Archaic (Reverse Harem 2)

“I am not sure either,” he says. “By continuing to question everyone we are opening ourselves up to get caught. Whatever was on that map is either gone or so well hidden we will never find it.”

“How about some food and beer?” I ask. “On me.”

“I am hungry,” the old man contemplates. “There was a bar down the street, we passed it earlier. We can eat there.”

“Alrighty.” I chuckle. “You’re the boss, boss.”

We walk side by side keeping our eyes open, waiting for any sign of attack. I watch the vendors as we pass, wondering if the Elite have even been here at all. The place seems to be untouched by those kinds of cats. I know the cat world enough to know that if someone knew something, three phone calls would already be in process, cats would be all over us, and the Elite would have us in the corner. As I approach the restaurant, I sniff the air, not sensing any Primals inside.

We walk in and sit down at the bar, nodding up at the bartender.

He finishes with a drunk patron barely keeping his head up and moves over to where we are. I look at Hiro and then turn back to the tender.

“Two,” I order. “Uh, Two Sangsom. And some food.” I make a motion of eating.

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“Thuk,” the bartender says, shaking his head in understanding and 03

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holding up two fingers. ?

?Sxng wiski.”

“Yes,” I reply with a smile. “Two whiskeys.”

Of course, whiskey is a bit different in Thailand, not at all what it is like in the United States. Here whiskey refers to alcohol in general, and Sangsom is one of the most popular kinds.

It is also very high in alcohol content, which is perfect

because, after everything that we have been through, a drink is exactly what we need. When the bartender comes back, he sets the drinks down in front of us. He also provides two bowls of a meal that smells delicious.

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1E

“Khx khxbkhu47.” I smile, handing him money.

He smiles big at the tip and walks away, bowing his head at me as he goes. I turn to Hiro and hand him his drink, raising mine in the air. I wasn’t sure what in the hell I have to toast to, but it only seems right sitting in a dirty, dusty, bar in the center of Thailand, and apparently for no reason at all.

“To our nine lives,” I say, tapping my glass to Hiro’s. “May we not have to use any of them this trip.”