Daemon Uprising

by Mariah Ankenman

  “Let’s go. It’s already past ten.”

  Kiernan chuckled as he let her move past him into the hall. She locked her apartment door and continued down to the steps without even bothering to see if he followed. She said nothing as they walked the streets of downtown. Too embarrassed by her body’s reaction to the man to actually speak to him. The closer they got to the club, the more her nerves jumped. Silly really. She’d been on hundreds of assignments before, killed scores of Kakos and other supernatural beings. She shouldn’t be nervous, but she was. Maybe the nerves came from her attire. She usually wore more clothes when hunting. Or maybe her partner caused her anxiety. She always worked alone. How she liked it, honestly. People complicated things, no matter if they were human or…other.

  As a distraction, she moved her thoughts to tonight’s plan. They would infiltrate the club, blending in while checking it out. Hopefully, catch a glimpse of Stryden or one of his Kako followers. If they were really lucky, they would glean information from the wait staff or frequent patrons, but she didn’t hold out much hope. Her luck so far in life had been as reliable as a drunk running a liquor store. She still planned to talk to the bartender, but doubted he would give her any useful information, if he knew anything at all.

  Inquiring about a patron was one thing, quite another to ask about someone’s boss. They didn’t seek Stryden anymore; they sought a way to take him down. And how in the hell did he get other Kakos to follow him? That part worried Tabitha the most. If word got out to the Kakos on how to keep the madness at bay and rally together, the human race would soon be on the endangered species list.

  The line for The Basement staggered around the block. New clubs were always popular in the LODO area. This one was no exception. The incident last night had, apparently, only increased its appeal.

  “Great,” she muttered. “It’ll take us all night just to get in.”

  Kiernan snorted, his smirk in place as she glanced at him. “Watch and learn, Tabby Cat.”

  She sighed. Useless to correct him anymore. The man never listened. Instead, she followed him silently, viciously cursing him in her own head.

  Kiernan walked right past everyone in the very long line and went straight to the bouncer, a large Latino man, with arms almost as big as her entire body. Easily standing six foot seven, six foot eight, the man had to weigh over two hundred and fifty pounds. And none of that was fat. A few quick words were exchanged and, if she was not mistaken, something passed between the two during their brief handshake. Money no doubt. Just how much was unclear, but it had to be a pretty sum, because the bouncer lifted one large finger the size of a German sausage and motioned for them to enter the club.

  Cries of dismay rose from the crowd. Mr. Big-As-A-House Bouncer gave a loud growl quickly quelling any dissent. Yes, the man actually growled at the crowd. It worked. They quieted down and went back to waiting for their turn. Smart move on their part, she thought. She would not want to be on the receiving end of his bar toss. By the looks of him, she’d end up in the next county.

  They walked down the stairs into the dimly lit club. Music—if you could call it music—beat a steady rhythm from the heart of the dance floor. At the far wall, a table sat on a rise. A young woman, most likely no older than twenty-four, with short spiky bottle-blonde hair sat up in front of a DJ system. The only light in the club emanated from her three computer screens.

  A mass of gyrating people took up most of the dance floor. A few tables and stools dotted the outskirts of the dance area. Most of the seating was in the bar area, however, perfect for what Tabitha had in mind.

  She chose a stool directly in front of the beer pulls. Two bartenders on shift—one tall muscular man with various tattoos running up both arms, ending on his shaven head, and a lean, tall woman whose age was a conundrum. Her perky high breasts said late twenties, but the wrinkles around her eyes pegged her as older. The haggard, untrustworthy look in her eyes only aged her more. Tabitha willingly bet the breasts were fake, the bartender’s and those of about half of the other women in the club.

  Guessing she’d have a better shot with tattoo guy, she turned to Kiernan.

  “I’ll take tattoo; you take plastic surgery.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her descriptions but simply nodded and headed off toward the other end of the bar.

