Captivating Melody

by Katherine McIntyre

  “Gross,” she murmured as she pressed her mouth against his chest with a kiss.

  “You’re the one getting your sweat all over me. I was pristine,” he teased, squeezing her tight. Kieran might be an impatient hothead on the tamest of days, but she adored the strength of his affection.

  Liz sat up, bringing her knees forward as she scanned the area ahead of them. Though they lay in shadow, the rest of the park spanned acres ahead of them, all lush tall trees and rolling meadows. The sky glittered with a blanket of stars, and a full moon cast silver rays through the clearing. The breeze filtered by again to bring the sweetness of the flowers surrounding them. Kieran’s fingertip traced lazy circles on her lower back, the motion making her shiver.

  She glanced at him. His tanned skin was edible, wild strands of his dark hair plastered against his forehead, and a satisfied smile curled his lips. Her heart squeezed tight in her chest, the emotions so strong they stole her breath away. The hollow of her chest ached with how perfect this moment was with him. How she wouldn’t trade this night for anything.

  Liz stared at the moon above, those cool beams skating along her skin and mingling with the shadows. For so many years, she’d stare at the sky, and the delicate loneliness there would blaze through her in the way it did down below. However, for the first time as she gazed at the night sky, though distant, it didn’t stir the ache in her chest. Instead, she watched the way the shadows kissed those cold rays, making them all the stronger.

  And in that single, beautiful moment, she understood.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The next gig would take place at the Cat Club, a joint catering to a more alternative crowd and, from the hearsay, a mixture of fae. Kieran wasn’t going to lie, he’d grown paranoid about any place heavy with his kind after his brother caught sight of him tracking them down. On top of that, a hunter could be lurking in any alley wielding a platinum knife with his name on it—they meant business and he’d be stupid to underestimate them. He leaned down to lace up his ten-hole boots and then straightened, casting a glance to his bed.

  Liz lay under the rumpled sheets, strands of her wavy hair pressing against her cheek. Those long lashes of hers fluttered, but despite the motion, she remained asleep, her fist clutching tight to the pillow. Her full lips were kissable, and Kieran restrained the urge to dip down and wake her up. After last night, everything changed between them. He hadn’t believed it possible to be soaring this high, and it took several tries to wipe the dopey smile off his face.

  Their night under the stars ended with her curling up with him in bed, and falling asleep by her side had been everything he’d hoped for. The woman made him crazy in the best way. However, after the look in his brother’s eyes, he couldn’t rest easy, knowing Liz would be watching them from the audience and vulnerable to attack. Though he’d give anything to stay and hop back in bed with her, he headed toward the front of the RV.

  Jett leaned back in the booth, reading something on his tablet at the kitchen table. As Kieran approached, he glanced over. “Someone was busy last night,” he said, before taking a sip out of his mug. Based on the murky complexion and the fact it was Jett, the contents had a fifty-fifty shot at being whisky or coffee.

  “Shove off, siren.” Kieran fastened a knife inside his boot and crouched to their locked cabinet to pull out a pistol. He shoved it in the hem of his waistband.

  “Touchy, touchy. Aren’t you supposed to be basking in the afterglow?” Jett smirked at him from his seat.

  “This is me basking,” Kieran said, pointing to his chest. He couldn’t restrain the smile for long though, and after a second he shook his head. “She’s something else.”

  “Yes, she is,” Jett said, his tone growing serious as he drummed his fingers on the tabletop. Kieran straightened in his stance, wondering if he’d missed something big. “And since there’s no one else to do it, I’m giving you the big brother speech. You hurt her, and I’ll slit your throat.”

  Kieran’s forehead wrinkled as he snagged a banana from the bunch lying on the kitchen counter. “The big brother who banged her? Little incestuous don’t you think?”

  “Who am I to deny my gift?” Jett joked before his eyes traveled to the bulge at Kieran’s side. “Why the heavy arsenal?”

  “Going to scout out the joint for tonight. Don’t want any nasty surprises, not with our girl in the audience.” Kieran made his way to the front of the RV before peeling the banana and popping it into his mouth.

