by E.J. Stevens
“I don’t know what you see in him,” Ivy said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Are you telling me you didn’t just stare at his butt like it was a double-fudge brownie?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
I shrugged and turned back to the bar.
“You two need to figure things out soon, before someone gets killed in the crossfire,” she said.
“Figure what out?” I asked, staring at the colorful, glowing bottles that lined the shelves behind the bar.
“Like if you want to throw the guy into bed or an empty grave,” she said.
I sighed and picked at a drink coaster, crumpling bits of confetti onto the ebony bar. At least, I thought it was a coaster. Up close it resembled a dried out leaf. Weirdo faeries.
“I guess I want a bit of both,” I said, turning to Ivy. She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. “What?”
“Just had an image of you humping the demon lawyer in a graveyard,” she said.
“Yeah, me too,” I said with a sigh. I let my head drop into my hands, elbows resting on the leaf-strewn bar. “I can’t decide if I need brain bleach or a crate of condoms. Heck, do demons have STDs?”
“Mab’s bones, I don’t want to know,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t even know how you can stand the stench.”
“You mean his cologne?” I asked. I thought he smelled…yummy.
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” she asked. “He smells like hellfire and brimstone. It makes my sinuses burn.”
“That’s weird,” I said. “I’ve smelled that on him in the past, but tonight I thought he smelled good. Like he’d put on cologne and swished with some kind of cinnamon mouthwash or like he’d been sucking on hot balls. No demon stench at all.”
“You did not just say his breath, a demon’s breath, smelled like hot balls,” she said. Ivy slapped a gloved hand over her mouth, but her eyes were laughing at me.
“And I can’t believe you just went there,” I said, chuckling. “Who are you and what have you done with my prudish friend? Which reminds me, we still haven’t talked about you and Ceff. I want to hear all about the hot kelpie sex.”
Ivy sighed.
“I think we need those drinks,” she said.
Our drinks still sat on the bar where Ivy had left them before the Forneus drama. She slid a pint glass toward me and raised her own in mock salute. I noticed that Ivy’s had a familiar chip in the side and wondered how she’d talked the bartender into serving her in her own glass. Who knows, maybe weird requests like that weren’t that unusual around here. They did use dead tree droppings as coasters.
“To girls’ night out,” I said, smiling.
“May we survive it,” she replied. Ivy knocked back her drink and wiped her sleeve across her mouth. “So, can we go home now?”
“No way,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere until I dance with at least one decent guy.”
“I was afraid of that,” she said.
Ivy’s eyes continued to scan the room, always on the alert for threats. I followed her gaze, sizing up each eligible bachelor in the place. In a club this huge, you’d think there would be plenty of available hotties, but a quick survey of the dance floor only made me want to go home and hug my crossbow.
“There’s got to be one man here who doesn’t want to eat my face or plant mutant babies in my eyeballs,” I said.
Ivy chuckled and shook her head. I was exaggerating, a bit, but there were some pretty freaky fae creatures here. For every beautiful faerie, there was something that looked like a monster from Saturday morning cartoons. And though vamps looked yummy enough to my eyes—the faerie ointment I wore didn’t cut through undead glamour—Ivy had assured me that I didn’t want to date one. No matter how sexy their glamour made them look, embracing bones, fangs, and corpse dust was just not my thing.
“What about him?” Ivy asked, studying a guy who was standing further down the bar. “He looks harmless, for a faerie, and he’s kinda cute.”
I took in the boyish face and shock of curly, blond hair and sighed. He was cute, but not really my type. He was above average height and covered in lean muscle, but his golden curls would have suited one of those creepy, naked babies they put on Valentine’s Day cards and his skin looked softer than mine.
“I prefer mature men,” I said. “He’s probably jailbait.”
Ivy laughed.
“I doubt it,” she said. “He’s probably hundreds of years older than you.”
He turned our way and smiled and I nearly rolled my eyes. The guy even had dimples. Ivy waved and I resisted the urge to punch her. Jailbait was now walking our way.
