by R. M. Webb
Chapter Seven
“When does she want us to move?” Noah sounds exhausted, but I think that’s more because he hates it when we have to kill people. Even if they are vampires.
“Now.” Luke takes in my sweats and disheveled hair. “Obviously not right now. We’re going to some pretty high end places, chick. I’d put a little effort into it.” He mutters something about warming up the car and leaves.
“What did you ever see in him?” If it wasn’t so obscenely awkward to realize Noah asked me that question, it would be funny, because I was just asking myself the same thing.
“He was busy using magic to make me fall in love with him, remember?” Maybe my voice is a little more clipped than I want it to be, but I’m fighting a little anger and a lot of embarrassment. “And he was sweet as could be. Back when he wanted me to love him. It felt good.”
I stand up and start to limp off towards my bedroom — high heels are gonna suck tonight — but Noah stops me.
“But after. After you knew. Why did you sneak out of Windsor Manor to see him?” Noah’s voice is taut with controlled emotion. I can only imagine there’s so much more he wants to say on this topic but is keeping it all boxed up inside.
I take a breath because, really? We’re gonna do this now? This conversation we so desperately need to have is gonna happen when I’m tired and we’ve got exactly no time at all to take our time and say what we need to say.
“Imagine for just a second that you thought you were falling in love for the first time. That you’d found someone who liked all the things you liked, laughed at all your jokes. And then imagine that for your whole life you’d been locked inside yourself, words and ideas and fucking brilliant thoughts stuck behind some barrier you thought was the result of some major flaw in your basic personality. And this guy? He takes the time to draw it all out of you. Makes you comfortable enough to speak when that’s all you’ve ever wanted in your life but never, not once, had gotten to experience. Now, imagine that you find out it’s all a front. None of it is real. Nothing about your life is real.” I watch Noah’s face soften as I walk towards him, closing the distance between us. “I’ve never been as confused as I was in Windsor Manor. I had feelings for Luke that I knew were based on a lie, but damn it, I just hadn’t come to terms with everything. I needed answers, that’s all. That’s why I snuck out to see him.”
Noah sighs and his shoulders fall about three inches, tension he’d been holding for weeks melting away. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me too.”
I want to touch him, to reach out and run my hand across the stubble on his cheek, to wrap my arm around his shoulders and draw him close to me. I want to feel the heat of his lips on mine and his body pressing into me. I want to use the belt loops on those jeans that should be illegal he looks so good in them and pull his hips into mine.
You know what?
Strike that.
I want him to touch me.
My breath is coming quickly through my parted lips and my eyes are hooded as they sweep across his face, searching for some indication of what he’s feeling. Well, all the indication I need is written all across that face. My desire is reflected there. He steps towards me, puts a hand on my cheek and that blessed little golden ping of contact feels so good that I sigh and close my eyes against the tears that spring to life at his touch, the touch I’ve been wanting for months now.
And then it all goes to hell, with Luke banging open the front door and me scurrying down the hallway to get dressed as Luke calls out for Noah to join him so they can go over a plan.
Shit.
I close my bedroom door behind me, lean against it, and close my eyes. My chest is heaving and I can’t stop the smile from sliding across my face and holy shit I wish he’d had the chance to kiss me again.
All the fatigue I’d been fighting from a few minutes ago is gone. Banished from existence by Noah’s hand on my cheek. I scour my closet for something decent to wear. I use that word scour like I really have to search extra hard or something. That’s not fair at all. Daya outfitted me with some designer duds when it became obvious that vampires seem to prefer hunting in nightclubs and bars. Oftentimes high end nightclubs and bars. I’ve got my fair share of elegant dresses and sweet ass shoes. Clean lines, nothing too revealing. The goal is to blend in, not stand out.
