Radiant Shadows (Wicked Lovely 4)

Tish smiled contently as Glenn held her.

“Hey.” Glenn kissed Tish’s forehead, and then swept his gaze around the people and shadows in the lot. He didn’t get involved in whatever business people took out of sight, but dealing inside was banned.

“Aren’t you going to give Glenn a hug?” Tish played coy and silly, slipping into her role as easily as if their outings were still a daily thing. “It’s been, like, weeks.”

“You heard her. C’mere.” Glenn held out the other arm.

Ani leaned in close, enjoying the feel of bare arm and partly bare chest. Glenn had a sleeveless shirt on, fastened with only one button. He’d taken to the surprising return of Summer like most mortals—exposing a good amount of skin.

Glenn released Ani, but held on to Tish. “You be careful in there. Both of you.” He stared at Ani. “I mean it.”

Tish kissed him. “We’ll do our best.”

“That’s what I worry about,” Glenn muttered.

“Just dancing, Glenn.” Ani took her sister’s hand and pushed open the door. “I promise she’ll be fine.”

“You too,” Glenn said.

But the door was open and the crowd of bodies was right there, and all Ani could do was call back, “Sure.”

The band was old-school punk, and there was a pit. Perfect. With a gleeful squeal, Tish shoved Ani forward into the mass.

CHAPTER 6

Devlin watched for Seth as he walked through the crush of mortals in the Crow’s Nest. It was less complicated to await Seth here; the alternative was going to the Dark Court, and dealing with the Dark King could be fraught with difficulties. Niall, the Gancanagh who’d once lived in Faerie and now ruled the Dark Court, had changed. His years with Irial, his centuries advising the Summer King, and his recent ascension to the Dark Court’s throne all combined to create a faery monarch who should not be trusted.

Not that Seth should be trusted either.

Seth was loved by the Summer Queen, had been gifted with Sight by the Winter Queen, and had been declared “brother” to the Dark King. Rather than nullify the threat of a mortal walking among all the courts—as Sorcha should’ve done—the High Queen had remade Seth as a faery and invited him into her court. Devlin couldn’t help but wonder at the logic in some of the decisions she was making of late.

Mortals pushed against Devlin, and he had to remind himself that physically relocating them was considered aggressive in the mortal realm—and that aggression was not a quality he was supposed to embrace. He threaded his way through the crowd.

With the noise and blaring music, the shadows and flashing lights, the Crow’s Nest called to the discordant side of his ancestry.

“I am looking for Seth,” he told the barmaid.

“Not here yet.” She glanced at his wrist, seeking the age band that would indicate whether or not he was allowed to order alcoholic drinks.

Devlin shifted his appearance so that she saw a glowing strip of plastic, white under the black lights hanging over the bar.

“Wine. White.” He dropped a bill on the bar.

“Change?”

He shook his head. Exchanging funds for alcohol was odd; in Faerie such transactions were unnecessary. What one required was simply provided.

The barmaid grabbed a bottle of chardonnay, filled a cocktail glass, and set it on the bar. It was the wrong glass and cheap wine, but he didn’t expect much else from the Crow’s Nest. Her hand was still cradling the short glass when Devlin wrapped his hand around the other side, interlacing his fingers with hers, holding her attention. “I’m Devlin.”

She paused. “I remember you.”

“Good. You’ll tell him I’m here,” Devlin said.

She nodded and turned to the next customer.

Neither the doorman nor the barmaid had seen Seth, but between the two, Devlin was assured that Seth would know Devlin was looking for him the moment he arrived.

Drink in hand, Devlin retreated to the periphery. Something in the club was making Devlin want the release of a fight.