The Last Warrior: Shifters Unbound Book 13 Page 6

  Ben had showed her stockings and the array of shoes Jaycee and Jasmine had collected. Rhianne decided on a flat pair of slippers from Jasmine’s side—they fit the best, though a trifle small.

  She moved to the bathroom to comb out and re-braid her hair. Peering at herself in the mirror, she supposed she didn’t look too awful. The bath had helped, though she thought she’d never wash away the grime from Walther’s horrible cell. At least her wrists had healed, only faint pink marks remaining.

  Rhianne left the bathroom and found Ben in a room down the hall that had deep chairs for lounging and a large, upright box with moving pictures on it. Right now, the pictures were of men with very long legs in colorful clothing bouncing a ball or running, their shoes squeaking on the polished wooden floor.

  Ben rose from a chair when he saw her, clicking something in his hand. The box went dark.

  “Just catching up on highlights of last season. I missed a lot in Faerie. Oh …” He stopped, looking Rhianne up and down, then he nodded, a slow smile on his hard face. “Nice.”

  Rhianne warmed with pleasure, spreading her arms. “You like it? These raiments are strange but quite pleasing.”

  “Raiments?” Ben’s smile broadened. “Aren’t you sweet?”

  “The slippers pinch a bit. Even the soft ones I had before did.”

  “No problem. We’ll take you shopping for shoes.” Ben started. “Wow, did I just say that?”

  “One shops for shoes? Are there that many cobblers to choose from?”

  Ben shook his head. “Cobblers are still around, but mostly you walk into a store full of shoes and pick out a pair. Or two. Or, if you’re Jaycee, five.”

  “Oh.” Rhianne’s interest grew. “May we see these stores?”

  “Sure thing, love. Like I said, I’m taking you on the town. A day and a night.”

  * * *

  The next amazing experience Ben introduced Rhianne to was the noisy two-wheeled vehicle of the type the Shifters had ridden.

  “Motorcycle,” Ben explained while Rhianne gazed at it in apprehension. “Cycle for wheels that go around, motor for, well, the motor. Bike for short. From the word bicycle, which is not at all the same thing … er, never mind.” Ben swung his leg over, steadied the vehicle, then patted the seat behind him. “Hop on.”

  “Hop?” Rhianne’s brow puckered. “Do I have to jump?”

  “Figure of speech. Climb up however you can, rest your feet on those footholds there, and hang on to me.”

  Rhianne was dubious, but she placed her hands on Ben’s shoulders and tried to swing her leg over the seat as he had. She didn’t quite make it and then couldn’t catch her balance to land on her feet again. Clinging to Ben’s back, she slid and slithered until she straddled the seat, propping her feet on the bars he’d indicated.

  A very intimate position, she realized as she settled in. Ben sat between her legs, his body even closer when she wrapped her arms around him as instructed.

  Not such a bad thing. Ben was solid and warm. She felt his heart beating beneath her hands and against her chest.

  Ben twisted around to give her a round thing with a hard, shiny surface. “Put that on. Just in case. Shifters can survive a crash, but not sure about Tuil Erdannan.”

  Ben had to show Rhianne which way was up, but soon she had the helmet, as he called it, on, a face shield in place. She must look like a strange kind of bug, she mused, with her legs akimbo and the large black bubble on her head.

  Ben turned a key then pushed buttons or pulled levers—she couldn’t see exactly—and the motorcycle let out a roar. Rhianne had been expecting it after hearing the Shifters ignite their machines, but she squeaked and held Ben a bit tighter.

  The motorcycle throbbed beneath her, its vibrations strange yet exciting. “Hold on!” Ben yelled.

  Rhianne was already clutching him tightly, but she increased her embrace as the world moved. No, it was the bike that moved, speeding in a long curve around the house and onto the front drive.

  They were going so fast! Rhianne regularly rode horses and liked nothing better than a hard gallop, but this motorcycle surpassed even the fleetest steed in her mother’s stable.

  Ben guided the bike down the tree-lined lane, leaving the house behind. Rhianne glanced back at it. The rose vines on the house danced in the wind, almost as though they were waving. Rhianne waved back.

