“Some witches like trouble, but damn if their spells aren’t effective,” she said wryly.
As expected, when they approached the bar again, Emma immediately tried to turn around and walk away. Henry kept a firm grip on her hand and shook it until she looked up at him. She wasn’t quite there. Her gaze was distant.
“Like I told you, it’s a spell, remember?” he said, staring into her eyes.
Finally, she seemed to remember where she was and what she was doing and nodded. The owner of the bar, however, did not look amused.
“Henry,” the tall man greeted. “Never thought I’d see you down here.”
“Rafael,” Henry acknowledged. “Nice to see you again.”
Henry had figured this would be a good place to start with, since he knew the owner. He’d disentangled the wizard from a breaking-and-entering charge just before Emma started working for him. Rafael crossed his light brown arms over his chest and studied her with an astute gaze.
“You trying to bring a mortal into my bar?” he asked Henry with a disbelieving laugh.
Henry turned to Emma. “This is Rafael. I resolved a criminal case of his recently. Do you have a business card on you?”
He hated to admit it, but he was glad Rick had procured them. Seeing that she’d shaken off the last vestiges of the deterrent spell, Henry let go of her hand. It was getting too hard to think with her skin pressed against his anyway. Emma dug through her small purse without missing a beat. She pulled a card out and handed it to Rafael.
“Hi,” she said with a dazzling smile.
“This still don’t explain a thing,” Rafael said dryly after looking it over. “Henry, I’m glad you helped me out, but you can’t help a mortal fight off the deterrent charm and sneak her in.”
“Not even for your future lawyer?” she asked with another one of those sweet smiles.
Rafael looked at Henry for an explanation, but he let Emma take the lead. That’s what the night was for.
“What I mean by ‘you,’” she continued, “is all Tucson supernats in general, but also you, specifically, if you happen to need our firm’s services again in the future. If you need a contract for renting your bar out for events, Henry’s your go-to guy. If you get tangled up with the cops, call me. I may be mortal, but we don’t have night court here, and this guy gets all kinds of crispy when he tries to go outside during the day.” She nodded her head in Henry’s direction.
Rafael uncrossed his arms and relaxed his shoulders. “Easy enough.”
Henry bit back a smile. Despite her claims, she wasn’t as bad at selling herself as she thought.
Emma raised a finger and added, “Just remember: Confess to a priest, not the police.”
Neither Henry nor Rafael could contain barks of laughter.
“Can’t argue with that.” Rafael pocketed the card. “But what do you need to get in here for?” he asked, jerking his thumb back toward the bar.
Emma stepped closer to the wizard, as if ready to share a secret. Henry’s gaze traveled down to her ass as she edged him out of the conversation. That dress did dangerous things to her curves. He forced himself to look at Rafael instead, so that he would be able to concentrate.
“Look, you wouldn’t serve only white zinfandel to your customers all night, would you?” she asked.
The man laughed and shook his head.
“Exactly. I need to get to know my client base, so that I know how best to serve the Underworld. It’s basic customer service, Rafael.”
The wizard took a moment to consider this information, then said, “Okay, fair enough. Stay close to him, though. I don’t want any trouble.” He stepped aside for them to enter.
“Thank you, Rafael. Appreciate it,” Henry said.
They hurried inside before the wizard could reconsider his decision.
“Nicely done. Let’s get some drinks,” he whispered in her ear.
He clenched his jaw when he realized his comment had sent her pulse soaring. Yet when she turned back to look at him, her gaze was calm. The lady had a hell of a poker face. Too bad it didn’t do much good when you had his senses.
“Show me your world, vampire,” she said and slipped into the crowd.
Henry couldn’t help but watch the slow sway of her hips yet again. He tried in vain to force himself to ignore the arousal tightening his shaft. After taking a breath, he followed her and wondered what it would take for him to not do something monumentally stupid that night.
