“Where is he?” I asked. “I’d like to repay some of my debt…with interest.”
“Busy,” Grey answered. “Said he had some business to tend to across town. Left here a little while ago in a shower of sparks. Dragon business.”
“Bet he did.”
“Let it go, Strong,” Grey said, suddenly serious as he glanced outside. “Frank is a pain, but he’s my friend. I’ll speak to him about trying to emancipate your hellhound.”
“You do that,” I said, partially satisfied as I looked around the interior. It was mostly empty. Judging from the sounds, the kitchen crew was busy in the back. “Slow day?”
“Not even noon yet, Strong,” Grey answered, taking another sip from his large mug and looking at Jessikah. “Did you trade in Tea-and-Crumpets for Ms…?”
“Onuris,” Jessikah answered with a slight nod. “Jessikah Onuris of the Black Orchid.”
“Is there a Black Orchid convention in town?”
“Why do you ask?” Jessikah asked, keeping her voice even.
“A few of your sect were here last night looking for…”
“Monty,” I said. “What did you tell them?”
“Coffee?”
“You offered them coffee?”
He narrowed his eyes at me and chuckled.
“You, Strong. Are you really that dense?” Grey asked, pouring me a generous amount of black liquid goodness into a mug matching his. “You look like you could use some. Rough morning?”
“You could say that, thanks,” I said, sitting at the large redwood that doubled as a bar. “What kind of wood is this?”
I knocked on the surface of the bar. A subtle, musical chime filled the space around me. It vaguely resembled the doors at the Randy Rump, but this one thrummed with a deep power—something the doors at the Rump had never done, even with all of the runes etched into them.
“That, my friend, is living Buloke Ironwood.”
“Impossible,” Jessikah said under her breath, as she approached and sat on the stool next to me. “Only the oldest sects have the capability or expertise to fashion living Buloke. The skill to work Buloke Ironwood is beyond all but the most accomplished mage artisans.”
“I have some highly skilled friends in very low places,” Grey answered. “To answer your question, Strong, I told them I didn’t know where Tristan was, but that they were welcome to look around.”
“Did they believe you?” I asked. “You let them look around?”
“I know of the Black Orchid, as every mage does. Of course I let them look around.”
“How long did that last?” I said, feeling the familiar sensation of ants across my skin. “This place feels like Cecil cut loose in here.”
“Something like that,” Grey said. “Told him I needed some runes to persuade those who would prefer to do more damage than drink to vacate the premises.”
I nodded.
“How long before they were looking for the exit?”
“About three minutes before they felt the sudden urge to leave the premises,” Grey said. “Those intentions don’t do well in this place.”
“Three minutes?” Jessikah asked, surprised. “This place is enormous; there’s no way they could have conducted a thorough investigation of the premises in that time.”
I had heard the rumors. Grey had Cecil add some special runes to The Dive, runes that would make individuals with negative intentions feel the need to leave the place. The worse the intentions, the sooner the runes would kick in.
“Deterrence runes,” I said, removing the glowing flask from my jacket as Grey slid the large mug of the darkest coffee I’d ever seen in front of me. “Like my persuader rounds.”
“Only without the mess,” he said, looking at my silver flask and raising an eyebrow. The skulls across its surface glowed with a dull blue light. “You need an extra kick?”
“Trust me, there’s nothing in here that would compare to this,” I said, pausing for a moment to take in the aroma from the mug before pouring in a teaspoon of javambrosia. “This smells…”
“Fresh,” Grey said, looking away from my flask. “I get my shipments direct. Helps with my condition. Tea? Ms. Onuris? You seem partial to a good cuppa.”
“Jessikah, please, and yes, a cup would be excellent,” Jessikah said with a short nod. “Did you say condition? Are you ill?”
Grey narrowed his eyes for a second, and then turned to prepare a cup of tea for Jessikah.
“You could say something like that,” Grey answered after a few seconds of silence. “It’s complicated.”
“Is that why you accepted the sword?” Jessikah asked, as I glared at her. “I apologize if I’m being too forward.”
“Rude is probably a little closer,” I grumbled. “That’s his personal business.”
“Not an issue,” Grey said, still working on the tea with his back to us. “I’m sure the Orchid has some kind of file on me, just like the Dark Council. Mage goes dark, then gets a kickass blade of power…makes plenty of people nervous.”
“The Black Orchid noticed the increase in your power and took the appropriate surveillance measures for a mage of your caliber. The shift was, and is, considerable.”
“I’m almost flattered,” Grey said with a soft chuckle, before becoming serious again. “My condition is…terminal. The sword makes sure it isn’t. I get to hang around long enough for me to deal with the nastiness in the streets and help the people of my city.”
“What does the sword get?” Jessikah asked, her voice gentle, but firm. “What is the cost?”
Grey gave her a hard look, which softened a second later.
“Blood,” Grey said. “She feeds on the evil I fight. That’s about all I’m willing to share on the subject.”
“Understood,” Jessikah said. “I didn’t mean to pry. My apologies.”
“None required,” Grey said, holding a small cup in front of Jessikah. “I trust it will meet your standards.”
“It smells exquisite.”
“I get this flown in for some of my patrons. It’s Taylors of Harrogate, Yorkshire Gold. Direct from 1 Parliament Street, North Yorkshire,” Grey said, with a nod. “I hear it’s some of the best. Can’t drink it myself, but some of my patrons enjoy it.”
Grey placed the delicate cup of tea in front of Jessikah, who let it sit for a few moments before taking a small sip. She
