Vellum and Green Vitriol
Copyright © 2007, S. Y. Affolee
The Second Conjuration
Seal XI
"Why, what's a pretty lady like you doing here in a place like this?"
At first, I paid no attention to the voice, assuming it was some desperate man trying to chat up one of the women who had just walked in with a large group. But when the question was repeated by the man who had slid into the opposite booth that Rhys had briefly vacated to go to the restroom, I was forced to turn my attention to the stranger.
For a human, I suppose the man wasn't that bad looking. Wide blue eyes, a slightly crooked nose--possibly from a previous fight--and sandy blond hair combed back and slicked back with some sort of cosmetic oil. He wore a black jacket and a matching tie, a bit formal compared to most of the patrons and even the band members of the pub. He appeared to expect some sort of answer from me.
"I'm just visiting. With a friend."
He didn't even blink at the hint. "Visiting, eh? So where are you from?"
"South."
He grinned as if what I had said was a huge joke. "Being mysterious, hm? Wait. Let me guess where you're from. I'm actually quite good at accents. You're from Birmingham, aren't you? That's a terrific city."
"No."
"People from Birmingham have variable accents anyway," he said, trying to explain his error. "You must be from Orkney."
"That's in the north."
"What about Manchester?"
"No."
"Brighton?"
"No."
"Duneth."
I crossed my arms, feeling slightly amused and exasperated. Where was Rhys anyway? Probably accosting other ladies like this bloke. "No," I said firmly.
"All right. I give up. Where are you from?"
"What if I'm not inclined to tell you?"
"Hey, no need to act so defensive. You needn't tell me anything."
"Why should I tell you anything when you haven't volunteered any information about yourself?"
"Touché," he replied as the band began to play an upbeat melody with plenty of bright, energetic trumpet. "Hey, I love this song. Why don't you come dance with me?"
"I don't even know your name. I don't think..."
He had already gotten out of his seat and had grabbed my elbows, pulling me out of my own seat. I was too surprised to slap his hands away. For one thing, no one had ever really dared to force me to do something before.
"Oh come on," he called out over the music. "It'll be fun."
Somehow, I was maneuvered onto the dance floor which was filling with other couples and trendy young women in skimpy silk dresses and long pearl beads which reached their waists. They laughed loudly and stomped their heeled feet in exaggerated steps. The Americans would have called them flappers--apparently the trend had managed to cross the Atlantic.
"Isn't this terrific," he yelled out. Unfortunately, since he was right in front of me, he was practically bellowing into my ear. "Sorry," he said later, when he saw me wince. "It is a little loud in here."
Strong cologne mixed with something odd reached my nose when he put his hand on my waist and tried to steer me into a few dance steps which I stumbled over. Books did not dance, I thought in consternation. And it was too bad that in this form I had to breathe because the man's perfume seemed to envelop me in this noxious cloud.
"You're doing great, honey," he said loudly. "Just follow my lead."
Forgetting my personal rule about ignoring endearments, I said, "Don't call me honey. And what if I don't want to follow your lead?"
"Too bad, because I'm leading."
The crush of people felt a little uncomfortable, although I was glad that I had yet to manage to step on someone's toes.
He steered us closer to the band. The trumpet player decided at that moment to start a loud cadenza at the top of the instrument's range. I let out a little sigh. Apparently, my ears were going to have a hard time to recover after this outing.
As the band slowed toward the end of their current song, he leaned over as if to whisper something in my ear, but sensing he was perhaps attempting to take advantage of an opportunity, I turned my head and pulled away at the same time.
"I believe it's my turn to cut in," said a dark voice just as my unwanted dance partner tried to pull me back.
The man froze. "I saw her first."
Rhys gave him a grin that was not entirely pleasant. In the somewhat dim pub light, his eyes flashed green. "Actually," he drawled, "I did. I was the one who brought her here."
For one moment, he looked like he was about to argue, but after what felt like a prolonged staring contest, he stepped away, hands slightly shaking. I watched him quickly disappear into the crowd and then turned to look back at Rhys.
"What was that?"
"What?" He took my elbow and led me to a more secluded part of the dance floor. But once there, he didn't let me go, even when the band was starting another song, this time one that was slower and slightly mournful.
"You scared that man away with your powers somehow."
"I did nothing," he claimed. "I was just saving you from a man who wanted to take advantage of you."
"I don't need any rescuing. I'm perfectly fine saving myself from awkward social situations. You, however, came across as possessive and domineering."
"I prefer the term protective." As if to emphasize his words, he pulled me closer until we were almost touching chest to chest. His right arm was wrapped around my waist. The fingers of his left hand were laced with mine. His eyes were still green. "Why are you looking like I am about to bite at any moment?"
"Well, you look like you're about to cast some sort of spell over me," I said. "A bad sort of spell."
"I would do nothing of the sort."
He turned me, abruptly, and my feet scrambled to catch up. Unlike the other man, he was blessedly not doused with cologne. Instead, he smelled like the air in a library, reminding me of stacks sitting near a window with light streaming in like golden ribbons.
There was movement, and then I realized that my nose had been buried in his lapels. Quickly, I straightened and clipped his chin with the back of my head.
"Ow," he said, although he didn't sound particularly pained.
I felt heat rush up to my face. And hoped that he couldn't tell that I was blushing. Books weren't supposed to blush.
"You've never danced before?" he inquired.
"Of course I've danced before," I replied. "Just not anything modern. The last I danced...well, it was a very long time ago."
"How long ago?"
"Try the Sun King's court."
"No wonder you're rusty at this."
"I assume you've had practice."
"Not as much as you've been implying." The music was still playing, but he was already leading me off the dance floor. "It's getting a bit late."
I pulled away from him. Rhys put some pound notes down on the table that we had formerly occupied. I tugged on my coat and my hat, feeling somewhat reluctant to leave the warmth of the pub.
We walked back to the Greenglass Hotel. At the entrance of my room, I said, "When does the auction house first open?"
"At eight. We can meet down in the hotel restaurant for breakfast at seven."
I nodded. "Yes." I opened my door and stepped through.
"Ana?"
I looked back. He was still standing at his door, key in hand. "Hm?"
I noticed an almost imperceptible tightening of his fingers around the key. "It's nothing. Good night, Ana."
"You too."
I closed the door after me. A moment later, I locked it.
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