  She watched him go, then turned her attention back to the male bartender. She waited till he glanced her way and made eye contact. He lifted his chin in recognition, passing off two long-neck beers to a young man dressed in an outfit straight from the nineteen hundreds, complete with pocket watch and bowler hat. The hipster trend had taken over Denver in a big way. She found it odd, but who was she to judge? She usually carried a two-foot retractable sword on her person. Much weirder than a bowler hat. Of course, her weapon was much more practical than an item of clothing popular in the nineteen-twenties.

  The man in question took the beers from tattoo bartender and headed back out into the throng of people. Passing behind perky breasts, tattoo guy slid up to the bar in front of Tabitha.

  “What can I get for ya?”

  His voice carried over the din of music and people without being overly loud. He must have perfected the art of projecting without yelling. She supposed one would kind of have to in his line of work.

  “Rum and soda please.” She gave him her best flirty smile.

  Tattoo guy grunted and walked away to make her drink. Okay, apparently she was only allowed so much charm in one day. Or perhaps Hal had just been desperate. She thanked her lucky stars Kiernan wasn’t close enough to witness her failure. She’d have to change tactics if she wanted to get anything out of this guy.

  Tattoo returned with her drink. “Six bucks.”

  She slid a ten on the bar, gently pushing the bill forward to reveal the fifty placed behind it. The bartender gave her a quick glance, then slid the money off the counter and into his pocket. He picked up a glass and wiped it down with a cloth. The glass appeared sparkling clean so she took that as her cue.

  “Nice place.”

  Tattoo grunted.

  “How long’s it been open?”

  “Few months.”

  Well, the man certainly didn’t mince words.

  “You own it?”

  She thought she asked casually, but from the suspicious look on the bartender’s face, maybe she should have eased into it a little more. Tabitha watched the suspicion cross the big man’s face, holding her breath. Finally, he shook his head.

  “No, ma’am. I just work here.”

  Ma’am? Oh great, she was doing real well with this intel gathering. She wished she could use her regular methods, kicking ass until names flew, but in this particular situation that would likely get her killed. Praying for the patience to not lose her patience, she tried again. This was going to be harder than she thought.

  Chapter 12

  Kiernan watched Tabitha from the other end of the bar. She did not look happy. It seemed tattoo guy—as she called him—wasn’t giving her anything. He would have laughed, if the situation weren’t so dire.

  The other bartender—plastic surgery—walked up to him. He saw why Tabitha used the description. The woman had to be at least forty, but she looked like she tried to pass for twenty-two. He would bet at least half this woman’s body was manufactured in a doctor’s office. Kiernan never understood humans’ obsession with plastic surgery. Why risk your life to fix a bump in your nose? They complained so much about being individuals and then turned around and tried to look the same. Humans were an odd species.

  Plastic Surgery placed a cardboard coaster in front of him. “What can I get ya, hun?”

  “Dark draft, please.”

  The bartender grabbed a pint glass and poured from the tap. Kiernan’s gaze went back to the other end of the bar.

  “Wasting her time, that one.”

  He looked up as the bartender placed the beer in front of him. “Pardon?”

  She cocked her head in the directio
n of Tabitha and tattoo bartender. “Fuck-me-shoes over there. Whatever she wants, she won’t get it out of Tony. The man barely talks to me, and I’ve known him for thirteen years.”

  Plastic Surgery appeared right on the money. Tabitha looked ready to explode, and Tony stood there polishing a very clean bar glass, cool as a cucumber.

  “Now if she’d come over here, I’d give her what she wants.” The bartender leaned against the counter with one elbow, her gaze raking over Tabitha. “And what she needs, too.”

  Kiernan almost choked on his beer. Looked like Tabitha had chosen the wrong bartender to work her wiles on, and damned if he wouldn’t love to be the one to tell her. He wouldn’t mind being witness to their conversation either, for a number of reasons.

  Clearing his throat, he decided to work this new angle. “That’s Tabitha.”

  “You know her?” The bartender turned her attention back to him, raising her brows.

  “Sure, Tabby Cat and I go way back.”

  She smirked. “Then why are you over here watching her try to work her magic on Tony?”