Here’s where being a witch has its little perks. My hair is in bad shape from drying up in a bun on top of my head. My face is devoid of makeup. I mean hell, I’m fresh out of the shower and ready for bed. I’ve got a good hour of prep time ahead of me. Except not really. With a little wag of my fingers and the proper incantation, my hair falls down my back in perfectly messy waves and tada! Makeup! A subtle, smoky eyeliner, a bit of red on my lips, and I look … well … I don’t look half bad.
After a moment, I use another spell to get rid of the bone weary fatigue that’s settling right back into my body. I’m gonna pay for that one tomorrow. That’s a little bit of dark magic there. I could have used light magic and healed myself, but that would have taken too long. The dark magic is more like popping a pill, I’m basically borrowing against tomorrow’s energy.
Nothing I can’t fix by sleeping a little later and grabbing a couple extra shots of espresso at work.
I hear the guys, banging around in the bathroom, drawers closing and body spray spritzing and just as my hand clasps around the doorknob, I consider the amulet Barnabe Withers gave me. He says it’s for protection, and maybe it is, but knowing what I know, it’s probably got some ulterior motive attached to it. What better time to wear it than tonight? Maybe even find out just exactly what kind of secondary spells are on the thing.
It’s not exactly the most fitting accessory, what with the leather strap and all, but maybe it’ll fit under my dress. Crazy thing is, as I pull it out of the wooden box from Barnabe, it’s not leather anymore. The amulet dangles from a long silver chain and sets off my dress perfectly. Hmmm. Curiouser and curiouser. One of these days, I might take living with magic for granted. This is not one of those days.
After one last admiring glance at myself in the mirror, I head to the living room where Luke and Noah are waiting. I’m not gonna lie, the dual dropped jaws and body sweeping stares they give me are most definitely good for my morale.
“Not bad for ten minutes, huh?” I twirl, giving them a chance to see it all and come to a standstill with a little satisfied grin. Let Luke get a good look at what he could have had. Let Noah get a good look at what he most definitely still could have. I chuckle to myself. What would old Zoe have thought about the kind of things new Zoe thinks and does?
The guys fill me in on the target. An Andrew Llewellyn who seems to think he’s more James Bond than Eric Northman. It’s all tuxedos, champagne, and posh interiors for this guy. Oh, and he loves blondes.
“So we can be glad you look as delicious as you do,” Luke says with a dark smile.
Noah’s jaw tightens. “I guess,” he mutters through clenched teeth.
So if I’m the bait, I’m gonna have to spend some time alone, making sure our guy can see me seeing him. The good news is that Andrew isn’t cruel. If I catch his eye, I have a night of dancing and conversation ahead of me before he discreetly tries to drink my blood and leave me for dead. That is, as long as he doesn’t catch a whiff of the magic in me like Nancy did. That wouldn’t be very good at all.
I wrap my fingers around Barnabe’s amulet and hope for discretion.
We pile into Luke’s car — not wanting to end up sitting next to Luke, I slide into the backseat — and I wonder, not for the first time, how he’s managed to afford keeping it around. It’s not high end, but it’s new. Well newer anyway. I know my meager salary from the coffee shop just barely covers rent and food. Same with Noah at the bookstore. I don’t even know where Luke works. But, he always has money come rent time and somehow manages to afford this thing.
Not that I’m complaining at the moment. It’s cold. My dress is short. There�
�s snow. My heels are high. I way prefer taking a car to walking or riding the bus. We ride in silence and I take the time to consider my approach for the evening.
Andrew Llewellyn considers himself a sophisticated lady killer. Pun intended. Would that mean he prefers sophisticated ladies? Or will a naive young woman be better? ‘Cause I’m not sure I can pull off sophisticated, but I sure know exactly how to come off as naive and unsure of myself. And then there’s this tiny little whiney part of me that wonders why I need to bait in the first place. Our tracker spell and stalk the victim technique has worked just fine up until this point. Except not really. Nancy was totally aware we were following her. Assuming we’re working our way up the food chain and not down, it’s probably best to assume that we’re gonna end up dealing with more and more powerful vampires.
Great.
