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I exchange glances with Darius, Marc, and Flint, and we all raise our glasses, too, before following Sharpe’s example.
Liquid fire fills my stomach, dampening the pain of being homeless. Everything in the cabin can be replaced. What matters are the men at this table, and the people around us.
More drinks appear, along with food, and the energy that fills the room pushes back our exhaustion and gives rise to celebration.
Darius curls his hands around a fresh glass of flaming alcohol. “What will we tell Mrs. Lewis about her Jimmy?”
Unhappy with the way the case ended, I shake my head. “We promised to bring him home and failed. I’ll visit her tomorrow at the rehab center to tell her and refund her deposit. The counselors at the center will help her process her grief, so hopefully, she doesn’t relapse when she gets out.”
“I’ll go with you.” Marc reaches out to take my hand. “We’ll tell her how much Jimmy loved her and wanted to get back to her. We can leave out the rest.”
I squeeze his fingers in agreement. She never needs to know that he blew all the money he got from selling the feathers for drugs or the gruesome way he died.
Trent pulls a chair up next to Flint and straddles it, his arrival breaking the somber mood that settled over the table with the mention of Jimmy. “My team and I have been talking about your offer to put down roots in Clearhelm.”
Flint glances over at the two drunk women as they take turns doing body shots off their flexible youngest teammate. “Oh, yeah?”
Trent nods. “We’re going to need that safe house of yours.”
My brows shoot up. “Thewholesafe house?”
“Yep. The whole thing.” He looks at Sharpe. “I’ve been talking to some of your people who are interested in learning the job. Since Elizabeth and I are getting on in years, we thought it would be good to train our replacements.”
Trent presses a hand against his back and winces. “Much as I love battling forest death-gods, my body can’t take many more fights like that. And since your people are out of a job, it seems like a good fit.”
Sharpe’s eyes widen in surprise before he nods. “They already know the theory behind fighting most types of Others, so they have an advantage going into the business.”
Trent slaps his hand against the table. “Exactly my thought. We don’t need to waste time training greenhorns who will piss their pants and run at the first confrontation.”
Flint accepts a tall beer stein from a silent tacito demon. “What about Savannah? Is she going to join me at the Conservatory?”
“She’s already coming up with lesson plans.” Trent squints at him. “Are you sure you want her terrorizing your students?”
“The students will love her,” Flint assures him. “It’s the teachers who will be horrified. But, yeah, I want her if she’s willing. We don’t have anyone who knows battle magic.”
Trent leans toward him. “What kind of salary are we talking about?”
“How much are you paying us to use our warehouse for your new business?” Flint counters. “Iknowyou’re not training a bunch of new mercenaries without taking a cut of their bounties.”
As they haggle, I stand and wander toward the bar, my legs tingling from the alcohol.
I lean next to Amalia, who nurses a bloody Mary. “You did good today. How’d it feel working with a team?”
Her dark gaze cuts to me. “Don’t try to talk me into joining up. I’m not interested.”
“Monsters are getting tougher,” I say. “It’s not a bad thing to have backup.”
“Not interested.” She shudders. “Splitting this bounty already hurts. Don’t add the annoyance of having to watch out for other people’s asses. It’s not for me.”
I glance back at my table, where Marc and Darius lean against each other, while Sharpe watches on in amusement as Trent and Flint haggle. “Those same people would watch out for your ass, too.”
“Flint could have died today, and it would have wrecked you. I don’t need that kind of emotional baggage holding me back.” Amalia slides off her stool, leaving her drink half full. “Tell Sharpe and Trent to expect their cut of the bounty in a week.”
Tossing a gold coin onto the bar, she stalks away.
A sense of loss fills me as I watch her leave the lounge. As much as we tried to help, Amalia was already too broken when we found her. It will take a miracle for anyone to chisel through her walls.
“Children are made to break our hearts,” a voice hisses from behind me. “We can only hope that, given time, they realize the wisdom we tried to impart.”
