Wolf's Bane: Book Three of the Demimonde

by Unknown

  Then I saw why: tray after tray of cocktails and pitchers were prepared and whisked off through a thick door about twenty feet from the side of the bar, leading to what I presumed was backstage. Catering to the talent, I supposed.

  Even the bartender was well-dressed compared to the tee shirts and tank tops the others had worn throughout the show. The white-shirted and pristine-aproned gentleman was joined by an elegant lady in similar garb as I took a seat. She smiled and made me the best pomegranate Cosmo I'd ever tasted but shook her head when I lay a ten on the bar.

  "Compliments this evening," she said. "This is a sponsored party."

  I wiggled my eyebrows at Dahlia and grinned. "If you can make another like this one, then consider it a tip."

  "Tips are always appreciated." She grinned before leaving to take another's order.

  "You okay here, Soph?" Toby's tension made his voice sound frayed around the edges. Being Were, he couldn't benefit from a good Sophia session. Whatever business the Were had, he wasn't looking forward to it.

  A glancing touch on Dahlia's power told me she was concerned but not nervous, although feeling a little stifled by all the Were. I sympathized easily—being in a room full of voids was unsettling. It was like walking in the dark. Anything could pop up and surprise the life out of me. I didn't like surprises, especially not Were ones.

  "I'm okay if you are." I eyed him and reached out to take his hand, wanting to comfort him.

  He pulled back from me, shaking his head. "Don't get your scent on me. It's not smart."

  Enough said. I picked up my drink, sipping and looking at Dahlia over the rim of the glass.

  "Just call me if you need anything," she said. "I'll be listening."

  "And, hey." Toby laughed, a false sound meant to put me at ease. "Don't get loaded and go home with anyone."

  The joke was a bad one but it worked. I winked at him and pretended to adjust my cleavage. "Party pooper."

  Eventually, the bar area filled up, although no one appeared to have hunkered down the way I did. The entire auditorium had become a huge cocktail party, tuxedoed servers carrying silver platters of appetizers to quite a mixed crowd. Some parts still looked like a biker rally, but now there were just as many wearing suits and dresses and flannel shirts as there were wearing denim and leather.

  Usually I was a big one for people watching. Not tonight. I'd gotten a smartphone for Christmas from Santa Me and had downloaded a new romance for my e-reader. Those who can't do, teach, and those who can't be with their soul mate read about the ones who are. I read between snippets of conversation with Glory, the bar maid, and paid no attention to anyone behind me.

  I did notice, however, when Glory's eyes grew wide as she looked over my head, and I fought an urge to duck. Instead of a growl, I heard a very familiar voice ask for two lagers.

  Dierk Adeluf.

  He leaned forward casually, one outstretched arm against the bar next to me.

  Without thinking, I turned to face him. "One for each hand, huh?"

  He glanced down in surprise before grinning. "Actually, yes. It took all night to get this close to the bar. Who knows when I'll get close enough again?"

  "Yeah, I guess." I wanted to sigh and flutter my eyelashes at him. His voice was so…sigh. "Great show, by the by. Reminded me a little of the Rotterdam bootleg more so than the last live album."

  Dierk raised his eyebrows.

  "An attentive ear," he said. "Very impressive. Hans is with us tonight, and he sings the harmony. Actually, we can't keep him from singing." He shook his head and laughed. "Rotterdam was the last tour he played with us."

  Glory pushed two draughts across the bar to him, her gaze on the bar. He slid a folded bill toward her and she took it with trembling fingers. Another fan girl, I thought. I'll have to hug her later.

  "It's an honor to know we have such an elegant listener. Usually our followers are a bit more. . ." His gaze roamed the room and he nodded toward a rough-looking assembly at the other end. "Organic. If you are inclined, it's less crowded backstage."

  He pulled a lanyard pass from his back pocket and lay it on the bar next to my purse. "You are welcome to join us. I'd love to speak with you further."

  He bowed with a courtly dip of his head, picked up his glasses, and melted into the crowd.

  I picked up the pass, turning it over in my hands before slipping it into my purse. Blood and excitement hummed in my ears. If I wasn't careful, I'd pee my pants with delight. With so many discerning noses nearby, that could have been problematic.

