by Dannika Dark
“You mean Nine Circles of Hell?” Gem straightened her legs and tapped the ends of her tall sneakers together. “I heard that place is for weirdos. Their theme revolves around the underworld.”
“It’s not that bad,” I remarked. “They have good lunch specials.”
Everyone silently judged me.
“What?” I sat on the couch facing the desk. “It wasn’t that far from Claude’s salon. It’s nothing as devious as what goes on at Club Hell. Anyone ever seen that place? They have torture rooms and make you participate. No, thanks. That’s why I used to stick to human clubs. But no, I didn’t see anything weird going on at Club Nine. Their gimmick attracts people, but it’s just another club.”
Viktor stood up. “I want Gem and Claude to go. Find out what you can from her coworkers. Speak to the person who terminated her employment. Talk to the regulars. If anyone asks, pretend you are concerned friends looking for her whereabouts. She has a baby, and you have not heard from her lately.”
Gem played with the crystal pendant around her neck. “Should I pretend I’m her cousin?”
“Nyet. If they find out you’re not a Sensor, that will require further explanation. If a Chitah questions you, let Claude do all the talking. He understands how to dance around lies that would trigger a suspicious scent.”
“Or Gem could go to dinner with Shepherd, and I could go to the club,” I suggested. “I’ve already been there, so they’ve seen my face. I know my way around.”
His eyes twinkled. “You are not escaping this dinner.”
Shepherd flicked his ashes into a can of soda. “Then I’ll go. Claude doesn’t know the right people to talk to like I do.”
Viktor glared at him. “Don’t try my patience.”
Shepherd smirked as he took another drag. “Doesn’t hurt to ask.”
When Christian strode into the room, the first thing he did was pick up the burned matchstick. He tucked it in Shepherd’s shirt pocket and gave it a pat. “I couldn’t help but overhear you’re planning to go undercover. Need a driver?”
Viktor gestured toward the empty leather chair. “What we need is someone to watch the new auctions when Wyatt is away from the room or asleep.”
Christian sat down, his legs spread wide. We were directly across from each other, and I felt a strange flutter in my stomach when our eyes briefly met.
Gem stood up and straightened out her short dress. I questioned whether it was a dress or an oversized shirt since it stopped at her upper thigh. “What do I wear to a club like that?”
“Whatever you want,” I said. “I didn’t see any dress codes.”
She snapped her fingers. “I’ve got just the thing. Blue, can I borrow your long gloves? Blue?”
I glanced over at where the beanbag chairs were. Blue was facing away from everyone, her head resting against her shoulder. She had fallen asleep about a half hour ago, but no one had noticed except Shepherd and me.
“Hope it’s not food poisoning,” Christian quipped. “That was a remarkable meal you served us this morning. Haven’t seen anything like that since the Chicago Fire of 1871.”
I flashed him a look of disdain. “Maybe you should try something before you formulate an opinion on it.”
He tapped his finger against one of his teeth. “Didn’t want to chip a fang on the toast.”
“I’ll remember this when it’s your week to cook.”
When Wyatt appeared at the door, he looked sweaty and pale. Gravewalkers didn’t contract diseases or viruses, but they were prone to stomachaches and headaches like everyone else. Sometimes you just had to ride it out. And when he turned around and bolted, I had a feeling he was going to be riding it out for a little bit longer.
Viktor strode toward the door and pointed at the computer screen. “Keep an eye on the new auctions. Niko, come with me. We can discuss strategy for different scenarios should the baby come up for auction.”
Christian walked his chair in a circle until he was facing the desk. “Tell Spooky to hurry up in the toilet. I wasn’t hired to surf the Internet.”
I gave Viktor a tight grin. “Maybe Christian needs some computer courses at the local college.”
Christian gave me the finger. “Only if you sign up for the cooking class.”
