewalk and then some. The world really wasn’t made for walking in threes; hell, twos were hard on some streets. We were getting some glances, which we could have avoided if I’d been in the middle of our hand-holding, but the two men were lovers, so screw it.
   “What did you do that made her call you a witch?” Domino asked.