The Darkness of Sable

by Faith Bicknell

  Officer Delmont moved closer to the scene.

  If he touches Sable, I’ll beat him to death with a champagne bottle.

  As if the policeman sensed Thomas’s thoughts, Officer Delmont turned toward him and smiled.

  Okay, buddy. Thomas offered the cop a challenging gaze. Make one stupid move and it will be your last.

  “Once you’re sure Sable is all right,” Yasmine said, her voice low, “we need to find a place to discuss some things.”

  “Damn, Yasmine. This isn’t a good time. I can’t leave her here unprotected.”

  “She’s with The Golden, and the Paranorm is nearby, too. She’ll be fine.”

  He sighed. It’s not The Golden who worries me.

  On shaky legs, Sable threw furtive glances around the gallery. The woman who had taken a champagne bath scowled at her. Another woman glared at her, too, and ushered the first one off toward the restrooms.

  Servers mopped up the spilled bubbly and swept the broken glass into piles. Several guests ogled the scene, their gazes shifting between Sable and the cleanup going on next to her. Across the room, Thomas stood with the woman he’d called Yasmine, his expression incredulous, mouth ajar. Next to him, Yasmine stared at her with a cool gleam in her eyes.

  A touch on Sable’s arm drew her attention away from Thomas.

  “Are you okay, Sable? What happened?” Concern and sympathy shone in The Golden’s eyes.

  “I…I guess I just stepped back too far and caught the edge of the dais.” She threw a few fleeting looks around the room.

  Pair after pair of eyes studied her as if she had suddenly sprouted tentacles and turned green. There was no way she could say she saw her sculpture come to life. Someone would cart her off to the funny farm.

  “I’m so embarrassed,” she added.

  Isa squeezed her hand. “Child, don’t let these people bother you. All of us have tripped or fallen in public at one time or another.” She looked around, sweeping her other hand at the crowd. “Isn’t that so?” the old woman said, louder. “She just took a misstep and fell. We’ve all done it from time to time.”

  Expressions changed, mouths smiled, heads nodded. Murmurs of “She caught the edge of a step” swept through the guests. Apologetic chuckles filtered throughout the room, followed by a few calls of “Are you all right, Ms. Hendricks-Tade?”

  “Come,” Isa said. She drew her to a corner near the dais and sat in one of the two velvet-upholstered chairs sitting between two potted palms.

  Sable perched on the edge of the other chair. The Golden mingled with the guests, as if herding them away from the area of disturbance.

  The tiny elderly woman scrutinized Sable with sentient, all-knowing eyes. Her snowy hair, pulled sharply away from her lined face, gave her a regal look. She smoothed the skirt of her simple navy-blue dress with one hand and plucked at a pearl necklace around her throat.

  “You have many wounds in your soul.”

  Sable said, “I beg your pardon?”

  “Many dark thoughts and feelings cling to you, child.”

  “What are you talking about?” Sable frowned, wondering if the old woman’s mind wandered from time to time.

  “Ah, I see.” Isa nodded sagely. “Denial.”

  “Denial?” Unease skittered up her back. Her mind scrambled to comprehend Isa’s esoteric meaning.

  “You carry a lot of unnecessary baggage.” The old woman offered her a sympathetic smile. “But so do most people.”

  The Golden left a group of people and strode toward Sable and Isa, her dress flowing around her, the colors both muted and vivid. “Feeling better?” she asked Sable.

  She nodded. “My pride has taken a beating the past couple of days.”

  Laughter bubbled out of Goldie. “I’m meeting friends for drinks in about thirty minutes. Why don’t you join me? We can talk about art, have a few drinks, and just relax. Forget about this crowd of stuffy art collectors and obnoxious wannabes and just have some fun.”

  “Well, I—”

  “Just hear me out.” Goldie held up one slim-fingered hand. “I’ve heard the rumors circulating tonight about your daughter. Word is that you’re looking for her again.”

  “We kept up with the newspaper and television reports when your daughter disappeared,” Isa added.

  “Why?” Sable asked. “You don’t know me.”