Chapter 7
As much as I balked about going to a private dinner, I enjoyed the idea of having a free meal cooked by professionals. Viktor made Shepherd wear a sports jacket over his white T-shirt and jeans. He looked presentable, and there wasn’t much else he could do to glam up his appearance. Shepherd was tall, tan, and tough. The two lines etched in his forehead told me he’d led a hard life, and stubble seemed to live on his face. He had intense bone structure, and the buzz cut did nothing else but draw more attention to his menacing face. At least the jacket covered the bold phoenix tattoo on his right arm and the scars on his body.
My black jeans and button-up didn’t exactly complement the occasion, but the jeans didn’t have holes, and my shirt didn’t have bloodstains. Meeting Viktor halfway was the best I could do. Neither Shepherd nor I was putting on any airs, and this hadn’t been presented as a black-tie event but an informal dinner.
The valet took the keys to Shepherd’s Jeep, and another man escorted us inside to a private room.
“He’ll be right with you. Have a seat, and help yourself to the wine.”
I looked around the room, slightly horrified. I had imagined us in a large dining room with about fifty feet of table between us as a buffer. This was… intimate.
“Does he know I’m coming?” I asked, eyeballing the table that seated eight. “Maybe you two would rather be alone.”
“You stay the fuck here,” Shepherd growled, stalking past me toward the liquor table.
I folded my arms. It wasn’t even an open room but one with four walls and a door. A champagne-colored tablecloth covered the table, and two candelabra adorned the center, each with five burning candles. The table sat close to a wall with a painting so massive that it spanned the length of the table itself. It depicted a foxhunt.
I bet that went over well for any guests he might have had who were fox Shifters.
“Here. This’ll smooth out the rough edges.”
I accepted the wine Shepherd offered. “If it dulls them, pour me another.”
His glass clinked against mine in agreement, and he gulped down half the wine. “I hope this ain’t one of those dinners where they bring out twelve courses.”
“You better eat up and enjoy every bite. It’s my week to cook, and don’t expect me to order pizza every night. This might be your last chance to eat real food for the next few days.”
“Nah. Your breakfast wasn’t all that bad. I’ve had worse.”
I nudged his shoulder. “So you’ve been to prison?”
He chuckled, and we branched apart to opposite ends of the room. Long tables lined two walls, one filled with alcohol and the other with silk flowers. Our shoes were noisy against the wood floor underfoot, though the dining table sat atop a giant gold rug. We didn’t say anything, just kept walking around and admiring the décor. Shepherd hefted an empty crystal vase and tossed it up in the air before catching it and putting it back on the table. I spotted a bottle of tequila and quietly unscrewed the cap. After a quick glance over my shoulder, I took a swig and set it back down.
“I heard that,” he said, amusement in his voice.
I needed something to settle my nerves, and the weak wine wasn’t cutting it. Men like Patrick Bane were way out of my class. What the heck did I have in common with rich guys?
I reached through the gap in my blouse and adjusted my bra. Viktor picked the wrong girl to make an impression.
“Forgive me. I was held up with business,” Patrick said as he coolly entered the room. He was a lanky man who looked around fifty, but the Mage carried himself in a manner that indicated he’d been around for a long time. He had both frown lines and laugh lines, and his fading red hair was short and nicely groomed. In h
is vest and dress shirt, Patrick looked every bit a politician—counterfeit smile and cocksure personality included.
He approached Shepherd first and bowed. “Patrick Bane, at your service.”
“Shepherd Moon.”
I almost expected Shepherd to say “not at yours,” but he remained polite.
“This meeting is long overdue,” Mr. Bane said in that melodic Irish accent of his. His friendly manner put me instantly at ease. “I’ve thought back to that night many times,” he continued. “It’s appalling how many of my guests made no attempt to catch the child. If you hadn’t been there, it would have been a grim outcome indeed.” He put his hand on Shepherd’s shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. “The world could use more men like you.” Then his eyes skated over to me. “I don’t believe I’ve had the delightful pleasure of a formal introduction.”
We’d met before, but I guessed this was part of the dinner dance. “Raven Black.”
He glided over and took my hand. “Charmed.” His lips brushed across my knuckles as he looked up at me with those green eyes.
