I kicked a wad of wet newspaper that clung to the sidewalk in front of the club. The gig was already underway, and I could hear Eli’s growling voice over the throbbing guitar cords. The lineup was long tonight, and I groaned inwardly. The last thing I wanted to do on a windy October night was stand in a line getting sore feet with a bunch of smelly punk kids.
“Ophelia. It’s been a while,” the bouncer at the edge of the yellow rope that blocked the stairs that led down to Spiral called out. He beckoned to me and I jogged over, my hands shoved deep into the pockets of my ancient leather jacket.
“Church,” I said with relief, “I know, I haven’t been down in a while, busy busy.” The big man looked me up and down, and raised his eyebrow. He was wearing sunglasses, but if he hadn’t been, I know that I would have been able to see the moonshine in his eyes that marked him as one of the Laudan. The younger members called themselves ‘Blood Outlaws,’ which sounded utterly ridiculous to me.
Even in the afterlife, youth really is wasted on the young.
“Eli’s already on stage,” he said unnecessarily as Eli’s wailing shout rolled up the stairway and into the night. The punk kids in the lineup jumped and shouted, jostling against each other.
“Sounds like it. You’d better let some of these kids in before you have to break up a fight.”
Church lifted the hook holding the yellow nylon rope and flashed me a toothy smile. I shivered just a little as I saw his fangs in the red glow of Spiral’s neon sign. “I’m counting on it,” he said meaningfully.
I straightened my shoulders and brushed past him. I shouldn’t let the Laudan make me nervous, but I couldn’t help it.
I wondered if he could smell the potion I’d ruined on my skin.
Nothing I had learned from my mother or my aunt had prepared me for the supernatural underbelly of New York. Live music venues like Spiral were everywhere, and the Laudan had been running the underground music scene since prohibition.
Maybe even before that.
The club was dark and smoky, and the thrashing cords of Eli’s guitar pounded through the speakers. The floor was packed with kids dressed head to toe in black. Covered in leather, patches, spikes, and safety pins they moved like a restless ocean to the beat of the music. Rising and falling, reaching towards Eli as he writhed and stomped across the stage.
I say I did
you can't fuck with fate
I rolled my eyes as Eli’s voice thundered around me. I really had to talk to him about these songs. I knew what he was. His guitarist was Laudan, so was their manager, the drummer, the guy behind the bar, all of the security guards, a few of the ‘kids’ in the crowd, even the drug dealer selling cocaine and ecstasy to the kids that crashed against each other in front of the stage.
Members of the ‘Blood Outlaws’ sat in booths, watching the crowd hungrily. If I were Laudan, I’d tell them to dial it back a bit. It didn’t take a college degree to see that they were up to something.
The only problem was; they knew exactly what my deal was too.
“What are you doing here, hitea?” The bartender was surlier than usual, and I narrowed my eyes at him. The low light of the club made the moonshine in his eyes all the more visible, to me at least, and they glittered in the red light.
“Obviously, I’m here to see Eli perform. Or did you forget that we were dating?” I wasn’t in the mood for this bullshit.
“How could I forget, he comes here reeking of your majel, it makes me sick.”
Great, he was one of those Laudan who thought magic was some kind of corruption.
“You’re just bitter that you can’t suck me dry like these other meat popsicles. Joke’s on you, I’m pretty sure I’d taste terrible anyway.” I drummed my fingers on the dented wood of the bar. “If you’re done calling me names, pour me a vodka tonic.” The Laudan narrowed his eyes at me and muttered something vaguely threatening under his breath.
“Sticks and stones, asshole,” I murmured, setting down one of the drink tickets I’d lifted from Church’s pocket when I passed him outside.
“I hope Caden isn’t giving you any trouble, Ophelia,” a voice as smooth as whiskey over ice filled my ears.
Bishop.
I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat and turned to face Eli’s band manager. This guy was a big deal, not just in the Laudan community, but also in New York’s music scene. He’d worn many names and hidden behind a lot of human business partners over the years, he could make or break a career, and even though I hadn’t said anything about it, I strongly suspected that Bishop was the one behind Eli’s turning.
