I leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree, crossing one foot over the other. I was trying to look relaxed but finding it difficult.
“What brought you here?”
Knight stopped swinging. “Someone called a creature from the Netherworld to Splendor, and the same creature killed the warlock.”
“Fabian?” I gulped. So, Knight was involved, but only so far as he was investigating. Damn. The finger was still pointing at me. “I had nothing to do with it.”
He started swinging again, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I didn’t think you did. I’m here to find out where the creature is and who summoned it.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
He shrugged. “You’re a Regulator and this is your territory. I thought I should pay you the courtesy of informing you I was here so we could…work together.”
“But you never registered at Headquarters. If you’re so interested in working with us, why not register and why not come to Headquarters to find me? Why talk to Angela about me?”
He arched a brow, and that same slow smile slid over his lips like a snake. “You did your homework. It’s confidential as to why I didn’t register.”
I frowned. “Confidential? I’m law enforcement, too, in case you forgot.”
He nodded. “I didn’t forget. But confidential is confidential. It doesn’t matter who you are.”
I pushed away from the tree, annoyed. “Quillan gives me my jobs, not you. Talk to him.”
“This goes over his head. If you want me to report back to the Relations office that you were less than willing to comply, I can do that.”
I stopped in my tracks. He was threatening me now? Great, I was stuck. Whatever the Netherworld wanted, it got. Otherwise, I could be deported for failing to do my job. Especially when it appeared that job was now coming from a higher power than Quillan.
“No, don’t do that,” I said, annoyed. “So, going back to this creature, you think someone called it?”
Knight smirked, knowing he had me. “I know someone called it.”
His cockiness really irked me. “Do you know what the creature is? I think it’s a werewolf.”
“No, it’s a Kragengen shifter.”
“Oh, really?” I said, pretending to know what the hell that was.
“You don’t have Kragengens here,” he said with a smile, as if he knew what I was thinking. “They only exist in the Netherworld.”
“Great, how in the hell are we going to find a shapeshifter?” I asked. “Talk about a needle in a haystack.
“Kragengens are not true shifters. They can only assume one form aside from their animal forms. If we find it in its human form, we’ve got it.”
I was quiet as I considered it. “What about the fact that there wasn’t any blood?”
“Kragengens are blood suckers though not vampires. Distantly related,” Knight finished, looking as pleased with himself as an A student.
I threw my hands on my hips. “Since you have this all figured out, what do you need my help for?”
He nodded. “Two heads are better than one.”
“Aren’t macho guys like you supposed to insist they work alone?”
He shrugged. “Whoever said I’m macho? Truth of it is, I do prefer to work alone. But orders are orders.”
“You have orders from higher up to work with me?” He nodded. “Why me and not Quillan?”
“Confidential.”
I glared at him. This “confidential” stuff was getting old. “So, back to you—you said you were a lichen?”
He laughed again, this time deeper. “A Loki. Lichen is algae.”
Heat shot to my cheeks. Lichen? Ugh. “Whatever, a Loki. What’s so great about you?”
“I have the strength of a vampire and I can influence dreams.”
“That’s it?” I asked, not meaning to sound so rude. “I mean, you can’t do magic?”
He shook his head. “No magic. I’m immune to it, though.”
“So I noticed,” I grumbled, remembering the ice and fire episodes. “Okay, smart-guy, any ideas on how we nab this shape-shifting creature?”
“Based on the fact that it tore Fabian to pieces, it probably enjoys causing pain. So, I ask you—where would a supernatural creature who enjoys inflicting pain want to spend its free time, here in Splendor?”
I felt a chill. “Dagan’s S&M club, Payne.”
He slid off the swing and nodded. “Bingo.”
SIX
I pulled into the alley bordering Dagan’s club, Payne. Marilyn Manson’s The Beautiful People blared through the open doors, punctuated with a few rounds of raucous laughter.
“Hey hottie,” a short guy with frizzy blond hair called out, pursing his lips and kissing the air.