“I’m the one your progeny tried to kill.”
He coughed in surprise and straightened up. “And you have my gratitude for putting Darius away. I appreciate your candor, Miss Black. Please, have a seat.”
Patrick pulled out a chair near the head of the table on the left, and when I saw Shepherd veer to the right end, I grabbed the center chair and dragged it out.
Mr. Bane quickly took hold of it and pushed it in once I was seated. “I see you found the wine.”
I set my glass on the table and stared up at the painting while Patrick refilled Shepherd’s glass before sitting to my left.
Patrick’s eyes fixed on the candles. “I much prefer quaint gatherings, don’t you?”
When Shepherd didn’t say anything, I grabbed my glass. “Yep.”
He better not make me do all the talking. I gave Shepherd a sharp glare as I sipped my wine. He set his phone on the table next to his plate.
Mine was in the pocket of my coat, which the doorman had taken, so I wasn’t able to fake an emergency to weasel my way out of this dinner if things got awkward.
Disastrous.
As soon as the servant set the first course down, I smiled. What’s the rush?
“Hope you like the hors d’oeuvres. I didn’t think something like bruschetta would be enough to tide over a man like you,” he said to Shepherd.
I picked up one of the fancy mini sandwiches and tried to shove the entire thing into my mouth, but the bread was excessively big.
“How’s the kid?” Shepherd asked conversationally. He smashed his sandwich flat and ate it.
Meanwhile, my jaw was about to unhinge, so I tried the same technique.
“It was a traumatic experience. As you can imagine, he’s not as trusting of strangers.” Patrick cut into his sandwich with a knife. “I simply can’t raise a child with that kind of fear, so I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
I looked at the bite I’d taken out of my sandwich and noticed my burgundy lipstick smeared all over the bread. Shepherd had already scarfed down his third and final hors d’oeuvre.
“My sources tell me you’re working on a new case surrounding a murder,” Patrick began. He wiped his mouth with a linen napkin and proceeded to slice into a second sandwich. “Don’t look alarmed. I take personal interest in those cases, and it was a topic of discussion this morning at our meeting. Have you made any progress?”
Shepherd cleared his throat. “We’re not at liberty to discuss.”
“Of course.” Patrick sipped his wine and set it down. “I wouldn’t ask you to divulge confidential information, but I do want you to know that if there’s anything I can do to assist, I’m at your service. It’s the least I can do after what you’ve done for me.”
Shepherd nodded. “I’ll let Viktor know. We might take you up on that offer if you’re serious.”
“Criminals like these should be strung up and made an example of. That’s what they would have done in my time, but now we have rules to abide by and regulations to follow. But see, that’s where organizations like yours come in.”
Shepherd looked up. “Meaning?”
“I think we both know what I mean. And just so you know, men like me appreciate what you do for us. Some criminals don’t deserve a prison cell, and our executions are, dare I say, humane.” Patrick shifted his gaze to me. “Have you ever witnessed an authorized execution?”
I gave him a nervous smile as a servant took away my plate and replaced it with a bowl of soup. “Can’t say I have. Do they sell tickets somewhere?”
Patrick laughed blithely. “Our punishment is swift and certain. We carry out a sentence the moment it’s given. No time for appeal. We have Regulators who perform the beheading. Friends and family can attend, although to be honest, most have none. Do you know why royalty used to have public executions? It wasn’t for entertainment. Nothing instills obedience more in the hearts of men than seeing the consequences of their actions.”
“It also makes a lot of people lie against their neighbor when you have a system set up that doesn’t allow for appeal.”
“You’re a Mage,” he said, steepling his fingers. “Newly made, I presume. You can’t possibly imagine what life was like centuries ago and how far we’ve come. And yet, despite the laws we’ve established and restrictions on making immortals illegally, crime seems more rampant now than ever.”
I gave Shepherd my best “why am I doing all the talking?” stare.
“You I haven’t quite figured out,” he said to Shepherd. “You don’t strike me as a Shifter.”
