“Can I come in?”
She sighed. As much as she didn’t like Zo, she could offer insight Gaelen didn’t have. “Sure.”
Zo strode past her, a trail of ambrosial perfume in her wake. “Fitz?”
As I was trying to say… “He’s not here, Zo.”
She smoothly turned around on her spiked heel boots. “When will he be back?”
“I don’t know.”
“Like, you don’t know if he’ll be back in an hour or…ever?”
Gaelen couldn’t bring herself to say the word “ever” and choose to be silent instead, feeling on the verge of tears again.
Zo huffed. “Oh. Not the fairytale you envisioned, is it?”
Bitch. “He told me he would back by dawn.”
“And when was that?”
“Tuesday. I’ve called him, but it goes straight to voicemail. I don’t know what’s happened.”
“Ha! Well, I’d say he’d lied to you.”
How did she know that? She didn’t. “Spencer might know where he is, but I don’t have his number.”
Zo looked her up and down, then blinked. “Oh. You want me to give it to you?”
“Could you, please?”
Zo rolled her eyes, then scribbled it down on a sticky note and handed it to her. “Here. But don’t get your hopes up. I tried calling him yesterday and it went to voicemail. Sometimes he forgets to charge it.”
She sighed. “Thanks. Don’t you find it strange they’re both out of touch? That Fitz just left and disappeared the same night he and Spencer met up?”
Zo lifted one shoulder, no response, no advice.
Unable to hold the woman’s insensate gaze, she looked down. “Why are you here?”
“I was going to invite you two to the club’s soft opening tonight.” She flipped a hand. “Well, invite Fitz and extend one to you, since you coming with him was a given. Now? Not so sure. Looks like you’re on your own. Come out if you feel like it.” She walked past her with a smirk, knowing going out alone to a vampire club would be the last thing Gaelen would do.
Gaelen slammed the door after her, then realized that was exactly what she needed.
A wake-up call.
What was she doing? She was a vampire now. He’d given her a gift and it was about time she started using it to get some answers.
Because it was close by, she walked to the salon, the receipt in her pocket. It was likely a fruitless endeavor—why would his hairstylist know more than she did?—but she had no one else to turn to.
She shuffled in, the place illuminated so brightly, her eyes squinted. White walls, white furnishings, bright white chandeliers. Holy shit, it practically felt like daytime in there. A slender girl in a dark purple jumpsuit greeted her, her immediate smile fading at Gaelen’s sad state of dress.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her tone borderline sarcastic.
Her head started to pulse at the lights, her voice barely above a whisper. “Hi. Yes. Is Kosei working tonight?”
“He is. Who’s asking?”
“Um…” She shielded a hand over her eyes so she could meet the girl’s annoyed gaze. “My name is Gaelen. Tell him Fitz McEvoy sent me.”
A pause. “Just a sec. Stay here.”
Gaelen took a seat, wondering if she should’ve just stayed home. The longer she sat there, the more stupid she felt for coming. This was a ridiculous idea. Just when she got up to leave, a young, handsome Asian man in a white shirt and gray slacks stepped around the corner.
“Gaelen?” he greeted excitedly, as though they knew each other. He snatched her hand. “Fitz sent you? Come to my domain.”
She was whisked past the chairs of patrons getting their hair done while their pocket pooches watched from thousand-dollar handbags. He took her to the end of the row then pushed through a door to the right to another room, a complete contrast to the main area with its dark purple walls, dim beauty lights, a stylist’s chair in front of a huge gold ornate mirror that looked like it would swallow her whole.
“This is my private studio for my VIPs. Vampire Important Peeps.” He grinned and pushed her to sit in the chair. “Better?”
Her head stopped throbbing instantly. “Much better.” She removed Fitz’s coat and he hung it up on the stand. “Sorry for what I’m wearing. I just, it’s been a bad week.”
He flipped a hand. “I’ve seen worse. I have some sanguine tea, hot and ready. You look like you could use some.” Before she could think about whether or not she wanted any, he was pouring a rust-colored tea from a kettle into a cup.