  “It’s not like that,” he replied casually. “We work together.”

  Plastic Surgery gave him a hard look. “Sure.”

  Her doubtful tone made him squirm inside. Great, if perfect strangers saw his attraction to the dark-haired little dynamo, why couldn’t she? She saw, he mused. The proof was in the kiss they shared earlier that day. Tabitha just didn’t want to admit it. She would have to soon, though, if he had anything to say about it.

  “So what’s your coworker after?”

  He gave the bartender a naive look. “After?”

  Plastic Surgery scoffed. “The way she’s grillin’ Tony over there, she wants something.” She paused to refill the beer of the man a few stools away. “She lookin’ for someone?”

  “You could say that,” he said noncommittally.

  “And let me guess, you’re just helping her cause that’s what coworkers are for?”

  He ignored her question, shrugging.

  “So what’s fuck-me-shoes after?”

  He coughed, choking on the sip of beer he’d just taken. Tabitha would beat some serious ass if anyone ever called her that, though quite the appropriate name. They were killer shoes, and damned if he didn’t imagine her wearing them and nothing else.

  When he opened the door to her apartment, his jaw almost dropped to the floor. He knew the woman was beautiful underneath all that ice and ass kicking, but he never knew Tabitha Culver could be so damn sexy. He would have never guessed the always-on-the-job Tabitha had such a sexy little number hidden away. When had she gone shopping for it?

  The very small, black dress clung to her, hitting all the right curves. The top of the dress looped around her neck in halter fashion, giving her breasts a nice lift, providing cleavage a man could stare at for hours. The gods knew he had a hard time looking away. The hem stopped just below mid-thigh, and the skirt flared out enough to give her maneuverability.

  The bartender was right about the shoes. The red sky-high stilettos accentuated her legs making them look miles long. Who knew his little Tabby Cat had such killer legs? They were shapely and toned, like the rest of her, from years of fighting off creatures stronger than her. Kiernan thought her beautiful, but he never knew Tabitha could be such a lust-inducing sex pot.

  Pants beginning to feel a little tight, he shifted in his seat and addressed the bartender once more.

  “If I get her over here, will you answer her questions?”

  She turned her head toward him, eyes narrowing slightly. “Depends on what they are.”

  He held his breath. Was Plastic Surgery part of Stryden’s Kakos? Shanna perhaps?

  “I’ll just go get her and let her tell you.” He slid off the barstool. “I’m sorry, I never caught your name.” Smooth, about as covert as a bull in a china shop.

  “Mara.”

  He let out a small breath. She could lie, but why would Shanna lie about her name? The Kakos had no idea the Enforcers were out looking for them. At least, he didn’t think they knew. Making his way down the bar to Tabitha, he decided to be wary of Mara. They’d pull what information they could, but hopefully not enough to make her suspicious if she was actually Shanna.

  Tabitha’s head swung toward him as he approached, as if she felt his presence coming near. Damned if that didn’t make him feel happy and even a little bit smug. He was in her system now. She’d have a hard time getting him out.

  “You get anything?” she asked in a low voice, her gaze darting from Mara down the bar to Tony who stood a few feet away helping another customer.

  He shrugged. “Not really. You?”

  She scowled in Tony’s direction. Nice to see she didn’t save her death killing looks for him alone.

  “No. The man refuses to talk to me. Now what?”

  “Come with me.”

  Chocolate-brown eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”

  “I may have some information, but you have to come over there with me.”

  She looked in the direction he indicated. His stool still remained empty, a miracle in a place this crowded. He suspected Mara saved it for them. Confirmation came when he glanced over to catch a short stubby man try to take a seat. Mara shook her head and nodded in the direction of the tables a few feet away. The man opened his mouth to protest. Mara must have said something. Even with his superior Daemon hearing, Kiernan couldn’t make it out over the loud music and constant chatter of club goers. Whatever she said resulted in the desired effect. The man turned bright red and quickly vacated the seat.

  “What was that all about?” Tabitha asked, having witnessed the strange scene while looking over his shoulder.

