Suddenly, I didn’t feel so much like leaving town. Guess I had that nosy bastard Raif to thank for that. Just because I wasn’t sure if taking off was the best thing, it didn’t mean I was ready to forgive Darian for treating me like her doormat, though. I still needed time to cool off, to get my own head on straight and—
“I wish . . . Tyler . . . here,” Darian whispered the words in her sleep.
My skin tingled with tiny pinpricks as the wish was made, and just like all of her previous wishes over the past week, the sensation ebbed and disappeared as her request was denied by the magic that governed her wishes. Which only meant one thing: Darian wanted me, for whatever reason, but she didn’t need me. Not exactly a boost to my self-esteem.
The sound of my cell buzzing in my pocket was a welcome relief to the angsty bullshit pinging around my brain. If I didn’t nut up, I was going to start feeling like the chick in this relationship. As it was, Darian was sporting balls bigger than most of the guys I knew. I read the text message, and gave a thankful sigh. My stress might have been piling up, but Levi’s was about to end.
Ready to gamble your soul away? I can accommodate you at the Devil’s hour. The Pit. Come prepared.
Huh. What were the odds that the game of chance I’d be looking for was going to be held at my own bar? And how in the hell did something like that get past me? I knew everything that happened in my own place. Unless these high-stakes games were some sort of ambush. Either way, I’d be prepared for anything.
Dark gray morning light filtered in through the floor-to-ceiling windows and Darian stirred. She’d wake soon, and I didn’t want to be there when she did. I still wasn’t ready to face her. To deal with us. There’d be time enough to work out our relationship problems once Levi was safe. Because there was no way in hell I could leave town now. As if there was any doubt. My soul wasn’t the only thing bound to Darian. My heart belonged to her as well. No way was I giving up on us yet.
* * *
Three a.m.
What a pain in the ass.
The bar closed at two. So what did these bastards do, anyway? Break in and use the facilities unbeknownst to the owners? The mystery was part of the game, I supposed. Ambiance and all that. Oh, I was sure that it upped the drama factor to hold their games of chance at “the Devil’s hour” and made all the players feel like the risk was even higher than it already was. Ghouls fed on fear. Well, technically they fed on their victims’ flesh and blood, but the Raksasha in particular gleaned a nutritional benefit if their victims were terrified at the moment of their deaths.
Living among the mundane day in and day out reminded supernaturals of how extraordinary we truly were. Extraordinary and blessed. We didn’t succumb to disease, our bodies healed quickly when wounded, and our lives stretched infinitely before us. The Raksasha took their arrogance to not just another level, but an entirely different plane. They considered themselves demigods. Through various unspeakable acts they maimed, tortured, and destroyed the very souls of their prey, believing that if they drank their victims’ fear along with their flesh and Keiry maim blood, their magic would become more powerful.
Since I’d worked damned hard to hide my ownership of The Pit, I decided it might raise suspicion if I was already inside the building before the game got underway, ready to interrogate the first ghoul who walked through the door. Besides, I was supposed to be a jilted lover, ready to gamble his life away, not a suspicious prick who asked too many questions. It wouldn’t do me any good to be fashionably late, either, since I was going for “desperate” and I’d been told latecomers would be turned away. So, with no other choice, I stood outside of my own door at ten minutes to three, ready to go. As I waited impatiently for the bastards running the show, I took note of the other players making their way to the door. Four of us total. Aside from myself, two of tonight’s gamblers were supernatural. The third was decidedly human.
Interesting.
A late winter wind chilled the air, and the human shuddered, pulling his coat up around his face. Like the rest of the creatures here to risk their lives for a haul of cash, he looked desperate. Past the point of hope. Rage filled me at the way these poor souls were being exploited, and I’d make sure that when Kaii killed whoever was responsible, the Reaper would exact justice.
The door to the bar swung open at three on the dot. I looked from one face to another as if in silent question as to what we were expected to do next. I waited for someone to at least greet us at the door and escort us inside, but I could tell from the tangy scent of fear wafting from the human that the Raksasha had this event planned to the tee. First order of business: Generate as much fear and anxiety as possible.
