Then the sunlight reached it, and it moved, ever so slightly.
There were other things amongst them, too, stumpy little men whose mouths opened as though on hinges as they sang some kind of morning chant, and there were cats. A great many cats. He found himself staring despite the presence of those soldiers, and on second thought he had to wonder if they had any official capacity here or were somehow ceremonial for the little enclave he was spying upon.
The rattling approach of a carriage drew his attention. The driver up on the high seat was an ugly little man wearing a green felt fedora. A pair of midnight-black horses had been harnessed to a vehicle that seemed an antique to him. But then, everything here was of another age. He could see along streets to the north and east from here, and with the sun coming up, some of the taller structures were more readily visible to him. A clock tower chimed the hour, claiming it to be seven in the morning, but he was unsure how they kept time here, given the length of the days and nights. The city that spread out before him seemed a tapestry sewn from different regions and ages of history, a little Victorian Europe, a pocket of ancient Asia, and more than a little of America in the twenties and thirties.
Down the northern road, to his astonishment, he saw a Model-T Ford go by, engine banging and popping as its tires rolled across the cobblestones.
“Wow,” he whispered under his breath, smiling in spite of himself. All of the fear that had raced through him only minutes before drained from him, surrendering to the wonder of the place.
In the back of his mind he knew he had to find Kitsune and Frost, but he started along that northern road regardless. It was still early, but more people were stirring now. A trio of massive, shaggy-haired creatures whose gender was a mystery passed him, going the other direction. They were easily a dozen feet tall and the third one pulled a wagon as though it were a rickshaw. Upon it were barrels and wooden boxes full of various fruits and vegetables. There were winter pears and bananas, the reddest apples Oliver had ever seen, bunches of carrots and onions and buckets full of peppers.
Going to market,
he thought.
As he continued down the road he saw other oddities. A goblin in a full-length jacket, a formal shirt, and no pants wandered dangerously across the road, singing in a drunken slur and doing his best to stagger out of the sunshine and into the shadows that the early-morning light provided. Beautiful, graceful, lithe creatures no higher than his knee and clad in clothes like Gypsies darted up and down the street, playing some sort of game with what appeared to be merely a piece of paper, save that the paper itself changed shape constantly, like some kind of remote-control origami masterpiece. A handsome man with massive antlers strode by, hooves clicking on the street, tiny little devilish-looking things swinging from the twisted rack upon his head. One of them made obscene gestures toward Oliver and the others all laughed a high little titter.
Yet most of the people he saw on the streets of Perinthia were human, and ordinary enough to look at. Their mode of dress varied wildly, as did their race, but none of them took any notice of their differences. They went about their business in so mundane a fashion that he was set at ease.
At the next intersection he stood back to watch the city come alive at morning. He had reached a main thoroughfare now and there were shops all along the street, as well as bars and restaurants. One building off to his right was enormous enough that it might have been a cathedral, but he saw that the door was set in to another, much larger entrance, at least thirty feet high, and he understood that this was either the home or business of giants. Larger by far than the ones he’d seen going to market.
“Apparently, no one finds you particularly out of place.”
A tiny sound emitted from his throat and Oliver twisted round, ready to defend himself. It was only Kitsune, standing beside him with the hood of her copper-furred cloak thrown back and the sun on her face. He had not even realized it, but he had given up trying to hide himself in the shadows.
Oliver glanced around to make sure they had not drawn attention. Then he rolled his eyes.
“Don’t do that to me. You’re going to give me a heart attack.”
The sun gave a milky hue to her jade eyes. “I doubt that.”
“And what did you mean by—”
But then it dawned on him what she had meant. He had been wandering the south side of Perinthia for fifteen or twenty minutes and no one had taken any special interest in him or even looked at him very closely, save the crone in black who had been the first person he’d run across.
“So we’re all right.”
Kitsune frowned. “For the moment. It’s unlikely the citizens will know what you look like, but the police will. Wandering around wide-eyed as a child is not the best way to remain at liberty.”
Oliver nodded. “I can’t argue. So what now?”
“There’s nothing we can do until tonight. We need a place to be out of sight, particularly for Frost. He can’t remain incorporeal forever, and he also cannot be seen in the city. Word will get back to the Hunters.”
“I take it you have a place in mind?”
Her eyes twinkled. “I do.”
CHAPTER 14
O
liver clutched the heavy iron key in his hand as he climbed the stairs to the third floor of the Hotel Fleur de Lis. It was an old building in classic Parisian style, three stories of guest rooms around a central courtyard filled with fountains and flowers and benches where one might sit and read in enviable peace. The soft swish of Kitsune’s fur cloak followed him and she moved silently into place at his side when he paused at the top of the steps.
“This way,” she said, moving into the corridor, passing through splashes of sunlight from the exterior windows.
Some of the rooms faced the street, but Kitsune had asked for one that looked down upon the courtyard. Now, as he followed her to room 36, Oliver pondered just how fortunate he and Frost had been to encounter her in the woods that night. It seemed so long ago to him now. Could it really have been only days? Kitsune had reason to ally herself with them. As Borderkind, she was a target of the Myth Hunters, just like Frost. But she had proven invaluable, not only in a fight, but this very morning. Kitsune had chosen this hotel from previous experience and had been the only one among them to have any Euphrasian coin.
At the door to their room she stepped aside to make way for him. The weight of the key in his hand was reassuring and Oliver took pleasure in the familiarity of the moment. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, letting Kitsune precede him out of courtesy and habit. Shutting the door behind him, he slid the dead bolt and chain into place, and put the heavy key into his pocket.