“No more than usual,” I took the drink that the surly Caden slammed down on the bar. “If he keeps flirting with me like this I might start to think he’s madly in love with me…”
Caden hissed and turned away, his silver-shined eyes on his boss, daring him to say something. Bishop was everyone’s boss down here, and while I knew Caden was looking for Bishop’s support, the possibility that they might get physical made me even more uncomfortable. I could feel the anger radiating off Caden, and the magic inside me rose up in case I needed to protect myself, a warm churning in my veins.
“Know your place, Caden. Ophelia is welcome here just like anyone else, majel or not.” Bishop’s tone was iron hard, and Caden had no choice but to back down. He glowered at me from behind the bar, as I winked at him and took a sip of my drink.
I knew I was pushing my luck, but I couldn’t help it. Assholes existed in every species… and Caden was one of them.
* * *
Bishop led me to a booth near the stage, but I didn’t stay sitting there for long. I felt exposed here. Word of my arrival had spread quickly, and I could feel the cold glare of several sets of silvery eyes on the back of my neck. They couldn’t bite me, thank the Goddess, but they could still hurt me in other ways, and I didn’t relish being cornered by any of these undead idiots.
Eli knew I was there too, and I tried to focus on him as he slunk around the stage and yelled into the microphone.
Sage, violet smoke
Hex me, vex me
Oh shit… this must be the song he said he’d written about me. I drained my drink and wished I’d ordered some tequila to wash it down. I tried not to listen, but my cheeks burned with embarrassment. More Laudan eyes turned my way. The majen who’d witched one of their own was standing right there.
Awkward.
A Laudan with a bright green Mohawk jostled me, he hissed, baring his teeth at me as he passed.
Great.
I smiled weakly and tried to push my panicked thoughts away. The Laudan could read human minds with no problem, and while I posed more of a challenge to them, the more upset I got, the easier it would be for them to pick up on literally everything I was thinking. And that wasn’t a good thing.
All at once, something hit me. It was like a punch in the stomach and I staggered against a concrete column.
Smoke.
No. No, no, no.
The smell filled my nostrils, and the sound of crackling wood and snapping sparks filled my skull.
I gasped for air, feeling my throat start to close. On the stairs, talking to a Laudan I didn’t recognize was a man with pale empty eyes and long silver hair.
Malleus.
6
The smoke was thick and acrid; it burned my eyes and tears streamed down my cheeks, streaking them with mascara. I put a hand on the column to steady myself, trying to pretend that everything was fine. The last thing I wanted was to draw attention to myself. Not now. Not here.
“Ophelia.”
I heard my name as though it was being shouted from a thousand miles away.
Cold hands pulled me and pushed me through the crowded dance floor. I couldn’t see their faces, tears and makeup blurred my vision. My eyes stung. The heavy beat of the music throbbed against me as I was pulled past the speakers that flanked the stage.
There was only one way in and one way out of Spiral; and those narrow st
airs were blocked the source of my distress. A Fire Marshal’s nightmare.
A door opened, and the air changed, it was cold, so cold, but my vision began to clear, and my coughing finally eased enough so that I could see what was happening.
I slumped against the wall, sitting on the freezing concrete floor, my knees drawn up to my chest.
Kegs of beer and flats of bottles and tall cans lined the cement walls. Overhead, a fan blasted cold air into the cramped space.
I knew there was someone in the room with me, but all I could see was a set of black clad legs and a pair of shit-kicker bully boots. I reached a shaking hand towards the figure.
“Eli… I need…” My lips were dry, my throat raw from the smoke. There was no answer, just the sound of the fan as it chugged harder to combat the warm air of the club as it invaded the cold room.
There was an echoing, metallic clang as the door swung shut.
I was locked in. Locked in a cold storage room like a forgotten pack of vodka coolers. No fucking way.
How cliché, how drab, how goddamn infuriating. Witches were burnt at the stake, not turned into popsicles.