Leading the way, I walked through the doorway. Fear, anxiety, and even excitement permeated the air around me, choking out all of the breathable air. I couldn’t help but be a little nervous, myself. This was no poker game I’d signed up for. My life was on the line here. These guys wouldn’t mess around. If they found out I was infiltrating their gambling operation just so I could ID and kill the ringleader, I’d be toast. With the additional complication of the other players here tonight, my conscience wouldn’t allow for me to throw any one of them to the wolves. No situation was so dire to trade one’s life away. These poor fools might not realize it yet, but they were all going to dodge a bullet tonight.
With every step deeper into the bar, the more pissed off I became. How these bastards had managed to get in without triggering the state-of-the-art security equipment could be explained by virtue of magic. How they managed to break the wards I’d had placed on the building, though, was an altogether different mystery. I didn’t fuck around when it came to security. I protected what was mine, and I went to any lengths to see it done. Once every six months, I had the wards recast. This place should have been locked down tighter than Area 51. The fact that it wasn’t agitated me to no end.
“Hello?” the human called out tentatively, his voice quavering with fear. He’d be an easy target for the Raksasha to pick off if he couldn’t control his fear. Then again, that’s what made humans such a delicacy for the ghouls. Their fear is so easy to spike.
His voice echoed off in the distance, and I almost wanted to give the poor guy a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He had no idea what he’d gotten himself into. Someone had rearranged the entire space—sending my annoyance into the stratosphere—clearing the area to leave a single table in the center of the bar and another in the center of the dance floor. I didn’t know w Kdnerinhat made me angrier: the fact that they’d infiltrated what I’d considered a safe place, or the mess they were leaving me to clean up after all of this was over. Two meager lights illuminated the space, shining down on the tables like eerie spotlights. Five chairs crowded one of the squares, four of them pulled out in invitation.
Our host sat patiently, waiting for us to take our seats.
My gut burned with the need to plow shoulder-first into the ghoul and take it to the floor. The bear’s spirit rumbled inside of me, anxious for blood, claws itching to tear into flesh. He wanted out, to defend my territory, to protect what belonged to me. I tamped the instinct down, reminding the beast inside of me that his fury could only be unleashed if Darian was in danger. The bear’s sole purpose was to protect my Charge. Somewhere in the back of my mind a thought took root: A danger to you is a danger to her. This is dangerous ground.
As ghouls went, the Raksasha were the deadliest. Most ghouls preferred to feed on the recently deceased, sort of the vultures of the supernatural world. The Raksasha, on the other hand, nourished themselves only from living flesh. Widespread rumors circulated of how they managed to lure hapless victims to grisly deaths with nothing more than their beauty. Our host tonight embodied every tale I’d ever heard: dark, flawless skin, unreadable black eyes, full mouth that curved into a seductive smile. . . . I looked to my comrades and then back at the ghoul, taking note of the delicate features and long, shining black hair as smooth as satin.
“Jesus,”
the human breathed, clearly captivated. “She’s beautiful.”
That she was.
Shit.
“Welcome. Please, have a seat.”
Her voice was as lovely and delicate as her face, which only served to put me on high alert. The human padded forward as if in a trance, obviously ready to lay down his life and anything else she asked of him. Slowly, I approached the table with the remaining three players and took a seat. It took every bit of self-control I had not to unleash the anger churning like an artic storm inside of me. As it was, the temperature in the bar had dropped a few degrees since I’d walked through the door.
“First things first, no electronics of any kind. As you can all understand, tonight’s game is all about discretion. I don’t want just anyone thinking they can crash our party. Any attempt at use of magic or outside communication will result in expulsion. Now, can I get anyone a drink before we begin?” The ghoul snapped her fingers and a Sylph came from behind the bar with a tray of drinks. Gods, the way she’d usurped my bar was driving me crazier by the second. “I’m afraid we have a limited selection, but I guarantee you’ll like what I serve.”