  The old woman shrugged. “Why not? You’re a prominent figure in the art world, one where my granddaughter is also a rising star, so the news reports were hard not to notice. It’s like a broker watching the stock market, or a fashion designer taking note of other designers’ creations.” She smiled, tipping her head to one side in a sage way. “Besides, many people who want to disappear come to Florida. Goldie has connections here, people who might—”

  “Sable,” Thomas called.

  Could Goldie and Isa really help her find Cheyenne? Reluctantly, Sable broke eye contact with Isa and turned to Thomas. The curvy Sex Goddess followed him. Sable tried not to grimace, but distaste settled in her mouth.

  “Are you okay?” he pressed.

  “I’m fine, Thomas,” she said. “I just took a spill and wounded my pride.”

  He gestured toward Sable. “Yasmine Stewart, meet Sable Hendricks-Tade, the sculptress.”

  “A pleasure,” the beauty said.

  Sable nodded as she fought the bizarre urge to scratch the woman’s gorgeous, green eyes out.

  “You’ve had quite a day,” he said. “Maybe a good night’s sleep is in order?”

  “If you want to return to the hotel, that’s fine, but the night’s still—”

  “Oh, I’m not going back to the suite yet.” He smiled, nodding to both Isa and Goldie. “Yasmine is a colleague of mine. It’s been months since we’ve been in touch, so we’re going to find a coffee shop and catch up.”

  Yasmine wrapped her arm around Thomas’s, her touch possessive. “Yes, it has been years,” she purred. “I think the last time we saw one another was when we attended that dreadful play…shoot, I can’t even think of the name now. However, we were told there was prominent talent in it—but the show was positively dreadful, wasn’t it?” She studied Sable, her eyes hard, smile huge.

  Laughing, Thomas said, “You’re right. I’d forgotten all about that play.”

  Well, isn’t she the smug bitch about to swallow Thomas whole? Insecurity descended upon Sable. Oh, who am I kidding? He’d have to be blind not to see she’s built like a Sex Goddess with the power to wear a man to a nub. She turned up the wattage on her own smile and put as much enthusiasm in her voice as she could muster. “This actually works out well,” she said. “Goldie just invited me to join her and some of her friends for drinks, so I think I’ll take her up on her offer after all.”

  Isa nodded her approval.

  The challenging light in the Sex Goddess’ eyes dimmed. Her smile faltered. She glanced curiously at Thomas, who stared at Sable with a similar expression of intrigue.

  Nodding, Thomas said, “I think that’s a good idea, Sable. It’ll do you good to get out and relax.” He reached out and shook first The Golden’s hand and then her grandmother’s. “Ladies, it has been a pleasure, and I hope to see you again soon. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” He leaned toward Sable and kissed her cheek. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow for breakfast.”

  “Maybe.” The surge of jealousy that hit Sable forced a knot into the center of her chest. Before she could ponder the sensation, she blurted, “It depends on what Goldie and I get into tonight.” She grinned and feigned a mischievous expression. “Maybe I can find a handsome guy to dance with. I haven’t had a night out to just kick up my heels in a long, long time.”

  Goldie chuckled. “I’m not the partier I was a few years ago, but I’m sure we’ll still have a good time.”

  Thomas’s brow knitted, and irritation showed in his eyes. At his annoyed expression, Sable experienced a moment of satisfaction, but then guilt poked her. She put her hand on Thomas’s shou
lder and blinked up at him. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  He shrugged and said, “See you later, then.” He escorted Yasmine across the gallery, her long legs and swaying hips drawing the attention of every man in the room.

  Disgust tightened Sable’s gut. She swallowed in distaste. If I popped that dress with a dart, the backlash would level this place.

  Thomas’s shift from annoyance to indifference disconcerted her. Sable turned to Goldie and offered another smile she didn’t feel. “Am I overdressed for where we’re going?”

  “Not at all,” Goldie replied, curls bouncing around her face. “The place where we’re going has a wide array of people and dress styles.”

  Chapter Ten

  Threshold

  T hirty minutes later, The Golden’s limo dropped Isa off at their grand seaside manor. Another ten-minute drive deposited Sable and Goldie on a corner that seemed more like a residential area of apartments and beach homes than a business district.

