screen was on.
“Did you get that text?”
“From Doc Jane.” Qhuinn tossed his cell over. “Any ideas?”
John read it and shrugged.
“Yeah.” He walked around the room. “Man, is it me or is time dragging.”
The whistle he got in reply was a big fat
“You want to go out?” he asked with all the enthusiasm of someone suggesting a trip to a nail parlor.
Movement on the bed drew his eyes around: John was up on his feet and heading for his closet.
Across his back, deep in his skin, the name of his
XHEXANIA
Poor bastard…
As the male pulled on a black button-down and covered his bare ass in leather, Qhuinn shrugged. Guess they were going for a beer.
“I’ll go get clothes and be right back.”
Stepping out into the hall, he frowned… and followed a compelling instinct down to the open landing that overlooked the foyer.
Leaning over the gold-leafed railing, he called out, “Layla?”
As the name echoed, the female emerged from the dining room. “Oh, hello.” Her smile was automatic and meaningless, the expressional equivalent of a blank wall. “How fare thee?”
He had to laugh. “You’re blowin’ me away with all that happy joy-joy.”
“I’m sorry.” She seemed to snap out of her distraction. “I don’t mean to be rude.”
“Don’t worry about it. What are you doing here?” He shook his head. “What I mean is, were you summoned?”
Had someone come home injured? Blay, for example…
“No, I have naught to do. I’m just waffling about as you would say.”
Come to think of it, ever since the fall, she had been doing that a lot, just hanging around in the periphery, loitering as if she were waiting for something.
She was different, he thought abruptly. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but lately she had changed: Grave. Less quick to smile. Serious.
To put it in human terms, he supposed she’d been a girl for as long as he’d known her. Now she was starting to look like a woman. No more wide-eyed wonder about everything this side of the divide had to offer. No more glowing enthusiasm. No more…
Shit, she looked a lot like he and John did. Worn out by the world.
“Hey, you want to come out with us?” he asked.
“Out? As in…”
“John and I are going to go have a drink. Maybe two. Maybe more. I think you should come with us. After all, misery loves company.”
She linked her arms over her chest. “Is it so obvious?”
“You’re still beautiful.”
Layla laughed. “You’re being charming.”
“Lady in distress, you know the drill. Come out with us—let’s just kill some time.”
She looked around. Then she picked up her skirting and ascended the stairs. When she got to the top, she stared at him. “Qhuinn… may I please ask you something?”
“Long as it’s not multiplication tables. I suck at math.”
She laughed a little, but quickly lost the levity. “Did you ever think life would be so… empty? Some nights, I feel as though I could choke on the void.”
Jesus, he thought. Yeah, he did.
“Come here,” he told her. As she stepped into him, he pulled her in close, tucking her against his chest and resting his chin on the top of her head. “You are such a good female, you know that?”
“You’re being charming again.”
“And you are still in distress.”
She relaxed in his arms. “You are very good to me.”
“Back at you.”
“It’s not you, you know. I’m not pining over you anymore.”
“I know.” He rubbed her back as a brother would. “So tell me you’re coming out—but be warned. I might just have to get you to tell me who you are missing.”
The way she pulled back and ducked his eyes told him, yup, there was a male involved, and nope, she wasn’t volunteering any information. “I shall need some clothes.”
“Let’s try the guest room. I think we’ll find ’em there.” He put an arm around her shoulders and led her down the hall. “And as for this Joe Shmoe of yours, I promise not to beat him—unless he breaks your heart. Then I might have to do some dental work on the bastard.”
Who the hell could it be? he wondered. Everyone in the house was hooked up.
Maybe it was someone she’d met up north at Phury’s great camp? But who would the guy be letting in?
Could it be one of the Shadows? Hmm… those bastards were males of worth, to be sure, the kind of thing that could definitely turn a female’s head.
Man, he wished it was something else, for her sake. Love was hard, even if good people were involved.
In the guest room, he found her some black jeans and a black fleece. He didn’t like the idea of her in some miniskirted nightmare—not just because it offended his delicate sensibilities, but he didn’t need the Primale doing any cosmetic dentistry on
When they came out, John was waiting in the hall, and if he was surprised to be joined by the Chosen, he didn’t show much of the reaction. Instead, he was kind to Layla, mouthing small talk with her as Qhuinn threw some proper clothes on.
About ten minutes later, the three of them dematerialized downtown—not to the bars, though: Neither he nor John was interested in escorting a Chosen into Screamer’s or the Iron Mask. Instead, they ended up in the theater district, at a dessert place that was open until one a.m. and served liquor along with chocolate thingies draped in whatever topped with blah-blah-blah on a bed of poached uh-huh, yeah. The tables were small, the chairs likewise, and they sat in front of the emergency exit in the back, hunkering down as the waitress continued to blabber about the specials, none of which were appealing.
The beer selection was mercifully short and to the point.
“Two black and tans for us,” he said. “And for the lady?”
As he glanced at Layla, she shook her head. “I can’t decide.”
“Get both of whatever appeals.”
“All right… I’ll take the crème brûlée and the moon pie. And a cappuccino, please.”
The waitress smiled as she wrote on her pad. “I love your accent.”
Layla inclined her head graciously. “Thank you.”
“I can’t place it—French and German? Or… Hungarian?”
“Those beers would be great now,” Qhuinn said firmly. “We’re thirsty.”
When the woman went off, he hairy-eyeballed the other diners, getting markers on their faces and scents, listening to the talk, wondering whether there was an attack coming. Across the way, John was doing the same. ’Cuz, yeah, it was so relaxing taking a Chosen out into the world.
“We’re not very good company,” he said to Layla after a while. “Sorry.”
“I’m not either.” She smiled at him and then John. “But I am enjoying being out of the house.”
The waitress came back with the order, and everyone eased away from the table as glasses and plates and the cup and saucer were arranged.
Qhuinn snagged his tall glass as soon as the coast was clear. “So tell us about him. We can be
