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I searched for the four psychics again and spotted all but the guardian. I saw him a couple of seconds later as he jumped onto the stage and followed the manager into the back room. He was obviously intending to question the man—something I really would have liked to have done but now couldn’t. The guardian might not have recognized me, but he’d know I was wolf. The last thing I needed was him reporting a werewolf working for the vamp council questioning the manager. Rhoan could put two and two together as easily as the next man.
My gaze swept the room again, but I didn’t see anything that spiked the internal radar. Then a tall, somewhat slender woman pulled away from the deeper shadows to the left of the stage—in fact, it looked almost as if she was re-forming from them. And maybe she was.
She was tall, brown-haired, and had a faint red stripe running along her center part. She didn’t physically resemble either Shard or Summer—except for that stripe—but then, that was no surprise given she was able to take on different forms. And she would, because she knew she was being chased.
I wrapped my hands around my almost empty glass and tried not to be overly obvious about watching her. She looked around the room for several minutes; then her gaze centered on one of the shifters standing near the bar. She strolled toward him and trailed her fingers along the nape of his neck as she sat on the vacant barstool beside him. He jumped as if he’d just been stung, and maybe he had. She was a spider after all.>“Can you?” I asked, frowning.
“That is a question I hope I will never be forced to answer,” he said. Which wasn’t exactly an answer, but I knew him well enough now to understand it was all I was about to get. “Now, about this business of mad, crazy lovemaking. I’m not sure I understand the concept.”
I smiled. “Then take me home and I’ll show you.”
He did, and I did.
And it was glorious.
Chapter 10
The Falcon Club was decidedly seedy. The air was thick with the scents of cigars, alcohol, and unwashed flesh, and it was packed with people—mainly men, but there was a good smattering of women here as well, most of whom were scantily dressed and very obviously working the room. Sex, I suspected, could be found here for a price.
My nose twitched at the unpleasant aromas surrounding me, but I ignored them the best I could, grabbed a drink from the bar, then wound my way through the shabby tables, choosing one in the thicker shadows near the bathrooms. It was far enough away from the bar—and most of the patrons—that the air was almost breathable and had the added bonus of affording a good view of the small stage situated to the left of the bar.
I sat down and nursed the icy glass of beer between my palms. This club obviously wasn’t one of your more upmarket ones, so it was a little surprising that they’d employed someone like Di Shard to provide their entertainment. Given the state of this place—and the less-than-dapper look of its customers—a stripper would probably have been more appropriate. Or, at the very least, a rock band—although given the club’s close proximity to homes, noise regulations would probably have stopped that.
I took a drink of beer and briefly caught the eye of a tall, somewhat hairy individual several tables over. He reminded me somewhat of the visage Azriel had said he’d adopted when we’d visited Classique, and I couldn’t help smiling. The bear-shifter—he couldn’t really be anything else looking like that—obviously took my smile as a go-ahead signal, because he rose, hitched up his trousers, and began wandering over. He was little more than four feet away when he abruptly turned and headed off toward the bar.
I just about choked on my drink. And here I was thinking you couldn’t interfere with the thoughts or actions of others unless it involved the key search in some way.
Given the direction of that man’s thoughts, you should be thankful I did turn him away.
I grinned at the annoyance in his mental tones. And what if I’d wanted to be mauled by a hairy bear type?
You have far better taste than that.
The amusement bubbling through me got stronger. That wasn’t what you were saying when I was with Lucian.
The Aedh’s attraction was magic enhanced.
And the fact that he was also a fantastic lover had absolutely nothing to do with it. That comment was greeted by stony silence. I somehow controlled my amusement and switched to safer subjects. No sign of our spider-spirit yet?
We’d decided that—given the Jorõgumo’s sudden retreat last time we’d tried to confront her—it might be wiser if Azriel remained outside, in the vague hope that out of sight would mean out of sensory range. I could hide my features easily enough—and was, in fact, now green-eyed, brown-haired, and definitely not anything you’d label pretty—so it was unlikely she’d even recognize me, let alone sense I was anything more than just another non-human. Spirits, Azriel had assured me, weren’t often attuned to the Aedh. Amaya’s presence on my back was another matter entirely, but given I wasn’t about to go anywhere without having her close at hand, it was a risk we had to take.
No sign of her, he said. But she is unlikely to arrive early given she is aware that we hunt her.
Which makes me wonder if she’ll even turn up. I mean, if she’s as smart as you said, she’d be stupid to come here.
But, as Hunter noted, sometimes maternal demands overrun common sense.
I took another sip of beer. It was, despite the grimy air of the place, surprisingly good. A couple walked past me, the man radiating lust and grinning with expectation. The woman’s expression was rather world-weary. Just another mark for her, I thought, as they made their way into the bathroom. I grimaced at the thought. If the bathrooms were as grimy as the rest of this place, it sure as hell wouldn’t have been my first choice for a rendezvous. Even the lane behind this joint would have been cleaner.
Trying to tune their noise out, I said, If she merely wishes to feed her young, why wouldn’t she just snatch someone off the street?
Perhaps she requires more in a victim than just mere flesh and blood. Her male victims were strong psychically, remember. And she consumed them, not her young.
Meaning maybe I should do a quick reconnoiter and see if I can sense any psychically strong targets in the room.
You do not need to subject yourself to the less-than-savory nature of those in the club. His mental tones held a note that I would have sworn was proprietary had it been anyone else. There are four such people in the room.
Who?