  “What’s the name of this place?” Sable asked.

  “It’s called The Threshold, and it’s the happening lounge in Naples.” Goldie placed her hand on Sable’s forearm. “Don’t worry. It’s perfectly safe. It’s in the basement of that old building just ahead.”

  “If you’re sure.” Memories of the man who’d attacked her in the hotel garden rose unbidden. She glanced around uneasily, trying to see into every shadowy space and area.

  Her new friend’s burbling laughter carried on the gentle ocean wind. “It’s safe, but if some dude gives you any grief, just let me know. I’ve made several good friends around here.”

  Something cold settled in Sable’s belly. She’d avoided the barhopping scene ever since her cousin had telephoned to tell her about her mother’s illness. She’d been sitting in a popular bar with some fans. Her cousin had heard the music and laughter in the background and accused her of being an uncaring daughter, partying away while her mother lay in a hospital bed.

  Sable shook the memory away.

  The brine-and-fish odor of the ocean wafted over them as they clicked along the sidewalk in their heels. Two cars passed and turned in at a parking lot across the street. A group of women tumbled from each vehicle, their laughter loud in the evening air.

  Next to a five-story building that looked like a warehouse, Goldie hesitated at the top of a concrete staircase leading below the street.

  Sable detected a thrumming bass. Apprehension tiptoed through her. “Here?”

  Her companion nodded. “Sure, why not? It’s in the basement.”

  At the curb, an old woman rummaged for aluminum cans in a wire trashcan spray-painted neon orange and pink. Every few seconds she’d toss one into her shopping cart. At the top of the stairwell, a symbol about a foot wide in circumference glittered in bright, iridescent paint. Sable scanned her surroundings, a finger of unease poking at her spine. A figure eight on its side, the symbol for infinity, glistened in metallic black. The leaves and stem of a creamy white lily had been painted in and out of the figure’s hoops.

  Goldie led the way down the concrete steps, her dress almost luminescent in the dimly lit stairwell. At a wide, heavy-looking door, she paused and rapped twice, waited, rapped two more times. A moment passed, and a small, rectangular window slid open high in the door. It shut again, and the entrance opened. The bass of a hip-hop song swept outside and pressed Sable back with its magnitude.

  She followed Goldie inside. At the top of the next staircase, on a bar stool, a man bigger than Andre the Giant sat with his massive arms crossed over his thick, wide chest. Goldie paid a cover charge for each of them and continued downstairs. Sable tried not to stare, but his size bordered on something out of a fairy tale.

  He grinned at her and winked. Fangs glimmered at the corners of his mouth.

  A tiny cry escaped her, and she hurried after Goldie. More steps led down to a huge expanse of gyrating bodies on a dance floor and weird lighting around a huge bar ablaze with lavender, pale blue and white lights. People lounged on beds, in booths, along counters and huddled on the floor against walls. Somewhere a smoke machine provided the perfect effect. All along the floors, a thick fog rolled and swirled.

  Sable grabbed Goldie’s arm. “That guy at the door is huge—and he had fangs!”

  Her friend giggled. “You’ll find many vamp wannabes and Goths here. Don’t worry, they’re harmless. This place is excellent about keeping troublemakers out.”

  Relief coursed through Sable. They pushed into the crowd, past women dressed in floor-length velvet capes with heavy cowls and men wearing swashbuckler shirts, black breeches, and knee-high leather boots. Some of the younger people sported large, diaphanous wings on their shoulders and backs. Others wandered around in black gowns and suits, their snow-white skin almost glowing against the dark material, fangs bared and eyes glassy with what Sable guessed to be the latest social drug.

  As she passed beds and booths, she let out another shocked gasp. She whispered in Goldie’s ear, “This is a sex fest!”

  But Goldie didn’t seem to hear her. She made a beeline for the bar, leaving Sable to gape at the bodies thrusting against the walls and on any available surface that allowed two—or three—people to screw.

  She peered at the ceiling. Although cloaked in gloom, the rafters possessed some sort of phosphorescent lighting she’d never seen before, like hanging stars or orbs. If she didn’t feel so self-conscious, she might actually admire the unique lighting and décor, but right now, she just wanted to escape back up the stairs and past the big brute with his artificial fangs.