“Sensor,” he replied matter-of-factly, arms folded on the table.
I lifted my napkin, and when I dragged it toward my lap, the fork fell onto the floor. “Sorry.”
“I have to say I admire Viktor’s vision,” Patrick continued. “I’ve traveled across the globe and seen a few organizations like yours. Most are made up of the same Breed. I suppose it makes it easier for everyone to get along, but it’s limiting, don’t you think?”
I bent down to pick up the fork while they discussed Keystone. Better that they do most of the talking since I didn’t want to upset Viktor by saying something I wasn’t allowed to disclose. Most of it was common sense, but I never liked to make assumptions. When I lifted the tablecloth to search the floor, I blinked in surprise.
Patrick’s little boy sat Indian style beneath the center of the table. It was dark down there, only a little candlelight filtering through the tablecloth. He quickly held a finger to his lips to ask for silence. I did the same to let him know I’d keep his secret. The poor little guy was probably too frightened to come out—not at all the same spirited youngster I remembered from the party. He had a black mask made of fabric over his eyes and a cape around his neck. It reminded me of a period in my youth when I wore a pair of ballerina slippers everywhere, believing they’d magically make me into a dancer. My father told me that I’d inherited both his left feet, and that was why he couldn’t send me to ballet class.
I pointed at the fork. He timidly leaned forward and handed it to me.
When I sat back up in my chair, Patrick was pouring himself a second glass.
“Aye,” he said. “I have a few bottles of Chartreuse left over that I bought a century ago, but it’s a shame I couldn’t preserve any of the ale. Nobody makes it like the monks. Are you a beer drinker, Miss Black?”
“Not really. It’s okay, but if I’m going to drink, I usually want something strong.”
“How’s the wine?”
I lifted the glass. “Delightful.”
No sense in offending our host with the truth that his wine was so bitter that I had to bite my tongue to keep from making a face.
“Perhaps next time I’ll break out the Chartreuse.”
My eyes widened in horror when Shepherd lifted his spoon from the bowl and there was a whole turtle on it. He locked eyes with me for a moment before he put it ba
ck and continued eating the soup around it.
There were a lot of things I’d do in life, but eating tiny turtles wasn’t one of them.
“Is something the matter?” Patrick inquired.
My stomach churned as I stared down at my bowl, knowing what lurked beneath.
Shepherd chuckled. “She’s suffering from reptile dysfunction.”
Patrick snapped his fingers, and on command, his servant appeared. “Bring her another plate of the sandwiches.”
“Yes, sir.”
And just like that, my turtle nightmare went away. I reached for one of the cheese trays between Shepherd and me and filled up a small plate.
“This work hasn’t been kind to you,” Patrick said, nodding at the scars on Shepherd’s hands.
Shepherd continued slurping on his soup. “I handle the job just fine.”
I placed a cube of cheese on my leg, and seconds later, I felt a little hand grab it away. It put a smile on my face, and I must have made a sound.
“What amuses you, Miss Black?”
“I just had a tickle in my throat.”
My smile quickly waned when I saw the turtle shell appear again in Shepherd’s bowl.
“Mr. Moon, would you mind if we had a private conversation after dinner? I wasn’t expecting a guest, and I wanted to give you some private words of gratitude.”
I looked between them. “That’s fine. I can wait in the foyer.”
When I pushed my chair back, Patrick stretched out his arm and placed his hand on the table.
“We’ve still got three more courses to go.”
I felt myself turning green. “Oh, that’s… perfect.”
Shepherd coughed and laughed at the same time. My napkin fell to the floor, and when I bent down to pick it up, I saw the little boy had fallen asleep, his hand resting on the toe of Shepherd’s boot.
The kid had the right idea. That was exactly where I would rather have been instead of stressing out about which fork to use.
I should have been the one to go to the club. Now I was stuck in the middle of a culinary nightmare that was probably karma getting revenge for what I’d done to Wyatt this morning. It made me wonder what Gem and Claude were doing.