The Future Falls (28 page)

“But how did you know we were
here?
” Charlie repeated. “Did you follow us to the Brownie?”

“Why would I have to do that, then?”

Charlie glanced over at Jack who shrugged, and back at Joe who shoved his hands into his jacket's pockets, and sighed. Were the aunties tracking her phone? Was Allie tracking her per . . . “Oh. Leprechaun. I'm an idiot. You know where the Courts are.”

“Damned right I know where they are. They're not the sort you want to be running into by accident. I'd assumed you hadn't asked because you figured I wouldn't help, given Gwen and all. Never occurred to me you'd forgotten.”

“Ignoring the fact that you haven't been back to the UnderRealm since your parents swapped you out for a mortal baby over eighty years ago, we think of you as family not Fey.”

He thought about that for a moment, then nodded. “All right, I'm flattered.”

Although that didn't mean Allie wouldn't be tracking them. “Who's watching the store?”

“We're closed Mondays; that's why me and the prince were taking a run at the inventory. I parked across the street.” He tossed Charlie the keys. “You can wait in the car unless you prefer getting wet.”

Charlie waited until a panel van passed and then peered across at Joe's ancient hatchback. “That thing's watertight?”

“Cute. Only not really.”

“Joe, Auntie Gwen won't be happy about this.”

He met her gaze evenly, ignoring the rain dripping off his eyebrows. “Well, the way I see it, she isn't happy about the world ending before George R.R. Martin finishes
Game of Thrones
either. I'll deal with Gwen.”

She had to trust he could. “Jack, you know the Courts so I'm not going to tell you what to say, but . . .”

“Appeal to their self-interest. Make it seem like their idea. I've got it, Charlie.” His grin showed teeth. “Dragons are all about twisting the situation in their favor.”

“I thought they were all about twisting arms off?”

“And that.”

“Can't think why the Courts don't like you,” Joe muttered.

“I thought I'd be going in with you.” Half of her wanted to declare
if I don't go in, you don't go in
, but the other half pointed out that twenty-one and a half months until the end of the world justified a little risk. And Jack was an adult, albeit a young one. And dragons were very hard to kill. “Joe . . .”

“I'll see that he comes out again.”

Jack waited until Charlie was safely inside Joe's car before he started toward the diner. Four meters of sidewalk, six meters of parking lot—he changed the color of his sneakers with every step. Gold. Black. Gold. Red. Gold. Green. Gold . . .

“Nervous?”

He shrugged and changed his sneakers to black. Uncle Adam's color. He
could use a little of his oldest uncle's certainty. After a moment, he added red laces. Considering where they were heading, he could use a little of Uncle Viktor's viciousness, too.

“It's okay to be nervous. You can't let them see it, though.”

Jack turned and stared at Joe in disbelief. Usually, the Leprechaun got him better than anyone in the family except for Charlie, but that was a total miss. “Dude, seriously, I'm not nervous. I'm messing around.”

“These aren't Hobgoblins and Brownies we're going to be talking to, Jack; these are members of the Court. Full-bloods. Minor nobility, sure, but as arrogant a bunch as you'll ever meet. They're armed and dangerous, and you'll never know as you face them if you should expect a blade in the eye or a spell to turn your bones to jelly.”

“
You're
a full-blood.” Here in the MidRealm, that had weight. Joe'd flipped the finger to the Courts when the mortal changeling had died and they'd Called him home and that took guts. And he treated Jack like he treated Cameron, somehow quieting the instincts that shouted both dragon and prince. That took strength.

“I am a Leprechaun.” He dropped his voice, even though the parking lot was empty of anyone who might overhear. “The Courts tolerate us because of our way with gold, but they sure as shit don't respect us and, as I have no gold, they have no reason to tolerate me.”

“You have Auntie Gwen.”

“That's not . . .”

“You're kidding me, right?” Jack turned to walk backward so he could look Joe in the eye. “You voluntarily lie down every night with a Gale auntie. Naked. And you get up again every morning. These guys aren't about unearthly tresses, never left their Grove, all thee and thous and sipping dew out of freaking bluebells. These guys have been living here, in the MidRealm, with the Gales. In the same city as the Gales. If they don't respect you, they've got their heads so far up their ethereal asses they've cut off all circulation to their brains.”

The pointed tips of Joe's ears, barely visible through ginger hair, darkened. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem.” Jack had no idea what he'd said to make Joe blush, but since he had no idea why he sometimes blushed while looking at Charlie, he wasn't going to give Joe a hard time about it. “Besides,” he added as they
reached the diner, “At full size, I'm at least four times as big as a city bus and I breathe fire and, for all they know, given my parentage,
I
could throw a spell that would turn their bones to jelly.”

“Can you?”

“Not a chance. And these guys will have been trained so they know what they're doing, and they can probably block anything I can throw by accident.” He spread his hands. “But they don't know that.” The heavy condensation on the inside of the diner window meant they'd be going in blind. Jack drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I just, you know, don't want to let Cha . . . the family down.”

Joe stared at him for a long moment. Then he smiled, lines folding around the freckles. “All right, then.”

“All right what?”

“Let's be going in.”

“Joe!” But Joe had pulled the door open and stepped inside. Unless he wanted to be shown up by a Leprechaun, all Jack could do was follow.

The Silvan Diner had a counter with eight stools along the left wall. The countertop held a glass case with three pies, four groupings of ketchup and napkins and salt and pepper, and the elbows of a teenage girl in a pink-striped shirt who didn't look up from her magazine as they came in. Jack's nose pinged her as Court descended, but without enough blood to need a glamour. A rectangular opening at the end of the counter led to the kitchen. Pitted blue-and-gray tiles covered the diner's floor, and four big lights dimmed by grease and dust hung from the ceiling. The two full-blood members of the Court overwhelmed a six-person booth by the window, the third full-blood sitting with them made a nonevent by their presence. Nine humans, five females and four males, filled two of the other booths along the right wall.

