Magic and Loss: A Novel of Golgotham Read Online Free PDF Page A

be working.
    “Good evening, Serenity,” Bruno growled in welcome, running a pawlike hand through his unruly brown hair. “Good evening, Miss Eresby.”
    Chorea, the Calf’s hostess, stepped forward to greet us. Although she had set aside her leopard skin and chiton in favor of AA and saving her marriage, she still wore the garland of ivy that marked her as a maenad. “Welcome, Serenity.” She smiled. “Captain Horn is waiting for you in the dining room.”
    “Thanks, Chory,” he said. “You needn’t bother escorting us.”
    As we made our way across the crowded pub, I spotted the Calf’s owner, head chef, and chief bottle washer balancing a serving platter loaded with bowls of flash-fried crickets and battered dragonflies. The towering restaurateur was almost as tall as his bouncer, with long, ketchup-red hair and a matching beard. He was dressed in a pair of bib overalls and a loud Hawaiian shirt nearly as colorful as the tattoos covering his forearms. Like all Kymerans, he exuded a unique scent that was part body odor and personal signifier, in his case a combination of corn dogs and bananas Foster.
    “Welcome back, Serenity! Have you checked out our new merchandise yet?” Lafo nodded toward the small booth under the staircase that was stocked with T-shirts and beer mugs emblazoned with the Calf’s double-headed logo. “Would you believe we’re selling as many T-shirts as we are drinks now? A couple of my old regulars got their noses out of joint over it, but you gotta make hay while the sun shines! Those renovations after the riot set me back quite a bit, even with the insurance. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to replenish the snack bowls at the bar.”
    I followed Hexe up the stairs, past the framed lithographs of his great-great-grandfather and the Founding Fathers signing the Treaty of Golgotham, to the dining area, with its dark wood floors and coffered ceiling. While I was no longer the only human to be seen in the dining room, the vast majority of the customers were still Kymeran. Despite the token addition of cheeseburgers to the menu, most of Lafo’s newly acquired human clientele no doubt found it far easier to catch a buzz than enjoy a meal at the Calf.
    Captain Horn rose from his seat as we approached. Although he had removed his hat to reveal his maroon crew cut, he was still wearing his PTU dress uniform. As he smiled down at me in welcome, I glimpsed a hint of his son’s mouth and jawline.
    “You’re as lovely as ever, Tate,” Horn said as he hugged me. I found myself enveloped by the sturdy and reassuring scent of oak leaves and musk. “Please, sit down. Feel free to order whatever you like—dinner and drinks courtesy of the Paranormal Threat Unit.”
    As we took our seats at the table, a waiter with mango-colored hair came forward and handed us menus. Hexe laughed and handed them back without looking. “That won’t be necessary—I’ll have the pork brains in gravy, and the lady would like the filet of herring.”
    “Very good, Serenity,” the waiter said, bobbing his head in ritual obeisance as he jotted down our order. “Any drinks before dinner?”
    “Yes, I’ll have cod liver oil,” Hexe replied. “What about you, Tate?”
    “I’ve got to get up and go to work in the morning,” I reminded him. “I’ll have herbal tea, if you don’t mind.”
    As our waiter hurried off, Hexe turned to his father. “So—what’s the reason for inviting us to dinner?” he asked brusquely, ignoring my gentle kick to his shins. “And why is the PTU paying for it?”
    The smile disappeared from Captain Horn’s face. “I just wanted you to hear it from me, not the media, that’s all,” he sighed.
    “Hear what?” A look of dismay crossed Hexe’s face. “Heavens and hells—you and mother aren’t getting
married
, are you?”
    “No! It’s nothing like that!” Horn assured him, only to fall silent as the waiter returned with a brandy snifter and a small pot of