This one was wearing another ridiculous watch, too much bling on something that looked like it came from a department store. He might as well scream, “These are fake diamonds and I have no real status!”
“Jessie might not be, but her beast is happy enough fer it,” Niamh said, appearing not to notice the newcomer except for her flicking eyes. She sipped her whiskey slowly, giving the bartender no reason to return to them. “That’s not it, though. She flexed her power at Kingsley in front of his people. The ignorant ones among them, who already hate that Austin Steele needs to help them, will take that as a slight. It’s enough to make a past wound fester, sure as I’m sitting here.”
“Except Kingsley told everyone to get along. And they have, as far as I’ve heard. The trainings have been going well, all things considered, right?”
“Trainings are going fine, yeah. And they are all under the watchful eyes of the various alphas.”
She adjusted in her seat. “The whole pack knows by now that we have to work together. They need us, want us or not.”
“So what’s the problem?”
She took a deep breath, leaning forward onto her elbows again. “The problem is that their respect for Kingsley isn’t enough to negate their hatred for Austin Steele, especially now that his non-shifter mate has shown everyone what she’s made of. Hell, she got their pack-mate kicked out. She’s not the only one making waves, either. Broken Sue’s got a lot of power. More than any of Kingsley’s enforcers.” She shook her head. “The problems from Austin Steele’s past have been set on the stove to boil, and he knows it. I don’t think he quite knows how to go about it, though, wanting to respect his truce with his brother. It’s a dicey situation.”
Sebastian opened his mouth to reply. Closed it.
A somewhat shimmery figure slowly walked into the bar, sticking to the middle of the space between the stools and the booths. He wore properly fitting trousers and a black button-up, casual attire for a mage. His watch was plain, decently made, and with a face that subtly glowed in a telling way.
The potion was reacting to a magical tracker hidden within the watch, a way for magical entities to keep track of their people. Maybe that was why the other two had such hideous models—they
didn’t want to ruin their good watches to magical tracking. The practice tended to corrode the gears and render the piece ineffective, a waste for those without the means to replace them.
“My guess is that it’s going to come to a showdown,” Niamh went on as Sebastian felt a poke in his ribs.
He jerked toward Niamh, the poke having come from Tristan, and let out a loud and surprised
“Hah!”
Several people glanced their way. Niamh shoved Sebastian back to his seat, glowering.
“What in the sweet Jesus are ye at?” she demanded.
“Sorry.” He hunched over his drink. “I’m ticklish.”
“For God’s sake, man, I barely touched ya!” she shouted at him. “The next time I give ya a dig in the ribs, I’ll make it hurt. Now what do ye want to drink? I’m dying of thirst!”
He had to hand it to her—she was world class at improvisation.
“I’m good,” he mumbled.
“No, yer not good. Get it in ya. I didn’t agree to be the babysitter of a sober man-child. The more ye drink, the faster ye’ll pass out, and the easier it’ll be to get rid of ya.”
“Is it too late to deny the invitation for a drink?” he asked, and he didn’t have to fake any part of that.
“You okay?” Timmie arrived with a grin.
“Two more, please,” Niamh said in a huff. “We’ve got’ta get going. I can’t take much more of him.”
Timmie laughed and moved off to get the drinks.
“Plan?” Tristan asked softly.
Sebastian coughed in case anyone had heard.
“Would ya…” Niamh jerked her arm away, feigning disgust. “Are ye diseased?”
Or maybe not feigning it.
“Sorry,” he said again. “I really am ticklish, though. Just so we’re on the same page.”
“I could not give a rat’s toe,” she replied. “But schure, I shouldn’t be out of pack limits, it’s true.
Ye don’t really count because yer good fer nathin’， but the alpha might be fair pisched if he realized I was out.”
Sebastian was not so good at improvising. He had no idea what direction she was heading with this new conversation. Hell, her accent was currently so thick he could barely decipher what she was saying.