While they talk, I stare up at the sign overhead. The name of the club suddenly feels ominous given everything that’s happened today.
“Do you know if Josie’s signed a contract with the club yet for the bartender position?” I ask, suddenly uneasy.
Lucas looks up from his phone. “Yeah. She said it was all sorted. Why?”
“I dunno. I just have a feeling.”
“I think you just need to—”
“Do not tell me I need to get laid,” I say, pointing a finger at him.
He laughs and raises his arms. “Just sayin’.”
Josie beckons us over—much to the displeasure of a group of girls at the front of the line.
Lucas and I follow Josie as she struts ahead down a long, dark hallway. Along the black walls are neon-blue lights; I spot a bow and arrow, a sword, a pair of scales, and a scythe. They buzz as we pass.
“Do you have the job contract you signed?” I ask her, raising my voice over the pulsing music coming from the club downstairs.
“Not with me,” she says.
“Was there anything weird in it?”
She gives me a puzzled look. “Yeah, the fact that it pays twenty-two dollars an hour! And that’s not including tips.” She pauses. “But I guess it was kinda . . . playful.”
We start to descend into the main room, Lucas trailing behind as he taps out another message on his phone.
“In what way?” I ask.
“Well, it’s like I said before.” Josie pauses in front of the wooden door at the bottom of the stairs, absently running a finger over the silver horseshoe nailed to the center. “They’re pretty committed to their aesthetic,” she says, then she pushes open the door.
Apocalypse’s dance floor is a blur of noise, colorful dresses, white smoke, and flashing blue strobe lights. A crush of students dance to a penetrating beat that seems less like music than something intended to make your whole body vibrate. Just beyond them, some blond guy kneels on the bar, white shirt flapping open as he pours a bottle of alcohol down his chest. Some random guy laps it off his abs while a surrounding crowd whoops and cheers.
I’ve been here a few times before, but I’ve never really thought of it as having much of an aesthetic—unless “loud and seedy” counts. Then again, the only times I’ve ever wanted to come here have been after I’ve had a few too many appletinis.
As I look at it soberly, however, I notice that the booths built into the sides of the club look like stable stalls, the neon-blue signs on the black brick walls are shaped like trumpets, and the DJ on the raised deck in the corner shouts about how we need to party like it’s the end of the world.
My unease grows.
As we reach the bar, I note there are silver symbols adorning its edges: a scythe, a bow, a pair of scales, and a sword. The same ones as in the hall. And the symbols are repeated on the trembling glass shelving in the middle of the island. Beyond the bar is a double door marked “No Entry.” The word “APOCALYPSE” flashes in blue lights above it.
“That’s Chris,” shouts Josie, pointing up at the blond guy on the bar’s obsidian surface. In riding boots and leather pants, he looks like a character from a debauched high fantasy story. “Or, as his brothers call him while at work, Conq . . .”
“What?” I yell, hardly able to hear her over the pulsating music.
“And this is—”
“William.” A deep voice cuts through all the chaos.
Turning, I find myself face-to-face with a tall man with neat black, slicked back hair and cool blue eyes. He’s dressed much like Chris, but his shirt is buttoned up to the collar. He looks like a gentleman about to go on a late-night hunting trip.
“Josie, so nice to see you again.” His accent is British and as smooth as silk. “Can I get you and your friends a drink?”
“Yes!” says Lucas, barging forward.
William’s smile widens. “Excellent.”
Lucas and Josie attempt to make conversation with each other over the music as he takes our order. I keep my eyes on William. With long, slender fingers, he pulls down a bottle and starts to mix our drinks. As he does so, he leans over the bar to whisper something to a woman in a red dress. A hard look crosses her face, and she marches forward, pushing apart the crowd to confront the man who just lapped alcohol from Chris’s chest. Chris grins boyishly and jumps back behind the bar.
The woman at the door comes to remove the fighting couple from the bar. She throws a pissed-off look at William before marching them out.
