She couldn’t shake her nerves. “You think this is going to go all right?”
“I do now, boss. After speaking to my contact, I mean. He seemed eager. And that’s not a reaction I’ve gotten from him before. For some reason, this whole situation is very interesting to him.”
“I’m sure he has his motivations.”
“I’m sure he does. No idea what they are, but I’d guess they go beyond just what he stands to make by doing this. Maybe we’ll find out. Or not. Fae aren’t known for being overly chatty about personal things.”
“Fine with me.” The trash cans outside the bus station were overflowing, and people stood around smoking. “I’m not looking to get chummy with this guy.”
“I hear that.” Temo pulled the door open for her.
Inside, the bus station retained all the trappings of the year it had been built, which was probably in the late ’70s based on the abundance of avocado green. The yellow-tinged lighting didn’t help, highlighting the years of wear evident on the hard plastic seats and dingy linoleum floor.
Didn’t seem to be keeping anyone away, however. More people filled the station than she’d expected, but then, last time she’d traveled by bus, she’d been in college and trying to get home for the weekend.
Some people sat, while others stood looking at the arrival and departure boards. A few browsed the selections at the newsstand. Most had a weary air about them. As if they’d rather be anywhere but here. She understood that. She studied the ones who appeared to be paired off, trying to discern any wolfy traits in them.
But they all seemed human to her. Maybe that was her inexperience showing. Or maybe werewolves were really good at blending in when they needed to. She wondered if, in a less-crowded situation, she’d be able to pick them up by their scent. Right now, all she smelled was cleaning fluid, body odor, and smoke.
“This way,” Temo said.
She kept up with him as he threaded through the small crowd and took them to the far side of the station, where banks of lockers stood in little alcoves. An overhead grate diffused the light. He went a little farther until they were in another section of lockers marked with a sign that said Long-Term. One of the lockers had a missing door, and another had a hole where the lock should have been.
This alcove had lockers on three sides and a single row of the same hard plastic, avocado-green seats in the middle. On the other side was a sign for the restrooms.
A man rose from the seats as they entered. He was lean and tall enough that his long coat must have been custom made, since it reached nearly to his ankles. A wool newsboy cap was pulled low over his eyes, and a thick scarf swathed his neck, but none of that could hide the dusky skin or angular ears that peeked out.
She couldn’t see his back, but she wondered if the outline of his wings was visible through the fabric of his coat, or if it was as specially made as hers was.
Temo nodded at him. “Sorry if you had to wait.”
The man’s nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. His nose wrinkled a second later. Had he smelled the iron embedded in Donna’s coat or the bracelets she’d slipped on? “I haven’t been here long.”
Temo kept himself slightly between Donna and the fae as he spoke. “Governor, this is Ishalan.”
The fae’s eyes narrowed, and he smiled without opening his mouth, which made the skin over his sharp cheekbones wrinkle. “Governor. What a pleasure.”
Donna couldn’t bring herself to smile. Not yet. “Ishalan. It’s kind of you to help us.” Although she knew kindness had little to do with it. But it wouldn’t hurt to give him the benefit of the doubt.
His smile broadened with amusement, and he chuckled. “I believe we both understand that if I help you it has nothing to do with what can only be described as the weakest of human emotions.”
“Yes, we do.” She didn’t like him already. Being kind did not make a person weak. In fact, it took great strength to care about others. It required a person to think about more than themselves. But then again, he was fae. Was the word kindness even in their vocabulary? “What do you want to make this deal happen?”
“You realize what a dear thing you ask of me.”
“Your blood is dear? Then what is my blood?”
Temo bristled, shifting into a much more protective stance. She was sure he didn’t like the direction this was going, but Donna had to let this fae know she wasn’t a soft target. That was something she’d learned from life in the Villachi family. Soft targets got hit first.
Ishalan’s tight-lipped smile turned bitter at having his words turned around. “Fae blood is much more powerful, Governor.”
“Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t.” She shrugged like the whole matter was quickly losing its importance. “If you aren’t interested in making this deal…”
Ishalan dropped his patronizing smile. “I’m only saying that I expect you to understand that the compensation must be equivalent.”
So much buildup. His ask was going to be big. She could feel it. The mob often worked the same way. “Why don’t you tell me what you want, and we can discuss it? How can I say yes or no when I don’t know what you’re asking?”
“Very true.” He looked at Temo, who’d relaxed slightly. “She is as smart and direct as you said she’d be.” His attention came back to her. “There are two things I desire.”
“And they are?”
“I am in need of funds. As I’m sure Temo told you, I have been cast out.” He held his hands up. “For the unforgivable sin of disagreeing with so much of what my brethren do. But being on my own is hard. Some financial help would make that easier.”
What was Rico’s life worth to her? There was really no amount too high, but the negotiation had to be done properly, or the fae would believe he had the upper hand. “What figure do you have in mind?”
“Perhaps you’d like to offer what you think is best.”
She hesitated as if she hadn’t given this any thought. “Ten thousand.”
He hissed. “Do you think I am a charity?”
“Hey,” Temo said. “That’s good money for someone with no skin in the game.”
“Said like a man who knows where his next meal is coming from,” Ishalan snapped.
Donna didn’t believe Ishalan was destitute. His clothes didn’t bear that up. Even his shoes looked new. And expensive. After being married to Joe, she knew men’s shoes. This was just a game to the fae. “What’s your counteroffer?”
The fae scrubbed a hand over his chin like he was thinking. “Fifty thousand. In cash.”
She shook her head. “Twenty-five, and we don’t have time for cash. I need the blood right now. If you can’t accept a direct deposit, then we’ll go talk to the next fae on our list.”
Ishalan groused under his breath. “Fine. I’ll take the deposit. But since I am forced to compromise, I can’t accept less than forty.”
Donna looked at Temo, thankful he was smart enough to play along. “Your other contact didn’t even bring up money, did he?”
Temo barely moved. “Nope.”
Ishalan grunted. “Twenty-five is not enough.”