“Sanguine tea?” she inquired.
“Blood tea, in other words. You a shadow?”
“Yes.”
“Cool. Me, too.” He carefully came toward her with the steaming cup. “Both hands.” She cupped her hands and he set it gently within them. “Drink up.”
To be polite, she took a sip, then another. It made her feel twice as good as taking in the guard’s energy. “Omigod. This is so good.”
He stepped back, setting one hand over the other with a look of sympathy. “You look like you haven’t fed. You know you have to often until the thirst gets less needy.”
She closed her eyes briefly. “I know.” She finished the cup and when he asked if she wanted another, she was quick to nod.
After handing her the refill, he said, “You caught me on a slow night so you have my full, undivided attention. What can I do for you? Hair? Makeup? The works?”
“Actually, I’m not here for a makeover.”
“Oh? Then what’s the deal?”
Looking up at him, she started to choke up again, ashamed she couldn’t keep her composure. “It’s about…Fitz.”
He grabbed a tissue and handed it to her. “Stop crying. Start talking.”
That insensitive tone actually helped. What was the use in tears? He was right. She dabbed her cheeks and took a deep breath. “Look. I’m Fitz’s fated, but being a vampire is pretty new to me. Last Tuesday, he told me he had to meet a friend, and that he’d be back by dawn. He’s missing, Kosei.”
“Okay. Back up. That’s a lot to process. You’re his fated, even though you’re a shadow?”
“The first night we met, he tasted my blood, and told me I was.”
“That is wild. Fatebloods don’t commit to shadows. Ever. Well, I’m sure it happens once in a while if they give up on finding their fated, but to avow to a shadow, pürblood, or whoever else, is pointless, because the yearning only gets worse as time goes by. But he couldn’t lie about it if he wanted to. If Fitz says you are his fated, you are. Vampires don’t make that shit up.”
She felt guilty for doubting him. “I have to find him, Kosei.”
“Then you should be talking to people who can lead you to him.”
“But who! Where do I go?”
“Where he would go. Who he would meet with.”
“The only friend of his that I know isn’t home.”
“There’s no one else?”
She relented. “Well. There’s Zo. She owns a nightclub. Fitz told me she has a lot of underworld connections.”
“I know Zo.” He rolled his eyes. “Of her. She thinks her shit doesn’t stink.”
“When I told her that Fitz was missing, she didn’t care. She thinks he left me on purpose.”
“Did you let her think that?”
She finished the tea and he refilled it. Every cup revived her. “What do you mean?”
“I know you’re a newbie and all, but you need to start owning your status. You are Fitzgerald McEvoy’s woman. He’s got looks, allies, and money people would kill for. You have influence others don’t just on that alone. What you need to do is get people on your side who can get you some answers. Use your power.”
“But how?” She threw up her hands. “Look at me. I was practically ‘born’ yesterday. I barely just learned how to draw in Fitz’s sensa. When I try it out on strangers, I feel like I’m going to OD.”
“Hey, listen. Whether or not
you believe in them yet, you have the power of the gods within you now. The power to seduce and influence. We all do. It’s harder to accomplish on vampires than it is on humans, but it can be done. You just have to believe and practice. We feed off vibes, you know. We exchange them, harness them, and give them away. It’s one of the best things about being a creature of the night! The more you can wield your own influence, the more people you can get to do your bidding. At least, that’s what my mentor told me when I was turned. The only thing I can influence is my cat.”
And here she thought the energy thing was just to feed, but it made sense, to use it and not hoard it. Could she walk in the Zo’s club and demand help? She had to try. But not looking like this. “I’ve been so caught up in my misery and insecurity with Fitz’s absence. I’ve been saving all this energy for nothing, when I could be using it to find him.”
Kosei was pleased she understood. “Exactly.”
She set down the cup. “I’m going to need that makeover.”
“Yes! This I can do.”
While she sat in the chair getting her hair and makeup done, Kosei sent one of his assistants down the street with her clothing and shoe size to buy her an outfit for the club.
