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“Fine. I hear you.” She let out a little huff. “Come on, you two.” She slipped out of the car and—with no real time to argue—Shade and I followed her down the street to the club. I’d wanted to go visit Carter, but Morio was right. This was the safest arrangement.
“Your husbands have a firm hand with you.” Shade moved to the outside of the sidewalk, and I moved to the inside so we buttressed Camille from both directions.
I laughed. “They have to, considering Camille’s nature.”
“Hey, what is this, Pick on Camille Day?” She rolled her eyes.
Shade shrugged. “I rather think it’s called for with you at the helm.”
Camille whipped around, glaring, but when she saw the grin on his face, she swatted him. “You’re lucky you’re my sister’s fiancé, or I’d—”
“You’d what? I don’t think you have room in your harem for another dragon.” Again, the laugh, and a long wink. Shade had it going on, but he was totally devoted to Delilah and we knew it.
Camille shook her head, a disgruntled look on her face, but then she laughed. “Twit.”
“Don’t be so sure about that.” I skipped ahead, dancing over the cracks in the sidewalk. “Camille’s got a heart that keeps growing with every addition. But you’re probably right. Smoky would put his foot down at another dragon, and I don’t think it would be a pretty sight.”
The easy banter felt a welcome respite after all the shit that had gone down, and by the time we reached the club, we were in a better frame of mind. Camille glanced at the few FBHs who were hanging outside and said nothing, but she gave me a look that read something was definitely wrong.
We entered the club and an instant wave of technopop hit us, loud and pounding the walls. But nobody was really doing much of anything. The people on the dance floor were lethargic, moving back and forth in a slow shuffle. Nerissa and I loved to go clubbing, but the feel of this club was one of quiet desperation.
The décor was olive green, purple, and silver. It wasn’t the most coordinated set of colors, and the large room was scattered with tables and booths that took up valuable space. Whoever had laid it out sure didn’t have an eye for interior decorating or for proper utilization of a floor plan. If I took control of this club, it would seat twice as many and have a bigger dance floor. All it required was some organization.
Camille leaned close. “The energy is fucked up here. Really fucked up.”
“How so?”
“This is supposed to be a club for those who use magic? I’m not feeling so much magic…and what there is, feels tainted. Not as if they dabble in dark spells like sorcery…just…off.”
We threaded through the crowd, heading toward the bar. Even at the tables and booths, people didn’t appear to be having fun. They sat, drinks in hand, just staring around laconically.
“She’s right. This is fucking creepy,” Shade mumbled, glaring at a couple who were hanging off each other. “I feel like I’m in a zombie bar rather than one that should be alive with magic.” He glanced around. “Even the few Fae I see seem…lackluster.”
Camille slipped up to the bar, and we joined her. She climbed onto one of the stools and motioned to the bartender. He was lean and tall, and he set me on alert.
“What’ll it be?” He slapped the bar towel over his shoulder and gave us a gaunt, hungry look.
“Coke, please.” She tossed a ten-dollar bill on the counter. “Shade, what do you want?”
“Coffee, if you have it.” He slid onto the stool next to her and I took the other side, waving off the bartender when he turned to me. As he moved away to get the drinks, Shade glanced around again, then leaned close. “Bhouts…I can sense them. They’re thick in here.”
The barkeep came back with their drinks, and Camille waved away the change. “Keep it. Listen, this is my first time in. You usually have such a low-key clientele?” She turned on the glamour and the barkeep’s eyes lit up.
He tilted his head, leaning across the counter. “Nah, not until lately. Usually it’s jumping in here but the past week or so, things have been pretty quiet. Maybe everybody’s studying for their second-degree tests or something.” He stared at her, then over at me. “You’re from Otherworld, aren’t you? What are your names?”
I studied him for a moment. Shadow Wing already knew who we were. Gulakah knew us. There was no more hiding, no more skulking in shadows.
“I’m Menolly, and this is my sister Camille. That’s Shade over there.” I pointed to Shade, then flashed the bartender a glimpse of my fangs. When in doubt, intimidate.
He stared at me, and I could hear the pulse of his blood, the quick intake of breath. He was afraid, all right.
“Welcome to the Galaxy. Too bad it’s not more active in here. I bet you girls could liven things up.” He paused. “Do you want…we have bottled blood. Finest cow, pig, and…” Again, the pause. “Human, if you like.”
Fuck me hard. It was against the law to serve human blood in bars unless you had voluntary bloodwhores right on the premises. Even then, it wasn’t encouraged. I looked around, and he must have known what I was searching for.
“Bloodwhores stay in the back. We don’t have many—don’t get many vamps, but some of them prefer the blood of those who work magic.” And his eyes took on a starry glaze.
I glanced at Camille, who seemed a million miles away, then glanced back at the bartender. “And you? Why are you here? Do you work magic?” I knew the answer already, but decided to ask anyway.