***
Emma drank the scene in. There was a lot of black leather seating and generic club tunes pumping through the speakers. Part of her had been expecting the velvet capes, satin corsets, and oodles of leather pants, but everyone looked like your average humans as they drank cocktails from stylish glasses. There were no turned werewolves, and no vampires descended upon her with fangs dripping with blood. She didn’t see witches with pointed hats, either. The only aspect of people’s clothing that did meet her expectations was the presence of a lot of black and red.
“This is the Rusty Spoon, one of a handful of night spots we have. Founded in the eighties by a couple of witches. Rafael took it over a few years ago. We’ve also got a dive bar where the more disgruntled set like to hang out; my friend Grant works there.”
“All right, so explain…this.” She gestured vaguely toward the unfamiliar crowd of people she had previously thought were only trite ideas for Halloween costumes.
Henry raised a forefinger. “Yes, but first, we drink.”
He headed toward the bar, and Emma trailed behind, uneager to be noticed yet. He turned around and faced her. “What can I get you?”
“Sloe gin fizz.”
Henry pushed his way between people at the bar and got the bartender’s attention to order a bloody Bloody Mary and her drink. He slapped a bill down on the polished wood. A few minutes later, he returned with the two drinks and handed Emma a glass. She warily eyed his drink, which looked suspiciously viscous.
“I assume that’s not just tomato juice and vodka.”
He gave her a blank stare. “Of course not. Let’s find a seat,” he said over the din.
She sniffed her drink as she followed him, but it didn’t smell like it had eye of newt or anything in it. Henry snagged a back table against a wall with a nice open view of the rest of the bar. They sat down side by side on the booth seat, and she continued to people-watch while keeping a reasonable distance away from him. A couple of people sniffed as they walked by the table, but amid the rest of the crowd, they didn’t seem quite able to place where the mortal was seated.
“I didn’t realize there were so many supernats,” she remarked.
Henry raised his shoulders. “You’d be surprised.”
“All right, so break it down for me,” she said and gestured toward the throng of people.
A man in a fitted black shirt strode by with shaggy hair and a small hoop in his eyebrow.
“Werewolf,” Henry said.
“But the eyebrow ring—”
“Likely nickel, not silver. Anyway, unless they’re half or fully turned, there’s no real way for you to tell what they are. I, however, have the advantage of being able to smell them out. They always smell very slightly of fur. When they’re turned, they’re large wolves with pale green eyes and, as you’ve seen, a mean snarl.”
“There’s nothing they can do to deal with the more violent…er, side effects? Chamomile tea seemed to calm Wendell down a little.”
“A lot of them are trying to find a medical treatment because they’re around a significant human population,” Henry continued, adopting a professorial air. “There are some medications out there, but they have mixed results. Pretty sure that’s why we’ve been getting so many marijuana-related cases; they’re trying to mellow themselves out. But a lot of werewolves here go out to the mountains to run around for a few days during the full moon so they can do what they need to do.”
“That’s smart.”
“It is,” he said.
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Soon the dull roar of the bar replaced their conversation. Emma watched him run his long fingers along the cool droplets of condensation on his glass as he scanned the room. She remembered vividly how she’d grasped his hand to make him stop counting the rice; it had been chalky but warm. Tonight he’d clasped her hand in his, firm yet reassuring, to steer her back to the bar so she wouldn’t fall under the deterrent spell again.
What else could those hands do…? Or did they only focus on work? Emma averted her eyes. It wasn’t for her to know. She toyed with her own drink and cleared her throat to dispel the notion. She snuck a glance at his profile. It was hard to tell since they weren’t facing each other, but he didn’t show any overt signs that he had noticed her straying thoughts.
“So beyond the clients I’ve met, what other types of supernats are there? Any zombies I haven’t seen yet?” she joked, though she realized belatedly that the question might actually be worth asking.
