“Maybe I should stay out here and look after the bikes. We don’t want anyone taking them.”
“Won’t get far without the keys but sure,” Gabe said. “So, how will I know which one is Gump?”
“You won’t be able to miss him,” Natty said, taking a few steps back towards the bike.
Gabe and Flea shrugged and started to amble towards the door. “Guys,” I said, “don’t we need a plan?”
“Got a plan,” Flea said. “Don’t walk in there like meat, or that's how you’ll be treated. This doesn’t look a realm with gunpowder yet, so we’ll be at a distinct advantage here.”
“There are AKs in the bag,” Gabe said, “but I think the handguns should be sufficient.”
Flea considered this, “Yeah . . . but nothing beats a rifle for showy. We could have Tess in and out, no mess no fuss.”
“Yeah, alright.” I watched them dumbly as they went back to the bikes, pulling out what looked like to me were machine guns. It was then I realised how little I knew the guys, particularly the one I’d slept beside for the past few weeks. He could produce a bag full of guns at short notice, which had among them semi-automatic rifles? I shook my head, trying to ignore the practised way Gabe slung the gun across his chest. I was here to get Tess back; that was what mattered. “Stay behind me,” Gabe said.
Walking in was a weird experience. Heads swivelled to take us in, though they looked considerably different from what we were used to. Next to the door was a table full of deer-like people, their ears swivelling and big brown eyes widening to take us in. I saw a few leathery brown noses flare as if to scent us, not saying a word, just taking us in with big limpid eyes. Evidently, we weren’t that interesting, as they moved back to drinking from tall rough earthen tankards clasped in long spindly hands, their conversation starting up again. I looked around and saw a homely-looking tavern.
Oil lamps were hung from the walls and placed on each table; a great cartwheel candelabra strung from the ceiling. Everything was cast in a warm golden light, though it didn’t make the place look any less weird. The interior was largely coarse brick and heavy wooden timber with massive exposed beams. The place smelled like smoke, beer and the meat cooking on a spit on the fire to the left-hand side of the room. We walked past a group of red and silver-pelted patrons in a large table in the centre, playing cards. They had long wolfish snouts and thickly-furred triangular ears. A few pairs of yellow eyes looked up for a moment as we passed, then fell back to the cards. A female server with black-flecked fur and an impressive tail wove her way through the tables, toting a tray with a cluster of tankards on it. “Where would I find Gump?” Gabe asked.
“And what would a monkey want with the big man?” she replied.
“He has something of ours,” Flea said, stepping closer.
“Not yours anymore then, is it?”
“Why don’t you let us sort that out with Gump and then we’ll see what’s what?”
She looked us up and down coolly, then shrugged and pointed a clawed finger to a cluster of chairs by the fire, leaving with a swish of her tail and a smirk, sharp white teeth showing. My heart seemed to have jumped up into my throat, but the men moved in a series of confident precise movements. Flea pulled the gun from the back of his waistband and Gabe rested his hand on the butt of his, tucked in front. People moved their chairs in as one, making it easy to walk towards the fire. I looked from furry dog-looking people to cat, goat and rabbit-looking people, but no one met my gaze. I followed the guys until they came to two big green-velvet wingback chairs sitting by the fire.
“You Gump?”
Gump was not what I expected. He was furry like everyone else here, with thick, lustrous, red fur like a fox’s, he had the same kind of long sharp muzzle as the creatures playing cards, his ears were covered in dark-brown velvet. With all the hoopla, I’d thought he’d be big and imposing, like a Rottweiler. The man . . . animal in question turned around, a sly smile spreading across his face. “I thought our meat order came in two days ago, Cage?”
The furry guy sitting opposite him instantly stiffened, hand going to hilt of his sword.
“Uh, uh, uh,” Flea said, aiming the gun at him, “hands on your head, mate.”
“And what’s that bit of shiny you have there?” Without a blink, Flea raised the handgun and shot a hole in the ceiling of the pub. I watched in satisfaction as both of them flinched back under the shower of plaster. Their eyes went wild, the whites clear around each yellow pupil, mouth drawn back in snarls.
“What in the blue blazes? What’s a monkey doing with a bit of tech like that?” Gump snapped, his claws extending and burying themselves in the arm of his chair. I heard the sound of several chairs being pulled out, but Gump waved his supporters back, eyes still on Flea.
“Looking for a girl,” Flea said, gun in hand now. “Just like us, brown hair and blue eyes.” Cage had been glowering at Gabe the whole time, but now his fingers wrapped around the hilt of his sword tightly, and his eyes dropped.
“Tess? Yes, she was quite lovely. Didn’t feel the need to punch holes in my ceiling.”
“And we won’t find a reason to punch holes in you if you hand her over,” Flea said.
“Quite. Cage, find these lovely people a seat, will you, and have Felicia bring over some drinks?”
“We’re not here to socialise,” Flea ground out.
Gump’s eyes flicked up and hardened. I swear, in a moment, every muscle in his body grew still. Slowly he opened his mouth wide enough to show us an impressive array of sharp teeth. “I understand you are not from this world, but the refusal of hospitality is seen to be a grave insult here. Now, here’s Cage with some chairs. Take a seat.”
Gabe took the wingback, lounging indolently against the back, gun rested casually on his leg, almost accidentally aimed at Gump. We were passed two wooden dining chairs and sat down, Cage now taking up position at Gump’s right-hand side. “We’re sitting, now talk.”
“I’m happy to talk, for a price.”
“How about you walk away from this conversation without extra holes in your head?” Flea suggested.