  “Want backup?” Jett asked, calling to him from his seat.

  Kieran stopped and shook his head. “No need,” he said between bites. “This is a simple in and out with a side of breakfast.” Without waiting, he hopped down the steps and out the door, bursting into the bright sunshine of another beautiful day in San Francisco. After rolling his shoulders and tossing the banana peel onto the pavement, he took off at a brisk jog toward the nearest subway terminal.

  ****

  The front of the club was painted black with a simple vinyl sign, featuring none of the glitz or neons the other clubs tried. ‘Now Playing’ posters plastered the windows, the current one featuring the subterranean blue image of him and the others they’d taken by the waterside. Even though the club wouldn’t be opening for another couple of hours, he tested the knob of the front door—open. Some form of staff would be bustling around setting the place up.

  “Hey, I’m here to check out the space,” Kieran called in as he entered the club. Though at night, the club would be filled with people, music, and pulsing lights, right now, the black paint job on the platforms was slapdash, and the wide spanning dance floors collected scuff marks and dents.

  “Who’s there?” a female voice called from the other room.

  “Kieran from Discord’s Desire,” he called, striding through into the adjacent area. A short lady with blonde pigtails adjusted the latch on the cage in the center of the room, a dirty rag hanging out from her front pocket.

  “Scoping before your set tonight?” she asked. As she glanced up, disinterest in her eyes, her look changed the second she got a once over of him. Human girls were putty in his hands with the exception of one. The one woman in the world who wasn’t spelled into attraction, who viewed him as his real self, not the incubus, and not the rockstar.

  “Yeah, I’ll be out in a second,” he said, strolling past this room into the next. He didn’t need some broad trailing him around. Each of these rooms was enclosed except for this last one with more stains marring the floor than the others, which must lead to the loading dock. Unfortunately, no upstairs balconies for Liz to get a birds-eye view of the place. With the bars split in the different rooms too, she’d have to at minimum stay in the same one they played in. He strode over to the back door where black wooden planks plastered over the big monstrosity and the oversized handle didn’t quite fit.

  In the alley, cigarette butts littered the ground, making it obvious the place became a smoker’s haven at night. It led down and to the right where the corridor emptied out onto the road since the honks and whirr of tires sounded from where he stood. Kieran jammed his hands into the pockets of his leather as he strode forward. Better he dodge out this way than have the girl inside puppydogging around him.

  The breezes whipped around, this time bringing the slight smell of burning charcoal. Kieran lifted his head, glancing around in both directions. However, he didn’t spot any rooftop terraces or smoke trailing into the breeze. Not like his senses weren’t in overdrive, what with the handful of fae they’d been fighting the past couple of weeks. This stacked up to more than the usual bar brawl.

  He whipped around the corner, ready to get the hell back to the RV. To Liz.

  Until heat and smoke blinded him. Too late, he caught the gigantic fist hurtling his way, promising lights out.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Liz awoke to a persistent flick to her ear. Before her vision came into focus, the scent of whiskey and cigarettes wrapped around her, a reminder of last ni
ght and her monumental decision. She made a low grumbling noise in response to the flicks, but they didn’t let up.

  “Come on, Lizzie. I’ll drag you out by force next,” a voice that wasn’t Kieran said from beside her.

  She sat up, shunting the blanket off as she wiped her bleary eyes. “Chill, J. I’m moving,” she mumbled.

  Jett stood by Kieran’s top bunk where she’d curled up with the incubus last night. He leaned on the frame of the bed, draping his arm along the ledge. “He should’ve been back an hour ago.” The sharp note in his voice woke her at once. Jett glared at the ground, a scowl on his face.

  “Kieran went out?” she asked, hopping off the top bunk and down to the floor. She made quick work of tying her long hair into a messy ponytail before following Jett out into the kitchen. Renn’s snores trailed in from his bunk, but Trevor sat at the black leather booth, leaning toward the open window with his cigarette.

  “You haven’t heard from him?” Trevor asked, blowing a stream of smoke out the window a second later.