“Great, look what you’ve done,” I whispered. “Since he’s on his way over, can you at least tell if he’s Seelie or Unseelie fae?”
Not that a faerie’s court affiliation meant they were necessarily good or evil. Ivy was half wisp and Ceff was a kelpie, both of the Unseelie court, and they didn’t act like they had gone over to the dark side. But I figured it was best to be forewarned. I just wished faeries walked around with different colored lightsabers or something so I could tell which team they were on.
“I’m a light fae,” the guy said, stepping up to my side. “And you must be the lovely human everyone is whispering about tonight.”
Crap. Pesky faerie hearing. I should have learned by now that the tricksy immortals could hear from across the room, if they wanted to. Leave it to me to open my mouth and insert a pair of platform sandals.
“Um, good to know you’re one of the good guys,” I said. “I’m Jinx.”
“Puck,” he said, reaching for and kissing the back of my hand. His green eyes twinkled and that dimple was back, but Ivy was right. There was something about him that seemed older than his apparent eighteen or so years.
“As in THE Puck?” Ivy asked.
I pulled my hand back, thankful for the interruption. For a moment, I’d felt like Puck and I were standing alone in an ancient forest. I wiped my hand down my thigh, wondering if the lingering scent of pine and sound of dead, rustling leaves was only my imagination. Had this innocent looking guy worked some kind of faerie magic on me? And if kissing my hand had sent us into some dreamy forest, what would a real kiss do? A shiver ran along my spine; I wasn’t sure if I wanted to find out.
“The one and only,” he said. He leaned in so close that I could count the freckles that dotted his nose and cheeks. “Have you heard of me?”
He waggled his eyebrows and Ivy laughed, but I just sat there, wishing I’d ordered a second drink. I knew my brain was scrambled after the encounter with Forneus, but I had no idea what they were talking about. I was pretty sure I’d never heard the name Puck in my life.
“No, are you famous or something?” I asked.
“More like notorious,” Ivy said, smiling. “Puck here made it into Shakespeare’s play A Midsummer Night’s Dream. If the Bard is to be believed, he’s something of a trickster.”
Ivy’s mom had been big into Shakespeare, which explained how my friend had heard of Puck. I liked old books, music, and movies, but my idea of retro was the early 1900’s, not the dinosaur age.
“Thou speak'st aright; I am that merry wanderer of the night,” he said with a bow.
So this guy Puck was some kind of celebrity faerie trickster? What, exactly, did that mean?
“So, um, what kind of tricks are we talking about?” I asked. “Nair in shampoo bottles? Sticking firecrackers up a frog’s butt?”
Oops. I felt heat rise to my face, wishing again for that second drink. I swear sometimes my mouth has a mind of its own. Thankfully, Puck smiled and laughed like what I’d said was meant to be funny.
“Nothing that bad,” he said. “Just kid stuff. Plus, that was the old Puck. I’m a reformed sinner.”
“What made you change your ways?” I asked.
Crap, it sounded like I was flirting, but I was actually curious. In my experience, guys didn’t change much, even when they wanted
you to think they would. How many times had I heard, “I’ll stop cheating, I promise” from one of my exes? But maybe when a guy lived for centuries there was room for change—maybe being the operative word.
“Everything changed after Oberon left court,” he said, face darkening. His gaze seemed to turn inward for a moment until he shook his head and shrugged. “But that’s ancient history.”
I had heard of Oberon, the king of the Seelie court, and how the king and queens of Faerie had disappeared from their courts hundreds of years ago, but I didn’t have time to consider Puck’s comment. A new song started and Ivy gave me an encouraging thumbs-up sign from over Puck’s shoulder. I rolled my eyes and looked around for Forneus. Not that I really cared what he was doing or anything. I was just curious, that’s all.
“Oh, wow, Jinx loves this song,” she said. “Don’t you Jinx?”
I nodded wondering what Ivy was playing at, since I’d never heard music like this in my entire life. Puck scraped a hand through his flyaway curls and flashed a smile from beneath long lashes.
“Care to dance?” he asked.