  Of course, I had absolutely no intention to take him up on his offer. That brief snatch of conversation was enough for me. Hero worship was never meant to occur up close—it was definitely a from-afar phenomenon. Anything closer was akin to stalking.

  Although, if I was going to stalk anyone, I supposed it would be Dierk Adeluf.

  As I happily contemplated a fresh drink and the memory of his charming half-smile and honey-soft brown eyes, the last thing I anticipated was the physical removal from my daydream.

  Someone spilled an ice-cold drink down my spine.

  I spun around in indignant shock to see a tall blonde, big-haired and shrink-wrapped in black leather, staring me into the ground and waving an empty glass. The cruel smile that sliced across her mouth ensured me there was nothing accidental about the mishap.

  "What's your problem?" I took a towel from Glory and tried to mop up the cold streak that soaked me from neck to waist.

  "You owe me a drink, you clumsy bitch." Her voice was thick with European accent. Great. An out-of-towner. Obviously, they don't teach etiquette in Leather Land.

  "I what? You dumped it on me!" I looked down at the towel, seeing it come away bright orange. "Oh, great. Kool-Aid doesn't come out, either."

  She narrowed her eyes. At least her command of English included satire and reference to childish things. "Pay for my drink and get out."

  "Pay for my blouse and kiss my ass," I said. Where was Dahlia? Here I needed protecting and she was off sniffing rears with Toby. I thinned my barriers and send her a query of power, noticing that the blond drink bomber had a distinct lack of power.

  Great. A Were void. Just great.

  "Kick your ass?" She smiled as she deliberately misquoted me. "With pleasure."

  Note to self: never write a human check your sorry ass can't cash because you are in a room full of werewolves.

  She stalked closer. I noticed that a semi-circle had formed around us. At least they weren't waving fists and chanting for blood. Still, they looked far too interested in what the blonde was doing. Too much smiling.

  The circle broke and Dahlia pushed through, bouncer in tow. Of course, he was a nicely dressed bouncer, but his biceps stretched the sleeves of his polo and a tattoo snaked up his neck. "Trouble here?"

  Blonde Menace pointed a red-painted nail at me. "She spilled my drink and insulted me."

  "I did no such thing. Anyone here could vouch. Glory?" I peered behind me for the bartender but she was no longer behind the bar. Great again.

  "Seeing she wears the drink and you don't…" The bouncer crossed his beefy arms at the other woman. "I will respectfully disagree. Separate at once."

  Dahlia eyed the foreigner. "We should go, Soph. Toby doesn't need me to stay."

  "Yes, you should," Blondie said, eyeing the bouncer with distinct disapproval. "And take your purse with you. I'd hate for you to forget it and need to return."

  I glared at her, my face hot with futile anger. "Pity. We were getting on so well, too."

  She stepped closer, ignoring the bouncer's growl. "Oh, you can stay, sweetheart. I can arrange for privacy and we could really get to know each other."

  The sticky cold stream down my back turned my phony smile into genuine snarl. "As long as you don't serve Kool-Aid at our tea party."

  "Sophie." Dahlia pressed her hand into my side before herding me away. "Passive aggressive doesn't need to be so aggressive."

  Dahlia led me by
the hand, zig-zagging around groups and clusters. Her firm grip was relentless and I clipped along behind her, worried that any minute I'd twist an ankle. She forgot I wasn't wearing running shoes.

  My face still flushed from the encounter, I alternately cursed myself for not standing up for myself better and praised myself for not sticking my foot into my mouth when Dierk was there. I knew I'd eventually forget the almost-fight but that brief encounter with my rock-star crush would take a long time to fade from my memory.

  I'd wear that pass like an Olympic medal every day for a year. By the time we reached the back of the auditorium, I had a week's worth of matching outfits planned. Including boots.

  Dahlia let go of my hand to push open the back door. One of the bouncers stopped her.

  "What's the problem?" Dahlia contained her irritation and chose a diplomatic tone.

  "Her." One of the bouncers pointed at me.

  "I did not spill that chick's drink." I didn't care if I sounded diplomatic or not. I still had a wet sticky mess dripping into the back of my jeans. "Just let me go."

