“Spriggans,” Ryu informed me. “They’re mercenaries, really. But some are loyal to the Alfar—or so they claim. They’re rumored to be the only surviving progeny of giants, but I think that’s just PR. Oh, and watch your handbag and jewelry around them. They’re compulsive thieves, like magpies. Only spriggans will chop your head off if you try to get your stuff back. Whereas magpies just squawk.”
I giggled, but pressed on. “Are there any trolls?”
“Nah, they stick to their caves, luckily. Since they bathe in their own feces.”
I gave Ryu a horrified look, and it was his turn to giggle, only his giggle sounded like a Pomeranian choking. Which only set me off again.
When we’d composed ourselves, he turned to me and ran his hands over my hips, smoothing down my dress. He took a moment to fidget with the front of my wrap, sneaking a caress of my breasts. I leaned into his touch and was rewarded with a little fang. Ryu came toward me, not kissing me, just pressing his forehead against mine and taking a deep breath. Then he straightened, and I could tell he was preparing to move.
“Are you ready to mingle?” he asked.
“No,” I said, completely serious.
“Good. Just follow me and do what I do. And no shaking hands. Don’t touch anybody unless I say it’s okay.”
I grimaced internally. I was more than happy remaining on the periphery of the great hall, but Ryu was not a peripheral sort of guy. Slipping my arm through his, he led me into the room, exchanging greetings with various creatures as we passed.
The good thing about moving forward was that now I could see we were heading toward another set of doors on the opposite side of the hall, through which I caught a glimpse of heavily laden dining tables. My stomach had long since resorted to a quiet war of attrition, eating away at itself rather painfully, but it wakened with a new fury when I caught a glimpse of the food.
Dinner, however, would have to wait. Ryu was walking across the room at a very stately place, exchanging greetings with various beings. They all greeted him using the full title with which he’d been introduced. I wondered if he used baobhan sith all the time as his last name, and I asked as much when I had the chance.
“No. For formal identification we go by our first name and our faction. I don’t mind being called a vampire, but it pisses some of us off. As for last names, we don’t use them, usually. For those of us who live among humans, like I said, we have made-up ones. Goblins have gotten rather attached to theirs since it makes filing easier. But otherwise we just use our factions.” He thought for a moment. “Last names are a very human thing, when you think about it. They imply possession, ownership, property rights, all of that. We don’t own each other, even when we’re bonded, nor do we own our children if we’re lucky enough to have any. And in our world, if you can’t defend what is yours, someone takes it from you.” He shrugged, a c’est la vie sort of gesture.
I frowned, again struck by the paradoxes of his society. On the one hand, there were aspects of this world that I was coming to admire. There was an openness, a lack of embarrassment or amour propre, that I appreciated. But there was this constant undertone of brutality that made me shudder to contemplate.
As if humans are really any different.Nasty, brutish, short, and all that jazz, I thought.
But at least we try, I argued with myself.
Who tries? You try, your dad tries, average people try. And for their attempts at goodness, average people are mugged by strangers, molested by predatory uncles, massacred by their own governments. At least here there’s no pretense.
I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I didn’t realize Ryu had introduced me to somebody until he covertly elbowed me in the ribs. I looked up to see this absolutely gorgeous being in front of me. He reminded me of David Bowie in his Ziggy Stardust days: slender and androgynous. An enormous, fiery coiffure swept up to a point about a foot and a half above his head, and he was clad in what looked like flames. His eyes were auburn and slitted like a cat’s. He was beautiful, and I reached out a hand without even thinking.
Ryu grabbed my wrist with a hiss, and I saw a look of genuine fear on his face. The being had sprung back, out of my reach, and I blinked. Oh yeah, I remembered, I’m not supposed to touch. And then I realized why.
The hair that looked so fiery and the clothing that looked like flames were actually just that—the being was swathed in a molten sheath of fire.
“Chester is an ifrit, darling.” Ryu’s voice was calm despite the scare I’d given him. “He’s a fire elemental. No handshakes allowed.”The being gave me a wry smile. “More’s the pity,” he said, looking me up and down. I blushed, suddenly shy.