A weary smile touched his lips as he took in the room. Curtains little more than chiffon wisps were tied back on either side of the three tall windows and the wood floor gleamed with diffuse golden sunshine. There was a kind of honeyed sheen to the entire chamber, a softness gifted upon the place by the indirect daylight. The head- and footboards on the bed were intricately carved, and there were several paintings of fairy glens and dragon hoards mixed with the afternoon-at-the-park and still-life-with-fruit sort of thing he’d always found in ordinary hotels.
So pleased was he with the room that Oliver had scarcely noticed Kitsune slipping through a sliding door that separated bedroom from bath. The squeak of a faucet and abrupt knocking of pipes and the sound of running water took him entirely by surprise. A nearly absurd happiness filled him as he turned.
“Running water?” he asked in disbelief, as though the sound might have been some cruel trick. He’d not even considered the possibility that there might be a real bath or shower in Perinthia, though he ought to have, considering some parts of the city were up to at least early twentieth-century standards.
“Why do you think I chose this hotel?” Kitsune called to him.
Oliver smiled and went toward her voice. He came in sight of the open door, and then his smile faded with an unconscious exhalation of breath.
Kitsune stood on one foot, the other raised behind her as she bent to test the temperature of the water. She was entirely nude, her long, lithe body finely sculpted. Her breasts were small, her nipples tiny brown berries, and her silken black hair spilled across her face while she let the water run over her fingers. Oliver found that he could not breathe. There was no sign of her clothes, nor of her copper fur cloak, though he presumed there must be some dressing area in the bathroom. He’d thought for so long that the fox in her, the transformation she underwent, was the part of her he found magical. But there was utter enchantment in the effect she had on him in that moment. He shook a little, just looking at her.
Satisfied that the water was warm enough, she stood up straight, catching sight of him out of the corner of her eye. Through the curtain of her hair she watched him a moment, making no attempt to shield herself from view. Her smile was a whisper of suggestion and amusement as she pushed her long hair back and gazed at him boldly.
“The soap is perfumed,” she said. “I have been dreaming about this place since yesterday.” As if there was nothing at all unusual about the moment.
She stepped into the bath and drew the curtain and he heard a kind of ticking from the pipes, to which the staccato spray of the shower replied. Oliver stood staring at the curtain, the image of Kitsune’s bronze form, every curve of her, etched into his mind.
It was several moments before he realized that there was another sound, a rougher noise, like gravel pelting glass. He turned to see water dripping down the right-most window, though the courtyard was still bathed in sunlight. The window rattled in its frame and tiny pellets of hail whipped against it in the wind.
Frost.
Oliver hurried over and opened the window, staggering back as a powerful gust of icy wind blasted inward. Snowflakes danced in the air and twisted in a dizzying whirlwind as the gust slid across the room to a corner out of sight of the windows.
Inch by inch, they constructed the winter man.
Frost was all sharp edges and glistening icicles. Icy mist drifted from his eyes as he gazed past Oliver at the open door, the sound of the running shower filling the room. A hint of emotion, possibly disapproval, flickered across his face and then was gone.
“I’ve been to Amelia’s and had a look about the place. Unseen, of course. It is closed now, and dark. We must limit the possibility of Kitsune being recognized by someone who might inform the Hunters, and your exposure to the city. Anyone who is obviously new to Euphrasia is likely to fall under suspicion of being the Intruder who is wanted by the authorities. The less you talk to people, the better. We’ll stay here until dark.”
Oliver scratched the back of his head and glanced at the windows. “That’s a long way off.”
“There’s nothing to be done about it. You and Kitsune rest. Eat. The kitchen will bring food up if she asks. They will think you lovers, wishing to indulge in each other.”
Heat flushed Oliver’s face and he kept his gaze locked on Frost, steadfastly refusing the temptation to glance back at the open bathroom door.
“We’ll make do,” he said. “Is Amelia’s far from here?”
The winter man shook his head. “Not far at all. Four blocks. Perhaps five. The neighborhood is less than desirable, but perfect for a place like Amelia’s. The character of Perinthia changes with every corner turned.”
The conversation continued for another minute or two. When Kitsune emerged from the shower, wrapped in a thick white cotton robe that seemed stark and bright against the café au lait hue of her skin, it was obvious she wore nothing under it. As the two Borderkind discussed the necessity of waiting out the day in that room, Oliver did what he could to avert his eyes from her, afraid he would stare. The memory of her nakedness was vividly replaying itself in his head.
Later, after they’d eaten— the staff of Fleur de Lis had been just as accommodating as Frost had predicted— exhaustion took over. Oliver had been cognizant of the fact that there was only one large bed and no sofa or any other surface comfortable enough to sleep on by choice. Even so, he’d intended to make up some kind of space on the floor with an extra blanket he’d found and one of the pillows from the bed. Kitsune would not hear of it.
Had she remained in just that cotton robe in which she had emerged from the bathroom earlier, there was no way he would have gotten into bed with her. Not that he thought anything might happen— he was just some ordinary guy, after all, and she was exotic and . . . hell, she was supernatural— but even so, the awkwardness would have crippled him. Not to mention thoughts of Julianna. The marriage had never happened, but she was still his fiancée. And with Frost in the room, his embarrassment would have been that much worse.
Not that their eventual compromise was much better. Kitsune wore the black top and pants she’d had on throughout their adventures thus far and she insisted that he climb beneath the covers while she spread her fur cloak over herself and burrowed into the bed. She seemed to find his discomfort amusing, but only for the minute or two that it took her to fall into a deep sleep.
