Women of the Dark Streets

by Radclyffe

  As much as she wanted to explore, Olivia shouldered her way through the press of flesh to the bar as instructed and ordered a double brandy. Shivers arced up her spine. She was the prey in a room full of hunters.

  Thankfully, she caught the bartender’s attention right away. After placing her order, she tried to circumspectly take stock of her surroundings. To her left, a stocky, hirsute man drank deeply from a dark beer. As he raised his arm, his shirt sleeve slid up to reveal the tattoo of a bear on his forearm. Olivia doubted the tat was just for show.

  To her right, a young couple was locked in a passionate embrace. At first, it was difficult not to stare at them, but as the woman kissed her way down the man’s throat, Olivia’s stomach lurched. She spun away at the first blossom of red against pale skin, the man’s blissful groan echoing in her ears despite the pounding music.

  “Brandy.” The bartender slid the drink into her grasp and swept up the bills she’d thrown on the rough wooden surface.

  “Hey, I ordered a double!”

  He didn’t turn, and when every light in the room went out save the strobe, she didn’t press the issue. As she braced herself against the bar, a spotlight zeroed in on the pole in the center of the stage.

  “It is time.” The sibilant murmur bled from the speakers to echo around the hall. “Time to test the Record.”

  Olivia’s neck prickled as the audience chanted Test the Record. Test the Record. The room seemed to ripple as the tide of humanity surged toward the front of the room. Olivia had no particular desire to see what was about to happen, but she could hardly leave now. Mentally, she tried to prepare herself for the sadomasochistic spectacle to come.

  “Abigail was reborn only last year, but she believes that she can break the Record.”

  “Abigail.” The crowd murmured her name as though she were some kind of religious icon, but the word struck Olivia like lightning beneath her skin. Abigail. Could it possibly be her Abby? New York was incomprehensibly populous, and surely there was more than one shifter with that particular name. Olivia scanned the stage frantically, desperate for reassurance that some other Abigail was about to be put on display.

  A figure stepped out of the darkness dressed entirely in black leather and holding a long, cruel-looking cat-o’-nine-tails. Blond hair fell to her waist, but her face was hidden by a falcon’s-head mask. She stepped to one side of the pole and cracked the whip dramatically. The crowd cheered.

  Olivia sensed motion at the corner of the shadows, and she leaned forward, breathless with dread. In another moment, her chest seized as two men escorted a naked, flaxen-haired woman into the center of spotlight. Abby. Her Abby, on display for this roomful of bloodthirsty monsters.

  As she finally gasped in a breath, Olivia’s only consolation was that no one could hear her over the roar of the crowd. The men trussed Abby up to the pole so tightly she was standing on her toes, hands stretched high above her head. Her firm breasts rose and fell quickly, and Olivia could see a glimmer of moisture between her thighs. When an answering rush of arousal blindsided Olivia, her stomach rolled. How could she possibly be turned on? How could some small part of her want to be on her knees in front of Abby, shielding her nudity from the crowd even as she worked her toward climax with lips and tongue and teeth?

  “What’s happening to me?” she murmured, fingernails digging into the wood of the bar.

  “The Record is fifty-seven lashes.” Once again, the disembodied voice rolled through the hall.

  The whip rose and fell. Once, twice, three times. The dom’s hand was steady, her rhythm precise. The tails of the cat looked like they were caressing Abby’s skin, but on the seventh lash, her mouth fell open and she winced. By the fifteenth lash, her teeth were gritted and her eyes squeezed shut.

  By the twentieth lash, her blood began to drip onto the floor.

  Torn between wanting to vault onto the stage to stop the torment and wanting Abby to triumph over the Record, Olivia remained frozen. A full-body shudder racked Abby’s slim frame; her lips formed unreadable words. Was she talking to her inner beast? Was she close to capitulation?

  Abby’s head snapped up, her blue eyes dark and wild and pleading. She seemed to silently beseech the crowd to give her some sort of human connection to which she could cling. That look broke Olivia’s heart all over again.

  And then their eyes met.

