Page 106 of Nocte
A dreamy expression comes over her as she leans against the counter. She shoves aside a crate of glass bottles filled with colorful, mysterious liquid and sets her case down gingerly in its stead.
“Well, you seem right at home here,” she declares while eyeing me from head to toe. “I’m so used to seeing Poppy here, I had a right fright when I came in the other day. How have you been?”
My heart aches. I don’t know how to answer the question. Mortal customs are all so strange. Though I haven’t left the safe house in three days, I can hear the chatter from the street seep in through the walls, both in here and upstairs. Good day, they say. How are you? The answer is always the same, whether or not there is pain in their voice as they reply. Whether or not they sound tired or frail or in utter despair.
Perhaps, it is their custom. To lie.
“I am fine,” I say.
Colleen nods. “Yeah fucking right. You look pale as a ghost and exhausted, to say the least. Is the old vamp overworking you? If so, you just say the word and I’ll—” She flexes her fingers menacingly. “Give him the old zap!”
My eyes widen. “No, I am fine!” As surly and abrasive as he is, Altaris is the only one who can bring back Caspian. He promised to.
Colleen throws her head back and laughs, sending her blond curls bouncing wildly. “Don’t worry! I won’t go after him. I doubt my magic would work on him, anyway. That old vamp is a mystery unto himself. Da says he’s been here since the dawn of time, the grumpy old fart.”
“How do you know him?” Beside me, Colleen seems so much like the other mortals who pass by the windows of this shop. Radiating life in her green tunic and blue pants. Vibrant. Youthful.
The polar opposite of a home for discarded, empty vamryre.
It seems like a logical question.
Colleen’s eyes turn downcast, and she wrinkles her mouth. “My Da used to bring me here. A long time ago.”
She doesn’t want to say more. I regret even asking in the first place. There are so many rules here—though they vary from the other realm in scope and function. There, the rules are to maintain order. Give purpose.
In this realm, the rules are to respect invisible, unspoken boundaries. It’s much like navigating a new language. Learning to read without a stern, persistent Day to teach me.
It’s daunting. Yet I want to learn more.
“Besides, it’s close to the action, where the boneys patrol,” Colleen says, smiling once more. “That means plenty of grifters and scum getting injured. Plenty of wounds to heal for pay.”
“Boney?” She isn’t the only one who’s used that term. Altaris has as well.
“Think of them as the police. They govern us mundane and keep any stragglers from the other realms in check. Keep the order, so to speak. We call them boneys because if you break the rules, they break your bones. Or even take a few as a warning. Fingers. Toes. Brutal as hell, but it’s necessary.” She glances toward the door leading deeper inside the safe house. “Some of them vamps like to come here and run amok. So do the other kind, lunaria. I’ve never seen a fae before. To be fair, I haven’t met many of you other realm folk at all. Except Slyvie, but she’s been out on her own for years?—”
“A fae?” I question, my eyes wide. Altaris was wrong. Full-blooded fae can leave through the portal. He was wrong. Very wrong.
“Oh, no.” Colleen shakes her head. “She’s lunaria, through and through. Moonlights, pun intended, as a bounty hunter for the boneys. Tough as nails but with a heart of gold. She’s my best client. In fact, I’m starting to think she likes the pain of the process more than anything.”
I wince at the reminder of her healing magic.
“How can you do that?” I ask her.
She raises a slim hand and inspects it in the sunlight filtering in through the main windows. “Don’t know really. Not all mundane can do tricks. The ones that can try to trace it back through their lineage. Some even claim to be descendants of fae or the like. In any case, I am what I am and it helps me make a living.”
She smooths her hands down the front of her shirt.
“I should really get back to class before another customer comes,” she says, reaching for her case. “It’s so awkward running into one. It’s a small world, n’ all. Imagine going to the post office and seeing another Altaris regular working the counter.”
She laughs, but the sound doesn’t quite seem to match her expression.
“What is a regular?” I ask. Once again, I’m toeing some invisible boundary. Colleen raises an eyebrow, but unlike the previous question, this one she doesn’t mind.
“You don’t know what people come here for, do you?” She leans toward me and makes a show of glancing over her shoulder as if to check for a vamryre lurking in the shadows. Not that it matters. They can hear us through walls and floors and yards of space. “It’s for mementos. Things you don’t want to forget. Feelings you can’t find anymore.” Her voice softens. “Good luck charms. Love spells and trinkets. Silly stuff like that. Not everyone believes the hogwash, but they show up regularly enough.”
They do. Every day, though not many, a steady stream of customers arrive and leave.
“Speak of the devil,” Colleen says as the doorbell chimes and a slender woman shuffles inside. “See you around, Niamh!”