Page 138 of Locked in Wonderland

I took a stool close to him but left one empty seat between us. He gave no sign of noticing me, yet I knew he had. During the two weeks I’d spent chasing him across Europe, it probably would have been sensible to think about what I’d say when I finally caught up with him. Fortunately, I’d come with an alternative to conversation.

I pulled the newspaper from inside my jacket, unfolded it, and laid it on the bar between us with the headline and photograph facing him.

Nico drew it closer, lifting it for a better look. The photograph showed Queenie and Henry being bundled into the back of a police car. She’d glanced over her shoulder at exactly the wrong moment, giving the camera an unobstructed view of her makeup-free face.

“Not her best angle,” Nico observed, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.

“Did you see her mugshots?”

The smirk grew more pronounced. “I did.” He tapped the newspaper. “This is flattering by comparison.”

“I assume you got immunity?”

Only then did he turn to face me. He held my gaze for a few seconds before letting it drift slowly downward.

Everywhere it lingered, my skin prickled.

“You look good, Lysander.”

It was an infuriatingly effective change of subject. It also provided the perfect excuse to return the favor and look my fill. “So do you.”

There was no lie there. He did look good, making black jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a worn brown leather jacket look like high fashion.

The bartender finished serving another customer and wandered over.

“Whiskey,” I said.

Nico glanced at me. “Whiskey...” he drawled. “Are you sure that’s wise? We both know what you can be like when you’re under the influence.”

“I think I’ve earned it. The last two weeks have been... trying.”

He took an unhurried sip of his own whiskey. By the time he set the glass down, mine had arrived. I reached for my wallet, but Nico gave a small shake of his head.

“Füge es meinem Tab hinzu,” he told the bartender in what sounded like flawless German.

Of course, he spoke German. He probably spoke another dozen languages, too.

“I’m hoping you didn’t tell him I’d be paying for it some other way,” I said.

Nico laughed. “You can take the boy out of Wonderland, but...”

“What did you actually say to him?”

“Relax. I told him to put it on my tab.”

I raised my glass in a mock toast before taking a sip. “I couldn’t help noticing you don’t seem remotely surprised to see me. Did you know I was following you?”

He ran a finger along the edge of the newspaper, inspecting the tip afterward as though expecting a paper cut. “Yes.”

I tamped down a flare of annoyance. “And when did you realize that?”

“From the start.”

I stared at him. “So you deliberately led me on a wild goose chase across Europe? Do you have any idea what it cost to find you? Airfare. Trains. Taxis. Hotels. Food.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “Not to mention the private detective.”

“Probably less than it cost me to buy you at the slave auction in Wonderland,” Nico said mildly.

It was an irritatingly good point. Good enough that the rest of my indignation evaporated.