  Recognition flared in Abby’s face and, for an instant, the chanting crowd disappeared. Helpless to turn away, Olivia watched as despair chased confusion from Abby’s finely chiseled features. She convulsed, and the crowd gasped. As the seizures continued, Olivia bit her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood. Abby writhed in her chains, her lithe frame contorting so sharply Olivia feared her bones would snap. But instead, her body blurred and she collapsed in on herself, defying the laws of physics as a large, spotted feline materialized in her place.

  Olivia’s lips formed the word she couldn’t find the voice to speak. Cheetah. Abby’s other half was a cheetah, and she was beautiful. Teeth bared, poised to leap, she roared at her tormenter. Olivia’s pulse raced as she realized the chains had broken during Abby’s transformation. The dominatrix had a gun belted to her waist, but Olivia had no idea whether she could reach it before Abby sprang. Sweat flooded her palms as she realized someone was likely to die—right here, right now. Maybe even Abby.

  The masked woman let the whip fall to the ground. She stared into the cheetah’s eyes. Faster than Olivia could follow, Abby leapt—but the dominatrix was faster. She drew her sidearm, fired, and darted to the side before those long, curved teeth could close around her throat.

  Olivia pushed into the crowd, wanting to scream, but her voice would never have been heard over the tumult of the crowd. She wanted to lash out, but everyone here was stronger. Abby had been shot. Possibly, probably even dying, yet no one else in the crowd was acting like anything was amiss. Some of them were even laughing. There was only a smattering of applause as the two men dragged the cheetah off the stage.

  A rush of dizziness swept over Olivia. She swallowed hard and focused on taking deep, even breaths. This was no time to betray any kind of weakness.

  “The cat is fine. She was tranquilized.”

  The words were spoken very close to Olivia’s right ear, and she suddenly became aware of a presence at her back. She spun to face a tall, slender woman with cocoa-colored skin and long, dark hair whose sensuous smile jarred with the coldness of her eyes.

  “Hello, Olivia. I’m Brandy.”

  Olivia blinked. Her brain felt slow, her thoughts disjointed. She stared at her untouched glass. “So that’s why the bartender only gave me a single.” Brandy’s answering laughter pierced through the haze that had settled over her mind. “You’re certain? About the tranquilizer?”

  “She’ll be back on two legs within an hour. Though she might not want to show her face—she didn’t last very long.”

  Olivia suppressed the urge to defend Abby’s honor, especially since she suspected she was partially to blame for Abby’s shift. If it was true, what did it mean? Did Abby still have feelings for her? Or had she simply been so surprised to see her in this place that she had lost control at a critical moment?

  “Let’s find a place to talk,” Brandy said.

  Brandy led her to a cluster of tall, round tables. She had only to direct her cool stare at the small group of men gathered around the nearest in order to commandeer it. Once they were seated, Brandy folded her hands on the table, displaying elegantly manicured, crimson-tipped nails. Olivia couldn’t get a good read on her. Most Others betrayed their nature in some small way if you knew what to look for, but Brandy could easily be either shifter or vampire. Or perhaps she too was “only human.”

  “Why don’t you start by explaining why I should be taking a meeting with someone who used to be a state’s prosecutor?” Brandy said.

  Olivia relaxed at the accusation. She had expected it. Finally, she was on familiar ground. “If you know that, then you a
lso know I was fired.”

  “Or perhaps that’s just what the DA wants everyone to think.”

  Olivia bought herself a few seconds by taking a sip from her glass. “That would be a good theory if this were a crime show.”

  “I want your explanation.”

  “Fine.” Olivia rolled the glass between her palms, its comforting weight anchoring her to reality. “I became obsessed with a case I couldn’t solve. When I refused to let it go, I was dismissed. Only afterward did I discover the truth.”

  “The truth?”

  “That vampires and wereshifters exist. That they walk among humans undetected.”

  Brandy’s fingernails tapped against the table’s lacquered surface as she regarded her shrewdly. “And now?”

  That sort of vague, open-ended question was exactly what Olivia wanted to avoid. She cocked her head and remained silent.

  “You were a formidable prosecutor. A crusader for ‘justice.’ What do you fight for now?”