The faerie held out his hand and I hesitated. I’d wanted to dance, but Puck wasn’t really my type. I looked around, trying to think of an excuse to put him off, when my eyes fell on Forneus. He hadn’t gone far and was now watching me and Puck with a frown marring his lips. On impulse, I grabbed Puck’s hand and slid from the barstool.
“I’d love to,” I said. “Ivy, you’ll be okay here?”
I dropped my crossbow onto the barstool I’d just vacated, since I didn’t plan to shoot anyone on the dance floor. I might as well leave Ivy with the extra arsenal, just in case.
“I’ll be fine,” she said, waving me off. “Go, have fun.”
I pulled Puck toward the dance floor, letting my hips sway as I sashayed away from the bar and Forneus, just in case the demon was still watching. I glanced over my shoulder to smile at Puck and could have sworn his face held the sly, hungry look of a fox in a henhouse. But strobe lights flashed on and off and the look was gone as if I’d imagined it. I probably had. Obsessing over Forneus was making me crazy.
Even preoccupied with demon watching, I couldn’t help but notice that Puck was a popular guy. Male and female faeries flirted as we waded through their intricate dances and more than one vamp whispered something about ice. Maybe Puck worked here tending bar or waiting tables? If so, he was obviously off duty and gave each vamp the brush off, mentioning something about pleasure before business. It didn’t take him long to get down to his idea of pleasure on the dance floor.
“So, Jinx,” Puck said, pressing close. “Is that your True Name?”
He stroked the inside of my palm in slow circles with his thumb and I dropped his hand to adjust my dress—without much success. It was like trying to toss away a booger tissue; the damn thing just wouldn’t let go.
Puck mashed himself between my hips, swaying to the music and pulling me along with him. He cupped my ass with sweaty hands and pulled me close enough to know he was interested in more than dancing. I figured we were giving Forneus quite the show, which had been my intent, but now that we were on the dance floor, I felt the urge to flee.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there was something about Puck that set off my internal bullshit meter. I just wasn’t buying his harmless kid act, and I was pretty sure his groping wasn’t due to inexperience. With the bruises from Hans’ temper still visible every damn time I washed off my makeup, I was on high alert for abusive asshole warning signs. And Puck squeezing my ass? Yeah, he was making me wish I’d brought my crossbow onto the dance floor after all.
“No, but all my friends call me Jinx,” I said.
I tried to force a smile and bat my eyelashes. Let the faerie creeper think I was a dull-witted human. I was only going to finish out this one dance and then tell him to get lost. I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him my real name; I wasn’t stupid. There’s power in a name, especially for stalkers and magic wielding fae.
“Well, you can call me Robby,” he said.
Puck, or Robby, or whatever bent down and I watched his lips descend toward me like two bloated worms. Oh hell no. This had gone way too far. I was not kissing this guy.
I sucked in rapid puffs of air and belched. Puck frowned and I pulled away, one hand flying to my mouth. I placed my other hand on my stomach and blushed.
“I am so sorry!” I said. “Wow, how embarrassing. I should never drink beer. Do you think we could go sit down? I don’t feel so good.”
Actually, now that the faerie creeper wasn’t trying to kiss me, I felt just fine. The belching was a childhood trick. I’d been able to suck in air and belch the ABCs better than all the neighborhood boys. Who knew it would come in handy getting rid of a faerie?
“Sure,” he said, smile returning to his face. “Let me buy you a proper drink. No beer.”
He guided me back to the bar, his hand on my ass. I didn’t want a drink, but if it got us off the dance floor, I could turn him down at the bar.
“Back so soon?” Ivy asked.
“Your friend wasn’t feeling well,” Puck said, reaching over the bar and grabbing a bottle of vodka. I could hear the sound of liquid pouring into a glass and he turned around holding a drink out toward me. “Here, this will help settle your stomach.”
I’d never heard of vodka settling a person’s stomach and was trying to come up with a way to politely turn down the drink when Ivy solved the problem for me.
“Cheers!” she exclaimed.
She crashed her glass into the one in Puck’s hand, knocking the contents to the floor.