Nothing she had at home would suffice.
This required battle dress.
A car screeched to a halt as Gaelen strutted the crosswalk.
Head high, she cleared her mind, heading toward the nightclub in designer black pants with lace-up sides, ridiculously high heels, a black, sheer lace top with a little shimmer, with a black bra underneath. Kosei had sent her out of his chair with smoky eyes and dark violet lips, her hair slicked back in a ponytail.
It wasn’t a look she would’ve ever done before when she was human. Kosei said it was the best ensemble for her first vampire nightclub debut. Fierce. Confident. Chic. But she would have to be all those things and more if she was going to find her fated. When she entered Zo’s club, she had to look like she belonged, blend in, yet attract others.
Men and women did double-takes as she passed them on the sidewalk.
That was a first.
The sexual energy some of the men exuded gave her a jolt of more assurance. She swayed her hips and lifted her chin, cocking one eyebrow like she was queen of the goddamn night.
No one would ever know on the inside she was quivering like a frightened dove.
As Gaelen neared the club’s entrance, heads turned her way, some with sneers, others with curiosity, but surprisingly, the line parted and they let her through to the front.
The girl at the door looked her up and down. “ID?”
She affected her most bored look and presented her canines, running her tongue under them. The vampire’s version of identification. “Gaelen McEvoy.”
The woman whispered to the hulking bouncer and the door was opened.
The loud EDM music and synchronized lights bounced off the walls, some bodies grinding against one another in twos, threes, and fours, their sharp teeth bared as though there was about to a huge feed of vampire to vampire.
Gaelen swallowed, feeling out of her depth, but determined not to show it. She walked the perimeter of the dance floor, focusing, skimming her knuckles along others’ to get their attention. She drank in their sensas, replenishing her confidence, giving them her best come-hither look before walking away. The music sounded muffled to her ears by the time she finished. Nearly high from the dozen or so people she exchanged energy with, she went to find a chair and took in a shaky breath.
That was a little too much. She waited for her equilibrium to balance itself, her head continuing to throb. I’m kidding myself. It isn’t going to work. What allowed her to believe she could pull it off?
And then she looked up, and one man started to come toward her, then another, and another. After them, a woman, who grabbed the hand of another woman.
“Who are you?” asked the first guy, model-gorgeous with his perfect cheekbones. The others kept a short distance behind him.
She stood up, stupefied, masking it like she’d expected them to approach all along. “I’m Gaelen.” Swaying her hips as she approached, she cocked her head, in part disbelief she’d actually pulled off something Fitz implied took years of practice. She stopped at his shoulder. “Your name?”
“Adam.” He remained facing forward, those his eyes surveying her from lowered lids.
Leaning in ever so slightly, her chin just above his shoulder, she tried to push her influence in his aura. “Hi, Adam.” Then she moved on to the next guy, asking his name, brushing her knuckles along his.
He inhaled, closing his eyes. “Victor.”
Her heart didn’t pound like she would’ve expected it to. Any second all five would turn on her and call her out for the fraud she was. Or maybe, just maybe, she had a knack for this seduction-manipulation thing, more than she or Fitz would’ve ever imagined a few days ago.
Hell. An hour ago.
One by one, she learned the others’ names—Nick, Mona, and Iris—and exuded just enough of her energy for them to want more…and do anything she wanted.
Finished, she came around to Adam, meeting his gaze. “Do you know Zo?”
“Everyone knows Zo. She makes sure of it.” He looked over her right shoulder.
Following his eyeline, she spotted Zo in the VIP area with a few others. “Listen. There’s something I need you to do for me. Please.” She gave a brief summary of her and Fitz, his disappearance, and gently demanded they assist her in locating him. Adam knew of Fitz, the other four didn’t, but all were earnest in helping.
Satisfied, she swiveled on a heel and straightened her spine. Go time. She headed toward Zo, the five behind her.
Zo immediately looked up as she approached, her resting bitch-face firmly in place. “Obviously you changed your mind.”