I turn to ask Josie and Lucas if they saw what just happened, but before the words are out, I spot a familiar someone slurping a Coke through a paper straw. Despite being in a hot, dark club, he wears a blue beanie and shades. He’s also ditched his white blazer for a baggy azure sweater.
Gabriel.
This can’t be good.
“I’ll be right back,” I yell in Josie’s ear before pushing my way toward him.
Gabriel glares at me over his shades I approach.
“I have so many questions,” I say. “Like, one, what on earth are you wearing?”
“I’m undercover,” he says. “Now, go away. We can’t be seen talking.”
“Can you even see anything?” I ask, peering into his dark lenses.
“Yes. I’m an Angel.”
I stare pointedly at the strand of red hair peeping out from beneath his hat.
“Stop that,” he says, tucking it away.
“Aren’t you hot?”
“Not really.” He shrugs beneath his big baggy sweater. “I don’t really feel temperature.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I told you earlier. If someone wants to trigger the end of all days, it’s likely they delivered the scroll to the Horseman Brothers. You know, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? I thought you said you were familiar with the Book of Revelation.”
My eyes go back to Chris and William shaking drinks behind the bar. Then I glance at the stable-like booths and think back to the fact Josie said the owners were half-brothers. Right on cue, the DJ shouts something about it being the end of the world and everyone being invited. The crowd cheers.
“Oh, shit,” I say. “Are you telling me the actual Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse own this club?”
“Yes!”
I grab his arm. “My friend Josie just got a job here!”
He frowns. “They’re taking on staff? That’s most unusual.”
“She said something about there being a job opening because the co-founders thought they were going to be busy,” I say, voice hoarse. “Something about one of them being summoned.”
Gabriel’s face darkens. Then he pushes his shades back up his nose.
“Then I was right,” says Gabriel. “It’s started. The Apocalypse.”
“What about Josie? I need to—”
“You can’t say anything to Josie, Rachel. It’s against Ethereal law to talk about our world to a mortal—you’d be in breach of your Devils Inc. contract. I’ll figure something out. She could be an excellent source—”
“A source? She’s in danger.”
He opens his mouth to say something else, then shuts it, his gaze fixing on something at the other side of the club. Suddenly, he crumples his Coke can between his slender fingers.
“I have to go,” he says.
“Are you serious? You can’t just drop that bombshell on me and—”
But he’s already dropped his can and headed for the door, cutting through the crowd that seems to subconsciously part as if he’s Moses, and they are the Red Sea.
It’s not the weirdest behavior he’s exhibited, but I’m curious to see what spooked him.
And I spot it—or, rather, him.
Crow is making out with a blonde girl in one of the stable booths. Something clenches in my stomach.
“I saw that guy earlier today,” says Josie, appearing beside me to thrust a drink in my hand. “In the food hall. Accidentally threw some salt in his eye, actually
. . . He was pretty salty about it.”
“You’ve seen him before?” I say.
“Yeah. You know him?” She looks at me intently. “Oh, no. You like him. Sorry, babe. Looks like he’s taken.”
“What? No. Gross.” I shake my head a little too vehemently. “He was at that law internship interview I went to this morning.” I may have skipped a few key details when I told Josie about my morning over dinner, but I did fill her in that I had an internship.
Rage pulses through my veins. Not because he’s making out with some girl—as if I would I care about that—but because Josie must have been another job. If so, he didn’t do a great job of giving her twenty-four hours’ notice either.
Josie misinterprets my anger and says something about there being plenty more fish in the sea before telling me to come hang out with her and Lucas.
“I’ll come find you in a bit,” I say, forcing a smile. “Just give me a minute. I want to talk to him about a work thing.”
She agrees and starts to leave, but then I call her back.
“Oh, Josie?”
“Yeah?” she shouts over the music.
“Don’t go anywhere alone with Darius.”
