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Reynard turned his silvery gaze on me. The smile on his lips had turned predatory. “The simple-minded are easily overpowered.”

Oh-kay then. I’d known those sharp eyes were lethal, and there they were, in action. Hopefully, my mind wasn’t simple. “Erm, thank you?”

The doorman—a big gargoyle, with crazy hacked-at hair that merged into his beard—stood back, letting us both enter, and clanged the door closed behind us, sealing us inside a narrow lobby.

“So, uh, I guess I need to see the owner?” I asked him.

“That’s Sebastien. He’ll be in the apartment upstairs⁠—”

“Summon him here,” Reynard said.

The doorman sauntered off without arguing, leaving Reynard and I standing alone by an unmanned reception desk. One cheap chair and a plastic plant was someone’s sorry attempt at brightening up the place. I lifted my shoe off the sticky floor—and thought no more about what might make the floor in a sex club try to glue me in place.

“You could have said please,” I mumbled.

“Why?”

“If you told him to jump off a cliff, would he?”

“That depends on how strong his will to live is.”

That was not a comfort. “Could you do that to me?”

His smile grew, showing a hint of fang. “I wouldn’t.”

Which meant he could, in theory. I shivered and looked away, careful not to hold his gaze for too long. “There was nothing about that level of manipulation skill under Vampires in the Wilson’s Guide.”

“The Wilson’s Guide is heavily edited. Besides, not all of my kind are capable of such things.”

He happened to be one of the special ones. Also not comforting, since I was standing alone in a dark club with him, and nobody knew we were here. But then, if he’d wanted to manipulate me, he could have, as soon as I’d climbed into his car. Why wait until now?

Would I know if he had?

By the stars, I needed Zee back.

A sign on the desk read: Check Weapons & Phone Here. A gallery of photos on the wall behind displayed the demon talent who could be bought by the hour, and at what rates. The images were naturally suggestive in content, but not too explicit, since people had to pay for that package. A faded outline showed where Zee’s photo had been, and since the photos went up in price from left to right, he’d been the most expensive. None of them were cheap. Sex sells, as Zee said. Often. The club’s profits must have taken a substantial hit after he’d left.

A demon burst through a side door, his black and white clothes thrown on, shirt undone, long white hair a mess. “What the fuck is this, who the fuck are you, and why the fuck is my doorman possessed?”

This must have been Sebastien, and he was quite stunning. I’d seen a music video once, by a famous singer—”Smooth Criminal” by Michael Jackson—some said he’d been fae, there had been tells. Sebastien looked like his act in that video, down to the lean white suit, polished black and white shoes, and dark blue shirt. A tie hung loose around his neck. Black horns spiraled from his waterfall of white hair. And he was tall—taller than Zee—with huge leathery wings trailing behind him. The only thing missing to complete the outrageous ensemble was a white Panama hat.

I blinked at the monochrome demon, lost for words.

“A fucking vampire?!” Sebastien spluttered, revealing sharp demon teeth behind a rapidly snaking smile. “That explains how you mind-fucked my man. Now, turn your Versace-clad ass around, and get the fuck out of my club. We don’t cater to suckers here.”

Reynard slow-blinked, but otherwise stood very, very still.

If these two clashed, there were no wards here to stop them. I glanced at Sebastien, leaning against the desk, then Reynard, the epitome of sophisticated grace. If it came down to a tooth-and-claw fight, I’d put my money on Reynard. Vampires were ambush hunters. Sebastien wouldn’t see the knockout blow coming.

I cleared my throat. “Mr. Sebastien, have you seen Zodiac at all? It’s just that⁠—”

“Zodiac? The cunt. If you see him, tell him to get his tight fucking ass back here. That bitch belongs to me, not some stupid little human who thinks he can steal what’s mine and play house as though we all live in some retarded fucking fairytale.”

Reynard side-eyed me. I tried to swallow the beginnings of a simmering rage. A lot more about Zee’s life had begun to make sense now I’d met his old boss. The scuff marks on his wrists, around his neck. His always returning here when things took a turn for the worse. “Then you haven’t seen him?” I asked, voice thin.

“Not since two nights ago, after he came crawling back to me, begging on his knees to get fucked.” He rippled his fingers. “Demon like that needs a good fucking to remember his place.” Sebastien examined his pale blue nails. “He’ll be back. He can’t stay away.” Sebastien smirked, and looked me over, head to toe. “Who even are you?”

“The stupid little human.”