Read Online Brightly (Flicker #2) by Kaye Thornbrugh - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kaye Thornbrugh
Ads: Link
table for a long moment, his shoulders tense. He didn’t look up at them when he raised his hand, but he raised it all the same.
* * *
Twilight was gathering, purple and soft. For half an hour, Filo and Rodney had been sitting near the top of the steps leading up to the Bridgestone Public Library, beside one of the old stone lions that guarded the entrance. As he caught Rodney up on what had happened today, Filo studied the normals on the sidewalk below as they walked their dogs or strolled into the little restaurants on the other side of the street.
Rodney reached into his pocket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes. He thumbed the top open and pulled out a single hand-rolled cigarette—pixie grass, by the look of it, one of the more popular items available at Snapdragons. The smoke of burned pixie grass supposedly dulled the heavy taste of iron that hung over human cities. That was why faeries tended to toss heaps of the stuff onto bonfires during their moonlit revels in the park.
Rodney held his cigarette out to Filo, who sighed and lit it with a touch of his finger and a spark of magic. The tip glowed a soft blue.
“So what are you going to do?” Rodney asked, raising the cigarette to his mouth. His tail swayed rhythmically behind him, like a metronome. Though the tail was invisible to normal eyes, Filo’s Sight easily pierced through the glamour that hid it.
“Go with them in the morning,” Filo replied. “See what we can do for them. We don’t really have a lot of other options.”
“I suppose not.” Rodney’s mouth turned down a little at the corners, and he pulled the pack out again, this time offering it to Filo. “Steady your nerves?”
For a moment, Filo hesitated. Then he shrugged and accepted a cigarette. “What the hell,” he muttered, lighting it. “We’ll call it a special occasion.”
While pixie grass didn’t exactly change the way the air tasted—not to humans, anyway—it did have a certain effect. Too much would turn Filo’s thoughts sticky and make his whole body feel numb and distant, like it didn’t belong to him. But a single cigarette would slow everything down, just enough for him to relax and not care quite so much.
Filo took a deep drag, trying not to cough, the way Jason had taught him. The smoke was sweet, like a dream of field and forest.
“You know,” Rodney mused, “I did notice a few humans wandering around the Goblin Market last night. Perhaps I should’ve looked a little closer.”
“I didn’t see you there.”
“If I had a dime for every time someone didn’t see me while I made astute and witty observations about their behavior, I could swim in my riches.”
Filo snorted. “Well, what did you think of them? The humans.”
“They didn’t inspire any particularly good zingers, if that’s what you’re asking. They struck me as slightly unusual, but, honestly, most humans seem that way to me.” He glanced toward Filo. “What did you think?”
“It’s not like I met any of them,” Filo replied. “Except one. Kind of. I was doing some storytelling last night, and he was in the crowd. I only saw him for a minute or two, and then he was gone.”
“Which one?”
“His name’s Henry.” Just speaking Henry’s name made Filo’s insides shiver in the strangest way: unsettling, but not unpleasant. Probably the pixie grass, he reasoned, though it didn’t usually make him feel anxious. Maybe it was because he hadn’t smoked any in over a year. His body just wasn’t used to it. That must be it.
Rodney blew a stream of pale smoke into the air. “So what’s really bothering you?”
“Hmm?”
“You’ve got more than merfolk on your mind.”
He shook his head, twisting the cigarette between his forefinger and thumb. “It’s just strange,” he admitted. “I never thought about Nem and Morgan having other apprentices or other shops. That’s all.”
“Ah.” Rodney nodded sagely. “So that’s it. You’re jealous.”
“Shut
* * *
Twilight was gathering, purple and soft. For half an hour, Filo and Rodney had been sitting near the top of the steps leading up to the Bridgestone Public Library, beside one of the old stone lions that guarded the entrance. As he caught Rodney up on what had happened today, Filo studied the normals on the sidewalk below as they walked their dogs or strolled into the little restaurants on the other side of the street.
Rodney reached into his pocket and withdrew a pack of cigarettes. He thumbed the top open and pulled out a single hand-rolled cigarette—pixie grass, by the look of it, one of the more popular items available at Snapdragons. The smoke of burned pixie grass supposedly dulled the heavy taste of iron that hung over human cities. That was why faeries tended to toss heaps of the stuff onto bonfires during their moonlit revels in the park.
Rodney held his cigarette out to Filo, who sighed and lit it with a touch of his finger and a spark of magic. The tip glowed a soft blue.
“So what are you going to do?” Rodney asked, raising the cigarette to his mouth. His tail swayed rhythmically behind him, like a metronome. Though the tail was invisible to normal eyes, Filo’s Sight easily pierced through the glamour that hid it.
“Go with them in the morning,” Filo replied. “See what we can do for them. We don’t really have a lot of other options.”
“I suppose not.” Rodney’s mouth turned down a little at the corners, and he pulled the pack out again, this time offering it to Filo. “Steady your nerves?”
For a moment, Filo hesitated. Then he shrugged and accepted a cigarette. “What the hell,” he muttered, lighting it. “We’ll call it a special occasion.”
While pixie grass didn’t exactly change the way the air tasted—not to humans, anyway—it did have a certain effect. Too much would turn Filo’s thoughts sticky and make his whole body feel numb and distant, like it didn’t belong to him. But a single cigarette would slow everything down, just enough for him to relax and not care quite so much.
Filo took a deep drag, trying not to cough, the way Jason had taught him. The smoke was sweet, like a dream of field and forest.
“You know,” Rodney mused, “I did notice a few humans wandering around the Goblin Market last night. Perhaps I should’ve looked a little closer.”
“I didn’t see you there.”
“If I had a dime for every time someone didn’t see me while I made astute and witty observations about their behavior, I could swim in my riches.”
Filo snorted. “Well, what did you think of them? The humans.”
“They didn’t inspire any particularly good zingers, if that’s what you’re asking. They struck me as slightly unusual, but, honestly, most humans seem that way to me.” He glanced toward Filo. “What did you think?”
“It’s not like I met any of them,” Filo replied. “Except one. Kind of. I was doing some storytelling last night, and he was in the crowd. I only saw him for a minute or two, and then he was gone.”
“Which one?”
“His name’s Henry.” Just speaking Henry’s name made Filo’s insides shiver in the strangest way: unsettling, but not unpleasant. Probably the pixie grass, he reasoned, though it didn’t usually make him feel anxious. Maybe it was because he hadn’t smoked any in over a year. His body just wasn’t used to it. That must be it.
Rodney blew a stream of pale smoke into the air. “So what’s really bothering you?”
“Hmm?”
“You’ve got more than merfolk on your mind.”
He shook his head, twisting the cigarette between his forefinger and thumb. “It’s just strange,” he admitted. “I never thought about Nem and Morgan having other apprentices or other shops. That’s all.”
“Ah.” Rodney nodded sagely. “So that’s it. You’re jealous.”
“Shut
Similar Books