The diner smelled equally of food and Fey. Humans were Not Food; it was one of the first lessons Jack had learned after arriving in the MidRealm. Fey, on the other hand . . . His stomach growled, and he wished he'd eaten a second pie before leaving the house.

The full-blood at the Court's table looked up as the door closed, started, then slouched down in the seat as though that had been the intent all along—gaze skimming dismissively over Joe and locking on Jack. The Court appeared unaware that a dragon and a Leprechaun had walked into their territory although they weren't fooling anyone. One by one, even the
humans fell silent and turned to stare, their expressions a mix of suspicion, aggression, and challenge—a two-legged hunting pack, Jack realized, to make up for the four-legged pack left back in the UnderRealm.

Head up, hands shoved in his jacket pockets, eyes half lidded in a way he hoped made him look dangerous and not sleepy, Jack walked toward the Court, Joe back of his left shoulder. When he stopped, about a meter and a half out, he swept a bored gaze around the booth. It was the expression Allie used when Auntie Carmen got enthusiastic about plot development on
Coronation Street
—but they didn't need to know that.

Under the University of Calgary jackets, the Court wore glamours, a shimmer of power wrapped head to toe. Their true forms had angles too sharp, eyes too large, hair too sleek. The common belief was that they had the same opinion of casual cruelty as cats. The Dragon Lords believed cats were kinder.

The third person in the booth was a Glashtin in two-legged form; under the glamour, not even as Human as the Court. Given the more common four-legged form, the leather jacket, jeans, and cowboy hat were a little weird. Jack assumed there were cowboy boots under the table, had a sudden vision of the Glashtin riding, and barely stopped a snicker.

“It ain't polite to stare, Wyrm.” The Glashtin's teeth were flat and large.

Jack's were larger and sharper. He wondered if Glashtin tasted like horse.

“Yeah, yeah, you're tough. Move on, kid, no one wants to talk to you today.”

Joe's foot came down on Jack's before Jack could reply. “His Highness requires a few moments of the Court's time.”

A narrow-eyed gaze flicked between them. “The Court's busy, short stuff.”

One of the Court ate a sweet potato fry.

“You want these guys out of here, El?” Two of the young men in the next booth stood and moved to stand behind Jack. Jack wasn't small, dragon heritage aside, none of the Gales were short, but the Court's hounds were both taller and broader. A massive hand closed on Jack's shoulder and tightened to the threat of pain. It wasn't much of a threat, but they couldn't know that.

With the scent of the Court hanging heavy over the scent of fries and grilled cheese, his change was instinctive. The Court couldn't be trusted. The Court treated weakness like opportunity. He heard a scream, smelled
burning pork, and held back his strike at the last moment, his claws shredding the air in front of cloth and flesh. As his dragon form dissolved in fire, the humans stampeded out of the diner, a faint scent of urine lingering behind. The teenaged girl peered over the edge of the counter, more intrigued than afraid.

“You're kidding me.” The Glashtin's heavy brows drew in to touch over his nose, attitude negated by the white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table and the faint sheen of sweat covering all exposed skin. “You did that in here?”

Jack shrugged to settle his shape and checked to make sure he'd remembered to replace all his clothing. “He shouldn't have grabbed me.”

“You must be a fucking joy when it's standing room on the C. Some poor working dick loses his balance and Godzilla takes transit.”

“He shouldn't have grabbed me,” Jack repeated, hoping this time he sounded more defiant than defensive. He'd half expected the mass exodus to bring Charlie into the diner singing the “Ride of the Valkyries,” but she clearly trusted him to get this done. “Not when you three . . .” A nod toward the only booth still occupied. “. . . smell so much like food.”

“Fortunately, given who those particular humans interact with day to day, they've been spelled to ignore what they don't understand.” Joe sounded calm. He didn't smell calm, but the Glashtin's nose was crap, so hopefully Jack was the only one getting the whiff of burning peat that told him Joe was grasping at straws. “By now I'm sure they've forgotten why they left so hurriedly and believe they have other things to do.”

If Joe was wrong, the police were on their way, and Allie was going to kill him.

“And the burned hand?”

“We're in a restaurant.” Joe shrugged. “He stupidly leaned on the grill.”

“You sure that's how it'll go, Lucky Charms?”

“I am.”

“Yeah, well, you may have been sure; the Wyrm didn't know.” The Glashtin sounded sulky.

“Really? Have you forgotten his father's lineage? Would His Highness have changed otherwise?”

Since Jack had changed without thought for his Human audience, he was more than a little impressed by Joe's ability to bullshit. And if he hadn't changed, the Court wouldn't have dismissed their hounds. They'd have sat there, looking smug, enjoying themselves as Jack tried to talk around a
Human audience, probably taking bets on when he'd lose control. Better he lost control up front, making it clear to the Courts he wasn't to be manipulated. Given that Joe seemed to be right about the spells they'd wrapped their hounds in, no harm no foul. Probably. Unless the Courts could twist the situation to their advantage because that's what the Courts did.

“His Highness wants to discuss a situation the Court will be required to acknowledge given their presence in the MidRealm.” Joe kept his voice respectful without being deferential. That came from talking to the aunties; give them an inch and they suddenly had seven million strawberries that needed stemming.

“Mutually beneficial, eh? Doubt that.”