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“It’s a Martisor.”
“It’s pretty. What is it?”
“It’s good luck from my home country.” His smile faded. “I don’t care for the fae. Always looking to trick people into debt. You be careful in there.”
“We don’t need luck.” Julian swiveled his head to speak to them. “We all stick to the script. We’re lookin’ for Thorn. He’s already had a run in from Rafe, so he still owes Hunter and Hunter’s pack for his bad behavior. We all need to be careful with our words.”
“We need him to tell us whatever he knows about the fires, the attacks,” Greyson added. “Find out who is behind all this nonsense.”
“The hellhounds too,” Cassia added. “Who did this to them?”
“I want to know the person who lured you to that house and their connection to this,” Julian told her. “Kellan may not know but we’ll find out soon enough.”
“She’s chameleon. You’re of royal blood. You’re rare. Your mating is even rarer. A commodity if you will,” Greyson mused. “Perhaps they needed a chameleon for a spell. Ilsbeth isn’t the only bad actor who’s in the market for supe parts.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ve had enough of his bullshit. I’m going to kill Kellan myself if he doesn’t cough up what we need,” Rafe called from the back, his voice laced with anger.
“Not before we get what we need,” Greyson warned. “I don’t want you biting?—"
“It’s right up here.” Dominque pointed to a low-key corner dive bar. Neon signs illuminated the exterior. Big Richard’s Honeypot. “Whoever named this is a real genius.”
“Maybe it’s just his name,” Rafe suggested.
“Yeah, sure it is. And I’m the Queen of England.” Dominique pulled the car into a parking space, skillfully navigating between a red, beater pick-up truck and a motorcycle. “All right boys and girls. You have arrived at your destination.”
“Kade told me that sometimes this bar caters to transient vamps. Hopefully the damn fae will cooperate like a good little boy. I’d prefer to get in and out without fighting. I just got my nails done.”
Cassia stifled nervous laughter as she swung open the door. Her pulse raced in anticipation as she planted her boots onto the pavement. The deafening sound of heavy metal music blared into the night.
As she stepped into the street, she caught sight of a mouse scurrying up an overflowing trash bin on the corner. “I hate mice.”
“Keep your thoughts and secrets to yourself. Don’t let him hear you. Try not to even think it,” Julian reminded them.
“Okay.” Cassia nodded.
“Stay close.” Julian reached for her hand and headed into the bar. “Let’s roll.”
* * *
Cassia stifled a cough; the stench of cigarette smoke and body odor hung thick in the air. A flashing red sign that read ‘fuck or get fucked’ hung over the bar. Hundreds of dead alligator heads lined the perimeter of the tin ceiling. Nicotine-stained bumper stickers covered the walls. A fake eight-foot alligator stood in the corner of the bar wearing Mardi Gras beads around its neck.
“Where’s all the people?” Cassia whispered. The dive bar was empty save the bartender who wiped a beer mug with a dirt-stained towel.
“This way.” Julian led the group deeper into the belly of the beast.
Shadows danced in the darkened corners of the building. Huge black speakers flanked a soulless stage.
Julian exchanged a look with Greyson who nodded and pointed to the exit. Bright orange lights flickered from inside the long bricked tunnel. Cassia sensed the evil in the air as they walked through the threshold, the distinct scent of sulfur lacing the air.
“Julian.” The energy grew darker and her beast warned her not to go further. She put her hand onto Julian’s thigh, stopping him from entering the courtyard. “Do you feel that?”
Dominique shrugged and flicked her fingernails. “This place is hot.”
“Hellfire,” Cassia whispered.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Logan told them. “Stay close.”
“Demons.” Dominique’s expression remained impassive. “It’s a good day for payback.”
