Pack of Lies by Laura Anne Gilman

Author:Laura Anne Gilman [Gilman, Laura Anne]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction, Mystery
ISBN: 9780373803248
Publisher: Luna
Published: 2011-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

eight

Much to my surprise, what had felt like a half hour, max, in the hot seat had actually eaten away what was left of the afternoon. Stosser and Sharon’s debriefing—making me relive every detail, every feeling and frustration, so they could figure out how to modify the spell—took us into the evening. The late lunch kept me going, but when I staggered out to find the rest of the team hanging around like vultures, I demanded someone buy me dinner and a drink. Possibly lots of drinks.

My coworkers, bless ’em, are usually up for a challenge like that. Sharon was understandably wiped out from controlling the spell and just wanted to go home, and Nifty claimed a previous engagement, but Pietr and Nick took on the obligation.

Venec and Stosser were pointedly not invited. I don’t think they even noticed.

After a brief but intense negotiation, we ended up in the bar around the corner from my apartment. The guys could stagger home on the subway: I wanted to be able to hop, skip, and stumble into my own lobby.

“Bonita, chica, cómo está?”

“Bien, gracias, Paula.”

Paula, the weeknight bartender, spoke seven different languages, four of them fluently and three well enough to get her face slapped. I only spoke three with any comfort— English, Spanish, and German—but that was enough to play an interesting game of Russian roulette: each drink had to be ordered in a different language, and if I screwed it up, I had to buy her a drink, too. Things always got expensive late at night.

“Hey, Paula,” Nick said, sliding onto a barstool, even as she was pulling a Stella for him, then sliding it onto the counter with a smooth motion. My drink changes with my moods and how crappy a day it’s been; Nick was born with Stella at the teat, and never looked back.

“Labvakar, Paula. Bourbon, ldzu.”

“Labs vakars, mans labs draugs.” Whatever language they were speaking, from the way Paula was careful with her pronunciation, I was betting it wasn’t one of her seven. Good for Pietr. Keep the barkeep on her toes.

“I’ll have whatever you’re giving him.” I was tempted for a shot of tequila, but that was for really, really bad days. This was just bad and cranky. Bourbon would do for that.

Paula leaned on the bar, her forearms threaded with lean muscle I could only dream of managing. “Uh-huh. You want to talk about it, or just sit and throw peanuts at each other?”

Paula’s not Talent, but I don’t think there’s a professional bartender in town who doesn’t know about the Cosa. Fatae may not drink, but a lot of drunks see them. She knew who we were, and what we did for a living.

“Peanuts,” Nick said.

“Right you are.”

Dermody’s was the kind of place you’d take a first date—and probably back again for the third date, if things went well. There were intimate tables with comfortable chairs, and a long granite bar with stools that encouraged long-term loitering, all under lighting that let you see your companion, but not so bright that it showed imperfections.

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