“Yes, well, it was good to see you again, Chester. I hope your stock portfolio recovers.” Ryu paused, and I could tell he was struggling to contain something. He lost. “Don’t get burned again,” he quipped, chuckling helplessly. Both the ifrit and I rolled our eyes, and the being bowed slightly to me and stalked off.
“I don’t know what’s worse—your joke or the fact that that amazing creature is named Chester.”
Ryu sighed. “I can’t help it. Ifrits are too easy. And I thought my joke was on fire.” He chortled, and I just shook my head.
“Right, sorry.” He kissed my palm. “You, meanwhile, don’t get to touch. I like my women like I like my steak—nice and rare. So try not to flambé yourself this weekend.”
I nodded solemnly, as I caught sight of an adorable fat man. He had a shaved head and his Buddha-like cheeks were split by an endearing grin. He had no shirt and was wearing pantaloons and curly-toed shoes. My eyes widened, and I pointed. Before I could speak, Ryu sighed.
“Yes, that’s a djinn, or a genie. But they’re not what you think.” He steered me carefully away from the little group clustered around the djinn. I noticed they were all incubi and succubae. “Wally only grants one kind of wish, and although that wish does involve some rubbing, it’s not of his lamp. Which is rumored to be more of the standing floor than the desk variety.”
I grinned. “So the enormous pantaloons—”
“Are as practical as they are fashion forward,” Ryu confirmed.
We were getting close to the doors separating us from the food, and my stomach urged me on with as much finesse as a jockey whipping his mount through the final furlongs of the race.
I had crept into the lead, trying to hasten our arrival at the dining hall, when I felt Ryu halt. I groaned inwardly but turned around, forcing a cordial smile. That smile was wiped from my face when I saw who had slowed our progress: the pale creature that had been standing behind the king and queen. And if I thought he was bad, the being currently lurking behind him made my skin crawl.
Ryu was introducing me, and I only just managed to contain my urge to step behind him for protection. While the short-haired Alfar wasn’t oozing contempt as he had been before, I had long experience with interpreting various gradations of loathing. On a scale of one to ten, what lurked in his eyes was a definite eight and three-quarters. Maybe a nine.
“Jane, this is Jarl, Orin and Morrigan’s second. Jarl, this is Jane True.”
“Enchanted,” Jarl said, lying his face off.
Fibber, I thought. “Likewise,” I said.
My eyes flicked to the creature standing behind Jarl. It wasn’t his personal style that alarmed me, although that was certainly intended to shock. He was dressed all in leather and shredded denim, with a towering blue Mohawk. He also sported a piercing in virtually every available inch of skin. His ears and eyebrows were lined with them, and he had what appeared to be steel tusks sprouting from above each lip. His cheeks sported three small spikes apiece, and there was another line of small spikes dotting his forehead, along with a very heavy-looking bull ring through his nose. His neck was laced with safety pins, like the kind worn by the evil guy in Highlander. But this dude wasn’t trying to disguise any scars; he’d just poked dozens of holes in his neck for the hell of it.
One thing I would have expected to be pierced, yet wasn’t, was the man’s tongue. But that’s because he didn’t have a human’s tongue—his was that of a snake, cloven tip and all. I nearly hollered when it flicked out at me.
And yet not even the tongue really bothered me—what got to me were his eyes. They were dead—pale as a corpse’s and equally lifeless. They flicked over me and I shuddered. Any discomfort or trepidation I’d felt at seeing the other denizens of the Alfar Court vanished when this thing’s eyes finally met mine. He didn’t make me nervous, he scared the shit out of me.
I could swear I’ve seen him before, I thought, my mind racing. But that was stupid. I’d never fail to recognize somebody as markedly distinctive as this guy. He’d stand out, just a bit, in Rockabill.
Jarl watched me take in his companion, and I saw that he thoroughly enjoyed the fear I was doubtlessly radiating. Ryu was tense beside me, and I couldn’t help but take a step closer to him, pressing myself to his side.
“Jimmu,” Jarl said, and I noticed that his voice was high and whiney, which made me feel slightly less terrified. For about two seconds, until I realized that “Jimmu” was Mr. Dead Eyes and that Jarl was attempting to introduce us. Personally, I’d rather be introduced to the four horseman of the apocalypse, all at once, at a swinger’s party.