I broke into a cold sweat, and my heart hammered.
Both Desmond and Holden recognized the change.
“Are you okay?” Holden asked.
He was a vampire, so small spaces didn’t mean much to him. Desmond was the one who understood what the reaction meant. “She’s having a panic attack.”
I swallowed the knot in my throat but didn’t speak, just kept my eyes fixed on the handle while we rose up and up through more hospital-white rooms filled with more equipment and no signs of the club. We’ll be out soon, we’ll be out soon, we’ll be out soon, I chanted. My wolf replied with a resounding growl.
Holden inched away.
Turns out my growl hadn’t been so internal.
Desmond pulled my ponytail to the side and placed his warm, slightly rough palm on the back of my neck. The sensation of his skin directly on mine made the beast within relax a degree or two. He leaned close and whispered in my ear, “It’s fine.” Two words, no promise of freedom or safety, but still the wolf relented.
I let out a sigh.
There was no way I was getting through this next full moon without her busting free. My days of keeping my inner werewolf chained were behind me.
Chapter Twenty
Considering what the rest of the building had been, the eleventh floor was a surprise.
I was the first off the elevator, practically itching out of my skin to be free of the cage, even after Desmond had simmered me down some. He followed behind me, keeping an eye on my behavior. I could tell he was watching for some sign I was about to slip. It wasn’t impossible this close to the full moon for a werewolf to change forms. Control was harder to maintain the closer the cycle came. How I’d managed to fight it off for twenty-three years seemed miraculous and impossible to me now.
We waited for Holden who was the last off, and then stood shoulder-to-shoulder looking at a boring, typical wooden apartment door. 11A.
“Should we ask if their neighbors are home?” I suggested, trying to lighten the mood.
Ignoring me, Holden indicated the long, dim hallway to our left. “Let’s go.”
Was this club some shitty apartment? Were the young elite of New York so hard up for new ideas and themes that hanging out in a crappy one-bedroom suddenly titillated them? I wouldn’t put anything past the realm of possibility, but it felt a little strange to me.
The door for 11B was at the end of the hall, and we passed no other apartments along the way. Where 11A had a nice walnut-colored door, the one for 11B had been painted a lacquered black, and the numbers were red. The door had no handle, but there was a place for a key. Without being asked to proceed, Holden inserted the key he’d gotten from Kellen’s friend and unlocked the entrance.
When the door swung open, all I needed was a glimpse through the passage to know this was no ordinary nightclub. This place reeked of magic on such a scale even a human should be able to recognize something was off about it.
We stepped through the door, Holden reclaiming his key before shutting it behind us, and the moment it clicked the entire frame vanished. Awesome. My wolf stirred uneasily, but since we were in a wide-open space she wasn’t in a full panic yet. I hoped to keep it that way.
The room was enormous, easily four times bigger than the whole floor should have been, which was the first sign magic was at work here. The walls were painted black with sheer red swags of fabric hanging from the ceiling, giving the dim light a bloody quality.
Incense scented the room with a musky, peppery fragrance that made me think of spice bazaars in foreign movies. Or hippies. Grandmere loved incense. Some nights our whole house reeked of patchouli while she tried to cover up the stink of whatever potion she was brewing. It was hard to tell what was worse—the rotten-fruit smell of her tonics or the lingering aroma of rain incense.
I shook off the memory of home and took in the rest of the room. At least the part I could make out. Hand-painted screens blocked our view of large sections of the space, but they were nothing compared to the sculptures. Huge floor-to-ceiling carvings of teak and black-lacquered wood, they depicted dragons climbing over one another, or chubby Buddhas laughing merrily. A ship riding a wave with a tumble of wooden passengers tossed overboard reminded me of a famous Japanese painting, but this room was decidedly Chinese in its decor. Small red lanterns bridged the gaps between the sculpted pillars, and in their light I could see people through the gaps in the wood.
The sculptures weren’t just pillars, they were the walls to other rooms.
How big was this place?
A petite woman with wide hips and a wider smile appeared in the entrance. Where she’d come from I had no idea, because one second we were alone and the next she was with us. Her short brown hair was cut in a smooth bob, and I was a bit surprised she was so…Caucasian.
“Good evening, pilgrims.”
Pilgrims? Oh Jesus, we were in for a treat. “Hi,” I said, patting myself on the back for not laughing at her.
