Page 8 of Crazy as Hell

During the time she’d worked at the club, two shifters had once gotten into a fight in the gym, destroying a lot of the equipment and leaving the walls badly damaged. Naomi had assumed that kind of destruction would be impossible to hide. Yet by the next day, the gym had quietly undergone a full renovation before most people even realized anything had happened.

Magic and loads of money could make miracles happen.

Sully jogged back over. “Arson is having breakfast with a few other staff members in one of the private rooms upstairs right now. He asked me to escort you up.”

She didn’t bother saying there was no need for him to show her the way. She knew exactly where everything was located inside the club since she used to work there, but she couldn’t tell him that. When they got to the second floor, Sully didn’t have to knock on the door of the private room since it was already open.

Arson Altera was leaning against the doorframe, waiting for them. His long bronze hair was pulled into a messy bun on the top of his head, and his glowing gold eyes were dimmed to a normal shade of amber in case there were any human guests present. He was wearing a faded red shirt with frayed seams where the sleeves had been cut off, khaki cargo shorts with a dozen pockets, and a pair of black flip-flops.

Arson had once stood as one of Lucifer’s most trusted generals, a dark angel whose name inspired equal measures of loyalty and fear. Centuries later, he had traded the battlefield for a subtler kind of power by becoming the owner of The Manor. To outsiders, he was nothing more than a wealthy businessman with an uncanny ability to attract influential clientele. Few realized the club was far more than a luxurious place to eat, drink, and socialize.

As a guardian, he was responsible for keeping a careful eye on the supernatural activities in the Pacific Northwest. The club provided the perfect cover for his work. Deals were negotiated over expensive drinks, alliances were forged in private lounges, and secrets were carelessly whispered within the walls of his club.

All while Arson quietly observed from the shadows.

Information was his greatest weapon, and he wielded it with cunning accuracy. The staff at the club knew how to listen without appearing to eavesdrop, and they seamlessly blended into the background. The club itself was designed to encourage loose tongues and lower defenses.

By the time patrons left the premises, Arson often knew far more about their intentions than they realized they had revealed. Every rumor, favor, betrayal, and whispered threat was carefully cataloged, allowing him to identify potential dangers long before they became real incidents.

Rather than commanding warriors as he had in the distant past, Arson now ruled through intelligence, influence, and a small army of courteous staff members.

“Thanks, Sully,” Arson said, dismissing the other male. “Naomi Locke?”

She raised her hand like an idiot. “I’m Naomi.”

His lips twitched in amusement. “We were just sitting down for breakfast. Would you care to join us, or do you need to speak to me privately?”

The offer surprised her, but she figured he must have thought it was safe enough. She knew from experience that he couldn’t sense her power level, which meant he figured she was basically harmless. Because of that, there was no risk in interrogating her over the pancakes and bacon.

Leaning to the side to glance around him, she scanned the occupants in the room. There were two other individuals she recognized sitting at the table, and one she didn’t. Deciding it would be easier to speak to them as a group, she shrugged.

“I could eat something.”

Arson waited for her to enter the room before closing the door behind them. The private dining room was elegantly appointed, but rather bland for Naomi’s taste. It was the tantalizing scent of the food that was far more interesting to her than the décor. As soon as she set her backpack down and took a seat in one of the empty chairs at the table, Arson made the introductions.

“This is Gunner, Celine, and Freya. Everyone, this is Naomi Locke.”

Naomi had gotten pretty close to Celine during the last cycle. The dark angel with lavender hair had been the first to believe her about her situation, and had done her best to help her research the death curse. She’d also become friends with the wolf shifter, Gunner, while she had worked at the club. The only one she hadn’t met during her previous visit was Freya, but there was a good reason for that.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Celine said with a cautious smile.

Naomi took a deep breath, then said, “Actually, we’ve met before. Several months from now, when I’m hired as a bartender in the nightclub, then I died in a mudslide that takes out half of the property.”

“Is that so?”

She didn’t mind Arson’s cynical tone. She knew she sounded crazy, but that didn’t matter. She had played it safe during the last cycle, wasting time to feel everyone out and getting to know them before she asked for help.

This time, she didn’t have the patience for any of that.

“Basically, I’m under a death curse that has me stuck in a time loop, and I need help figuring out how to break it. The first time we met, you told me to tell you that Rosemary—”

The mocking sneer vanished in an instant, leaving his face cold and expressionless. His body went rigid with anger, and his amber eyes flared bright gold as the magical mask concealing his true nature began to fade. He had warned her that using that name was bound to piss him off at first, so his reaction didn’t surprise her.

“You better not be lying.”

“I asked each of you to tell me something to help you believe we’ve met before. You told me Rosemary was a human who helped you when you first arrived in this realm. She had no reason to, just like you have no reason to believe me now.” Turning to Gunner, she added, “You told me to tell you that you wear superhero-themed boxers.”

Gunner snorted out a laugh. “Sounds like something I would say.”