The band of Dark Elves, calling themselves The Fury, started up another set of rock music. Not something Donovan was very familiar with, but he liked the heavy percussion and the determination in the voice of the lead singer as he roared at the crowd that he would not bow and he would not break. Very Unseelie in sentiment. Apparently, the band played popular music because most of the fey sang along during the chorus.
Kieran and Dawn danced among the crowd, undulating against each other with more than a casual familiarity. The view from Donovan’s private table situated against the simple but elegant guardrail overlooked the dance floor set a couple of steps down from the main bar area of the Glamour Club. Leaning back, he cast a proprietary glance around the rest of the club, not the least surprised to find it packed on opening night. They’d had trouble keeping the fey out until the construction was completed.
The sound of the pool balls cracking against each other echoed from the back alcove. Bryce managed the game without setting the table on fire. The training in concentration and focus was beginning to pay off.
Donovan set down his empty glass on the low table in the center of a circle of four easy chairs, and leaned back. Beyond his own chair, the others remained unoccupied, a condition that did not appear to be long lasting, as Trip turned from the bar with two glasses and headed in Donovan’s direction. She handed one to Donovan, for which he nodded a simple thanks. The Sidhe had styled her hair to cover her altered ears, an interesting decision. She’d told him that she’d had plastic surgery so she would not feel out of place around the humans, and now that attempt to “fit in” made her feel out of place around her own kind. The life lessons among the earthborns certainly had a unique twist compared to what he’d grown up with in the Mounds. The lack of guidance showed in all of them.
Trip settled into the chair to Donovan’s right. She hadn’t thanked him for saving her, not that he expected that from an Unseelie. The last few days she’d permitted Dawn’s healing efforts and otherwise evaluated her new circumstances with uncertainty. They regarded each other with a causal acceptance as she toyed with the ice in her glass with the tip of her finger. Clearly she had something she wanted to say, but Donovan waited for the young woman to sort out the words in her head at her leisure.
“You know, the other Sidhe are real impressed by you,” she said and then waited for him to respond.
Donovan said nothing yet. That had not been what she wanted to say. Little more than stating the obvious. Lengthy discussions of the obvious may amuse the Seelie as a pastime, but Donovan didn’t waste effort on that pursuit.
Trip nodded to herself, switching her gaze from him to her drink and retreating deeper into the chair. Apparently, not yet done with her exploration of the obvious. Or perhaps working things out in her head as she went. Starting with what she knew first and then extrapolating. “So, you really are going to rebuild on Earth what you lost from the Mounds? Starting with us newbies?”
“You are including yourself in the number.” Donovan cracked a hint of a smile. “I thought you might, when you stuck around.”
Trip leaned forward and placed her drink down like it no longer interested her. “There’s a lot of bad out there in the world. As soon as they find out about this place, they’ll do everything they can to crush it.” Her dark eyes lifted to meet his. “But you know that already.”
“I do indeed.”
“And you are not afraid?”
He gave her an amused smirk. “Let them come.”
Thank you for reading "Aftershock" Rise of the Unseelie: Part 1! See what happens to Donovan next in "Scars of Silver" Rise of the Unseelie: Part 2.