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I still hear the tune clearly, and I have toknowwhy.How. I have to understand. It’s like an itch I need to scratch.
I have to get back to Night Hall.
* * *
It’s my first time turning up on a weekday. The bouncer spots me and waves me forward, so I bypass the queue and head inside.
At first glance, I notice the crowd is different from those I see on the weekends. Actually, that’s not accurate. I know everyone here, by sight at least. I’ve even danced with most of them. But today, the harmless, friendly, simple crowd’s absent, leaving only the richest, the darkest, those I suspect could be part of gangs or organized crime, based on their vibes.
I should get out of here.
I don’t want to. The atmosphere is admittedly much more to my liking, but only because I crave whatever’s bad for me.
“Rina!” I greet Cissa with an awkward smile as she comes to kiss both of my cheeks, her bloodred curls bouncing with each step. “You don’t usually come this early in the week. And where’s Rain?”
She hooks her arm through mine and leads me to the bar.
So much for making my escape.
“Long week.” We might only be halfway through it, but each day was interminable, and I stayed away as long as I could. “And Rain had a coven thing.”
I don’t have to elaborate. I might not know what sort of creature Cissa is, but she’s definitely a sup. She smells like one.
Delicate. Floral. From the start, I’ve found it somewhat comforting and disturbing all at once, like something that evokes a memory I can’t summon to the forefront of my mind.
“The club isn’t as packed as usual,” I say, clearing my throat.
As always, there is a line of people waiting outside, so the smaller crowd is purposeful.
Cissa nods. “We have a members-only policy on Mondays and Wednesdays.”
Then why was I let inside? And why are people waiting outside at all? I don’t quite understand the rules of this place. I just know I’m welcome here, and I enjoy every minute I spend within these walls.
She must have read my mind, because she winks and whispers conspiratorially, “As you can see, most of the members are male, so hot single ladies are generally welcome unless we have a private event.”
At the bar, she waves, and one of the three employees working abandons his station to scurry to us.
On the short side and rather stocky, he has kind eyes and plain features: leathery skin, small, squinted eyes, and a nose broken at least twice. I don’t think I’ve seen him before, so he must be the new bartender Eochan mentioned.
“Mavek,” says Cissa. “Meet Darina, one of our regulars. She drinks on the house.”
Mavek inclines his head three times, enthusiastically. “Well met, Lady Darina. What may I serve you?”
I laugh easily at his pompous, archaic, and overly polite tone, as well as his pleasant lilt. I can’t place the accent, though it’s distinctive.
“Well met,” I echo the awkward expression with amusement. “I’ll have a Bone Martini.”
I once joked I hoped there weren’t any bones in it, and Eochan deadpanned,“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course there are.”
The drink’s foaming and pearly white, with a trail of red, and it’s as delicious as it is dangerous. I don’t taste any alcohol, but after three or four of these, I’m ready to dance on the bar.
Which has only happened twice.
“Naturally, my lady. If you’d take a seat, I will bring it to you.”
I hop on a stool. “I’m no lady.”
If these walls could talk, they’d tell him as much.
