They glanced at Lily as she and Piotr passed, but none commented. The dead didn't need to drink any more than they needed to eat, but so long as alcoholics breathed in the living lands, more than a few bottles of liquor always found their way into the Never.
What amused Piotr the most was the fact that almost every spirit there was dressed to the nines—many were clad in what had passed for fancy dress in the century in which they'd lived—and more than a few were sporting the slinky styles and black-tie fashions of the current decade.
One, at first glance, didn't appear to be wearing anything at all, but she moved and her long hair slid aside to reveal the skimpiest, sparkliest dress Piotr had ever seen a woman wear…or barely wear, as the case may be. The man beside her, in contrast, was clad as a fourteenth-century monk, in scarlet and black from neck to toe. They appeared to be debating Revelations as Piotr neared them, though they paused their discussion to eye Lily and Piotr until they passed.
Elle had gone ahead and was waiting for them beside a long cherry wood table with an amazing view of the city spread out below. The streets were lit up like golden wefts of a spider's web and the bay glittered like starlight with distant ships’ lights.
Five men and a woman lounged on the striped chairs arranged around the table, playing with a well-worn deck of cards; none looked up as Piotr and Lily maneuvered their way through the throng to join Elle.
It was the woman Piotr noticed at first—slim and dark-haired, dressed in a pale gown with a voluminous bell-shaped skirt neatly tucked under the table—she couldn't have been more than thirty or so when she'd died, but there was a vibrancy to her that many of the spirits in the room, even the loudest and most rambunctious, were lacking. As Piotr neared, she exposed her hand and the entire table groaned. The woman, smirking, leaned forward and collected the pile of chips in the middle, humming under her breath as she plucked the disks up and dropped them into a small tapestry handbag in her lap.
The closest of the men noticed them and stood, gesturing for the others to do so as well. Two of the men, one clad in regulation Navy whites and the other in modern camo, rose and abandoned their seats for Elle and Lily, moving to the bar and waving for the bartender's attention. The lady, still sitting, glanced the newcomers over with cool appraisal. Her unblinking gaze was unnerving, and when her lips pursed, Piotr felt a shiver run down his spine. He felt like a pickled specimen sliced thin and bared to the bone before her.
“Gentlemen, I think,” she said, rising and tapping the table with lacquered nails shaped into perfect pale pink ovals, “that this game is done for the evening. We should leave Mr. Morris to his business.”
“Ada,” protested the man who had first noticed them, reaching for her hand, “you have a seat on the Council as well. I wouldn't dream of—”
Sidestepping him, Ada waved a hand brusquely. “This is your project, Mr. Morris. Have done with it.” She dipped a slight curtsy and tilted her head in Piotr's direction. “I wish you good eve, sir, and good luck. May the Lord see you swiftly and safely on your way home. However, be wary. There are Walkers about.”
“We're young, not dumb,” Elle said, putting her hands on her hips. “We'll mind ours and you mind yours.”
Raising an eyebrow at Elle's daring, Ada nodded once and started away, pausing at Lily's side. “A word, if I may? It shall only take a moment.”
Frowning, Lily glanced at Elle, who shrugged. Piotr raised a questioning eyebrow, a silent signal to indicate do what you want . Lily nodded briefly in return and stepped aside with the older woman.
“Wonder what that's all about,” the man said, gesturing left and right to the others at the table. “Women, huh? Have a seat, son, have a seat. The rest of you? Do me a favor and scram for a bit. Thanks.”
Following
What amused Piotr the most was the fact that almost every spirit there was dressed to the nines—many were clad in what had passed for fancy dress in the century in which they'd lived—and more than a few were sporting the slinky styles and black-tie fashions of the current decade.
One, at first glance, didn't appear to be wearing anything at all, but she moved and her long hair slid aside to reveal the skimpiest, sparkliest dress Piotr had ever seen a woman wear…or barely wear, as the case may be. The man beside her, in contrast, was clad as a fourteenth-century monk, in scarlet and black from neck to toe. They appeared to be debating Revelations as Piotr neared them, though they paused their discussion to eye Lily and Piotr until they passed.
Elle had gone ahead and was waiting for them beside a long cherry wood table with an amazing view of the city spread out below. The streets were lit up like golden wefts of a spider's web and the bay glittered like starlight with distant ships’ lights.
Five men and a woman lounged on the striped chairs arranged around the table, playing with a well-worn deck of cards; none looked up as Piotr and Lily maneuvered their way through the throng to join Elle.
It was the woman Piotr noticed at first—slim and dark-haired, dressed in a pale gown with a voluminous bell-shaped skirt neatly tucked under the table—she couldn't have been more than thirty or so when she'd died, but there was a vibrancy to her that many of the spirits in the room, even the loudest and most rambunctious, were lacking. As Piotr neared, she exposed her hand and the entire table groaned. The woman, smirking, leaned forward and collected the pile of chips in the middle, humming under her breath as she plucked the disks up and dropped them into a small tapestry handbag in her lap.
The closest of the men noticed them and stood, gesturing for the others to do so as well. Two of the men, one clad in regulation Navy whites and the other in modern camo, rose and abandoned their seats for Elle and Lily, moving to the bar and waving for the bartender's attention. The lady, still sitting, glanced the newcomers over with cool appraisal. Her unblinking gaze was unnerving, and when her lips pursed, Piotr felt a shiver run down his spine. He felt like a pickled specimen sliced thin and bared to the bone before her.
“Gentlemen, I think,” she said, rising and tapping the table with lacquered nails shaped into perfect pale pink ovals, “that this game is done for the evening. We should leave Mr. Morris to his business.”
“Ada,” protested the man who had first noticed them, reaching for her hand, “you have a seat on the Council as well. I wouldn't dream of—”
Sidestepping him, Ada waved a hand brusquely. “This is your project, Mr. Morris. Have done with it.” She dipped a slight curtsy and tilted her head in Piotr's direction. “I wish you good eve, sir, and good luck. May the Lord see you swiftly and safely on your way home. However, be wary. There are Walkers about.”
“We're young, not dumb,” Elle said, putting her hands on her hips. “We'll mind ours and you mind yours.”
Raising an eyebrow at Elle's daring, Ada nodded once and started away, pausing at Lily's side. “A word, if I may? It shall only take a moment.”
Frowning, Lily glanced at Elle, who shrugged. Piotr raised a questioning eyebrow, a silent signal to indicate do what you want . Lily nodded briefly in return and stepped aside with the older woman.
“Wonder what that's all about,” the man said, gesturing left and right to the others at the table. “Women, huh? Have a seat, son, have a seat. The rest of you? Do me a favor and scram for a bit. Thanks.”
Following
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