Cold Fire (Spiritwalker #2)

Cold Fire (Spiritwalker #2) Page 108

“There’s a bold boast.” I could not help but smile, for besides being an amusing flirt, he was very well built, clearly a young man who knew how to use his body.

His friends glanced toward the table where Vai was drinking and talking with friends. By not a flicker of his gaze did Vai show interest in my doings. Yet Kofi, sitting beside Vai with arms crossed, looked at me with a frown that made me feel queasy, as if he thought I was deliberately making a scene. What had I ever done to Kofi? I wasn’t obliged to never even smile at another man just because Vai had found me on the jetty. Everything tonight was making my belly ache.

“I’ll bring yee back a round,” I said quickly to the table, gathering the cups and taking them to the two women who washed up. Then I kept going to the washhouse because something was going on to upset my stomach. Just inside, I leaned against the wall, stricken by cramping and a sudden feeling I ought to at least respect Vai’s kindness by not flirting with other men until after Hallows’ Night, when I would be free, and Bee would be safe or she would be dead.

Even at this distance I could still hear them talking, more belligerently now, louder, fueled by too much drink and too much male posturing.

I recognized crude man’s voice. “If the gal don’ want him, why shall she not be free to go with another man? Everyone know that maku never went walking out with other gals. Like he figure Expedition gals not fine enough for the likes of him. Me, I reckon he got nothing in his rifle to shoot.”

“No need for this talk,” said my nice admirer. “Let’s just have another drink.”

“Yee reckon I fear him?” Crude man raised his voice another notch. “He got a smart mouth and a pretty face and fancy clothes on festival nights, and what else? For he surely don’ got that gal in he bed! Maku! Ja, maku! Yee reckon yee scare me?”

“I reckon either you’re very drunk,” said Vai, “or you’re an ass, or likely both, if this is your best attempt to start a fight. Let’s go, lads. I’m of a mind to drink elsewhere tonight.”

Was he? I peered out past the washhouse curtain just in time to see Vai, Kofi, and the lads rising from their table. But the moment Vai took a step toward the gate, the crude fellow deliberately placed himself in his path. He topped Vai by half a head, and he was considerably bulkier, with meaty hands and a sneering face.

“Best if yee run, maku,” he said. “I shall just give yee a pat on the ass as yee go.”

The air changed, charged with a spike of cold that made everyone in the courtyard shiver and look around in surprise.

“Vai, don’ do it,” said Kofi suddenly. “Yee know why yee shall not.”

But he was going to do it. The set of his shoulders, the lift of his chin, and the arrogant curl of his lips betrayed him: He had lost his temper, and now the prideful fury of a roused and exceedingly powerful cold mage was about to hit.

My nice admirer and his friend with the kerchief grabbed their companion and hauled him back. With a confidence that astonished me, Kofi propelled Vai in the opposite direction, murmuring in his ear. Uncle Joe stepped out from behind the counter. Before any of the men could look my way, if they even meant to, which I doubted, I let the curtain drop, my heart pounding.

A moment later, Aunty pulled the curtain aside and looked in. A pale light in the form of a lamp hung from a hook on the wall, but it was not real fire; it was an illusion shaped to resemble it.

Aunty was frowning. “I’s telling yee right now, gal, don’ come out ’til this blow over. Joe shall take care of this arseness. Bless, gal! Yee reckon this is somewhat to laugh at?”

For I was laughing softly. I was staring at the inside of my ankle, at the smear of blood oozing down the skin. I hadn’t been made pregnant with James Drake’s seed.

It was like feeling the first chain slip off my body.

22

The next afternoon after work, Vai brought a fruit he called mamey. The smooth pink flesh had a rich flavor, spiked with the lime juice he squeezed over slices scooped out of the rind.

“Perhaps you would like to attend a batey match,” he said.

“Perhaps I would. Mmm. The texture is like cream.” I licked my lips. “But I have to work.”

The intensity of his serious gaze disturbed me more than did the sweetness of his charming smile. “You work hard, Catherine. You’ve sewn singlets for the little lads, and blouses for the little lasses. If I ask, Aunty will say no harm to miss one afternoon’s work.”

“If you ask?” I examined him. “Does this have anything to do with last night?”