“Excuse me,” the man said in a pleasant, accented tone.
Turning, Sean found an older man, dressed in a fine suit that practically dripped money from the seams. He had salt-and-pepper scruff and a silver streak in his dark hair right at the temple.
The hallway behind him had emptied. At the mouth, a smalllegion of purple-eyed monsters formed, caging them in. Skin tingling, Sean turned back to the man, wishing he wasn’t quite so drunk.
The man’s grin was more a threat than an actual smile. “I am Banasté,” he said. “I am master of the clans in this region.” He took in the three of them and tutted. “Andyouwere not invited.”
Isobel seized Sean’s wrist and dragged him behind her.
Um. Okay. Ow.
“What foolish bravery to come here unescorted,” Banasté continued with a smile, like this was a quaint little chat between friends. “You brought Lhynion’s heir to the slaughter.”
Lhynion’s what now?
“Perhaps you haven’t heard the rumors,” Isobel said, “but Lhynion’s heir is unkillable.”
The man cocked his head, seeming to find the whole thing amusing. “So he is. But there are only three of you and many, many of us. You know this city belongs to us. Who thought it wise to infiltrate my headquarters when you’re so outnumbered?”
“Who says we’re outnumbered?” said the redhead. “We never go anywhere alone.”
Just then, the purple-eyed crowd behind them broke apart, filleted by a strike force of people. Fights broke out, and Isobel leapt at Banasté before he could make a move.
They fell into the wall, and the man shouted orders to apprehend Sean.
The redhead snatched Sean’s face and, with it, his full attention. “Stay with me,” she said. “We have to get out of here.”
Obviously.
He followed her, but he wasn’t entirely sure why. He didn’t trust her.
And why did these people want him anyway? How did they all seem to know him? How did this Isobel woman know his name?
Before he could ask any of these questions, the redhead’s grip tightened on his wrist, and she dragged him toward the mouth of thehallway. Fistfights unlike Sean had ever seen erupted through the back half of the club, and many onlookers were cheering them on, likely thinking them drunken brawls. But he caught sight of one woman throwing her hand palm out toward a purple-eyed monster and watched it drop in pain.
Not normal. Not normal. Not normal.
“What about your friend?” he yelled, glancing back toward the beautiful woman he could no longer see.
“She’ll be fine,” Red replied. “Come on.”
Sean resisted her tugs as he searched the area for Cole. “Wait. I was here with someone.”
“Just forget them. We need to get you out of here.”
He yanked his arm from her grasp. “No. I’m not leaving him here with these…things.”
A purple-eyed man leapt at him, but Red caught his arm and twisted it behind his back. She wrapped her other around his front, and the man fell to his knees, screaming. The purple light vanished.
Another grabbed Sean from behind, and his survival instincts burst forth, allowing him to flip the stranger onto his back and kick him in the stomach. Bouncers were already disbanding some of the fights, but even more purple-eyed monsters joined the fray, overwhelming whatever strike force this woman was counting on.
“Come on!” Red yelled, tugging on Sean’s elbow.
The music pounded through his ears as they neared the dance floor. He hunted for Cole and found him climbing over a low velvet circle booth, evading the shenanigans. Sean darted that way—the exact opposite of what Red wanted. She shrieked at him to stop.
Halfway to Cole, Isobel reappeared amid the crowd, tumbling over a table to avoid a fight.
“Isobel!” Red yelled, pointing at Cole. “Help that guy!”
