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Hazel made to hurry after her. “Let me at least help you carry her.”
“I don’t want your help,” Beth called over her shoulder. “And don’t bother showing up at the funeral. You’re not welcome.”
Hazel gasped, the verbal blow hitting her like a physical punch. Throat raw, she stared after Beth, her cheeks tingling with unpleasant heat, her pulse a fast thrum in her temples. She closed her eyes and rubbed both hands over her face.
For a moment, she stood like this in the cool fall night while all the ways she’d just majorly screwed up this situation started a merry replay in her mind.
Then she allowed herself to whisper, for once, the only word that utterly, satisfactorily described how she felt.
“Fuck.”
CHAPTER 14
Hazel Strategy.
With the noise of Nine Circles a hum in the background, Tallak stared at the napkin filled with Rhun’s scribble, outlining the tactics the bluotezzer had suggested should be put to work to court the elusive witch. Complete with tiny hearts and “kissy kissy” written in the corners.
He clearly hadn’t punched Rhun enough.
Crumpling the napkin, he was about to throw it in the trash when he thought better, pulled out a lighter from a drawer behind the bar, and lit the napkin up for good measure. The last thing he needed was for someone to find this incriminating evidence. It was bad enough Rhun knew about his ill-fated attraction to Hazel. His need for an encore with her notwithstanding, he’d best keep it all under wraps. No need to make a big deal out of it. This was between him and Hazel.
Napkin incinerated and ashes thrown out, he checked the time. Almost three in the morning. Just a little while longer, and he’d be done with his shift for the night. Then he could make his way home, wash off the whiskey from the bar fight…and make the call.
His heart beat annoyingly faster. Heat rolled through him, and he gritted his teeth. It’s just a call. Not like you haven’t called her before.
For some reason, though, his nervous system still thought it warranted a minor freak-out.
With a growl, he scrubbed the bar top with more enthusiasm than necessary, his focus so strong that he only noticed the patron when she tapped the polished wood right under his nose.
At first glance, her appearance made his heart skip a beat, as she resembled her mother so closely. He recognized the differences just a second later—eyes of indigo instead of chocolate brown, face rounder and lacking the maturity that came with a few more decades of life, ebony hair tousled in a way Hazel would never leave the house with.
“Rose,” he said in greeting.
“You never mistake me for Lily,” she said in Fae, using the language she was still more comfortable with than English. Her words were slurred, her breath carrying the potent tang of alcohol. “Why’s that?”
He studied her, the way she precariously leaned on the bar top like a shipwrecked sailor clinging on to driftwood in a stormy sea, her leather jacket hanging off one shoulder.
“Well, for one thing, you’re a witch, and Lily’s a demon. Kind of unmistakably different.”
Rose blinked. “Right. There’s that.”
He sent her a look and put a glass of water down in front of her.
Something flickered in her eyes, and she pushed the glass back to him. “Give me some…” She perused the shattered shelves behind him, a line forming between her dark brows. “Is there anything left?” She waved a hand at the destruction.
For a moment, Tallak debated lying to her. She’d obviously had quite a few drinks already. Then again, she wasn’t causing trouble, she wasn’t aggressive, and she was an adult capable of making her own fucking choices. She’d just come out of a lifetime of others taking her right to make those choices away from her, and he wasn’t going to add himself to that list. Offering advice was one thing. Removing her agency, another.
So he reached under the bar and grabbed one of the few remaining bottles of fine liquor and set it on the wood with a low thump. “Bourbon good for you?”
“Sure.” She made a wobbly whatever gesture.
He poured her the drink and watched her knock it back. “Might wanna call it a night after this one.”
“Pfft.” Rose hiccuped. “Night’s not over. Things to see. People to do.”
Tallak raised a brow, then shrugged. Not my monkeys, not my circus. He wasn’t Rose’s keeper.
So when she slapped a few dollar bills on the bar and sauntered off deeper into Nine Circles with an unsteady wave, he only said, “Have fun.”