Tall, skinny shot glasses filled near to overflowing were placed in front of everyone at the table. The bright liquid glowed with an otherworldly light, swirling with opalescent gold.
“Wh-what is that?” the human asked. He wasn’t going to do anything to stay off the Raksasha’s radar if he didn’t keep his mouth shut.
The ghoul stared straight at me, her smiled growing wider, almost greedy. Her gaze didn’t waiver as she answered the human, “Ambrosia, Sam. A specialty of the house.”
I wanted to call her bullshit on that one, but knew better than to Kettlty o cause trouble. No way would I serve that shit at my bar. Ambrosia was the street name for the faerie brew that had been all but outlawed. The drink was made from the fermented nectar of fae-grown flowers, imbued with faerie magic. If I had to compare it to anything, Ambrosia was like a cross between an aphrodisiac and a hallucinogen. A sort of ex-meets-acid.
Gods, the situation was getting stickier by the second. The Raksasha dragged her gaze away from me to look at Sam. She licked her lips as if already savoring the human’s fear. I realized, as Sam squirmed in his seat under her scrutiny, that he wasn’t a serious player. What would a human know about a supe death marker, anyway? No, the rest of us were here to gamble. Sam had been lured in as dinner.
Quickly, I glanced around the table at the other players. I couldn’t feel supernatural energy the way Darian could, but I knew enough about most factions to be able to discern race or creed from their physical traits or scents. One of tonight’s gamblers was Fae, though what kind I had no idea. The second was definitely Sylph, and she had her eyes locked on the Raksasha’s waitress, worry etched on every line of her face.
Looked like I wasn’t the only one trying to get someone out of trouble tonight.
Once everyone had been served, the Raksasha held her glass up in salute. “To good fortune!” she exclaimed.
At least two of us seemed eager to drink, leaving the Sylph, and I to join in the toast. The Raksasha waited, eyeing each of us with a warning look that promised unsavory consequences if we failed to raise our glasses with her. Sam brought his glass up and I stayed his hand, knowing full well what ingesting the faerie brew would do to him.
Our hostess cocked a brow and said low, “Everyone drinks, or everyone dies. Take your pick, Tyler.”
She’d obviously done her homework on everyone present. “You know my name, but I don’t know yours. Wouldn’t you say it’s only fair to introduce yourself before we drink with you?”
“You may call me Kadambari,” she said with a smile. Wow. Quite the ego on this one. . . . The name meant “goddess,” and I’m sure she believed it to be true. “Now, drink.”
Her tone didn’t leave any room for argument. For the supernatural members at the table the Ambrosia wouldn’t carry quite the punch. We’d all get a little light-headed, maybe see a few imaginary butterflies circling our heads, and, of course, it would stir up our libidos. But Sam was in for it. Drinking the faerie brew would take him on a trip that would make dropping acid seem no more severe than popping a couple of aspirin.
I ground my teeth together so hard the enamel scraped. If I knew for sure that Kadambari was the one holding the markers, I would have sent Kaii a text the second I’d set my ass down in the chair. Still too soon to tell, though, if this ghoul was the one I wanted, or simply just a henchman for someone more powerful. I was seriously considering doubling Kaii’s fee and paying the Reaper to take Kadambari out at the end of tonight’s game, regardless. After Kaii coaxed some information out of her first, of course.
One by one the players at the table raised their glasses in a toast. I cringed as Sam downed his drink, knowing all too well that he’d be out of his mind in less than an
hour. Dinner and a show. I tossed my own drink back in a single swallow, the thick, sweet nectar clinging to my mouth like honey.
“Now that the ice is broken,” Kadambari purred, “it’s time to play.”
Chapter 8
“You’ve all been invited to play in tonight’s game,” Kadambari stated. “Now, it’s time to buy in.” She motioned to the Sylph who brought her a golden dagger on a flat, onyx tray. Unlike anything I’d ever seen, instead of a single flat blade, the dagger was multi-dimensional: four blades joined at the hilt that came together to form a single, sharp point. Kadambari took the dagger from the tray and pointed it at each of us in turn. From this angle, it formed a strange diamond shape, one blade for each player.
