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Rejected By the Winter Wolf

Page 135

by S. Massery

The doors are gone. The path continues up the hill as if there was no interruption at all.

I inhale sharply and get a whiff of magic. Not Astra’s. A mask of layers. My hackles rise, my muscles tensing. Danger, my instinct screams. I have visions of walking out into an attacking coven. A trap laid perfectly to ensnare us. Or me.

“What is this place?” Astra asks the vampire.

I hurry to catch up, ready to demand that he take us back. But then I catch sight of the wonder on her face, and I pause.

This is why we came to Vegas, right?

She’s staring around like she’s never seen anything so magical.

Beau is silent. We continue down the hill and into the street. We’re suddenly framed in by buildings stretching up toward the… sky? Ceiling? My skin crawls at my lack of understanding. There’s a moon up there, but it’s not my moon.

The shops are strange. Potions and spell books, a shop advertising different blood type selections, a gym. Farther down are restaurants with open fronts. People spill out of all of them, laughing and drinking. Minding their own business. Until I extend my senses and detect more magic. Individual signatures.

“Calm, shifter,” Beau says, his form blurring as he rushes to my side. “Did you think everyone stays so isolated as your pack?”

Astra eyes me.

“Have you been inside the New York, New York?” Beau asks casually.

“Once.” I grit my teeth.

“It’s supposed to appear like you’re outside. Same thing, plus a little…” Beau waves his hand. “Extra.”

“I love it,” Astra breathes.

Of course she does.

I press closer to her, so on edge that I’m almost on top of her. We go into one of the shops, and Beau leads us down an aisle of magical items to a spiral staircase. We descend into darkness. I can see the edges of the stairwell, the black-painted brick, the pipes overhead. But even that isn’t enough. We’re getting deeper.

He raps on a metal door four times, and he hums as we wait.

Then it opens with a giant creak.

A small woman stands in the doorway. She wears a necklace rimmed with gemstones, each one seeming to emanate its own light. Her thick, dark brows lower when she spots me. My defenses go up.

Witch.

Trap, my wolf whispers.

“It’s okay, Ruby,” Beau says to the woman. “They’re my guests.”

She contemplates it, then steps aside. Her gaze lands on Astra and sticks.

“Traitor,” she murmurs when we pass.

Astra ignores her.

It’s a lush bar, everything dark wood and velvet. The ceilings are low, giving a certain air of secrecy. As if the secret door and knock didn’t also do that. It’s not as loud as it should be for the amount of people filling the space. The bar is packed with people. People, as in… vampires. Witches. And something other that I can’t quite get a grasp on. Beings that have magic but don’t register the same way the prior two species do.

Beau leads us to a booth in the back, and we sit.

“What is this place?” Astra asks.

A waitress—another witch—comes by with three empty glasses. “What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey,” Beau orders. “And our house special for my guests.”