  “I’m done fighting.” Olivia prayed that the bitterness she injected into the words was believable. “Look where it got me. Now that I know the truth, I’m not interested in surrounding myself with the ignorant. I’ve found a new employer. If you’re watching me as closely as you seem to be, you know who that is.”

  Olivia focused on schooling her features into impassivity. That bluff could easily get her killed. By leaving the identity of her employer vague, she hoped Brandy would inadvertently help her. She wasn’t working for anyone but herself, but she had recently been seen in the company of several powerful vampires and shifters. Whoever Brandy answered to would likely want to forge a business relationship with any one of them.

  “I can get you what you want.” Brandy grasped Olivia’s hand firmly, fingertips stroking across Olivia’s knuckles. “When you leave, walk three blocks east and one north. You’ll see a black van parked in front of a warehouse on the south side of the street. Knock on the passenger-side door. Don’t bring any company.” Brandy’s smile glittered brilliantly in the light of the strobe. “Do bring plenty of cash.”

  “I won’t disappoint.” Olivia was proud when the words remained steady. As soon as they were out of her mouth, she stood. “Are we finished?”

  Brandy arched one razor-thin eyebrow. “So sure you don’t want to hang around? Share a dance?”

  “Maybe next time.”

  Ignoring Brandy’s smirk and the stare she could feel on the back of her neck, Olivia strode away. Ignoring too the vampires’ hungry eyes and the shifters’ suspicious glances. She maintained her ramrod posture until she had retrieved her sidearm and secured it in her shoulder holster. When the front door closed behind her, she sucked in a deep breath of wintry air and sighed in relief despite the chill that knifed her lungs.

  Mostly, she wanted to find a halfway-decent bar and calm her nerves with a drink before following Brandy’s instructions. But Brandy had watched her leave, and whoever was in that van would be expecting her. Any delay might be misconstrued. Besides, she wanted to get this whole cloak-and-dagger business over with so she could go home and turn on late-night television and temporarily forget having seen things she shouldn’t.

  The walk took longer than anticipated, and by the time Olivia caught sight of the black van, her teeth were chattering. Steeling herself, she tapped on the tinted glass of the passenger window.

  The door opened, and she leaned in to catch a glimpse of whoever was inside. The man seated in the driver’s seat was blatantly unattractive, his angular face craggy and pockmarked, but it was impossible to look away from his nearly colorless eyes. He beckoned to her.

  “Get in.” His accent was foreign. Eastern European probably.

  Adrenaline sluiced through her veins as she battled against her instinct to turn away. This move might turn out to be very unwise. She could easily wind up dead. Or turned. The thought made her cold, but she couldn’t turn back now. The Others worked within the boundaries of human law only when it served their purposes. If she wanted to bring down Blaine, she would have to take risks that would have once been unthinkable.

  The van’s interior was shrouded in acrid smoke, and her eyes immediately began to water. The driver withdrew a cigarette from his shirt pocket and lit up. His fingers trembled and his right leg bounced restlessly against the seat. Olivia’s heart pounded even faster. Was he on something? Sampling his own merchandise?

  Suddenly, a pistol appeared in his free hand, pointed at her head. Her blood turned to ice, and she lunged for the door handle. The sound of the autolock sliding home was as loud as a gunshot. Desperate to mask her fear, she channeled it into rage and forced herself to look down the dark barrel of the weapon.

  “What the hell is this!”

  “I need reassurance.” His rasping monotone grated on her frayed nerves. “My colleagues don’t think you’re setting us up. But I do.”

  “Wonderful.” Olivia tried to sound annoyed instead of terrified. “Why don’t you tell me what I can—”

  A dark shape slammed into the driver’s window, followed by the sound of shattering glass. The man shouted hoarsely as he was showered with the shards. Olivia fumbled for the lock even as she squinted through the haze for a glimpse of her rescuer. When she finally managed to focus on the woman who was now holding a gun to the dealer’s head, all thoughts of escape fled.

