Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [27]
As soon as he was fully inside, a large, thick man leaned out of the shadows, hands ready to pat Douglas down, despite the early hour and the closed sign. Aengus shrugged at him before slipping behind the bar. From the look on the fey’s face, Douglas decided this was more of a test than any real worry that he was sneaking in weapons. He held his arms wide for the guard and indicated that he’d agree to the search. After all, he had nothing to hide, nothing this caveman would find anyway. The man hesitated and looked over at his boss. It appeared that neither of them thought Douglas would give in this easily.
“Go on, Zeke,” Aengus said. “He’s promised not to bite.” The fey filled a heavy pint glass with stout, automatically grabbing a bottle of water for Douglas.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t promise,” Zeke said.
Douglas smiled benignly at Zeke, who grunted back. Benign was the best he could manage. He’d given up trying to look innocent a long time ago. He could mimic the face, but something around his eyes gave him away, so he no longer bothered.
Zeke leveled a stern glare at Douglas, who met his gaze easily. The bodyguard grunted again. “Smile all you want, but keep your hands to yourself.”
“Why?” Douglas asked. “Afraid?” He said it mockingly, though Zeke didn’t rise to the bait. Douglas raised his estimation of the bouncer just a touch.
“Not my job to be afraid.” Zeke patted him down firmly, but in a way that told Douglas Zeke didn’t feel the need to prove himself, at least not physically. “My job is to protect this bar, that man”—he jerked his head toward Aengus—“and the guests.” Zeke’s hands sorted through Douglas’s pockets, blue eyes never breaking contact. “After that, I look after myself.” He knelt and motioned for Douglas to take off his shoes. His eyes flicked between the shoe and its owner as he examined the soles for anything dangerous. He handed them back to Douglas. “A wise man doesn’t overestimate himself.” He stood and stretched to his full height. “But he doesn’t underestimate the little guy either.”
“Are you a wise man?”
“Wise enough to not let you touch me.” He stepped away from Douglas.
“Then you’re on your way,” Douglas said softly.
Zeke nodded and knuckle-tapped the sign posted behind him, which read no fighting, NO STEALING, NO DEALING, AND WE HAVE THE RIGHT TO THROW YOU OUT ASS FIRST AT ANY TIME—MANAGEMENT. “Hope you enjoy the Tongue & Buckle, sir,” Zeke said before he folded back into the shadows by the door.
Douglas followed Aengus into the back room. He couldn’t help but notice that, much like his bodyguard, Aengus kept a healthy gap between them.
Some people found Council meetings to be tedious. Douglas never had, but of course he held the gavel, metaphorically speaking. He did not, however, sit at the center of the crescent. He preferred to sit at the end of the table, where he could keep an eye on everyone present. Naturally, Brannoc sat at the other end, presumably to keep an eye on Douglas.
Douglas wondered who Bridin took after, her fey hound father or her were mother. Douglas couldn’t see much resemblance between Brannoc and the girl back home in the cage. Not physically. They both held themselves the same way, like they expected everyone to sit up and listen when they talked. Douglas wasn’t sure whether that expectation annoyed him or not. Part of him respected it. Still, he wished he knew more about the man. Brannoc wasn’t keen on answering any of his questions, and for obvious reasons Douglas was hesitant about throwing him in a cage.
He stared back at Brannoc, ignoring the random chatter of the others as they waited for Pello, who was late. Again. He was all for starting without him—Pello was next to useless—but the others might snatch at any excuse to call foul.