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It was more likely that Pete had glimpsed Bruce in his dragon form. Pete probably triggered the ward when he delivered the books, and Bruce darted out of sight.
“Did you ever notice any visitors at the house when you were there?” I asked.
“Not that I recall. I think I’d remember that, since he was such a hermit. Would’ve been big news to see someone there.” He clapped and cheered as someone on Caeden’s team scored a goal. He nudged me. “You should clap for that boy. It was an excellent shot.”
“Isn’t that 19? I thought he was the bitter rival.”
“No, number 10 scored. We like him.”
I clapped half-heartedly and began to wish I’d waited for Pete at the library or somewhere else quiet.
Across the field, I spotted a misshapen figure next to the bleachers, and my heart skidded to a halt. At least I thought I did. Upon closer inspection, I saw a mother holding an infant in a sling across her chest. She seemed to have left the bleachers to breastfeed.
I gave my head a quick shake. Pete’s alligator story seemed to have inspired a hallucination of my own. With no more questions to ask, I decided to awkwardly extricate myself from the stands.
“But it’s 1-1,” Pete said, clearly surprised that I would leave during such a tense moment in the game.
“I know. I’ll have to read the final score online later. I have a meeting to attend after dinner.” That much was true. Of course, the meeting wasn’t scheduled to start until midnight.
Such was the life of the Assassins Guild.
The Devil’s Playground was the kind of club that belonged in Los Angeles. Its swanky vibe and dressy clientele seemed out of place in the middle of the woods in Fairhaven, Pennsylvania. Although I was tempted to wear more appropriate clothes for this particular outing, the rebel in me donned ripped jeans and a T-shirt that proclaimed meExtra Salty. The bouncer took one look at me and shook his head.
“The club is closed tonight for a private event,” he said, not sounding the least bit sorry.
I leaned forward and whispered, “Is it the Assassins Guild meeting?”
His eyebrows inched toward his forehead.
“Perfect. That’s why I’m here. I heard it starts at midnight.” I checked the time on my phone. “I have five minutes to spare.”
“You’re not a member of any guild that meets here,” he said in a valiant effort to deny the existence of the aforementioned Assassins Guild.
I rocked on my heels, keeping things casual. “Maybe I’m a prospective member.”
He offered a sympathetic smile. “You’re not. I have a list, and you’re not on it.”
“Fine, I’m not. Tell Mr. Sullivan I’d like to join the meeting. In fact, I insist. I have an important announcement to make.”
A familiar figure slithered past the bouncer to stand in front of me. Her dark hair was fastened in a high, sleek ponytail. She wore a sleeveless white leather jumpsuit and matching boots. Josephine Banks, Kane’s head of security.
“It’s after Labor Day, Josie,” I said, gesturing to her outfit.
Hands on hips, she observed me from head to toe. “You again. Why?”
“I’ve taken an interest in what happens in my backyard. Can you blame me?”
“I thought you wanted to Greta Garbo your way through life.”
“Now you sound like your boss.”
“How did you even find out when the meeting is?” Josie asked.
“Aha! So there is a meeting now.” I shot a triumphant look at the bouncer. In truth, I knew because Gunther told me, but he’d sworn me to secrecy.
The bouncer looked at Josie. “You want me to ask Mr. Sullivan?”
“No. I’ll handle this.” She pinned her fiery gaze on me. “Follow me, and try not to cause any trouble. This isn’t the kind of group you want to rile.”
