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“He’s got Delphine, he isn’t interested in anyone else. Calls her his White Queen.” Ironic, since Del was black, but I shrugged. “No, the thing about Cain is he collects…oddities. They call him the Collector in some circles. He’ll always have something in mind, and it’ll never be something you can pop into a CVS for, you know?”
“I really don’t.”
“Okay, for instance, the last time I asked him for a favor, he made me bring back the skull of someone who had died on April 19th, 1864.”
“He… Wait, what?”
I nodded. “Not a specific person. Just the skull of anyone who had died on that day.”
“Why?”
I raised a finger like I was scolding a puppy, my voice dead serious. “You never ask why.”
“And you actually got it for him?”
Grimacing, I nodded again. I wasn’t proud of my grave-robbing escapade, but what was done was done
. I’d needed something that could keep me well-hidden inside city limits in my wolf form if I was unable to make it out to a rural area for any reason. Cain had been able to get me what I’d needed, and I wasn’t in a position to ask for the dark details of why he wanted a skull from a specific death date.
Nor did I want to know, if I was being honest.
“This is messed up, Princess, you know that, right? There has to be an easier way for us to find out where they’re hiding Hank.”
“Maybe, but would we find out in time?” I challenged.
We both knew a clock was ticking on his brother’s life. The sooner we figured out where he was the better our chances of saving him.
Wilder had no immediate response for this question, which spoke volumes. The precious little time we had left was already starting to run out.
“You ready for this?” I asked.
“As much as I’ll ever be. Aren’t you going to tell me to let you do the talking or something?”
I laughed, a whoosh of pure amusement escaping my lungs and releasing some of the tension I hadn’t realized I was holding inside me. It felt good, no matter how inappropriate it was.
“Just…don’t let anything surprise you, okay?”
“Sweetheart, you should see my poker face.” He winked.
Maybe. As long as we weren’t playing the strip variety.
We navigated out of the hallway to a small roped-off set of stairs that was too narrow for people to pass each other going up and down. A tall woman with her hair in a slicked-back auburn ponytail eyed Wilder and me as we approached.
“Did Jimmy check your ID?” She pretended she didn’t care about the answer.
“Yup.” No human would have noticed, but I’d seen her nostrils flare as we approached. She didn’t smell like a wolf to me. Definitely something in the big cat family, though I often had trouble telling the difference between leopard and jaguar. It didn’t matter. She knew what we were, which was enough to get you a pass to the VIP section where Cain resided.
“You two have fun. Play nice, now, y’hear?” She lifted the rope blocking the stairs from access, and when I glanced back halfway up the narrow passage, she had all but vanished, melting into the shadows to keep undo attention off the private area.
Making money off curious humans was all well and fine, but there were some parts of our lives they were better off not knowing too much about.
There were a lot of good reasons we’d kept ourselves hidden from them for so long.
The bass thump of the music faded away the higher up we got, until it was replaced with a soft, melodic singing, accompanied by deep, rich string music. The melody was eerie and haunting, something that defied definition.
Siren song.
I bristled, not liking such an underhanded ploy. Sure, the music was recorded and not live, dulling some of its power, but all the same it was a manipulation. Supes weren’t immune to it. They would spend more money, stay at the bar longer, let their guards down around prospective mates. Siren song was more dangerous than drugs and alcohol. If Cain had had one singing live, the place would have devolved into an all-out orgy.