I shook my head, watching him take a drag of his cigarette as he motioned to his crotch. His companion laughed. I ignored them and coaxed the Wrangler into a spot by the back door.
I turned the car off and exhaled, pulling the keys from the ignition. Opening the door, I slid down the seat onto the asphalt below. The heels of my thigh-high stiletto boots tapped the pavement and echoed the frenetic beating of my heart.
A dark form stepped out from behind a dumpster. I steadied myself for an attack, even as I recognized Knight.
“Damn it,” I snapped. “Do you always have to jump out at me?”
He wore blue jeans and a white t-shirt that stuck out against the dark night like a goblin in heaven. The white t-shirt didn’t do much to hide his ample biceps, and was visibly straining around his pecs.
Show off.
“Evening,” he said.
“Night,” I grumbled, forcing my attention from his healthy body.
He chuckled. “Meaning my name or a greeting?”
“Greeting,” I muttered, smoothing down the non-existent creases in my black vinyl miniskirt.
“Are you carrying a gun?” he asked, his gaze starting at my eyes and traveling the length of me. With my black miniskirt, bra top and boots, there wasn’t room for a gun.
“I’ve got magic, remember?”
“Yes, I remember,” he said, quirking a brow like my magic wasn’t very impressive. “Well, at least one of us is armed.”
I glanced at him, and he pulled up his shirt revealing the butt of a gun sticking out of his pants. It also revealed what looked like a six pack of abdomen. I looked away.
“Glad you’re prepared.” I said, then feigned interest in my skirt again.
“What should I wear? I imagine jeans and a t-shirt aren’t exactly dress code?”
“No,” I said. “They aren’t.”
“Maybe something not quite as revealing as what you’ve got on?”
“Hey, I’m dressing the part,” I started, my hands on my hips. “Wait until you see some of the women in there—I’ll...”
“Sorry,” he interrupted, eyeing me again. “You look…incredible. I’m just less thrilled with baring all my assets.”
I frowned but didn’t respond as my thoughts turned to getting the show on the road. First, Knight’s costume. “You might want to take your gun out of your pants.”
“Is that what you say to all the guys?”
I just shook my head.
He removed the gun. Closing my eyes, I shook my hand until a mound of fairy dust appeared. Then I imagined him in black leather pants and tossed the dust into the air. I opened my eyes and watched the dust circle him in a cloud of what looked like glitter. Once it disappeared, I found him before me, chest completely bare. He was nothing short of glorious in shiny leather that clutched his muscular thighs like a second skin.
“I thought you were immune to magic?” I asked.
Knight lifted his legs up as he inspected the boots. “I am. My clothes aren’t.”
I tried not to notice the thick white scar running from his collarbone, across the muscular landscape of his pecs and ending at his waist. It was like someone had taken a knife to a beautiful work of art.
I shrugged, pretending indifference. “None of my business.”
He nodded but didn’t drop his attention from my face. I blushed and could’ve hit myself. Hades be damned, blushing was just so…obvious.
“Can I have a shirt?” he asked.
“Most guys inside won’t be wearing one, but if you’re self-conscious about…”
“I’m not self-conscious about anything,” he snapped.
I hadn’t meant to offend him. I hadn’t even been talking about his scar. Dulcie O’Neil, always putting her foot in her mouth. “I didn’t mean to insinuate you were, I was just saying…”
Knight’s eyes were piercing. “Never mind. Shouldn’t I have something on to disguise this?” he asked, holding up his gun.
I’d forgotten about the weapon. As he shoved it back into the band of his leather pants, I tossed a fistful of fairy dust at him and imagined a red satiny shirt. It covered the gun perfectly. Knight glanced down and shrugged.
“I’m not thrilled with red.”
“Get used to it,” I said with a smile.
“I have a feeling these pants are going to chafe after a while…if you know what I mean.”