A redheaded woman in a chair glared up at Gaelen. “Uh, who do you think you are stepping up like this?”
Without breaking eye contact, Gaelen snapped her fingers at the woman. “Move.”
The woman got out of her seat and scuttled away. The other two followed.
Whoa. That worked?
Zo’s reaction to the scene before her was priceless.
Smoothly, Gaelen swept in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. Conner and Adam took their places on either side of her while Nick stood outside of the area, hindering people from interrupting. Mona and Iris stood on opposite sides of Zo’s booth, blocking her from leaving.
“You’re going to help me find Fitz,” Gaelen said.
Zo appeared taken aback, either by Gaelen’s new ensemble, her new attitude, or her entourage. She sat back, crossing her arms. “Why—why would I do that?”
Gaelen didn’t answer right away, making Zo squirm, and enjoying every second of it. The tables had finally turned. “Because it’s in your best interest. Place your petty jealousy of me aside and help me find my fated. I know something’s wrong and I also know you can find out things because of your connections. The last person he was with was Spencer. I think they both could be in trouble. You have to help me.”
“Or what?” Zo clipped, though the usual amount of conviction in her tone was lacking. “You’ll make me help you? Threaten me?”
With feigned affront, Gaelen pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh! Oh, no. I would never threaten one of Fitz’s friends to make them do anything. After all, who am I to issue threats?”
She glanced up at Adam and Victor as though sharing a private joke with them. “I’m just Fitzgerald McEvoy’s fated, with access to millions, and a key to the Centurias, where the only thing I could make is someone’s club flourish for years to come…or break by buying the block and raising the rent beyond your wildest nightmares.”
She chuckled, shaking her head as Victor winked at her and Adam smirked. Meeting Zo’s gaze once again, she gave a nonchalant shrug as if to nonverbally add, No big deal. Was that actually true? She had no idea. But apparently, neither did Zo.
Zo swallowed, f
ighting and resisting Gaelen’s seductive push on her will. Fitz had warned trying to seduce other vampires could make them either lovers or enemies, because every vampire knew when they were being seduced. Some gave in, such as her five new friends did, because the energy was impossible to resist, like a drug. Some deflected for various reasons, but every vampire had a weakness, and if Gaelen’s power wasn’t Zo’s weakness, then the club was.
And Zo knew it.
While the house music pulsed and throbbed around them, the disco lights intermediately flashing blues and reds over Zo’s face, Gaelen held her breath.
Zo’s mouth quirked. Was that a sign of respect or disdain? She couldn’t tell.
“I’ll make a call,” Zo said at last.
Eight
Fitz woke up with a start on the cement floor, opening his eyes to the ceiling, the lights feeling like they were frying his irises.
He closed them.
The nightmare continues.
He winced, turned slowly on his side, starting to sit up. This wasn’t a jail cell; it was a torture chamber. Every day for the past five days, like clockwork, a bald man in a white suit with spectacles plodded down the stairs and sat in a metal chair in front of Fitz’s and Spencer’s eight-by-ten cage. He asked the same questions about Marex Daulton, and when he didn’t receive the answers he wanted, he filled the room with some debilitating gas that rendered them lethargic and helpless and had them each beat by a couple of demon goons who got pleasure out of inflicting pain on vampires.
Weary, Fitz climbed to his feet and plopped on the wooden bench.
Spencer remained on the floor with his back to the wall, knees drawn up, arms linked around them, head hung. Fitz couldn’t tell if he was asleep or in too much in pain to move.
Fitz frowned, hanging his head as well. All Spencer wanted to do was be inspired, be a part of something bigger, and stand up for change. Now, he was paying the price.
What would Mr. White Suit do today?
Last night he had Spencer strung up with a rope to choke and gag, knowing Spencer couldn’t die, but would suffer the entire time. The demons had laughed at how Spencer strained to ease the noose from his neck, his teeth sharp as he struggled. As a result, there was a dark purple ring around Spencer’s neck, his voice gravelly, so Fitz didn’t engage Spencer into talking.
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