31. Arrick
Chapter thirty-one
Arrick
M ud is building up on the cobblestone sidewalk, and there are large gashes in the road where a carriage had tried to pull through, gotten stuck, and backed out.
If I were to describe the village in one word, it would be "waterlogged."
Yera doesn't care. Her eyes are wide and inquisitive. I can see her sharp brain taking in every fresh sight and creature.
When one passes, I speak into her mind. Letting her know what they are and what they do—mostly.
Four Pixies spill out in front of us, wine goblets in hand and their skin glowing like starlight. Her jaw drops at the sight, but I tell her to keep her distance. Pixies are nasty when drunk and will pick a fight with just about anyone.
We reach the town square entrance, where buildings of mortar and thatch turn into brick and wood. Most have a storefront and some second-story living space above.
Every time a human walks past, I can see Yera's mind alight, and then that flame slowly flickers out when she doesn't recognize the person heading in her direction.
I give her hand a gentle squeeze in reassurance. "We need to investigate some of these pubs and businesses. Ask around. I'm sure someone has seen them or knows someone who has," I whisper into her ear. I knew I could project my thoughts to her, but I wanted to feel the shell of her ear on my lips.
A shiver runs down her spine at the touch but is soon washed away when another human walks past. Disappointment floods my consciousness again, and I press us toward a pub. Time to get actual answers.
The glass is fogged on the first pub we walk up to. Yera gives me a weary look before I place a palm on the waterlogged door.
Scents immediately flood my nose and consciousness. Our joined minds are pinging observations back and forth.
It is dark and humid. The space is littered with muffled sounds that come in from all directions. The bar lights are set low, casting everything in shadows except for the few brightly-colored sprites that flit about the space.
Where do we even start ? The question appears in Yera's head as her soft brown eyes wildly scan our surroundings. Nutshells and dried mud crunch under our feet as we move in closer .
A glass spills on the table next to us, covering the wood surface in a thick, amber liquid. A Dwarf rises, and the sticky alcohol runs off his leathers as he glares down at it, brows drawing together.
I grab Yera's wrist and move to the opposite side. The dwarf pounds his fists, shaking the rest of the glasses, causing them to spill over the five other creatures surrounding the table.
They all stand, some so short they can barely glance over the bar top. Some are so tall that their horns graze the roof of the building.
I wouldn't say I like the look of this. I can feel Yera's panic, too. She is nothing if not observant and sees what's coming a mile away.
We are too far into the building, and the altercation stands between us and the front door. Tension fills the air, and I scan for the closest exit.
Kitchen . Yera's thoughts come into my head. Isn't there usually a kitchen exit, where deliveries are made ? I love this clever woman.
You are so right, my lovely. Let's get out of this mess . As I project the words, a glass flies overhead and smashes on a wood support beam. Yera jolts, and I grab her tighter. Ducking our heads under the fray, we move to the back of the building, where two swinging doors mark the entrance to the kitchen.
I'm glad we didn't decide to stay and eat. The kitchen is filthy, pots are boiling over, and the contents are enough to turn anyone's stomach. When another lid pops, spitting out an eyeball, we glance at each other and decide to pick up the pace.
As she predicted, the door backs up to a dirt back road for deliveries. The "road" is now a mud pit with deep wheel tracks. Muddy boots and clothes are a better alternative to a bar fight.
"I'm sorry," I say over to Yera, the sounds of our feet suctioning into the ground almost deafening. "Going uptown to a more reputable place should have been my first instinct. "
"You think?" Yera snaps at me, clay sticking to her finely made skirts. She is mad, but I can still feel her humor bubbling to the surface. She somehow can always find either humor or reason in any situation.
"When we get to the inn, I can bathe you if you like."
Her mouth quirks up just a bit at that. We finally make it to the cobbled road and sidewalk, looking worse for wear.
A few corners later, the pubs and ramshackle inns become dress shops, grocers, and cafes.
I lead Yera into a shop to dispense of our wet, muddy clothes for more presentable attire for this part of town. The shop worker looks us up and down before recognizing my markings and moving to help us immediately.
Vaki are given whatever they need for their services to the community and the lands. That doesn't stop me from tipping the Satyr gentleman for his time and care with my lovely human.