I shudder a little at the thought, not quite consoled by the fact that I’m a pretty powerful witch. It’s a long car ride and my energy is waning again. I steal a glance at the clock. 10:45 and I’m ready for bed. That little jolt of magic I gave myself is already fading. There’s no way I’m gonna feel comfortable using magic once we’re in range of the target. He’ll smell it. Which is totally unnerving.
I give myself another little jolt of energy. I’ll pay extra for that in the morning, but I’d rather be on my game tonight, I think. Noah turns around in his seat and stares at me, eyebrows crinkling together in that way that means he’s concerned and trying not to judge.
“You OK?” he asks.
“Just getting myself ready for this.” He can just go ahead and judge. He’s not the one who’s gotta be vamp bait.
When we finally arrive at the club, we decide to enter in stages. Luke, then Noah after a few minutes, while I wait, trying not to shiver in the car that’s quickly getting colder. I’m sure they’re busy scouting the place, getting a feel for how this Andrew works, but I can’t help but worry that they were ambushed and are dead in a bathroom already.
My phone vibrates in my purse and I pull it out, relieved to see the all clear from Noah. I should have known they’d be ok. Just as I’m putting my phone away, it vibrates again. Another text. This one from Luke.
I found him. Second floor. Zoe? Be careful. He’s not alone.
Chapter Eight
Well, what the hell does that mean? I wait for my phone to go off again, wait for Luke to give me more information. Nothing. Nada. I even text him back and wait, but as the goosebumps start to prickle over my skin and my phone continues to be silent in my hand, I just give up and head on in. Luke’s either being a jerk or he has a good reason for being so dramatic. Either way, I can’t expect much help from him.
As I push through the doors of Pulse, it’s everything I thought it would be. All smooth lines and subtle lighting. Comfy chairs and well stocked bars. The music is inviting but not obtrusive and the dance floor just begs to be used. Which it most definitely is. It’s throbbing with bodies, all encased in high fashion clothing and expensive hair. I’m glad I used magic on mine, I don’t think I could have done it well enough to fit in otherwise.
I scan the place, looking for the stairs. What’s up there? Will I look out of place wandering up there, a girl all alone and there’s nothing but a private party or something? I decide to grab a drink before I head up, just in case I need an explanation if it turns out that the second floor is by invitation only. Gee mister, I’m sorry. This drink is just so strong. Teehee.
I thread my way through the crowd and have a moment to appreciate the design of the place. Pulse is packed. But the way they’ve laid out the tables and chairs makes it easy enough to navigate and I don’t have to turn sideways to push past someone even once. Not at all like Flannigan’s. Speaking of not at all like Flannigan’s, I’m thinking I should go with something a little more elegant than a beer, probably something with liquor in it in case I do need to use my too much to drink excuse. With the vamp’s increased sense of smell, I’m gonna need alcohol on my breath to add a layer of reality to my story.
I take a seat at the bar and realize that I have no idea what kind of drink to order. I could go with wine, but that gives me a headache and I’m already going to have one in the morning thanks to those two little zaps of energy I gave myself tonight. This is most definitely a conundrum.
“Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”
I’d been so busy studying the wall of bottles behind the bar that I didn’t notice the bartender watching me. I’m confused by her statement and I guess my face shows it.
She laughs a little and I find myself smiling despite my confusion. “The face you’re making” she says. “It doesn’t exactly say ‘having a great night at Pulse’.”
Now I’m smiling in earnest. “Oh, well …” I pause, wondering what to say and decide to go with the truth. “I’m trying to impress someone and want to look sophisticated and I don’t think a bottle of beer’s gonna do it.”
“Ahh.” She smiles knowingly and for just a second she reminds me of Becca. The old Becca. The one who was my friend. The one with gorgeous brown hair and a twinkle in her eye. “Well now things are starting to make sense.”
“Can you help me?”
“If I couldn’t, I’d be pretty bad at my job, now wouldn’t I?”
“That’s true.”