He kept up the professorial air but was ebullient as he shared his knowledge. “You’ve met vampires, witches and wizards, fairies, and ghosts. That’s pretty much all there is in Tucson. A lot of us stick to major cities. You know it’s not exactly a huge metropolis here and not everyone likes the heat or the smaller population. There aren’t any zombies here that I’m aware of. We have a decent vampire population because of the daytime air conditioner culture, but most supernats prefer nightlife. There are fewer humans to deal with, but clearly that leaves some of us open to getting into trouble.”
He turned to her and smirked, his eyes gleaming. She swallowed.
“What about your physical abilities?” she asked, trying to keep the conversation moving. She sipped nervously at her drink.
The smirk didn’t leave his face. “Pardon?”
Emma coughed on her gin fizz and tried not to expire from embarrassment. Her eyes stung as the alcohol burned her throat. She took a moment to recover.
“Are you okay?” he asked with concern.
She didn’t respond. Instead, she was quick to clarify her choice of words. “Supernat abilities. Obviously vampires can mentally manipulate people, and werewolves can do the wolf thing. Daphne can heal people and animals. What are you all, as paranormal beings, capable of?” she asked.
Henry leaned back in his seat, taking her lead to stick to business. “Depends. All immortals can self-heal and have strong vision, hearing, and senses of smell. Vampires are strong and can coerce almost anyone, but we need blood to stay strong. The sun is a major problem, and there’s the obsession with groups of small objects.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Like rice.”
Emma bit her lip but nodded at him to keep going.
“There’s more to it than that, but the bottom line is that we all have our strengths and weaknesses. No one is all-powerful, and everyone knows it, which is why we live together pretty well.”
“Checks and balances. Makes sense.”
The overachiever in her wanted to pull out her phone from her clutch to type up notes, but instead she tried to soak it all in. She could always ask follow-up questions later. She was enjoying his little lectures. She could almost pretend he was just a tour guide and she hadn’t almost kissed him on a couch while he was asleep.
“The other important caveat is that you’re only as strong as you make yourself. Older supernats have more power, but it is certainly possible to let yourself go. Wendell is a prime example. He probably didn’t look so grizzled before he started drinking.”
She leaned back in her seat. That was an interesting development. She wondered what had happened to take him from a soldier to an alcoholic, pothead plumber.
When another supernat walked by and wrinkled their nose at their table, Emma rolled her eyes. That attitude had gotten stale, quickly.
“Tell me more about this prejudice between immortals and mortals. Every single one of my clients has given me shit for it.” She gave him a long look and took a pull of her drink.
Henry gave her a sheepish smile. “Supernats are immortal, and because we can live pretty much indefinitely, a lot of them tend to look down on mortals. Werewolves and vampires are turned if bitten. Yet werewolves can also be born if both their parents are werewolves; they’re mortal until they suspend into immortality as adults. Witches and wizards start as mortals; they can turn immortal, but only after they’ve committed and dedicated enough time to their craft while…” He trailed off as his face fell into a frown.
“Problem?” she asked.
He shook his head but stared intently at something in front of them. She leaned forward a little and scanned the room until she spotted Rick. Delight at seeing a familiar face in foreign territory jumped through her. He was at the bar, talking to a few people and pointing directly at their table.
“Rick is here!” she said with joy.
Emma tried to wave him down, but he wouldn’t make eye contact. Then, just as quickly, their assistant disappeared into the crowd. She turned to Henry with a questioning look.
He gave her an encouraging smile. “He’s working the room like he said he would. He’s got your back. People will be curious and warm up to you in no time.”
As if on cue, a woman approached them. Her bronze skin seemed to shimmer under the dim lighting. She wore jean shorts and a flowy sheer white top. She held what looked like a prickly pear margarita and flashed a brilliant smile at them. Emma recognized her as a fairy when she spotted a hint of ivory gossamer wings. She was gorgeous.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Henry grin back at the woman. To her chagrin, Emma felt herself slouching in her seat a little. She was smart and attractive and brave, goddamn it, but suddenly she felt every inch like the law nerd she was. The dress that she’d loved at the beginning of the night now felt like a conservative potato sack. How the hell could she compete with a woman like that?