  "We don't care about some broad's drink." The bouncer curled his lip and flashed his orange rust eyes at me. "But we don't tolerate criminals."

  "Her?" Dahlia rolled her eyes. "You gotta be kidding."

  "Nope." The bouncer stepped forward and tapped my chest hard enough to push me off balance. I bumped into another guy behind me, who clamped his hands down on my shoulders. "We'd like to have a word with you. Miss," he added with snide emphasis.

  The guy behind me gave me a sideways shove. The two of them pushed me backwards through the crowd to a side door and two others slid between me and Dahlia, cutting us apart. Her angry protests turned to sharp shouts. They'd called out the North Philly girl in her. The dangerous Demivamp was only a step behind.

  "Dally!" Panicked, I thinned my barriers and felt for Dahlia. She wasn't following. Oh, shit. Don't get in trouble, she'd said.

  The door slammed shut. Dahlia's voice continued on the other side, muffled by the thickness of the wall. We stood in what looked like a service hallway. The grey cinderblock walls and fluorescent lighting seemed harsh after being in the warm dim concert hall. I squinted to see another guard leaning against the wall, arms folded.

  "This the one who stole his wallet?" He stomped closer and stared down his long nose at me. Were eyes glowered with contempt. "A pitiful weak thing, too. You surprise me, thief. Now give me the wallet."

  "I did not steal any wallet. This is ridiculous."

  "And I have a witness that says otherwise."

  "What witness? I was minding my own business, then someone spilled a drink on my back, and the bouncer broke it up, and my friend and I walked away right after. I never stole anything."

  "Except the wallet in your purse."

  "Whatever." I yanked my bag open. "You've got real nerve."

  I pulled my wallet free and held it up to his face. "Does this look like a man's wallet to you?"

  "Yes," he said. "It does."

  "You're blind then, because this is obviously—" I looked at it. And blinked. "Not Vera Bradley. Shit. Not my wallet."

  He grabbed my hand, holding it aloft. "That's just what I was thinking."

  He leaned into me, baring his teeth, and I arched my back to keep away. Not an easy feat in these boots—I had to descend steps backwards in this pair. I dangled from his grasp, off-balanced and helpless. The Were snatched my purse with his free hand and tossed it to his partner. "Hiding anything else, thief?"

  I couldn't answer because I was still in shock. How the hell did someone else's wallet get into my purse?

  "Only this," his buddy said, dangling the backstage pass by its lanyard in front of my face. "She steals passes, too. Going back for seconds?"

  "I didn't steal that. It was given to me." I shook my head frantically. "Ask the bartender. I didn't steal the wallet, either."

  "Oh. Somebody gave you that, as well?"

  "Obviously, someone planted it there. Not me. The only time I took my eyes off my purse was when that girl picked a fight with me."

  "Good excuse. Tell der König yourself. Who gave you this pass?"

  I had absolutely no idea what a kernick was and really didn't care. I rolled my eyes, knowing they'd never believe me. "Dierk Adeluf."

  He laughed. "Right. Dierk Adeluf roams through crowds, begging for company. Especially company of your sort."

  I glared at him through slitted eyes. "Oh, you mean the intelligent, decent sort?"

  "Picking up the trash, Stohl?"

  I twisted my head toward the familiar voice. The guard still had a crushing grip on my wrist and the light was dim but I could see it was the blonde that poured her drink on me.

  "You." I bared my teeth. "I should have guessed."

  "Quiet," Stohl said. He gave my captive wrist a shake before looking toward the smiling blonde. "Go backstage. This does not concern you."

  She circled close and blew a red lip-sticked kiss in my face before sauntering off down the hall.

  "Great," I said. "She's with you. Of course. That's the one who picked a fight. She must have planted it."

  He turned his head toward my hand, which had begun to tingle from being held high over my head. He waved his face near it, eyes never leaving mine. "I only detect Dierk's scent and yours."

  "Stohl, you worry too much about my scent," Dierk said from behind me.

  My stomach dropped. I closed my eyes, the flush of my face turning damp and cold.

