The Vampire's Protector by Michele Hauf Read Free Book Online Page B

and the barkeep nodded to him before asking what he wanted.
    â€œBeer?” Nicolo tried. He wasn’t sure what the modern taverns served, but beer had been around for ages. “Have you food, as well?”
    â€œSpecial is fish-and-chips. Our cook is Irish.” He shrugged and set a glass mug of beer on the bar before Nicolo. “You want that?”
    Nicolo nodded. “Yes, please.”
    Fish sounded great. But he had no idea what chips were. He would be surprised. The lure of the golden liquid in the glass coaxed him quickly forward. He slid onto a bar stool and tilted back the liquid. Yes, beer. And quite tasty. He downed half in a long swallow.
    Looking about, he marveled at the clutter of paintings on the walls. Yet, they weren’t exactly paintings. Done in blacks, grays and whites, they were each framed and depicted people smiling and holding beer mugs. Had they all been composed and painted in this very tavern? Interesting. In the window a sign that said Pull Tabs flashed red light. How was that possible to produce light of such a color with no flames in sight? And overhead, light beamed down from small glass globes. Not in candle form.
    â€œRemarkable.”
    He finished the beer and asked for another. “Tell me about that device,” he said to the barkeep and pointed to the framed rectangle above the rows of liquor bottles behind the bar. On it images moved, as if he were witnessing a scene in real life. Men kicked a small white ball across a green field. They wore similar clothing. It must be some sort of sport.
    â€œThe TV?” the barkeep asked. “Where are you from anyway?”
    Nicolo shrugged. “I’ve...been away from things for a while.”
    â€œOne of those hippies who lives in a mountain for ten years?”
    He wasn’t sure what a hippie was or why a person would want to live in a mountain, but Nicolo again shrugged and nodded. “Sure.”
    â€œYou look it. But the women love the long, messy hair nowadays, eh? That’s the rugby competition. England versus Ireland. The Wolfhounds are givin’ ’em hell. In case you haven’t seen a television for a while, it’s a big screen, digital, HD, all the bells and whistles. I can get a hundred and eighty channels. Pretty fancy, eh?”
    Nicolo had no clue what the man had just said, so he instead sipped the beer and nodded subtly. The bells-and-whistles device was like a larger version of the mysterious box Summer kept on her. Must be some sort of knowledge receptacle. Most likely of the devil.
    Yet he could not bemoan this incredible chilled atmosphere. He glanced about, tracking the ceiling and noting the barkeep’s odd look. Nicolo shrugged, “Your establishment fascinates me.”
    â€œSure.” Jabbing a tiny wooden stick into the corner of his mouth, the barkeep reached through an opening in the wall and yelled thanks to an unseen person.
    A plate of hot food was set before him, and Nicolo leaned over to inhale the delicious aroma. Yet, hadn’t he ordered fish? Whatever it was on the plate, a long strip of something pale brown, did not resemble fish. And he assumed the thin strips of similar color were the chips? He didn’t want to be rude and ask, so he picked up a chip and tasted it.
    A salty crunch ignited Nicolo’s taste buds, and he quickly finished the first. And the second, and another.
    â€œAmazing,” he murmured and finished them all before even trying what would prove to indeed be fish.
    â€œPace yourself, buddy,” the barkeep said. “We’ve more if you’re that hungry.”
    â€œThank you. I find it delicious, and yet strange at the same time. May I ask you how a man might find his way to Paris from here?”
    He needed to find that violin that Summer had said she’d sent on to Paris.
    â€œYou could take the train, rent a car or hop on a plane.”
    â€œHop on a plane?” Even as he said it, he could