  The bike slowed, disappointingly, but only because Ben had paused at a roadway. An impossibly large thing thundered at them, a vehicle of some kind, menacing and huge. It would strike them surely.

  Ben waited without fear while the many-wheeled thing tore past them. A human, sitting in the small room at the front of this monstrosity, lifted a hand to Ben, and Ben returned the gesture.

  After the thing had passed, splashing mud and stirring an unpleasant wind, the roadway was relatively empty. Ben moved the motorcycle forward, accelerating as they turned.

  If she’d thought they’d moved swiftly before, their subsequent speed took Rhianne’s breath away. Ben leaned forward, pulling her with him, and the motorcycle raced along. The trees to either side of the road were a blur, as were the giant buildings that smelled of metal, oil, and decay.

  More vehicles came straight at them. Rhianne cringed against Ben, but the other conveyances whipped past them, the wind of their passing sharp. Rhianne realized that the continuously paved road had a stripe down its middle. The drivers kept their vehicles going one way on one side and the opposite direction on the other.

  Still, only a painted stripe separated them from the gargantuan conveyances, which could easily come over the line and scatter her and Ben across the meadow beyond. The purpose of the helmet became clear.

  They sped by open fields, some green, some fallow. Dampness and mud lay everywhere. The road wound over gullies and washes and passed lanes reaching from the fields, sometimes with vehicles in these lanes waiting to join them on the road.

  More and more conveyances surrounded them as buildings crowded closer together, until they reached a large city, with many houses, vehicles, and people everywhere.

  Ben slowed as they left the road, which had widened into many of the striped divisions, and went down a narrower lane. The sun had reached its zenith, the air hot and sticky.

  The bike inched over a bump into a place where many vehicles sat silently. Ben slid the motorcycle to a halt and turned off its engine. The roar died, but Rhianne thought she’d have a ringing in her ears for a long time.

  Ben gestured for Rhianne to climb off first, which Rhianne attempted to do, hopping on her left foot that hit the ground until Ben grasped her ankle and helped her pull her right leg over the seat. The twinkle in his eyes told her she amused him.

  Rhianne unfastened the helmet and pried it from her head. “Where are we?”

  Ben swung off the bike and hung the helmet from the seat. He spread his arms. “New Orleans, baby. Welcome to The Big Easy.”

  Chapter Six

  Rhianne wasn’t certain why Ben assigned the phrase The Big Easy to the city, but she admitted he showed her a wonder.

  They left the motorcycle behind and moved on foot through narrow streets teeming with people, far more than she’d see gathered in one place in Faerie. Rain began as they walked, but no one seemed to mind. It pattered down lightly then drifted off.

  The number of shops amazed her. Ben took her first to find shoes—she walked into a room full of them in all shapes and colors. Rhianne rarely paid much attention to her footwear. She had boots made for comfortable walking and slippers for the occasional ball she attended, and those were enough. Now her eyes were opened to the possibilities.

  Ben lounged on a chair with another man who had come in with his girlfriend. Soon Ben was conversing with him, coaxing laughs from the man.

  The young woman with bright eyes and an eager smile who waited on Rhianne bubbled with enthusiasm that Rhianne soon caught. There was something refreshing about examining the shoes and trying on each pair, then surve
ying herself in the mirror the saleswoman ushered her toward.

  Rhianne thought she looked very odd. The leather leggings hugged her calves, and the blue tunic flowed over her thighs. She had no cloak, hood, or fur-lined boots, and her single thick braid hung loose, when she usually pinned up her hair in a looped style. She felt open and exposed without her many layers of clothing. At the same time, she appeared to be … cute. Fun. Playful. Everything Rhianne, the dignified Tuil Erdannan, was not.

  “How about these?” The saleswoman returned with her hands full of hot pink straps. “They’re adorable, but wanna know a secret? They’re so comfortable.”

  She said it as though comfort was a shameful thing. Rhianne slid on the shoes with the young woman’s help. The heels were higher than Rhianne was used to, but the straps formed a pleasing design on her foot and matched the glittery stripe on her pants. They were, as claimed, surprisingly comfortable.

  “I have two pairs,” the young woman whispered to Rhianne in confidence.