“We haven’t had the pleasure of meeting.” She gave a small bow, her red high-neck Chinese dress rustling as she edged towards us slowly. “My name is Carla. And now, I must ask… Whose key do you have, and how did you find us?”
Holden stepped forward, flipping the key casually around his index finger. “I got—”
Carla shot him the most crippling, cold glare I’d seen a human bestow on a vampire. The kindly greeter routine was done, and she looked like she might spit venom at any moment. “If I wanted to hear from a vampire, I would say so,” she snapped. “I’d prefer if someone with a pulse spoke.” Her sweetness returning, she pivoted back to Desmond and me as though her outburst hadn’t happened, and gave another cute bow. “Please…continue.”
For his part, the vampire didn’t look too disturbed by her verbal assault. If he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it, neither would I, but I was quietly insulted on his behalf. I was here for information, and picking fights this early into our endeavor wouldn’t get me far.
“We do not cater to the undead here,” Carla explained, and clasped her hands in front of her. I swear to God I thought she was going to bow again before I raised my hand and shook my head.
“No, seriously. Stop. Enough of the bowing, please. I’m here to find a friend of mine.”
“Who gave—?”
“Carla?”
“Yes?”
“It doesn’t matter where we got the key.”
Her smile disappeared, and this time I didn’t think it was coming back. When she spoke again, her charming hostess voice was gone, and she sounded huskier, more smoky and sexier than the previous incarnation had been. “That’s where you’re mistaken.” Her whole stance changed along with her voice. Instead of hunched, she drew to her full height until she was taller than me. She rested a manicured hand on one of her jutted-out hips and fixed her heavy-lidded, lazy gaze on me. “Because you brought a vampire to a fae bar. So you’re going to tell me where you got the key.”
I refused to be intimidated by a human, regardless of who she worked with. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared right back. If she didn’t want to play nice, neither would I. “Gee, Carla, I’m sorry. We missed the No Shirt, No Shoes, Have Vampires, No Service sign outside. I just read the Dumb Bitches Welcome one and invited myself in.”
She had a great dentist. I could tell because her mouth was so slack I could see her tonsils. “Why I…” she sputtered, trying to find a comeback. One would come to her eventually, but I didn’t have time to trade barbs.
“I need help finding my friend, and you will help me find her, do you understand?”
Her mouth clamped shut, and she mirrored my arms-crossed gesture.
“Let me try,” Desmond whispered, placing a hand on my waist and moving me a few inches to the right. I hung back, standing beside Holden. If anyone could get her talking, it would be Desmond. I’d seen him melt some of the iciest bitches on the planet with a mere smile. He had a soothing effect on people. Especially women.
Shocker.
“I’m sorry,” he started, and already he was making a better impression on her than I had. “We don’t mean to intrude, and we honestly didn’t know the rules. If it makes you feel any better, I’m not thrilled he’s here either.”
She smiled. Hook.
“We’re looking for a dear friend of mine, and we have reason to believe she was here earlier this week. A mutual friend came to the club with her, and no one has seen her since. That friend was the woman we got our key from.”
Carla’s hand went to her chest, although she was drawing his attention more towards her boobs than her heart. “Oh my, you poor thing. You must be so worried.”
Line.
“Maybe you or someone else here might be able to help us? We want to take a quick look around, and then we’ll be gone. I promise we don’t want any trouble, we just want to find our friend.”
Carla nodded sweetly, and I was ready to think Sinker, when she reached out and touched his upper arm. Giving it one firm squeeze, she looked past him like he was a big invisible wall and locked her gaze with mine.
“I like this one. How much?”
“I…”
“I’m not trying to barter, Blondie. Name your price.”
What the fuck?
Before I had time to answer, Carla set about checking Desmond for defects. Her roaming hands touched his abs, his shoulders, both arms. He pulled his head away when she tried to check his teeth, and she didn’t seem to like his spirit. When she skirted around him and went to grab a handful of his—admittedly glorious—ass, I shook off my stupor and yanked her away.
“Mine,” I growled, and it was more the wolf speaking than me. I didn’t like it when people touched things that belonged to me. And I really didn’t like it when they tried to play grabby hands with my man’s tight buns.
“Greedy,” was her terse reply. “We share here.”
She tried to pull away, but my hand was locked on her upper arm, and I squeezed. Harder than I normally would have when handling a human. Carla squealed. Maybe I should have felt bad, but I didn’t. There was zero remorse to be had.