Yera picks up some leather pants that put her perfect round ass and curved hips obscenely on display. "I will not function if you're wearing those around me."
"Long dresses and skirts aren't practical in this weather. You're just going to have to control yourself," she snipes at me, and a smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
She wears her new pants and a two-layered chestnut brown and olive green top. Covered with a wax-treated coat for the rain. Her new black leather boots lace up to her knees. Fuck, she looks like she belongs here, like she's lived here her whole life. Right here, by my side.
I shake off the thought before she can pick it up, still needing to remember that Yera can hear me, my thoughts. I love being connected with her this way, but I fear it might frighten her away if she looks into how desperately I need her .
I pop open an umbrella when we step outside, the purchase still gleaming with newness. Yera instinctually steps closer, wrapping her arm around my lower waist.
Rain falls again. No pretense. The sky opens up and floods the already waterlogged streets.
Creatures of all matter scatter. Some disappear into the shops, and others are huddling under awnings. Not us. We stay wrapped together, moving through the torrent of rain like water wraiths, like the world around us is of no consequence.
We make it to the Inn and Tavern I had in mind. A black awning stretches across the whitewashed front of the brick building, with copper posts elegantly lining the entrance.
The foyer has a round table set with a vase of wildflowers and a polished dark wood coat rack.
An onyx-skinned Fae woman is managing the front desk. Her eyes shine as if lit from within, the color of polished amber. Yera's throughs swirl as she takes in the ethereal woman.
To her credit, the woman smiles at my lovely human, no doubt reading her thoughts. She can hear everything you're thinking, all Fae can, I say into Yera's head. If I didn't know better, I'd think you were on the verge of asking her to join us in our room tonight . I shield that last bit from the fae woman so as not to offend.
Yera squirms uncomfortably next to me, but keeps her thoughts silent.
"Good afternoon. We want to book a room for tonight and might extend the stay."
"Yes, of course, Vaki. We have a room with a private bathing chamber and a balcony overlooking our gardens. I'll block this room out for as long as you need." Her delicate fingers roam along the crisp ledger, finding the room and marking it with a notation. "You're all set. Would you like me to have anything sent up?"
"No, we're just fine for now, but may I ask you a question?"
"Absolutely, Vaki. What would you like to know?"
"Have you seen any other humans around, one's like her?" I gesture to Yera. "One's that seem new or don't know how to shield their minds?"
The Fae woman thinks about it for a moment. "Do you know what they look like?"
"Yes, Mariana's tall," Yera chimes in. "Much taller than me, with a strong build. She has long black hair, dark green eyes, and olive skin. She's loud. You can always hear her coming from a mile away.
Ava is short and slight. She is silent, almost painfully so. She has short black curly hair and eyes so brown they can look black in some lighting."
The woman thinks on it momentarily, pressing her finger to her lips and no doubt sifting through the humans she has encountered recently.
"I have," a voice with enough gravel in it to send goosebumps down my arms calls out from behind us. We both turn.
The low whisky voice is familiar to me. Turning, the recognition clicks into pace.
He looks a bit like a human but taller, with ears hanging well below his shoulders. His clothes are well made but tattered by travel and use. When I meet his gaze, I see recognition flare in his eyes.
"Arrick, my boy, so good to see you. It's almost been a full turn of the seasons since you helped me with that Boggart problem." Indeed, it has .
"Patti, great to see you. This is Yera, my…" I trail off, not knowing exactly what to call her. She is everything, but how can I express that in a fleeting word?
"I'm his partner," Yera says reassuringly and sticks out her hand in greeting. Partner. I roll the word around in my mind for a moment. I don't love it, but it'll do for now. "So, you've seen them?" Excitement tinges every syllable of her words.
"No, just the first one you spoke of, the tall one who never shuts up."
"I didn't say that exactly, but I get your point. Please continue."
"Maybe we should get a table in the tavern." I gesture to the double doors. "Clear out of the waiting room."
Patti looks over to the woman at the front desk. "I've got you all checked in. The room closest to the fire exit, right?"The lovely fae woman asks. He nods at the woman and then focuses his attention back on us.
"Shall we?" His palms press to the double doors leading to Tavern.