MHI tended to be a noisy, boisterous, fun-loving bunch, and as you filled them with good food and drinks they just got louder. Soon, everyone else was cracking jokes and telling stories too, interrupted only by the constant trips back for more food. Green was skinny, and VanZant’s nickname was “the hobbit” because he was maybe a stocky five foot four, but even our small Hunters had appetites, not to mention that Gregorius was about my size, so we were putting a hurting on the place. However, as Nate pointed out, at seventy bucks a head, we were darn well going to get our money’s worth. Luckily, they had seated us far enough to the side that we weren’t bugging the other, more normal patrons.

They had stuck together a few tables into a long rectangle for us. I was sitting at one end across from Green and next to VanZant. Green was bald, hyperactive, and had been a San Diego police officer before MHI had recruited him. I’d accidentally broken his collarbone back in Newbie training, but he’d never seemed to hold a grudge about it. Green was a scrapper, one of those men that wasn’t scared of anything, so getting severely injured in training was no biggie. I’d lost count of how many beers he had drunk, and apparently he’d already hit the minibar in his room before coming down. The waitress just kept the refills coming, because since we had to walk past slot machines to get out of this place, the management probably wanted their guests as incapable of making good decisions as possible. His boss, VanZant, just frowned as Green got into a noisy argument with bomb expert Cooper over the proper use of hand grenades.

VanZant was a courteous man, so he waited until there were several different conversations going on before leaning in to ask me quietly, “So how’s Julie doing?”

The question was understandable. VanZant had been with Julie when she’d been injured during Hood’s attack on our compound. He was one of the few who knew something about how she had survived, her lacerations sealed by the lingering magic of the Guardian, leaving only black lines where there had once been mortal wounds. “Pretty good. Mostly we don’t think about it.” Which wasn’t true at all. The thought that she had been physically changed by magic from the Old Ones was always there, gnawing away at our peace of mind, but there wasn’t much we could do about it.

VanZant’s concern was evident. “Has there been any…change?”