I’m not sure if she heard me; her eyes look a little vacant. “Yep! See you soon, babe!”
As she heads through the flashing lights, I turn back to Crow, who unlocks his lips from the blonde long enough to give me a wave. He whispers something in the girl’s ear. She turns to stare at me, outrage plastered across her delicate features. Then she turns back and slaps Crow in the face before storming off.
As satisfying as that is to watch, it doesn’t quell my irritation. Particularly as it doesn’t seem to bother Crow in the slightest. The asshole smiles as he beckons me over.
The blonde scowls at me as she marches past.
“Pervert,” she hisses.
“Excuse me?” I say.
She keeps going, hands clenched at her sides.
As I slide into the horseshoe-shaped bench, the black-and-white leather cushions stick to my bare thighs where my dress rides up. When my knee accidentally brushes against Crow’s, I jerk it back. Though we’re still in the crowded club, the booth feels private; the walls dividing the stable stalls are high and black.
He still has one arm casually draped over the back of his bench, though there’s an angry mark on his cheek.
“What did you say to her?” I ask.
“I said you were my girlfriend and you liked to watch,” he says. “Then I suggested we have a threesome.”
“Ugh. You’re disgusting.”
He shrugs, smiling. “Got rid of her, didn’t I? Isn’t that what you wanted? For us to be alone?”
I stare at him. “Yes. But you could have just asked her to leave.”
“Aye. But she wouldn’t have.”
“Oh, really? And why is that?”
He leans across the shiny black table as if he’s about to tell me a secret. “I’m a good kisser.” When I simply snort, he leans back. “Don’t believe me? You can try me out for yourself.”
“I’d rather gouge out my own eyeballs with a spoon.”
“Aye? Lucky for you, I think they have a room in Hell where you can do just that.” He shifts forward again. “Unless, of course, you’ve sorted an alternative arrangement.” His eyes flick to where Gabriel was standing earlier. “If Devils Inc. found out you were consorting with a certain stick-up-his-arse Angel,” he continues, “you might find yourself there sooner than expected.”
The air in the stall suddenly feels very still. I lean forward, bare arms sticking to the table where someone has knocked over a drink. I’m close enough now that I can feel his warm, slightly beer-scented breath on my skin.
“And you’re going to tell them?” I ask.
“I could. People would pay for a secret like that,” he says.
“Is that why you agreed to come. To threaten me?”
He holds my gaze for a long beat. Then he shakes his head and leans back, taking the tension with him.
“No. I came here because you asked me to. Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me, little Demon.”
“Then what the hell was the point in all that?”
He shrugs. “I was curious.”
“Curious?”
“You attacked me earlier when I was winding you up.” He turns the beer bottle between his thick fingers, fiddling with the label. “I wondered what you would do this time.”
I rub my forehead. “God, you’re annoying.”
He chuckles. “Aye, maybe. I can’t help it. I’m bored.”
“You’re actively trying to piss me off because you’re bored?”
“You try being immortal. Well . . . you’ll see.” When I do nothing but glare, he sighs. “Is that why you asked me here then? To have a go at me about the fact you signed your soul away?” He peels off part of the label before glancing up. “Or maybe you found out this club belongs to the Four Horsemen and your friend has just signed a contract with them?”
“I knew you knew about that,” I snap. “Is she in danger?”
He shrugs and continues peeling the bottle. He only looks up when I grab his wrist.
“Relax. It’s not the end of the world.” The corner of his lip tugs up. “Yet.”
I squeeze, nails digging into his skin.
“Seriously, relax, little Demon. They’re good lads. And when the Apocalypse comes, it’s not a bad idea to be on good terms with the Horsemen. Your friend is in a good position.”
“So you think the Apocalypse is coming too?” I say.
“I’ve heard rumors. It’s why your friend’s contract with this club interested me. They’ve never had reason to recruit extra staff before. And you . . .” He licks his lips, and my eyes flit down to his mouth before I can control them. “You interest me even more, little Demon. So is that all you wanted to talk to me about?”