  “Then I, too, will have two pairs,” Rhianne announced.

  “Sure thing, honey. Tell you what, you wear those out of here, and I’ll bag up the boxes. I’ll take you right over here.”

  The young woman led her to a long counter with small machines on it. “That’s one seventy-five thirty-three for both. A bargain, right?”

  Before Rhianne could ask, one, seventy-five, and thirty-three what? Ben was beside her. He handed the young woman a plastic rectangle, and the young woman snatched it from him, slanting Rhianne a knowing look.

  “Lucky you,” the young woman said admiringly. “Shoes and a good-looking guy to put them on his credit card.” She laughed as she slid the card through a slot on the machine.

  Ben flushed as the young woman returned the card, giving him a wink. Liam had made the same signal. People in this world liked to gesture with their eyelids.

  “Here you go, honey.” The young woman slid a bag across the counter, not to Rhianne, but to Ben. “Thank you, sweetie,” she said to Rhianne. “Y’all come back anytime.”

  Rhianne nodded her appreciation and said good-bye. Ben led the way out of the store, he giving a wave to the man he’d been chatting with.

  “I never thought the goblins were a servant race,” Rhianne said in perplexity as she and Ben strode down the street past more stores with colorful and unusual wares in their windows.

  In the human world, it seemed, the merchants made certain everyone passing knew exactly what was on offer inside their shops. In her part of Faerie, merchants kept their houses plain, with only a modest sign above a narrow door to indicate what they sold. One knocked and inquired if they had the thing one wanted.

  “What?” Ben glanced at her. “Ah.” He hefted the bag from the shoe store. “This is called being gallant. A lady shouldn’t have to carry her own parcels or pay for her own shoes. You’re my guest.”

  “Oh.” Rhianne regarded him in confusion as pleasure crept through her.

  She studied his solid body, lined with interesting tattoos, his hard face, his shorn black hair. People melted out of his way, but he was in no way gruff with them. He nodded at strangers as they passed, or said, “’Sup?” in a cheerful tone. Whatever that meant.

  Ben did not possess the radiant handsomeness of the Tuil Erdannan nor the arrogant good looks of the hoch alfar or dokk alfar. Those of Faerie might even consider him ugly.

  Rhianne had seen his other guise, only in a flash, when he’d rescued her. His human form was far more pleasant than that one, though she’d never find Ben ugly. He’d stormed into the fortress and taken her out, which would make him forever beautiful in her eyes.

  Take care of him, Tiger had told her. He is the last warrior.

  Last warrior for what?

  Ben caught her hand and dragged her into the dim coolness of a building with a colorful façade and open doorway. “’Sup, Holly?” he said to the young woman at a podium, who had skin as dark as a dokk alfar’s and beautiful brown eyes. This town seemed to be full of lovely young women.

  “Ben.” Holly stepped from behind the podium and hugged him. “Long time. Where’ve you been?”

  “Oh, around. Busy. You have a table for two?”

  “For you? Anytime.” The woman peered with frank curiosity at Rhianne, grabbed two giant cards, and led them at a fast pace across a floor crowded with tables and people.

  When they reached an empty table near a window, Ben held out a chair for Rhianne, to Holly’s great interest. Ben settled Rhianne, as he had on the porch swing, before taking his own seat.

  “They have the best shrimp gumbo here,” Ben announced.

  “We sure do,” Holly said. “If you want authentic New Orleans food, this is the place. The menu is small, but that’s because everything is just right.” She laughed as she laid the cards in front of Rhianne and Ben, then sashayed away. Her tight dress emphasized her very curvy curves.

  Rhianne leaned to him. “What is shrimp gumbo?” She paused. “What is shrimp?”

  “Little critters that walk along the bottom of the sea. You put them in a kettle with sausage, bell peppers, and spices, and they sing to you.”

  Rhianne recoiled. “You eat them alive?”

  Ben’s laugh rumbled across the room. “My colorful way of talking. They’re plenty dead when they go into the pot. The gumbo sings.” He kissed his fingers and popped them open.

  “Little critters that walk along the bottom of the sea?” Rhianne repeated, still uncertain.

