Her jaw clicked. “I don’t think so. You’re coming out with us. We want all the details of your day.” She leveled me with a look. “And I do mean all.”
I ran my tongue over my teeth. I should’ve known better than to think I could fool anyone here. The Knights of Boudica were incredible at what they did, not only because they were fierce fighters, but because they paid attention to details. They didn’t walk into a room and immediately try to dominate the space. They took a moment to assess the players, get a handle on their strengths and weaknesses, maybe even what they had for breakfast if the information was useful. They fought smarter. I appreciated their skills in the field. Not so much when they used them against me.
“Who’s up for a drink?” Kami called across the room.
Hands went up.
Nope. I wasn’t getting out of this one. I squared my shoulders. Fine. I’d be a joiner. Depending on how this case progressed, I might need to call on the other knights for help, although I’d try my best to avoid it. It was better to handle things on my own whenever possible. I didn’t want to endanger my friends. Our job was dangerous enough without my secret making it worse. A typical witch might seek gainful employment from an influential vampire and be rewarded with a comfortable lifestyle that included healthcare and protection from other vampires. For knights, violence was a way of life and when we lost, we ended up either burned on a pyre or buried outside the city, depending on the circumstances.
When I became a knight, I signed a document that told the banner my burial wishes. Standard stuff so there’s no debate. Usually there isn’t time for a discussion with the family, if there is one. Decisions have to be made and made quickly. If you want to be buried, there are only a few trains per week that carry the dead outside the city and arrangements have to be made. Buried or burned means your body won’t end up in the hands of vampires. Although there’s an official system in place via tribute centers, some of the more predatory vampires aren’t above taking advantage of an unfortunate situation.
“Let’s go now before London gets called away on an emergency,” Kami said.
I could’ve strangled her. She knew me well enough to know I was hiding something and she wasn’t going to let me walk away without extracting the information.
“If anybody owes me a report, please do it before leaving,” Minka announced. For a knight, she was oddly obsessed with paperwork. Kami once said the world dodged a bullet when Minka wasn’t born a vampire.
We ignored Minka and filed out of the Pavilion. No one bothered to say where we were headed. We all knew. There was only one pub in the neighborhood we agreed on and that was The Crown. It was an old pub noteworthy for keeping its original stained-glass windows intact. The walls, once a dark brown, were painted an off white, as many interiors were, to better reflect the limited light available. Strings of lights crisscrossed the ceiling, giving the walls a slightly yellow sheen. The tables were small except for one oval table toward the back that the owner kept reserved for larger parties and us. If people were seated there when we arrived, Simon would move them to another table without a second thought. He took good care of his regulars.
Behind the bar Simon brightened upon seeing us enter. He liked us because we tipped well and we weren’t prone to property damage like some of his other clientele. Simon was a werewolf and shapeshifters preferred to frequent pubs owned by other shapeshifters, which was good news for him except when a brawl broke out. When it came to shapeshifters, that happened more often than not. The other upside was that vampires generally considered a shapeshifter-owned pub to be beneath them, so we knew it was a safe haven from the establishment. Then again, I’d thought the same about the Hole until Prince Callan showed up.
I pushed aside thoughts of the royal vampire and his intense green eyes. Not interested. Not even a little bit.
The Crown was fairly empty at this hour. Too late for the lunch crowd and too early for the evening crowd. I called it the Goldilocks hour because it was just right for me.
I tried to plant my butt in a middle seat, but Kami grabbed my shoulder and steered me to the end of the oval. The hot seat. Terrific.
Kami raised a finger at Simon. “One round, please.” She sat beside me and clasped her hands on the table. “Now that we’re all listening without distractions, why don’t you tell us about your meeting today, London?”
I pictured myself pinning her to the wall and head-butting her, but that was no way to treat your best friend—was it?
Then again, this was no way for my best friend to treat me. She knew I was dodging questions, which only increased her desire to extract the information from me. She should trust that I had a good reason for keeping quiet.
Simon carried over two pitchers of ale and set them on the table, quickly followed by a basket of rolls.
Stevie pulled a pitcher closer to her. “What’s everyone else having?”
“Yes, yes,” Simon said. “Point taken. I’ll fetch the glasses.”
“Who’s hungry?” Stevie asked.
Kami pulled a face. “What kind of question is that?”
Simon returned with a stack of glassware and set one in front of each of us. “I’ve got two types of pie today. Kidney and homity.”
“One of each for the table, please,” Stevie said.
Simon gave a curt nod and hustled away. He knew better than to leave us hungry for long. We wouldn’t bust up the pub, but we were champions at complaining.
“Spill,” Kami demanded. “And I’m not talking about your ale.”
I tipped back my head and groaned. “Fine, but you have to promise not to give me a hard time.”
“Can’t promise when we don’t know what you’re about to say.”
At least she was honest.
Kami poured the golden liquid into my glass. “Drink first. Then talk.”
I obeyed. “I took a job for a vampire family.”
Everyone at the table gasped. Actually, I was pretty sure Simon gasped too. He’d emerged from the kitchen with a stack of plates for the table.