I release his wrist but don’t move away. “No.” I take a deep breath. “I’m here to talk about my brother, Jonathon Mortimer.”
Intrigue flashes in his eyes. “I was wondering what relation he was to you.”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly feeling dry. “You know him?”
A smile broadens on Crow’s face. “Oh, aye, I know him.”
Chapter Seventeen
The club around me is a blur, the fast pulse of music competing with the thudding of my heart.
“How do you know Jonathon?” I ask, suddenly worried. Crow’s a Bad Omen. How could they have crossed paths?
Crow says nothing for a moment. Then he shifts as though he’s getting up.
“I’m hungry. Let’s go get some food.”
Reflexively, I reach for the collar of his shirt, ready to demand he talk to me now. This time, though, he grabs my wrist and pulls. It’s only by gripping the table that I stop myself from face-planting.
He brings his mouth to my ear. “There are eyes on us here, little Demon,” he says, his gravelly whisper sending a shiver down my spine. “Three o’clock.”
I look to my right and see William, the dark-haired bartender, watching us as he wipes down the surface of the bar. When I turn back to Crow, his face is close enough to mine that our noses almost touch.
“Let’s go and get some food,” he says.
I scan the crowded dance floor. Josie and Lucas have joined a group of Josie’s Wicca friends, which is reassuring. There’s safety in numbers at least.
“You’ll tell me what I want to know?” I whisper.
“Aye.” He inclines his head. “I’m as curious as you are to know what he has to do with all of this.”
He lets go of my wrist, and I pull back, smoothing down my black dress.
He gestures to the stall opening. “Ladies first.”
“So you do have some manners,” I say, sliding past him.
“Some? I’m a perfect gentleman.”
I turn to raise an eyebrow at him, and in the process, I catch him staring at my ass. “Seriously?”
> “What?”
I shake my head and push across the crowded floor without looking back.
“I think you sat in something is all!” he shouts over the music.
Heat creeps up to my face. As I surreptitiously brush at the back of my dress, I bump into girl in a white dress, causing her to spill her red cocktail down her front.
Crow swoops in to shuffle me out as she yells.
“Just messing with you,” he says. “I was checking out your arse. But that was fun to watch.”
I grit my teeth as we leave the dance floor and head up the stairs. “I’m so glad you were entertained,” I say, voice loud now the music is muffled. I’m annoyed at myself; I don’t normally let people get under my skin. But I need to keep it together—at least until he tells me what’s going on with Jonathon.
He nods at the woman on the door, and she smiles. It seems he’s less unpopular here than he is at Devils Inc. and Halo Corp.
There’s a long line beneath the buzzing Apocalypse sign, and the window of Evie’s is filled with students. People walk to the bus stop, chat in doorways as they wait for Ubers, and vape beneath the tall palm trees that line the road.
If he wants to talk in private, we’re out of luck here.
“How do you know Jon—?” I start.
“Patience is a virtue, little Demon,” he says in a singsong voice, then he points down the road. “This way.”
He leads me past the old bookshop and a clothes store. Ahead is the bus stop to campus, and at the end of the street, shrouded in shadow, the Trinity Falls church. Given it’s shut at night, I wonder if the churchyard is his great idea. We definitely won’t be overheard there, but the gates will be locked.
To my surprise, he steers me toward Diablos.
Crow leans against the counter. “I’ll have the Diablos special, mate,” he says to the gangly guy in the black apron. “And for the lady . . .” He stops at my look. “What? I told you I was hungry. Now, what do you want?”
“I want to know how you know my brother!” I hiss under my breath.
He raises a dark eyebrow. “You sure? You’ll be hungry later.”
I say nothing, jaw set.
“Suit yourself,” he says, reaching over the counter to take a hot dog loaded with cheese and chili. “Don’t be moaning to me later though.”
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