  The young artist returned with a drink in each hand and passed her a tumbler full of amber liquid. “I’m betting you’re a brandy or scotch drinker,” she hollered over the music, her eyes bright. She gazed around the bar. “Isn’t this place cool?”

  “You didn’t tell me it was a sex bar!”

  Goldie blinked. Worry settled in her eyes, and a pout lurked in her voice. “Are you mad at me?”

  “No, it’s just that…well…I’ve never been to a club like this before.”

  “Don’t worry. If you’re not into public sex, no one will bother you.” Goldie sipped something black and frothy from a mug. “Besides, Grandmother meant what she said at the gallery. We want to help. I’m acquainted with many of the people who hang out here, so I’ll ask around and see if anyone might know something about your daughter.”

  “Thank you, Goldie.” Smiling, Sable looked around. “How do I go about asking when everyone’s…?” She shrugged, a giggle escaping her.

  “Just make small talk when you can.”

  “I have to admit I feel really out of place,” Sable said. A dull ache began at the base of her skull.

  “Find a booth and just chill. I’ll mingle and meet you later.”

  Sable wandered around tables and beds. Maybe if she relaxed with a couple of—she tasted her drink and found it to be choice scotch—drinks it would help fend off another brain blaster.

  Mouths against mouths, hips against hips, couples and threesomes groped one another. If she passed close enough, moans and grunts teased her senses through the pulsing song, but during the brief interlude of one tune shifting into another, the sounds of sex weighed heavily in the air. With her ears and cheeks burning, Sable found an unoccupied booth and scooted into it.

  I hope Thomas is having a better time. No, scratch that. If Ms. Boobs and Ass has her way, he’ll have one hell of a time. She glanced at the neighboring mattresses mounted on platforms, frames, or just flopped on the floor without any supports.

  No matter how much Sable tried to deny it, the erotic sounds and sights had begun to affect her. Her breathing grew more labored, and her loins throbbed. She focused on her drink, hoping Goldie wouldn’t be gone too long, but at the same time, she prayed the young artist would discover a lead. Maybe then she could make an excuse and just go back to the hotel.

  “Care if I join you?”

  Sable stiffened. She knew that voice. Slowly, sh
e raised her head. “Officer Delmont?” she said loudly. Even with the bass thundering in the joint, she still heard the shocked tone of her words. “What are you doing here?” She motioned for him to take a seat on the other side, but instead, he sat beside her.

  “I’m off duty, so call me Rick,” he replied, his tawny eyes vivid, almost molten. “I have several friends who hang out here.”

  “But you’re a—”

  “A cop, yes.”

  She studied him. A cop in a sex bar?

  As if reading her thoughts, he said, “This place isn’t part of my beat, and as long as it has nothing to do with murder, theft, or drugs, I’m not going to rat out friends.” His gaze slid over her face and down to the neckline of her dress before meeting her eyes again. “How’d you find this club?”

  “I came here with The Golden, but she neglected to tell me what sort of bar she was bringing me to.”

  His laughter melded with the music. “I would’ve liked to have seen your face.”

  “Are you making fun of me?” She didn’t know whether to be perturbed or amused.

  “Mmm, just a little.”

  Relaxing, she laughed despite herself. “Yeah, I tend to be uptight a lot.”

  A waitress approached their table, and Rick ordered a Jack and Coke with a twist of lime. He returned his attention to Sable. “So tell me about this daughter of yours who nearly got you killed today.”

  She studied him, her sense of privacy warring with the need for help tracking down her daughter. After all, Rick was a cop. He might have contacts with information.

  “Come on,” he said and placed his hand over hers. “You never know, maybe I can help.”

  At first, she had the urge to pull her hand away, but his warm, golden gaze held concern and intense interest, so she dismissed her reservations. With a sigh, she began, “When Cheyenne was seventeen, she went through a rebellious period. Things were rocky between my husband and me at that time, and Cheyenne’s troubles fueled the fire. She got high one night, wrecked my husband’s SUV, and ended up spending time in rehab.”