I wasn’t impressed—I’d seen much larger horns before—but he was working it for tourists, so I smiled politely. Leaning conspiratorially close, I said, “Actually, maybe you can point me in the right direction. I’m looking for Glitter.”
The satyr’s eyes rounded slightly, the smile faltering, but if I hadn’t been watching for a reaction, I wouldn’t have noticed. “Should I know what you’re talking about? What can I get you to drink?”
He hadn’t said he didn’t know what I was talking about. Only asked if he should. Which probably meant he knew something. Of course, it was possible he was hedging for no reason. The fact fae couldn’t lie meant many were naturally ambiguous in all their answers, regardless if they had something to hide or not. It was a defense mechanism of sorts. I didn’t know anything about this satyr, so I had no idea where he fell, but I was sure he’d recognized the drug’s name.
How did one establish a buy with a drug dealer anyway? Geez, who knew I’d ever need that type of knowledge? I didn’t even know how to pull off acting like a junkie who needed a hit. The movies sometimes showed rich kids heading down to the wrong side of the tracks to score drugs, but I didn’t have the spare cash to throw around on a bribe—unless the seven bucks I had in my purse would buy me information. I really doubted that.
I fingered the charm around my neck. There was one thing I had, though I had no idea if it would help me. Pulling the chain over my head, I dropped the charm in my purse. As soon as it lost contact with my skin, my flesh began to shimmer. The glow was subtle, but in the dim bar, more than a little noticeable.
Someone oohed behind me, heads turned. The satyr backed up, then he dipped in the smallest bow.
“My lady, I didn’t recognize you.”
I frowned at him. He didn’t know me, but he meant recognize me as Sleagh Maith. It didn’t matter who I was or what court I was in, the assumption was that all Sleagh Maith were nobles. It earned my table the best spreads of food on the other side of the Bloom, so I knew it had some sway, but I hadn’t expected quite such a reaction from the satyr. Of course, from what Caleb had told me, the fae working on the tourist side of the bar were all independents required to flaunt their otherness whether they wanted to or not if they wished to remain in this territory. Most had very few encounters with court fae, especially the court nobles.
“Glitter?” I asked. I figured short sentences were best—I was less likely to spoil the royal air.
“I don’t know much. There is a hobgoblin . . .” His gaze darted around the bar, but apparently didn’t find what he was looking for because it landed back on me quickly. “He doesn’t come in often, but I’ve heard him talk about the stuff. He meets people here sometimes.”
Perfect. Well, okay, maybe not perfect, but it was more than I knew before. I smiled at the satyr and passed him my business card. “Give me a call the next time he’s in.”
He frowned at the card, staring at the Tongues for the Dead logo. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, and tucked the card into his smock. “I’ll return to my customers now?” He said it as a question, so I nodded and he scampered off, looking relieved to get away.
I turned and scanned the bar. Several of the tourists openly stared at me, which wasn’t surprising. This was a “safe” place to gawk at fae. According to Caleb, places like this existed specifically so mortals could stare at fae—it helped cement the belief magic so necessary for Faerie’s survival. Which likely explained why the other three fae currently present were all employees. Aside from the bartending satyr, there was a dryad cocktail waitress who passed between the tables all smiles and rustling leaves—which were changing to brilliant reds and oranges with the progressing fall weather. A small platform that acted as a stage stood in the far corner of the room and held the final fae employee. She sang, her voice low and haunting as it slid over those watching her. She was beautiful in a dangerous way, like the lithe and dark beauty of a black widow spider.
I didn’t know when the singer would take a break, and while I’d have liked to question her about Glitter or the hobgoblin the satyr had mentioned, interrupting her set didn’t seem like a good idea. I was on a restricted time frame. If she finished before I had to leave, I’d ask, but for now I focused on the cocktail waitress. Unfortunately, while she didn’t make it blatantly obvious she was ignoring me, she seemed to very intentionally never look in my direction, and some other patron always seemed to need her immediate assistance. There were no empty tables, and I wasn’t about to chase her around. After trying to flag her down unsuccessfully, I finally resorted to cornering her when she approached the bar for drinks.
The vines of her hair twitched as I neared, making the leaves rustle louder. The smile she’d been wearing fell as she faced me. “I have a lot of customers,” she said, gesturing to the full room with the pint in her hand.