want to find somewhere to stay, Arrow?" Tristan asked, his voice cutting through her reverie.
Nodding, she asked, "Guesthouse, pub, hotel?"
"Doesn't matter," he shrugged. "Most humans live in them in these small villages."
"So?" she asked, knowing full well why he had mentioned it.
"I know you don't have any problems gettin' inside, but I might."
"Whatever." Noticing a pub she started to walk towards it. A drink sounded good right about now.
"Hey, wait up," Tristan called after her and tried the door before she could get to it. When he was able to step through into the pub, she followed.
They walked into the warmth and into Wednesday nights football game, it seemed. Every available space was crammed with people, the noise drowned out almost everything. In the center of the room was the bar, lined with every type of hard liquor and imported bottled beers, and along the mahogany bench was almost every kind of beer on tap that was made in the UK and Ireland. Down one end was a flat screen television, where most of the punters that had crammed into the place huddled around, yelling out profanities when their team missed a shot or the opposing side took the ball.
When a booth along the side wall was suddenly vacated, Tristan slipped into it, pulling her along. It was only a minute later when a human man slid in opposite them with a jug of beer and three pint glasses. He poured them out a glass carefully and pushed a full pint across the table to each of them.
Aya raised an eyebrow at him and when he raised his eyes to look at her, she had to hold back a snarl of anger. She'd seen this man before. He was just as rumpled and tired looking as he was that morning. Greasy brown hair, dull eyes. This human looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"Long way from London, aren't we?" she hissed at him, much to Tristan's surprise. He hadn't noticed him in the Library that morning at all.
"I have been sent by Maximus," the man said quietly, taking a sip of beer.
Aya stared at him, waiting for further explanation.
"He couldn't speak to you so openly this afternoon. There are eyes watching, if you know what I mean."
" Who's eyes?" Aya asked, glaring at him across the table.
"I can't talk about it here, you must understand. If they know I'm here then I'm good as dead."
"Lucky you," she rolled her eyes. "What do you have to say? Make it quick, or you can add another person to that list that wants to do you in."
"I have heard the stories about you," the man said and Tristan leant forward to grab him, but Aya kicked him sharply in the shin.
"I'm sure you have, so you will understand that I am deadly serious. Whatever you have to say, spit it out."
"It was pure chance that I saw you at the library this morning," he began. "Then when you turned up here... We've been waiting for you for a long time, Hunter."
Her eyes narrowed when she heard the use of the name that came with a deadly reputation. "Who?"
"I cannot tell you everything, but if you want to know more, I will arrange a meeting between you and our informant."
"Stop speaking in riddles, human," she hissed, leaning forward and slamming her fist on the tabletop. To her annoyance, the man didn't flinch.
"Go to the British Museum two days from now. There you will find the Medieval Britain gallery is closed for renovation. Inside you will find your answers. Midday." Before they could enquire further, the man slipped out of the booth and disappeared into the busy pub. Aya tried to find trace of his mind amongst the rowdy locals, but he was gone. It stunk of witchcraft.
"What the hell?" Tristan cursed. "What a wack job."
"Yes," Aya scowled. "I couldn't compel him either."
Tristan snorted, but didn't offer any comeback. Instead, he inspected the jug of beer, dipping in a finger then testing it against his tongue. Satisfied, he drained his pint.
Aya watched him with annoyance, then said, "Something big is going on here and I bet it has something to do with whatever
Nodding, she asked, "Guesthouse, pub, hotel?"
"Doesn't matter," he shrugged. "Most humans live in them in these small villages."
"So?" she asked, knowing full well why he had mentioned it.
"I know you don't have any problems gettin' inside, but I might."
"Whatever." Noticing a pub she started to walk towards it. A drink sounded good right about now.
"Hey, wait up," Tristan called after her and tried the door before she could get to it. When he was able to step through into the pub, she followed.
They walked into the warmth and into Wednesday nights football game, it seemed. Every available space was crammed with people, the noise drowned out almost everything. In the center of the room was the bar, lined with every type of hard liquor and imported bottled beers, and along the mahogany bench was almost every kind of beer on tap that was made in the UK and Ireland. Down one end was a flat screen television, where most of the punters that had crammed into the place huddled around, yelling out profanities when their team missed a shot or the opposing side took the ball.
When a booth along the side wall was suddenly vacated, Tristan slipped into it, pulling her along. It was only a minute later when a human man slid in opposite them with a jug of beer and three pint glasses. He poured them out a glass carefully and pushed a full pint across the table to each of them.
Aya raised an eyebrow at him and when he raised his eyes to look at her, she had to hold back a snarl of anger. She'd seen this man before. He was just as rumpled and tired looking as he was that morning. Greasy brown hair, dull eyes. This human looked like he hadn't slept in days.
"Long way from London, aren't we?" she hissed at him, much to Tristan's surprise. He hadn't noticed him in the Library that morning at all.
"I have been sent by Maximus," the man said quietly, taking a sip of beer.
Aya stared at him, waiting for further explanation.
"He couldn't speak to you so openly this afternoon. There are eyes watching, if you know what I mean."
" Who's eyes?" Aya asked, glaring at him across the table.
"I can't talk about it here, you must understand. If they know I'm here then I'm good as dead."
"Lucky you," she rolled her eyes. "What do you have to say? Make it quick, or you can add another person to that list that wants to do you in."
"I have heard the stories about you," the man said and Tristan leant forward to grab him, but Aya kicked him sharply in the shin.
"I'm sure you have, so you will understand that I am deadly serious. Whatever you have to say, spit it out."
"It was pure chance that I saw you at the library this morning," he began. "Then when you turned up here... We've been waiting for you for a long time, Hunter."
Her eyes narrowed when she heard the use of the name that came with a deadly reputation. "Who?"
"I cannot tell you everything, but if you want to know more, I will arrange a meeting between you and our informant."
"Stop speaking in riddles, human," she hissed, leaning forward and slamming her fist on the tabletop. To her annoyance, the man didn't flinch.
"Go to the British Museum two days from now. There you will find the Medieval Britain gallery is closed for renovation. Inside you will find your answers. Midday." Before they could enquire further, the man slipped out of the booth and disappeared into the busy pub. Aya tried to find trace of his mind amongst the rowdy locals, but he was gone. It stunk of witchcraft.
"What the hell?" Tristan cursed. "What a wack job."
"Yes," Aya scowled. "I couldn't compel him either."
Tristan snorted, but didn't offer any comeback. Instead, he inspected the jug of beer, dipping in a finger then testing it against his tongue. Satisfied, he drained his pint.
Aya watched him with annoyance, then said, "Something big is going on here and I bet it has something to do with whatever
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