  “Drop your weapon, asshole.” Abby’s voice was low and menacing. Dressed in a long black coat and knit hat, face flushed and eyes bright, she was still the most beautiful woman Olivia had ever seen. But Olivia couldn’t acknowledge her surprise or delight. She had to salvage this mission, and to do that, she had to act like Abby’s intervention had been planned.

  “Thanks for the backup, babe.”

  A flash of uncertainty crossed Abby’s face, but she was smart enough not to voice it. “Anytime.”

  Olivia turned to the man who had threatened her. “As you can see, I didn’t trust you either. Let’s just forget this ever happened and make the goddamn deal already.”

  The driver glared at them until Abby cocked her sidearm. He muttered something indecipherable under his breath Olivia was sure she’d rather not hear anyway. Abby heard it, though, and shoved the gun into the man’s temple.

  “Watch your mouth.”

  “Fuck! Fine. Jesus.” He raised his hands in a show of surrender, and when Abby put up her gun, he quickly bent down to rummage in a cooler resting between the front two seats. “What the fuck do you want, anyway?”

  “Something that goes well with a party.”

  “How much?”

  Olivia watched him closely to ensure he wasn’t reaching for another weapon. She also didn’t dare meet Abby’s eyes. “Ten grand for tonight. If my employer is pleased, I’ll need more next month.”

  When he finally held up a bulging plastic bag, Olivia pulled the thick envelope from her inner pocket and passed it to him. Exchange made, she glanced at Abby. “Hit the locks, baby?”

  Abby punched the button with the butt of her gun and pushed open the door. “Let’s go.”

  Olivia suppressed a sigh of relief as she climbed out of the van. Her senses were on overdrive, and she had to struggle not to look over her shoulder as they walked away. When Abby linked their arms together, she couldn’t help but lean into the touch. The heat of Abby’s body, the comfort of her presence was so familiar, so right, she had to remind herself Abby had been the one who walked away. Everything they were doing now was just for show.

  After two full blocks, Olivia finally spoke. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you?” Abby’s grip on her arm tightened. “That’s what you have to say? What the fuck are you doing, Liv? You’re going to get yourself killed!”

  Olivia’s head swirled. Abby wasn’t pulling away. Abby smelled good. Abby had willingly played the role of her dark knight. She couldn’t put the pieces together, and she wanted so badly to slow down. “Wait. What—”

  “No.” Abby tugged at Olivia’s arm and looked over
her shoulder. “Just keep walking, and keep your voice down.”

  Olivia worked to calm her riotous mind by counting the sidewalk cracks. “I’m undercover,” she managed.

  “Yeah, I got that part. Why?”

  The panic receded gradually, like the tide before the moon. Olivia took a deep breath. “The bad drugs. I know where they came from, and I’m going to stop it.”

  Abby’s fingernails dug into the skin of her forearm. “Wait a minute. Is this about me? About me getting sick?”

  “Not just you.” Olivia risked a glance at Abby. Her jaw was tight with…anger? Distress? She smoothed her palm across Abby’s hand. “But it started with you. After…after you left, I followed you. Into the mountains. I saw you change.”

  Abby stiffened. “I had no idea. I’m sorry I hurt you—you must have been so confused. But what you’re doing is crazy. You have to stop.”

  “I don’t. And I won’t.” Realizing she sounded like a child, Olivia quickened their pace. “It’s not just about you. Now that I know about this world, I can’t pretend as though it doesn’t exist. There’s a war coming, and I have to do my part. I can’t do what you do, but I can do something.”

  Abby stopped in the middle of the block and grasped Olivia by the shoulders. “I wanted to protect you from this.”

  Her eyes were wide and wild like they had been on the stage of the Red Circuit. How close was her cheetah to emerging?

  “I know what you were trying to do,” Olivia said. “But it didn’t work out that way.”

  Abby’s fingers pressed hard enough to leave bruises, but Olivia didn’t mind. “If you do something like this again, you have to tell me. I’m not going to let you go unless you promise.”

  Despite everything she’d been through in the past two hours, Olivia’s skin tightened with arousal. “That’s not a very good threat.”

  Abby choked out a laugh. “Damn you, Liv.”

  She pulled away then, and Olivia felt the loss so acutely that she gave in. “I’ll call.”