I groaned and tried to get up, but my legs were unsteady and my butt was numb. My teeth chattered, my fingers were aching and my breath came out in white clouds. I blinked my eyes furiously, the stinging feeling hadn’t gone away, but at least my vision wasn’t as blurry. Whoever the Malleus was, he must have moved far enough away… or I was actually safer behind all of this concrete.
Safer. That didn’t mean anything when it was this cold.
My legs felt a little steadier and I tried to straighten up, but my head cracked against the low ceiling and I fell to my knees.
The fan chunked and whirred above me and my breath came out in gasps. I flexed my fingers, trying to keep the blood moving, but it was so cold in that little room and I was thirsty, and tired… The thick metal door, padded with insulation was in front of me and I groped for the handle. There should be a safety plunger, so shit like this didn’t happen.
My fingers found a hole in the door where the plunger should have been. The metal was bright and sharp. As though the handle had been ripped away recently.
Fuck. My. Lives.
I could feel my magic churning in my veins as I pounded my hands against the door.
“Hey! Anyone!” I had a feeling that shouting wasn’t going to do any good, but damned if I didn’t give it a shot anyway. “I’m in here, you fuckers! Hey!”
I slammed my shoulder into the door, but it didn’t move. I gritted my teeth. It was dangerous to use my magic when the Malleus were close. There was no telling what would happen if I outed myself. But it was so cold, and I was so tired of all of this shit. The hiding, the running, the paranoia.
If I went to sleep, maybe I could forget all about it.
“No!”
With a burst of lavender light, the door gave way and I fell into the empty air, landing heavily on my chest and elbows.
“Oof!”
Fuck, that hurt.
I looked over my shoulder at the coldroom door. It swung shut with a small click. I rested my forehead on the dirty floor, the heat of the club was oppressive, but the painful tingling of my fingers and toes as my body re-heated told me that was a good thing.
Music thumped through the club, vibrating through the floor and up into my chest. I lay there panting, trying to figure out what the fuck had happened. My magic had never reared up to protect me like that, and I was a little shaken by it. If I couldn’t control my powers, I was at risk of being discovered.
Liabilities were one thing, I could avoid those, but if I was a liability to myself? Not cool.
“Ophelia?”
Oh, my goddess. Eli.
Finally.
I groaned and pushed myself up to a sitting position. My jeans were ripped at the knee, and I could see bright beads of red blood from where I’d scraped over the rough concrete. I rubbed at my face with my sleeve, thankful for the worn in leather that had taken the brunt of my fall, and looked up at my boyfriend.
“Woah, you look like you got lost on the way to a haunted house,” he said, his expression serious. “Are you okay?” He leaned down to help me to my feet and I accepted his cold touch gratefully.
“No. I’m not okay. I need to go home… like right the fuck now.” There was no way I was staying here. I had to get out, even just to stand outside in the night air. I needed to get out of this death trap masquerading as a nightclub.
Eli raised an eyebrow and looked back towards the club. The dance floor pulsed with twenty-somethings all jumping and jostling to the angry cords and I knew that he wanted to be out there too.
“Eli!” I shouted over the music. “I have to go!” I was getting angry now. I yanked my hands out of his cold grasp. Eli nodded slowly and put his arm around my waist. I knew he was reluctant to leave, but I wasn’t worried about his need to reach out and touch his groupies.
We edged around the dance floor, heading for the stairs. Eli held me tight against his side, and as much as I hated to admit it, his touch was reassuring and steady. The rest of Eli’s band were circling through the crowd, their moonshined eyes trained on us. Well, the Laudan were.
Grady was the lone human member of the band, a guitarist that had been brought in a few months ago, and he was doing his level best to get as drunk as possible in a very short amount of time.
The kid was braced against the bar downing shot after shot of tequila as the bartender watched me with his glittering silvered eyes. Bishop leaned against a poster-covered wall, watching the guitarist. I wondered how long the kid had been a part of the band, or if he knew what was coming for him. Eli had mentioned that their band was finally feeling complete, so it was only a matter of time before Mutually Assured Destruction acquired their fourth supernatural member.