Sam swayed in his seat as he dug in his suit jacket for presumably his wallet. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy. He had no idea what tonight was all about. “What’re we talkin’ here?” Sam asked, his voice already starting to slur. “Hunred bucks?”
Kadambari laughed, and I swear Sam’s eyes rolled back into his head at the sound. “No need to bring out your wallet just yet, Sam. You’ll be buying in with something more valuable than money.”
While Sam just looked confused, the other players eagerly held out their hands, palms up. Sam looked around the table and followed suit, a silly grin plastered on his face. I alone didn’t readily offer up what Kadambari asked for. In one form or another, blood contained power. After everything that had happened over the past year, I was a little more than reluctant to offer up my blood to anyone. Especially a ghoul who glutted herself on the stuff.
“You’re not afraid, Jinn,” Kadambari stated. “So why the hesitation?”
“I thought you said his name was Tyler. . . .” Sam interjected with a drunken chuckle.
I sighed. Gods, what a mess. “No, I’m not afraid,” I said. “Just . . . untrusting.”
“You’re here to play.” Kadambari’s tone became diamond-hard. “There’s no backing out now. I’m not interested in whether or not you trust me. The buy-in has been set. Pay up or pay the consequences.”
The Ambrosia had finally begun to hit me. I wasn’t getting stupid like Sam—yet—but the table definitely tilted at an odd angle, and I couldn’t quite shake the buzzing in my brain. I wondered . . . who protects the protector? I mean, I didn’t exactly have anyone watching my back. Too late to worry about it now, I guessed. The unease drained out of me as my muscles relaxed. Time to ante up.
I held my palm out to the Raksasha, unable to muster the worry that should have been spreading through my veins like ice. Faolán had been granted full access to fuck with me through Darian’s blood. What if I was handing over access to her through mine? I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to her. Really? A voice—my voice—echoed in my brain like a shout down a long corridor. The part of me that was still angry with her reared its ugly head, heightened by the drug. She didn’t give a shit about you when she teamed up with Faolán and left town, more interested in finding Raif’s daughter than taking care of you. Why should you give a shit what happens to her? Good point. Turnabout w
as fair play. This was about helping Levi. It had nothing to do with her.
Kadambari smiled as if she’d heard my thoughts. One by one N>
She made a silent toast and brought the glass to her lips. Head tilted back to expose her throat, eyelids drooped as she drank, the act was so sensual that I had to look away. The sight of her made me hard, and my stomach clenched with lust. Fucking Ambrosia. The drink had lowered my inhibitions and heightened my arousal. Kadambari had no intentions of letting any of us out alive, and she’d drugged us to make sure we wouldn’t resist. The Ambrosia made us careless. Reckless, desperate gamblers. Drunks with nothing to lose. Fucked up as I was, I didn’t know if I could manage to save myself, let alone anyone else here tonight. When she’d finished drinking, Kadambari licked the inside of the glass with sensuous strokes of her tongue. Sam groaned and leaned over the table, his mouth agape as he watched her.
“Freya, escort our guests to the wheel,” Kadambari said to the Sylph who bobbed her head obligingly.
“Follow me, please,” she said. Her voice was soft like a spring breeze. Pretty. She opened her arms, inviting us to follow, and I wondered what it would be like to have that lovely breeze of a voice whispering my name as I pumped into her. The Fae to my left must have been thinking the same thing, but he’d gone beyond mere fantasy, reaching out to cup her face in his large hand before she could pull away.
“Now, Rylon, is that any way to behave?” Kadambari chided as she disengaged his palm from her minion’s face. “Touch my property again and I’ll have to remove your intestines with a dull, rusted blade while you watch. Understand?”
Lost to the Gray: A Shaede Assassin Novella (A Penguin Special from Signet Eclipse) Page 6