  Liz shook her head, her stomach sinking. She snapped her phone from the table, but no missed calls or texts flashed for her attention. Even though the logical part of her brain came up with excuses, she couldn’t ignore the hollowing in her gut. With Larsen sending hits after Kieran, he wasn’t safe in the slightest, and if anything happened to him—Liz clenched her jaw tight.

  “Where did he go?” she asked, tapping her foot as she tried to keep her tone under control. Indulging in her worries wouldn’t help anyone right now.

  “Went to scope out the gig for tonight,” Jett said, pressing his palms against the counter as he sank into a hunch. “Mother Hen wanted to make sure you had a safe vantage point to watch the show.”

  Of course he did. The idiot placed her safety before his own every time. “And you let him go alone?” Her voice came out sharper and more critical than intended. At the following dark look from Jett, she regretted the lapse. He must be beating himself up enough. “I’m sorry,” she said, beginning to pace. “I know how stubborn he can be.”

  “Maybe the train’s not running regular and he got held up,” Trevor suggested without much confidence.

  Jett shook his head. “His phone’s going straight to voicemail.”

  Panic pricked the back of her neck, enforced by the bottoming out in her stomach that she couldn’t shake for the life of her.

  “What’re we waiting for?” Trevor tossed his butt out the window, snapping it up tight. “If he went to scope out the club, then let’s head there.”

  Liz didn’t respond since she’d begun walking to the back to get changed. After rummaging through her trunk for a half second, she tugged on a pair of black cargoes and a wrinkled maroon tee. Not like her ensemble mattered—time was of the essence if something happened to Kieran.

  “Renn, get the hell up!” Jett hollered at the top of his lungs, projecting his own anxious energy into his favorite activity of antagonizing their drummer.

  Renn shot up from his deep sleep, whipping around with a snort and tossing his fists up. “Wha?” he said, lowering his fists once he realized it was just Jett being loud.

  “Get some clothes on. Kieran’s missing.” Jett didn’t waste time cracking jokes and reached to the pile of Renn’s dirty laundry, grabbing a fistful of shirt and pants and tossing them his way.

  To Renn’s credit, he woke fast, throwing on his clothes with the speed of a lifetime of quick changes.

  Liz slipped into her Keds and popped her Beretta into her waistband. The last couple of weeks, the thing had been her lifeline. Her brain buzzed, but she focused on the task ahead rather than indulging into a spiral of worries so fierce they’d crush her.

  She strode to the front of the RV where Trevor waited.

  He white-knuckled the driver’s seat with a grim expression. “He’s never disconnected right before a gig. Ky’s always running point, practicing, and chatting with folks at the venue. I’m not liking how this silence sits.” Trevor’s gaze flicked to where Renn and Jett approached.

  Liz nodded, but she didn’t trust her voice at the moment. Fear spread through her like a sickness at every second longer with no word from their intrepid band leader. The air around them sank to subterranean depths as Trevor opened the door, and they set out to the Cat Club.

  ****

  Liz near leapt from the light rail once the doors slid open and raced up the steps, anxious to get to the club. The ride on the train had been silent with a couple of attempts at jokes that fell flat in the face of their fears. She stepped to the sidewalk, teeming with everyone from dreadlocked rastas to the blazer and skirt combo from the lady ducking into the health food shop. The small storefronts along this street splashed the place with color, between the big vinyl signs outside some and painted letters on others.

  “If he’s sitting there jawing off with the workers indoors, I’m going to slug him,” Trevor murmured, even though he didn’t sound like he believed his own words for a heartbeat.

  “Or he picked a fight with the first bastard who eyed him the wrong way and doesn’t want to slink back home with a shiner right before a gig.” Jett indulged in the fantasy, even though they all knew it was wishful thinking. He glanced to her with bitter knowledge in his eyes.

  Liz sucked in a deep breath, understanding what he attempted. Game face. “He could’ve gotten lost. You know how bad his sense of direction is.” Her stomach tightened, but in mouthing off, she kept the swell of fear at bay. Until they found any definitive hint of what might’ve happened, the what-ifs would drown her alive.