Gross.
“Eli, what’s the deal,” a tall, slender Laudan with long black hair wearing a pin and patch covered black denim vest stepped onto the stairs in front of us. He bared his teeth briefly, and I suppressed a shudder. “You really leaving with that hitea?”
“I have a name, deadhead,” I snapped, gripping the back of Eli’s shirt tightly in my fist.
“Yeah. I’m leaving,” Eli said flatly, ignoring my comment. His arm tightened around me briefly. The Laudan blocking our way stared down at me as if I’d just crawled out of the sewer, which… fair enough, I probably looked like shit, but I bristled.
“Oren wants to talk to you,” the Laudan snarled, his eyes never leaving my face. Eli tightened his grip on my waist again. I could feel his anger, but he was hiding it well enough.
“Later. Now, get out of my way.”
The Laudan hissed, and stood his ground. Eli lifted his chin, he was tall, taller than the punk in front of us, but height didn’t matter much when it came to the kind of fights these guys got into.
“Maybe you didn’t hear what I said, kirnon, Oren wants to talk to you. This isn’t negotiable.” The Laudan reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me off balance and away from Eli.
“Hey!” I shouted as I stumbled against the metal railing. I grabbed hold of the metal bar in an attempt to give myself some leverage and twisted my other arm out of his grip in a well-practiced motion. Self-defense class had been good for something after all. I’d have to remind Lacey about her request to join me for a session.
The Laudan looked at me briefly with an expression of surprise on his gaunt face. I say briefly, because without warning, Eli’s fist had connected with the punk’s jaw, knocking him backwards off the stairs and into the crowded dance floor.
My initial reaction of self-righteous annoyance was replaced instantly by the knowledge that we were really close to being really dead meat. Eli loomed on the stairs, his hands balled into fists at his sides, fangs bared, ready for more. Performing always amped him up, but this was different. Usually after he came back to my apartment after a gig, he would be ready for a different kind of action, but right
now, he was ready to take on the whole club bare handed.
The Blood Outlaws were out of their seats and moving towards us.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The band on stage continued to wail, and I couldn’t tell if they were oblivious to what was going on, or intent on providing a soundtrack for the fight they were expecting.
“Eli... we need to get the fuck out of here!” I whispered the words, but he heard me. He turned with obvious reluctance and wrapped his arm around my waist again and rushed me up the stairs. We pushed past Castle, who had just lifted the rope to let another group of punks through, knocking them aside.
“Hey!”
There was no way we were stopping. As soon as my boots hit the sidewalk I started to run. There was no way in hell I was waiting around for anyone to come out and confront us. Besides, if they wanted Eli, they would find him. At least I knew that I would be safe inside my apartment.
Safer than standing in the street anyway.
I ran as fast as I could, my magic pushing me along ever so slightly. Eli, slick bastard that he was, disappeared into the night. If we had anyone on our tail, they would have to choose between the two of us. I knew that he could handle himself against other Laudan, but I needed to get home, and fast.
I ran my ass off all the way to the subway that would take me back to my neighborhood. I reset my glamor before stepping into the station and joining a group of drunk hipsters who had obviously rolled out of the newest, purposefully grungy ‘dive bar’ after last call. It was late, but this was New York, and there was always someone around, whether you liked it or not.
I leaned against one of the young women, pretending that I belonged with them. She grabbed a lock of my hair and held it up to her face.
“Whaddya think,” she slurred to one of her friends. “Should I go red next? I mean, I can never decide.”
Her friend brushed her bright blue bangs out of her face and gave her friend a long look, considering carefully. I held still, pretending to be invisible while this stranger fondled my hair. If I weren’t hiding from the group of Laudan who were surely on my tail, this chick would never have gotten close to me. I gritted my teeth as another group of people got onto the train. These ones in black clothing and sunglasses. Obvious vampires are obvious. At least to me.
Sticks & Stones: (Urban Fantasy) (Daughters of Hecate Book 2) Page 4