  Reaching up, Dierk plucked the wallet carefully from my numbing grasp. "Thank you for holding this. Next time, wait until I ask you to do so."

  "I didn't take it." Fear trembled my voice. "I swear."

  "We will determine that. Let me see your face."

  Stohl twisted my arm and spun me around like a puppet to face Dierk.

  His eyes moved across my face as he tried to place it. He nodded, once. "You. Well. That's a surprise. I didn't think I passed close enough for you to lift this."

  "That's because I didn't."

  "No. I don't believe you did." He quietly looked at me for a long moment, a half-smile playing over his mouth. "Let her go, Stohl. She's no thief."

  "But mein König—"

  "I said, let her go." Dierk tilted his head toward me, his voice taking on a soothing and persuasive cadence. "You've already frightened her and I don't like my fans to be mistreated. There is obviously a mistake."

  Stohl rumbled deep in his throat. "I saw her take it from her purse. I can scent no one but her and you. You need more proof?"

  "Not proof. Just the missing pieces." Dierk's mouth played a slight smile but his eyes seemed genuinely contrite. "My dear, I apologize. You have been wrongfully accused. I wish to make it up to you. Will you allow me?"

  Stohl growled and slapped my purse into my hands with enough force that I went back a step. I decided I really didn't need to be here any longer. "Thanks, Mr. Adeluf, but I've got plans."

  "Such as?"

  I opened my purse and cursed under my breath when I looked inside. "Canceling my credit cards since, despite the happy ending to your wallet's story, mine is still swiped."

  His brows dropped shrewdly. "You don't say? Then I insist you come with me."

  "Oh, no need." I took a wary step toward the door, pricking my Sophia ears to catch a thought from Dahlia. "It's easier to cancel and walk away."

  Dierk shook his head slowly. "Easier for you, perhaps, but I have a proud sense of honor. My entourage has been up to something and it needs to be sorted."

  I pivoted on my heel and headed for the door. "Sort without me."

  "Let her leave, mein König," Stohl said.

  "Please," Dierk said.

  I knew he'd spoken only to me. I paused to turn back and look at him. The word had held so much.

  "I insist." Dierk gave the other man a stilling look. "I meant what I said before. I'd like you to come back. You'll be safe, I promise."

  My purse on shoulder, I twisted the
straps. My heart and my brain were arguing again, weathering my resolve. "Is that bitchy thing going to be there?"

  Dierk looked a question at Stohl.

  "Cacilia," Stohl said.

  "Ah," Dierk said. He laughed, as if finding the whole bit charming. "I should have known. She won't bother us."

  His easy laugh and personal nature had a thawing effect on me, making me linger when I should have been running in the opposite direction. Years of listening to his albums had given me a false sense of familiarity. Just because I knew who he was didn't mean I knew him.

  And still. "Must I come back alone?"

  "No, of course not. You said you were with friends. Bring them. Stohl, make pass for—three friends?"

  I shrugged. "Two is fine."

  "Two additional at the door, Stohl. She still has her pass, correct?"

  Stohl didn't disagree but he didn't look happy, either. Hopefully he'd stay at the door and I wouldn't have to worry about him hitting me with those heavy glares again.

  Dierk tipped his head at me. "I will see you soon?"

  "I have to find my friends first."

  "I'll be waiting." With a slight bow, he turned and left, walking off down the hallway in the same direction Cacilia had gone.

  Stohl exhaled hard, a gravelly sound, and gave me a look to shrivel. "Two friends. No vampires."

  I pouted. "Oh, darn."

  He slapped the pass into my hand and pointed back to the door he'd dragged me through earlier. Didn't need to tell me twice. Dahlia's power was poking at me, inquisitive taps. I knew I'd better find her before she went nuts.

  I followed the thin trail of Dahlia's power back to a corner bar and found her hunched over a Bloody Mary, looking both furious and guilt-stricken. Toby had his arm around her shoulder, and gave her a squeeze when I approached.

  "See?" He grinned. "Sophie can take care of herself. You can stop beating yourself up now, baby girl."

  Dahlia twisted and launched herself at me, hugging and apologizing for not rescuing me. "I tried. I even called down someone from special ops. They said they couldn't risk an incident."