Because it’s not in your job description to compete for anyone’s attention like a middle schooler, so quit beating yourself up like an idiot, she thought darkly. Even if Camille didn’t know Henry was a vampire, her friend had given her a solid lecture about why pursuing him would be a gargantuan mistake. Power imbalances and all that. It shouldn’t be this hard to maintain her distance.
The fairy rested a hand on her hip. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. Rafa told me you were here. Looks like you got smart and finally got out of the office.”
“This is technically for work, too,” he admitted.
“Is the gossip for real? I hear you’re looking for criminal cases now.”
Irrational uneasiness continued to settle in the pit of Emma’s stomach. She’d been under the impression that Henry was a hermit who didn’t really know anyone. What happened to the blind leading the blind?
He cleared his throat and said, “Actually, Sofia, that would be my associate, Emma Parker.”
He lightly patted Emma’s back twice to encourage her to sit up straight. Right, networking. That’s all this was. Yet she soon realized with dismay that Henry’s hand was still on her back and didn’t seem to have any plans to leave in the near future. Emma tried to ignore the warm shiver that spread up her spine.
She offered the woman her hand and put on her best professional smile. “Nice to meet you, Sofia.”
The fairy shook her hand but then frowned slightly. “I thought that was a rumor. You brought in a mortal?”
Emma opened her mouth to defend herself, but Sofia’s narrowed gaze turned into a devilish smile. “Or are you planning on turning her? I get it, you sly fox. That’s cute.” She winked at Henry.
Emma was stunned into silence. This was all so new that the thought of becoming a supernat herself had never occurred to her. Because that would be insane. She had a career. She had a life plan, sort of. It’s not like she would ever fit in with this world anyway.
Henry jumped in and flashed another disarming grin at the fairy. “If I did that, then she wouldn’t be able to go to court for you, now would she?”
Embarrassment heated her bloo
d. Of course. She was The Mortal Lawyer. There were bigger issues to worry about. If she were to turn, she couldn’t be a criminal defense lawyer any more than Henry could.
The fairy still looked dubious. “She knows about us, and you trust her…?”
“I do.”
Sofia relaxed her shoulders and gently fluttered her wings but kept them tucked behind her. She turned to Emma and fixed her wide hazel eyes on her.
“Well, if that’s the case, then what can you do about reckless driving?”
Emma kept her gaze neutral. “Did you get picked up for that?”
The fairy gave her a cheeky smile then bit her lip. “Me and my girls got a nasty drag racing habit. Henry helped me out once already, but I can’t say I learned my lesson.”
Three discrete thoughts snapped into Emma’s head at the same time. First, she wondered how Henry had exactly “helped out” the fairy. The next was that Sofia was a badass, and Emma would love to see her race. The third was just how difficult it was becoming for these people to stay tucked away from human knowledge. Emma pulled a card out from her clutch.
“Give me a call if you need to. Fifteen percent off if you refer someone.”
Sofia’s wings flared out from her bronze shoulders and snapped in excitement. Emma’s eyes widened. So far, each of the fairies she’d met had had a unique set of wings. For totally biased reasons, she liked Daphne’s best, but Sofia’s were also beautiful. The fairy studied the card for a moment and then tucked it in the back pocket of her shorts.
“Thanks,” she said but looked hesitant. “Though I have to admit that if I get mixed up with TPD again, I’d feel better if Henry handled my case.”
Emma couldn’t decide if that was more flirtation or more distrust of Emma. Probably both.
“Understood,” Henry said, although Emma was pleased to note that his answer wasn’t. “Yes, of course I’ll take Emma’s cases away from her.”
“Before I forget, I have a question,” he added.
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