  Renn let out a sharp laugh. “And Ky’s way too stubborn to ask for directions.”

  The black walls and doors of the Cat Club stood out along the streetside, the windows plastered with Discord’s Desire posters Liz had sent in earlier. The boys had grumbled about doing photoshoots, but someone needed to whip them into proper marketing shape. The faint smell of smoke lingered out here, and a few buckets out front filled to the brim with butts made it clear more than a couple of folks hung back after hours.

  Renn’s nose wrinkled upon approach, a sour look on his face.

  Liz walked straight to the door and tested the knob. Open. She didn’t bother knocking and instead slipped inside the air-conditioned building.

  A clank came from the bar to the right, and a blonde, pig-tailed chick stood from where she’d been rearranging bottles. “Can I help you?” she asked, her gaze honing in on the guys at once.

  Not like Liz hadn’t gotten used to it—when she walked around with those walking talking sex machines, she may as well have been invisible. “Did anyone swing by earlier?” she asked, stepping up to the bar. “Our friend was heading here to check the venue out before they performed tonight.”

  The blonde squinted while she placed several bottles of Grey Goose on the countertop. “From Discord’s Desire? Yeah, he poked around earlier, gauging setup.”

  Liz’s heart thumped a little faster. So he at least made it to here. “Did he say where he was headed?”

  The woman shook her head as she jerked a thumb in the direction of the other rooms. “He scoped the place and left out the alley.”

  “Thanks, beautiful,” Jett said with a wink, charming her while they headed in through the other rooms.

  Blind as they were, all they could do was try to find whatever traces of him that surfaced. Unfortunately for them, San Francisco was a huge city. Liz raked a hand through her hair, hating how her insides buzzed. After setting a quick pace through the rooms, the black slatted door with the oversized handle stood out, the one leading to the alleyway.

  The second she burst into the alleyway, her nose crinkled from the sharp scent of smoke. Not the tang of cigarette smoke, although butts littered the asphalt out here. This reminded her of the acrid stench of scorched coals or a bonfire.

  Trevor took the lead, stepping in front of her. He’d closed his eyes at this point and walked in a slow, measured pace. Until now, the banshee kept his abilit
ies under wraps. However, his skills involved more than predicting deaths.

  “He’s able to see the imprint of past trauma or violence. If anything happened here, he’d register it bright and clear,” Jett whispered into her ear.

  Liz leaned against the brick wall, wanting to ram her fists against it. Even though the stones were heated from the bright overhead sun, none of the warmth pierced through to the depths her insides plummeted. “Why haven’t we tapped this yet?” She raised a brow.

  Jett shook his head. “Because half of the time, our boy Kieran was at the forefront of the violence—no need for a report when he’d fill us in on his exploits.”

  Trevor stopped at the end of the alley, his brows furrowing even though his eyes remained shut. His fingers trailed out into the air until he crouched to the ground and pressed his hands to the cement.

  “What—” Liz started to ask, when Jett clapped a hand on her shoulder.

  “Let him do his thing. You’re not going to reach him while he’s tranced out.” Jett watched him just as carefully.

  Renn stepped up a couple of paces and squinted at the ground closer to where Trevor crouched. “Is that blood?” he asked, pointing to the dark splotches in the asphalt.

  Liz bit on her tongue until she tasted copper. Her deep breath came out in a slow, unsteady stream as she crossed the distance to where Renn indicated. Crouching near Trevor, she leaned down to examine the near-dried liquid on the pavement.

  Trevor blinked a couple of times as his eyes came into focus again, leaving the trance behind. She leaned down to sniff the substance when he placed his hand on her shoulder. “He got knocked out, but as far as I know, they took him alive.”

  The sinking in her gut didn’t increase with the delivered news, because she’d known from the get-go. With the way Larsen sent goons after his brother the past couple of weeks, it would’ve been an impossible coincidence for his disappearance to have been caused by anyone else. Instead, a jolt of rage shot through her, a cleansing fire that scorched her systems.