  He gave her a mischievous smile. “I think you picked the wrong bartender, Tabby Cat.”

  ****

  Tabitha ground her teeth at the nickname and the smug little smile that seemed permanently affixed to Kiernan’s face. Just what the heck was he up to anyway? Deciding to beat his ass later for whatever he planned, or just for the hell of it, she left her stool by I-can’t-form-a-complete-sentence Tony and followed Kiernan down to the other end of the bar.

  She slipped onto the barstool and waited for the female bartender to approach them. She didn’t have to wait long. Plastic Surgery seemed to come out of nowhere and suddenly stood right in front of them. The other woman’s gaze roamed over her. Tabitha now understood what Kiernan’s earlier comment was about. She picked the wrong bartender indeed.

  No problem, she could work with this. Giving what she hoped was a dazzling smile, she greeted the bartender. “Hi…”

  “Mara.”

  “Tabitha.”

  She held out her hand, which Mara took. The shake was more of a caress. Yeah, she could handle this.

  “I really like that top you’ve got on.” Lame attempt at flirting, but she wasn’t even used to flirting with men, let alone women. She did okay earlier with Hal, but now it seemed her charm reserve runneth empty because Mara just chuckled shaking her head.

  “Save it, honey. I can see you’re straight as a flagpole. I’ll enjoy the scenery, and you ask me what you want to know.”

  “Beg pardon?” Her jaw dropped at Mara’s frankness.

  “I saw you over there drillin’ Tony. And your man over here.” She indicated Kiernan with a nod of her head. “Was about to start pumping me before I stopped him.”

  Her mouth twitched, a grin curving her lips. Well, what a stroke of luck for them, someone who worked at the bar and actually willing to give up information. Tabitha never trusted luck. A quick glance at Kiernan confirmed he didn’t either. They had to tread carefully.

  Choosing her words carefully, she said, “I wondered how long you’ve been working here?”

  Mara chuckled. “We’ve only been open a few weeks, doll. How long ya think?”

  Okay, so she’d been here since the start, good. Now to see how deeply involved in the club, and its owner, Mara was. She would have to be subtl
e.

  “So do you just bartend or…”

  “Or what? Do I finish up here and then go to my day job as an investment banker?” Mara shook her head. “I just work here. What do you want to know about my boss?”

  Evidently, her subtlety needed work. “His name for starters.”

  “Mr. S.”

  She arched a brow at Kiernan. “Mr. S?”

  “That’s what we call him.” Mara poured a beer for a man three stools down and slid it over to him. “He’s got this weird superstar complex or something. No full names. Like Cher or Madonna. Whatever.”

  Mr. S? She shared another look with Kiernan. It seemed they were right on the money. Evidence for the club belonging to Stryden stacked up. Now if they could just find Mr. S’s location, they could ID him and confirm it without a shadow of a doubt.

  “Sounds eccentric.”

  Mara scoffed. “More like annoying.”

  Had to agree with her there.

  “So, what’s Mr. S like?”

  The bartender raised a brow, her lips quirking up a little. “As fine as you are, honey, I’m gonna need to know why you are so interested in my boss before I give away too much. Strange as he is, I actually like this job. Pays the bills and such. Wouldn’t want to be out on the street.” She leaned forward. “Unless you wanna give me somewhere to go?”

  Tabitha felt the heat creeping up her face. From the corner of her eye, she saw Kiernan rubbing a hand over his mouth trying to hide his laughter. He knew she laid out most men who tried to flirt with her. This was a new experience. Someone of her own sex trying to get her into bed. She felt both flattered and awkward. Not quite sure how to deal with it, her discomfort apparently showed. Finally, Kiernan pulled himself together and came to her aide.

  “We’re not here to get you into any trouble, Mara. We just need some information.”

  She looked at him skeptically. “Is this about the other night? Are you guys cops?” Her voice rose as her speech quickened. “ ‘Cause the cops were already out here. Just a simple case of some bastard who got too drunk and started throwing punches.”