I considered Winger a friend but had no illusions about her character.
The idea that this noxious squirt could become a major celebrity was entirely ridiculous.
Singe came out of the Dead Man's room. The Bird delivered. He should have no problem with Old Bones. He was used to having voices inside his head. She looked at me, Salvation, Crush, leapt to some evil conclusion. Shaking her head, she told me, "I'm going to have a cup of tea before any more complications come up. Guard my office."
I didn't get that, unless she was concerned for the sanctity of her books.
Crush and Jon Salvation got along like Hellbore and Pilsuds Vilchik. He was not the giant she had sculpted in her imagination. And she was just another empty-headed kid who asked the same nimrod questions he had heard a thousand times before.
Singe came out of the kitchen carrying a tray with a teapot, sandwiches, and cups. "Join me." Inside her office, she said, "This place is turning into a zoo filled with human exotica."
"You got used to the quiet life."
"I did. And I find the habit hard to break. Eat. This is likely all we'll get for supper. Dean is exhausted. The sorceress is going to help him get upstairs."
"She's good for something, then."
"Don't do that when I'm starting to not like her a whole lot less. I'm stressed enough. And it will only get worse. We have no hard liquor."
"Old Bones ask for it?"
"He thinks he may be able to create a similar effect but wants the real thing handy."
"We could send Salvation out."
"Winger drinks, doesn't she?"
"Yes. Do I need to have Belinda get us out of your hair?"
"She couldn't get here in time."
The poor girl sounded like she was about to slide away into despair.
"You want to head upstairs yourself, Singe?"
"I'd better stay."
"I can handle this crowd."
"Maybe now. How about half an hour from now? You're too far gone. I still love you but you aren't the man you used to be."
The Windwalker joined us. Singe neither protested nor betrayed any distaste. In fact, there was a cup for Strafa on the tray she had carried in. Was peace about to break out? Or was Singe just too tired to fight?
I asked, "Everyone out there still being civilized?"
Strafa said, "A woman and two girls are fussing over your injured friend. There are three men and a girl in with your dead friend. The three of us are here. And the poisoner is missing."
Singe said, "I let Kolda out after Jon Salvation got here."
So. Crush was in with Morley and Salvation was with the Dead Man. That was a brief romance.
Poor Remora. He couldn't be what his fan wanted him to be.
57
Though there was babble from next door and some sort of foreboding from across the way, all was calm and relaxed in Singe's office. Tea got sipped. Not much got said. Strafa, Singe, and I relaxed.
After a time, Singe said, "The caretakers and night guards should be here soon. I expect John Stretch will come with them. I'm going to draw a pitcher of the dark."
The dark was the most potent beer we had. I had been unaware of its presence till now. The cold well must have been modified to handle multiple kegs.
Singe's tail vanished round the edge of the doorway. The Windwalker said, "She doesn't like me."
"No. But she's mellowing."
"Why doesn't she like me?"
"She thinks you're trying to push into our lives. She feels threatened. She's fragile." I made no mention of her season. Maybe the Dead Man could explain that later in a way that made sense to a human woman.
The Windwalker sipped tea and frowned delicately. She seemed waiflike and vulnerable. "How could I injure her?"
I gave Old Bones a few seconds to caution me before I said, "She sees all women in the mirror of Tinnie Tate." The redhead had to come up sometime.
"The abrasive woman who was there for some of the excitement at the World Theater, back when."
"That would be Tinnie."
"You're still involved."
"You know my situation perfectly well."
She smiled a wan, forlorn little smile. "I might have looked into it."
"Singe never liked Tinnie much. She feels guilty about that. She thinks she should like Tinnie because I like her. So now she feels like she needs to be a voice speaking for Tinnie because Tinnie can't speak for herself. Today she found out that both Dean and my partner across the way approve of you. So she feels more pressured."
"I see." She glowed like a kid who had just won a tough race against outstanding competition.
"I was surprised, too."
"Yes?" The glow waxed stronger. The woman was amazing. She might be who she was, one of the dozen most powerful mortals living, with potential for growth, but she was as naive as a ten-year-old in some ways. She was starved for approval.
Strafa said, "She's right about one thing. I mean to steal you away."
She said that straightforwardly, without a hint of the fierce sensual aura she had used to taunt men, back when she was daddy's girl. She stated a fact and left it for me to digest.
"You're going too fast. ."
Singe returned with two pitchers and four mugs. She meant to do some drinking and did not plan to do it by herself. I sniffed a pitcher. "I'm in." She had brought summer ale as well as the dark.
She told me, "You pour. I have to get the door."
My stomach plunged to the deck.
58
My panic went to waste again. Singe did not admit redheaded doom. Neither did she bring in her brother and the lady rats who nannied Morley Dotes. What she did admit was General Westman Block and two nervous villains so obviously low-life that they might as well have it tattooed on their foreheads. One was the younger of the pair who had come after me and Tinnie. The red tops had tracked him down. Reason suggested that the skinny, shaky little weasel must be Jimmy Two Steps.
Singe came back, took her seat, drank some beer. Crush came in. "Is it all right if I hang out in here till DeeDee and Mike get over that guy? I'll stay out of the way."
"Fine by me. Singe, all right if she looks at your books?"
Of course it wasn't all right. And any animus she felt toward Strafa she was willing to dump on tasty young Hellbore. But she said, "Please be gentle. And make sure your fingers are clean."
Then the General joined us. "Garrett, I hate to beg but, gods damn! I need to drink something."
Which reminded me, "Singe, how about fuel for that lunatic artist Jon Salvation brought?"
"Something will arrive soon."
How did she know that? She hadn't left the house and Kolda went before the Dead Man put in his request.
Old Bones must have sent word to someone outside. That was the only thing that made sense.
She continued, "General, would you like to try the Weider Dark Reserve? It's a limited production brew that few outside the Weider family get to taste."
"How can I resist? Count me in, Miss Pular."
Singe, Singe, you wonder child. Even the head of the whole damned tin whistle tribe considers you a real person. Which thinking I masked with a stone neutral visage.
Block was impressed despite having been around Singe since her adolescence.
It felt good, seeing my baby treated like one of the gang instead of a freak or half-wit vermin.
Big thumping at the door. I had heard the wolf cry so often that Tinnie and all the freckle speckled redheaded Tates in the world could be out there and I wouldn't raise more than a half-assed whimper.
Nor did I need to. Singe opened up for her brother, Dollar Dan, and two ratwomen. They brought distilled spirits enough to keep the Bird fueled for weeks. Singe hijacked a bottle. She poured a half mug for the General. "There's a real drink."