  “Maybe you’d prefer jambalaya. That’s rice with bell peppers and sausage, maybe some chicken. Oh, and shrimp.”

  “Do they have anything without this shrimp?”

  “Possibly.” Ben scanned the menu. “But don’t knock them ’til you’ve tried them. Trust me, sweetheart. You’ll love them.”

  Rhianne looked at the words printed before her but didn’t understand any of them. She could read the English, but nothing made sense. “I must put myself in your hands.”

  Ben rubbed his together. “You won’t regret it. I hope. Hey, Janie,” he said to the next attractive young woman who stopped at the table. “Bring us one shrimp gumbo, one jambalaya, a mess of bread, and two blonde ales.”

  “Sure thing, Ben. How about a side of beans and rice?”

  “Maybe later. We’re starting small. This is Rhianne. She’s new.”

  “Oh, hey.” Janie turned a big smile to Rhianne. “Welcome to New Orleans.”

  She gave Rhianne the same interested once-over Holly had. They must believe her Ben’s paramour. As Rhianne couldn’t exactly explain how she’d met Ben and what she was doing here, she only smiled.

  Janie took away the cards, and a young man sloshed two glasses of clear liquid to the table. Water, Rhianne guessed, though it smelled slightly metallic.

  Two mugs of ale landed on the table only a few moments after that. Ben raised his once Janie had departed.

  “Here’s to freedom,” he said.

  Rhianne frowned in bafflement. “What are you doing?”

  “It’s called a toast. You raise your glass, say what you’re drinking to, then we clink the glasses and drink.”

  Rhianne liked the idea. “To freedom,” she echoed. “And the goblin who made it possible.”

  Ben’s cheeks reddened. He moved his large glass to hers and gently tapped it. Then he drank.

  Rhianne sipped the foamy liquid and found a drink she recognized. Ale, clear and tasty, with a zip of bubbles.

  “It’s good,” she said in surprise.

  “Yeah, humans can make decent beer. It’s one reason I’ve stayed here all this time.”

  He tossed the words off casually, but Rhianne saw the flame of deep pain in him once more. What was Ben’s story? He’d said he was exiled no longer, but the pain hadn’t gone away.

  Sadness and frustration tugged at her. “I can’t stay forever. No matter how good the beer is.”

  Ben quickly set down his mug. “It’s too dangerous for you to go back. Dylan can kis
s his own ass.”

  “I will not return to be a spy, not that way.” Rhianne shook her head. “If I were cold and calculating, I’d do it, but I’m not. No matter how much my mother tried to make me so.”

  Ben looked surprised. “I owe her. She’s a great lady, Lady Aisling.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Rhianne’s bitterness flowed out before she could stop it. “I love and admire her greatly. My mother kept my dangerous father away from me. But everyone expects me to be exactly like the imperious Lady Aisling. She can be ruthlessly brutal sometimes.” Rhianne trailed off, rubbing the chilled beer glass with her fingers. “I don’t want to be like that.”

  “She’s Tuil Erdannan,” Ben pointed out.

  “So am I. But don’t have the urge to create or destroy an entire race for the fun of it, or to devastate hoch alfar who are just trying to get through their days. The average hoch alfar are fine, trying to make a living and not draw attention to themselves.”

  “If you say so.” Ben’s rumble was dark.

  Rhianne turned her mug on the table. “I know what they did to goblins. But that was the lords and princes, the same people who enslaved Shifters. The ordinary folk likely had no problem with goblins, and I know they don’t want any pet Shifters.”

  Ben listened. Actually listened, meeting her gaze, his shoulders moving slightly. “You could be right. It’s hard to have compassion when you watched your own people be slaughtered.”

  “I know.” Rhianne swallowed. She couldn’t imagine such a horror. “I’m sorry.”

  They fell silent, awkwardly so. Rhianne reflected that she and Ben might have had a nice day together if the whole history of Faerie and some of the bad people in it didn’t lie between them.

  “Here y’all go.” Janie returned with a large tray, followed by the young man who’d delivered the water. The two of them laid steaming dishes in front of Ben and Rhianne. “I brought you a mess of silverware in case you want to share.” In great delight, she set down the forks and spoons as though she bestowed an exciting gift.