“Oopsie,” she said, listing precariously on her barstool.
“How much have you had to drink?” I asked, moving toward my friend. Ivy hardly ever drank, she was too much of a control freak to get sloppy drunk, but she certainly looked wasted now.
“Just a few drinks,” she said, flashing a silly grin. “I love you guys!”
Ivy opened her arms wide—considering her touch phobia, if she tried to give us a hug, she was drunk for sure—and fell off her stool onto the vodka soaked floor. Puck glared back and forth between me, Ivy, and the broken glass, his hands clenching fitfully.
“Um, sorry, Robby,” I said. “Looks like I better get my friend home. Thanks for the dance.”
“Wait, we never had that drink,” he said, his frown again eclipsed by that dimpled smile mask.
“Rain check,” I said, pasting on a false smile of my own.
He shrugged.
“Sure,” he said. “I have business to attend to. Some other time.”
He flapped his hand in dismissal and walked away, heading toward one of the vampires who’d approached us on the dance floor.
“You okay?” I asked, turning back to my vodka soaked friend. I shook my head. She was a mess. “We better get you out of here. Good thing you wore pants, or Kaye would be picking glass out of your butt tonight.”
Ivy stayed on the floor, watching Puck through the curtain of her hair.
“I’m not drunk,” she whispered.
Puck handed something to the vamp and moved on, making his way to a door at the end of the bar. When he was out of sight, Ivy stood and brushed off her jeans. She grimaced at the wet denim, grabbed two small, wooden stakes from her belt, pulled her hair up into a tight twist, and used the stakes to secure her hair at the back of her head. Crap, I knew that habit. It was what she did just before weapons training. I had a feeling we’d just stumbled on a case. Ivy was gearing up for a fight.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I watched Puck dose your drink,” she said.
Now Ivy’s drunken act made sense. If she hadn’t knocked the glass to the floor, I might have taken a sip.
“Why would a faerie want to ruffie me?” I asked. “Can’t they just use their magic powers, or something?”
“Yes, but I imagine using that kind of magic wouldn’t go unnoticed and is against the club rules,” she s
aid. “He’d need you to willingly go with him somewhere away from the watchful eyes of club security.”
I shuddered, remembering the key in Puck’s hands as he went through the back door.
“Somewhere like a locked storeroom?” I asked, not liking where this was going.
“Who knows how long he’s been going around drugging girls,” Ivy said through clenched teeth. “If there’s a chance he’s done this before, there could be girls like us who he’s drugged in that back room. I’m not leaving without checking it out.”
“What about club security?” I asked. “Can’t we just tip them off?”
“We have no proof,” Ivy said. Ivy poked at the shards of glass with her boot, scowling at the floor. The alcohol had already evaporated, probably taking any evidence of drugs with it. “And faeries take things like honor and reputation very seriously. If we falsely accuse Puck without solid evidence, we could be up on charges of slander. I don’t even think our demon attorney friend could help us then.”
I looked around for Forneus, but the demon was nowhere in sight. Leave it to the jerk to take off right when he might have been useful.
“Okay, so what do you suggest?” I asked, slinging my crossbow over my shoulder.
“I want to check out that back room,” she said. “But if you don’t want to come with me, I can ask Torn to walk you out. He’s around here somewhere. I saw him flirting with a nymph not long ago.”
“No way,” I said, hands on my hips. “I’m going with you. It could have been me in that back room. I want to help. But, you know, Torn’s your ally. Couldn’t you ask him to come with us? He’s useful in a fight and we have no idea what to expect behind that door.”
Ivy ran a gloved hand over her face and sighed.
“You’re right,” she said. “He’ll probably refuse, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
I nodded and Ivy took off, using her faerie quickness and agility to flit through the thickening crowd. I soon lost sight of my friend and turned my attention to the door that Puck had gone through earlier. I watched a vampire leave the bar and swagger toward the door. He was wearing snakeskin boots, dark jeans, and a black fedora. Holding my breath, I moved further down the bar, hoping for a glimpse into the room beyond.