above ground: chapter 23 part 1

Chapter 23 – Part 1

“Shiloh!” Amber moved forward to give the woman a kiss on the cheek. “I wasn’t sure we’d see you here.”

The woman smiled, half-embraced Amber, her eyes barely leaving Silver. “I’m covering for Max,” she replied, her voice a throaty purr.

Silver smirked. “Wouldn’t that involve you being inside, working?”

Was that a joke? Silver, making a joke? Lilith could hardly believe her ears; he had been so taciturn around her, she had come to assume that that was just his personality.

Shiloh gave Silver a lingering kiss on his cheek, then nodded at Lilith, taking in the fang necklace with the quirk of an eyebrow.

Silver looked uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “This is—.” Then he paused, hesitating. Had he forgotten her name? Lilith couldn’t suppress a sudden flare of anger.

She held out her hand. “I’m Lilith. Pleased to meet you.”

“I see,” Shiloh replied, taking Lilith’s hand. Her grip was a touch firm, and she looked straight into Lilith’s eyes with the confidence of a woman who could hold her own.

When Shiloh looked back at Silver, Lilith was left feeling small, and vulnerable, and out of her league.  So it came as a great relief when Amber gestured to her that they should enter the bar.

Lilith paused at the doorway when she realized Silver wasn’t following them. She turned around, only to see Shiloh leaning in, raising her hand as if to touch Silver’s face.

“Light?” Shiloh said, and when Silver nodded, she mouthed a few words. A small flame came out of the tip of her finger, flickering in the evening breeze.

Silver brought his mouth close to that flame, putting the far end of the stick right into it. When he pulled away, the tip of the stick was a bright red, and a trickle of smoke came out of his mouth.

He was smoking, Lilith realized, overcome with disgust. She’d heard of the habit, of course, but it was something else to see it in person. Didn’t they know about the Clean Air Act, about the dangers of cross-contamination? Every inch of her was dying to rush forward, grab that cigarette, and crush it under her heel.

But she never had the chance, for just then Amber grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her firmly into the bar. “Come on, Lilith. Let’s get a table.”

The door swung shut, blocking Silver and Shiloh from sight.

Amber tugged Lilith further into the room, to a table on the left, directly opposite the bar. As Lilith sank down on to one of the long benches, she tried to calm herself down, and take in her surroundings.

The place wasn’t that full, but it had just the right amount of people to breath some life into the room. The walls were painted dark red, and the floor was made of wooden panels. And the tables were wood too, as was the bench she was sitting on, but it was clear that—however rich this place had once been—times had changed. For the floor was covered in scuff marks, and the U-shaped bar on her right looked battered with age, but clean.

The table had deep gouges on one side, each the size of Lilith’s finger.  She lined her hand up against the marks, curious.  Then she felt the blood drain from her face when she realized what they were. Claw marks, each large enough to tear her arm to shreds.

Amber was scanning the crowds, as if looking for a friendly face. Her smile looked strained when she turned back to look at Lilith. “Let’s get a drink, first. We can order some food when Silver comes in.” She started to stand, then paused. “What would you like to drink?”

Lilith didn’t want to look stupid. She shrugged. “Whatever you’re having.”

“Alright. Stay here while I get the drinks.”

Lilith barely had the time to process Amber’s words before she was sitting alone at the table, feeling incredibly conspicuous. She turned in her seat to watch Amber, trying to look like she was waiting patiently. She didn’t want to look like she was sitting at the table alone, friendless, like an Upper Haller in a Middle Hall school.

Lilith stretched casually and feigned disinterest as she looked around the room. She hadn’t seen the stage when she’d first come in, but it was there, a small platform in the far corner.

The table closest to the stage was covered with a random jumble of objects: coloured scarves, hoops, coins, the kinds of props she would have expected to see at the average magic show.

On one corner of the table was a tall black hat, tipped with brass chimes.  Sitting directly behind that hat was a man wearing a black, lace-trimmed shirt.  He was flapping his arms irritably, scowling in every direction

When Amber came back with two dark-coloured drinks, Lilith pointed out the man to her, and whispered, “What’s wrong with him?”

Amber looked over.  “Oh, him?”  Her smile turned predatory.  “He’s just a wereguin.”

“A what?”

“Wereguin.  Aquatic, flightless birds.  Walk funny.  You know.”

“Oh.  Yeah,” she agreed, although she had no clue what Amber was talking about. She changed the subject. “So, what’s Shiloh?”

Amber raised an eyebrow. “Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious.”

“She’s a witch.”

Lilith just stared at Amber. The werewolves had killed Dylan because he was a witch, and had nearly killed her when they’d thought she was one. What made Shiloh any different? What made her special?

“I thought you guys didn’t like witches,” Lilith finally said, choosing her words carefully.

Amber waved a hand dismissively. “She doesn’t count. She’s a renegade.”

And then the conversation was cut short by Shiloh walking into the room with one arm around Silver, her head thrown back as she laughed loudly.

Lilith gritted her teeth. Renegade or not, she was learning to hate witches already.