“Alright. Stand up. Let me look at you.” She makes a little shooing motion and then twirls her finger like she expects me to pivot in front of her. I’m frozen to my chair, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable.
The woman laughs again. “This drink. It’s less about you drinking something you like and more about looking the part, right?” I just nod. “Well, let me see you so I can decide which drink will work best for you.”
I’m still frozen. Totally uncomfortable. It’s like old Zoe is back with a passion, locked up in a swell of self-consciousness.
“I get it. I’m a stranger. Never take candy from strangers. How about if I introduce myself. My name is Maile” she pronounces it May-lee, “and I’m here to help. What’s your name?” I think coming from anybody else, I’d be totally offended, but coming from her, it’s just sweet and endearing.
“Zoe,” I say before I wonder if I should give a fake name. Shit. You’d think I’d be better at this whole subterfuge and intrigue thing by now. Oh, well. In for a penny, in for a pound. I slide off my chair and do a slow three-sixty before she has a chance to see the surge of anxiety I feel at having given my real name flash across my face.
“I’d whistle, but I get the feeling you’re not into having lots of attention on you.”
“You can say that again.
Maile asks me a few questions about what I generally like to drink and gives me another winning smile. “A Jack and Ginger. That’s what you need. Not too sweet. A little bubbly. Rough enough around the edges to offset that whole super shy sex kitten thing you’ve got going on.”
Sex kitten? Me?
A couple minutes later, I’m heading away from the bar with a drink that’s actually not that bad. Strong. But not bad. I’ll have to be careful here or I’ll end up a little too tipsy for safety. I take a trip around the bottom floor of Pulse, trying to get a feel for the layout, desperate to find Luke and Noah in case I end up needing help. Luke’s nowhere to be seen, but Noah’s perched on a seat near the stairs trying to deflect conversation from a girl who’s most definitely had too much to drink. I smile, tip my Jack and Ginger his way, and head up to the second floor.
This idea’s been blossoming in my head since they left me alone in the car. This idea that might be a little dangerous, but might have such a huge payoff that the danger is worth it. I don’t like being Daya’s weapon. Well, Barnabe’s weapon. Whoever’s weapon we are, I don’t like it. And Noah hates this even more than I do. This whole trained killer thing weighs so heavily on him.
Thing is, we were raised to be assassins. Not just any assassins. Vampire assassins. And we’ll continue to have missions like this until Lucy is dead. I’m sure of it. Th
at has to be the end game here. And since Noah made it clear this evening that there really is a chance for us to work things out, well, I’m very much interested in trying to speed things along.
So here’s the thing. I can’t help but think that if I can make Andrew human again, I could get into his head before anyone notices. And if I’m in his head, I might discover where Lucy hides out. And then, maybe the guys and I will have a little side mission. Just go take care of Lucy without having to work our way up her food chain first. And then we can finally be free.
Like I said, a lot of if’s and maybe’s but I’m really sick of sitting around, waiting for Daya and Barnabe to finish using us so we can get on with our lives. Despite what they seem to think, this is my life and since I’ve never really gotten to experience living for myself — since, you know, my entire life was constructed to make me a weapon for Barnabe and Daya to use — I’m very ready to go ahead and make my own personal mark on the rest of the years stretching before me.
Turns out the second floor of Pulse is not reserved for private parties, thank goodness. Not going to need my silly drunken girl excuse after all. There’s another bar up here, but to be honest, I liked Maile so much, I might head back downstairs if I need a refill. There’s also an array of tables and chairs scattered around the floor and some plush sofas tucked back against the wall.
I choose a table near the half wall overlooking the dance floor. At least that’ll give me something to look at, so I don’t look too out of place and inconspicuous sitting up here all alone. Luke wanders up the stairs, his arm snaked around the waist of a teensy little red head in an even teensier little red dress. He leads her over to one of the sofas and I follow their path across the room, mostly because I’m looking for Andrew but also because I’m not sure I trust Luke to keep an eye out for me if he’s gonna be … ummm … distracted.