Holy hell, I’d forgotten to give him underwear! “Boxers or briefs?” I demanded, hoping the blood would drain from my flushed face.
He chuckled. “I’m a boxer man, myself.”
I shut my eyes, though I didn’t really have to. But, it made the task easier when not confronted with his amused gaze. Producing some fairy dust, I imagined a pair of red satin boxers underneath the leather and opened my eyes, blowing the ethereal particles at him.
Knight glanced down and pulled the band of his pants forward, inspecting the boxers below. “Thanks, not really a satin guy, but I guess these will do,” he said, a smile dancing in his eyes. “Ready?”
I didn’t say anything but headed for the back entrance of Payne. I pushed a button on the intercom.
“Yeah?” A voice echoed through the alley.
“I’m here to see Dagan. It’s Dulcie from Headquarters.”
Silence.
“Hello?” I demanded.
“Do you have an appointment?” the speaker box asked.
“I don’t need an appointment. Just tell Dagan I’m here. He’ll see me.”
There was more silence on the other end. I turned to face Knight who just grinned as if he were enjoying every minute of my disquiet. The door buzzed, and I pushed against it. Knight rested his hand on my lower back, and his touch brought me some sense of ease as I approached the long, dark hallway. I never knew what would happen at Dagan’s.
The insistent thudding of what I hesitated to call music met my ears and rattled around in my head like marbles spilling on a floor. The sound pounded against the walls, the beat almost too fast for even the song to keep up with.
“Prepare yourself for some kinky stuff,” I said.
“To watch or to partake of?”
“To watch,” I snapped.
Dagan appeared at the end of the hall. He was wearing a pair of black boxer shorts, nothing else. Both his nipples wore hoops. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest and making his muscles bulge until they looked like they might explode.
Dagan wasn’t that bad to look at—a very large guy…not quite as big as Nick the ogre but getting close. Tattoos ran the length of his arms and most of his chest. The tattoo on his chest was a wolf fornicating with an angel. Really tasteful. My eyes met his. They were literally black. Not a dark shade of brown, but black. Like vapid pools of nothing.
He glared down a thrice broken nose. “Dulcie, what do you want?”
“I need to talk with you. We have a few questions.”
“Who’s your friend?” Dagan asked, looking Knight up and down like he was Dagan’s own personal sexual fantasy. Dagan wasn’t just gay—he was into it all—women, men, whatever. As long as the sex was painful, he was into it.
“I work with the A.N.C. office in the Netherworld,” Knight said.
“Another cop. Great.” Dagan dropped his attention back to me, his gaze traveling the length of my body as if undressing me with his eyes. “Am I being deported?”
“No, Dagan, you aren’t,” I snapped.
Dagan approached me, and I wished I had my gun. He ran his finger down my shoulder and arm, then grabbed hold of my hand. I held my breath the entire time. My skin burned at the touch of his fingertips, and I didn’t need to glance at my arm to know his touch had left my skin red. A demon’s touch is like instant sunburn to a fairy.
I pulled my hand from his.
“Come in,” Dagan said as he started down the hall.
“Are you alright?” Knight whispered and ran his hand along my arm. I shivered against his touch and glanced down my shoulder, finding the redness completely gone. I faced him in shock, but he just winked.
I turned to Dagan again and followed him to his office. It was in the back of the building and set apart from the hideous things going on in the belly of the monster, that monster being his club. Dagan’s office suited me just fine.
“Have a seat,” Dagan said and closed the door behind us, shutting out the pounding music. His office was black with a few red bulbs fighting against the otherwise pitch darkness. If the devil had an office, this is what it would look like. I took a seat across from Dagan, who piled his legs up on the desk before me. Knight stood in the corner.
It was the four monitors set up against his desk that caught my attention—each one monitoring the four rooms of his establishment. Every room was occupied. The monitors were too far away to detect exactly what was going on within them—something I had no argument with. In this case, ignorance was most definitely bliss.
“Tell your friend to make himself comfortable,” Dagan said as his gaze settled on Knight.
