“Yes, but that is not your only function,” the Auer said, tapping my chest. “Did no one inform you? A shieldbearer does not only protect his charge; he protects all those around him. Your ability is warding, like the first light of dawn after a night of darkness and death. The same must be said for your presence.”
“That is completely unclear,” I said.
“Right now it is, yes,” she said, continuing the gentle not-so gentle shove out of her library. “It won’t always be. Get to Tristan’s truth and it will begin to make sense.”
I was about to answer when she gave me one last shove.
The world disappeared in a blue flash. When I could see again, I was standing next to the Dark Goat. Monty and my hellhound were already inside. My stomach rumbled, but surprisingly, that was the extent of my discomfort.
I jumped into the Dark Goat, and started the engine, revving it for a second before letting it settle into its familiar purr.
“Did she give you the information?” Monty asked.
I was about to say no, when the location of the Balfour meeting place became clear in my mind. It was the kind of memory that lingered, like some odd deja vu. I knew exactly where we needed to go.
“Yes,” I said with a nod. We still had several hours before our meet tonight. “I know exactly where it is.”
Monty nodded as I put the car in gear and sped off.
SIXTEEN
We crossed over the 59th Street Bridge and headed back downtown.
The Balfour TINY was a three-story brownstone located at 135 West Broadway, in the heart of Tribeca. I parked the Dark Goat and stood outside the pink building, looking at the facade.
“It’s pink,” I said as Monty got out. I held the door for my hellhound, Sprawler DeSprawl, as he stretched his way out of the car. “This building is…very pink.”
I placed a hand on the roof of the Dark Goat and locked it.
“I believe the color is called rose,” Monty said, stepping to the door of the restaurant located on the ground floor. “This is a pastel shade in the pink family.”
“Thank you, Mr. Pantone,” I said, staring at him. “I’ll stick with pink.”
“Are you certain this is the place?”
“What do you mean am I certain? Didn’t she tell you, too?”
“If she had, why would I ask?”
“Good point,” I said, nodding and searching my memory. “This is the place, but I don’t think we’re going to find any Balfours here. I mean, it has charm, but upscale this is not.”
“Let’s not be fooled by appearances,” Monty said. “For all intents and purposes, you and your creature look like an average man and his dog. We both know that is far from the truth.”
“Yes, we are both way above average,” I said, patting Peaches’ head. “It’s actually not that hard to see.”
“I’d say one of you is above average in ability, and the other, above average in his capacity to induce migraines,” Monty said. “I’ll leave you to figure out which is which.”
“I’ve never heard of this place before,” I said, looking around the entrance. Everything was turned off and the restaurant looked closed for business. “What kind of name is TINY?”
“A small one,” Monty said, moving to the door and locating a barely visible rune. “Here.”
“Was that mage humor?” I asked. “Because that almost sounded droll. Did the schism activate your inner comedian?”
“I don’t even know the meaning of the word,” Monty said, pressing a sequence of runes. “TINY stands for Temporal Interstitial Neutral Yard. Think of the Randy Rump as a portal to another location—that is what a TINY is. This one happens to lead to the Balfour Enclave. There.”
The runes on the door flashed with orange light for a half a second before disappearing. The lock mechanism unlocked with an audible click as Monty pushed the door.
We stepped into a large dining area, complete with fireplace. A large bar dominated one side of the floor. Several people were seated there, enjoying drinks and engaging in conversation. The main dining area was filled with small round tables.
Patrons sat at the tables, most of them couples. The first thing that made me realize this place was different was the lack of attention. No one gave us a second glance. Everyone was completely immersed in their conversations.
I could understand not looking at Monty or me, but ignoring a hellhound? It took me a few seconds to adjust to the feeling of normalcy. Monty motioned to the bar with his chin.
The bartender was a short man, broad around the shoulders, who looked like he spent plenty of time in the gym. Actually, he looked like he spent plenty of time lifting the gym. He was cleaning a glass with a large chamois.
“How can I help you?” the man asked, his voice gruff.
“Earl Grey and coffee, black and potent for my associate,” Monty said looking around the place as I took the stool next to him. “We’re looking for someone.”
“Aren’t we all?” the bartender said as he prepared our drinks. “This someone have a name?”
“Gant,” I said. “Heard of him?”
The energy of the room shifted slightly. What I took for a lack of attention earlier was actually a subtle shift in the attention of the room. Not everyone was watching us, but those who were were trying to be subtle about it and failing.
The bartender placed the cups of tea and coffee in front of us. The coffee smelled amazing, and was nearly Deathwish level. Monty’s tea smelled like it always smelled—something close to boiled grass.
Monty hummed in approval as he let his cup sit a moment longer. I took a sip from my cup and felt the initial jolt as my coffee cracked its knuckles and hit me in the jaw with a right cross of coffee goodness.
I stared at the bartender in surprise as he nodded in my direction.
“I know, it’s that good,” he said. “Special house blend. What do you want with this Gant?”
“Sorry, but we were
