Page 89 of Quintus

“Fuck,” Hunter groaned as they materialized into the back alley.

“You okay?” Quintus asked, aware the Alpha suffered.

“I think it’s getting better,” Gabriella said, panting. “It must be our mating. I’m not as bad. Not like…well, not like him.”

Hunched over with his hands on his knees, Hunter spat onto the pavement.

“You okay, brother?” Quintus asked, his lips tight realizing the word he’d used to call the wolf. Brother. Viktor. When this was all over he’d go for him. But tonight, he needed to focus on their task.

“Yeah, yeah,” the Alpha lied, holding his clenched fist to his chest.

“When we get back, I’m taking a look at your arm. You all right to keep going?” Quintus knew the materialization made wolves sick, but he grew concerned the Alpha was suffering from poisoning.

Hunter coughed and sucked a breath, standing straight upward and nodding. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“There’re a lot of humans out tonight. Let’s do our best not to cause any sort of a conflict that would result in their untimely demise,” Quintus suggested.

“Like what?” Gabriella’s focus shifted to a homeless camp as they crossed the street. Nearly twenty men and women gathered on the grassy area between the roads.

As they passed, Quintus reached into his pocket, and set a wad of bills into the lap of an older gentleman leaning against the brick wall, his grey puppy sleeping alongside him. There were far too many humans sleeping on the streets, yet if he could help a few every now and then, he’d try. He couldn’t save the world, but he was determined to get a few humans back on their feet.

Jazz music grew louder as they turned the corner onto Frenchman. He reached for Gabriella’s hand, and a picture of him dancing with her flashed in his mind. He swore when all this shit was over, he’d take her on a proper date.

“Where are we?” Gabriella asked, walking into the light that flickered from the gas lamps that hung on the side of the building.

“Frenchman Street.”

“These murals are beautiful,” she commented, spying a painted cat on the wall of a two-story building.

Tinkling charms sounded, and Quintus slowed. Bells of various sizes dangled from the porch above. The unassuming establishment appeared to be a typical jazz club, but dark magick hummed in the air as a warning.

“Why do they have so many wind chimes?” Gabriella asked. “Do you feel that energy?”

“Yeah, I feel it. Those are bells,” he told her, his voice low. “The fae use them to ward off other fairies. Evil fairies.”

“But I thought they all had ties to Hell,” she responded.

“They do, but some are far worse than others. It’s like any other supernatural really. Take Samantha. Compare her to Lilitu. The fae, they are a devious sort. Tricksters. The bells are both a beacon and warning. For us? A welcome mat.”

“Okay, let’s do this,” Gabriella said.

“Remember the rules. We stick together. Limit the information given and questions asked. If anything goes down, we’re flashing out. Got me?” Quintus directed.

Hunter gave a nod, and reached for the brass door handle. “Ladies first.”

“Whatever you see in here…keep in mind, it may or may not be real. The fae like to play with your mind. No matter what happens, stay with me,” he told her, giving a squeeze to her hand. “That goes for you too, wolf. Stay close. I don’t like what’s going on with you.”

“I’m good.”

“Uh huh. Let’s go.” Quintus sensed the Alpha’s pain but knew he didn’t want to admit to his weakness. As soon as they were finished with the fae, he was going to heal him.

Quintus pushed the heavy wooden door open, and strode into the crowded bar. A heavy-set man played a trumpet solo while an older woman gently rapped her sticks on a high-hat cymbal. The bass player stared at Quintus but quickly broke eye contact as the dominant vampire strode through the bar as if he owned it.

The scent of frankincense mixed with sweat lingered in the air. Waitresses buzzed around a floor filled with small round tables, patrons talking and listening to music. Bartenders busily worked behind the bar, attending to the three-person-deep line waiting for their drinks.

It had been years since Quintus had seen Kellan, but as he listened through the din, he heard the familiar humming. The fairy had a distinctive habit that either lulled or annoyed his victims. As they made their way to the back of the darkened bar, Quintus noted the branches growing through cracks in the brick walls.

He stopped short as he came upon the arched exit. An intricate metal gate blocked his way. Quintus sucked a deep breath, steeling his nerves as he inspected the poisonous silver structure. Clever fae knew the metal would deter both vampires and werewolves alike. In contrast, the fairies couldn’t bear the sight of iron, let alone touch it.