“I’ll stand, thanks,” Knight answered, and I could hear the annoyance in his deep voice.
“Dagan, no more screwing around. I’m sure you’re interested in why we came here?” I asked.
Dagan faced me again with his lazy gaze. “Yes, Dulcie, enlighten me. I didn’t imagine you came for a threesome?”
I couldn’t help my cringe. “No, we didn’t,” I snapped. “And the only reason we dressed the part was because I knew you wouldn’t let us in otherwise.”
Dagan nodded and clasped his hands in his lap, looking like a professor about to scold a less than impressive student. “Right, we’ve been through this before, haven’t we?”
“Yeah, we have,” I said, wishing we could cut through the crap. “We’re here because we need to know if you’ve seen any strangers in the last couple weeks. Anyone you didn’t recognize?”
Dagan laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound—fraught with acerbic undertones. “Dulcie, darling Dulcie.” He dropped his feet to the floor, the thud vibrating through the small room like thunder. “I get people in here I don’t recognize all the time. Sadomasochism draws crowds from all over. We serve a vast clientele.”
Ugh, my question had been pretty dumb. I should’ve known that. Damn.
“This particular stranger would’ve had a zestier appetite than most,” Knight said eloquently, coming to my aid.
Dagan smiled, his gaze holding Knight again. “What kind of zesty appetite?”
I half-turned in my seat, wanting to give my eyes a break from Dagan. Knight was much more pleasant to look at.
He shrugged. “I’d say the creature would enjoy extreme pain—possibly receiving but definitely giving. Have you had any instances that are…out of the ordinary?”
Dagan’s gaze landed on me again, his eyes traveling up my legs until I wanted to cover them. But I didn’t even flinch. I’d trained myself.
“No, nothing I can think of. Now drop the charade, and tell me what’s going on.”
“A.N.C. business,” Knight started.
I shook my head. “He won’t tell us anything until we tell him what h
e wants to know.”
Dagan released another acid laugh. “Dulce, you know me so well.”
“Something killed Fabian. It was called from the Netherworld and we’re trying to find out who called it. The bigger thing at stake now, though, is finding the creature,” I said.
“I can’t help you, Dulcie. There hasn’t been anything out of the ordinary here in a while. Been boring, actually,” Dagan said.
I started to scoff but Knight’s hand on my shoulder shut me up. “Can we take a look around?” he asked.
Dagan leaned forward, his face suddenly all seriousness. “You can take a look around, but don’t even breathe you’re A.N.C. If my clients suspect any cop, anything, coming out of you, neither of you will be welcome here again. I do a lot to ensure my clientele are comfortable.”
“Understood,” Knight said, gritting his teeth.
Dagan stood. “Then please go ahead. Look around, but don’t call any attention to yourselves. I’ll be around to make sure.”
I stood up, dread pounding through me. Now, I had to drop the cop persona and face whatever horrible things were going on in the belly of the beast.
Dagan stood next to me, so close I could feel the heat of his breath across my cheeks. “Just remember, Dulce, everyone is here of their own accord. Nothing is illegal if they enjoy it.”
“That’s not…”
“Shh,” Knight interrupted and grabbed my arm.
Dagan opened the door. “After you.”
This was so not going to be fun. At least it wasn’t a huge place. Once we did a walk through, we could leave. That’s what I promised myself, anyway.
Dagan watched us walk down the hall and retired back into his office. He’d stay true to his word. If he said he’d keep an eye on us, he would. I’m sure the monitors in his office would help.
I noticed a group of about four or so people standing outside the first room on our little tour. Here’s where the “fun” started.
I stepped beside a woman dressed in what amounted to tape—a piece of duct tape across her breasts and across her…lower area. Later on, it would probably give someone a great amount of pleasure…sadistic pleasure…to rip the tape right off her. And I imagined she’d enjoy it too. I winced involuntarily.
To Kill A Warlock Page 6