“What else didn’t you tell her?” Satara asked Klein. She looked less likely to flee now that the DJ was gone and the club was quieter, but she still stood off to the side, uncomfortable.
Klein looked nervously between Edie and Satara. It was an unfamiliar look for sure. Edie was used to Klein being just as confident and chipper as could be, no matter how absurd or long the shift. She guessed that probably came with never having to sleep. Still, they had never faltered or hesitated or seemed afraid like they did now.
“Did you see an undead, um, revenant come in here earlier tonight?” Edie asked.
Mercy added, “It would have been right after I arrived.”
Klein’s brows furrowed, and they sighed. They were quiet for a while, idly checking already-clean glasses; then, at length, they mumbled, “When you said you were looking for someone, I was reeeally hoping he wasn’t who you meant….”
“So, you did see him?” Satara approached the bar and laid a hand on it—a subtle gesture, but it commanded attention.
Klein addressed her directly next. “Yeah. He came in right after Mercy. He ordered a drink and went and sat over there.” They gestured toward a round booth near the back wall, tucked into an alcove in such a way that it granted more privacy than most. “It didn’t seem like he wanted to be bothered, so I didn’t send anyone over for refills or anything, but….”
“But what?”
Klein looked over to Edie and Mercy and said simply, tone flat, “Scarlet.”
“Oh, god,” Mercy mumbled.
Satara looked at Edie with one brow raised expectantly.
“Our boss,” she explained. “She’s … a pain in the ass.”
“She could make the Wicked Witch of the West cry,” Klein retorted, leaning against the bar. “Of course, she’s not as hard on you humans as she is on other vampires.”
Edie snorted. She’d never found that to be true. And she wasn’t at all surprised to find out Scarlet was a vampire, too. “Why?”
“Because she feeds on you.”
She and Mercy exchanged glances. “I haven’t noticed any bite marks on me.”
“Bite marks? Oh, phff.” Klein waved their hand and reached for a glass to clean, probably trying to keep their hands busy. “Not Scarlet.”
“But vampires … drink blood, don’t they?” Mercy frowned and looked over Edie’s head to Satara.
“Some do,” Satara replied simply, her expression still closed.
“Most do,” Klein corrected. “I do, most of the vampires you’ve probably ever met do. But it’s like … you know how some people are more in tune with people’s brains and emotions than they are with anything physical? Whether they’re manipulative assholes or empaths. When people like that become wights, they get more out of eating people’s emotions than their blood.”
“Oh!” Mercy leaned forward, flapping her hand. “Oh, I’ve heard of this! Psychic vampires! They feed off energy and memories and stuff instead of blood.”
Edie and Satara both looked at her in astonishment.
“What?” She cradled her martini close to her chest, shrugging defensively. “I mean, I always just thought it was a spiritualism thing. I didn’t think anyone was actually, you know … magical. Or dead.”
Klein smirked. “Well, you were right, so you get your junior vampire hunter’s badge. Turns out it’s just easier to feed off human emotions than vampire ones. You guys just throw your energy all over the place, willy-nilly.”
Satara rubbed the bridge of her nose. “This Scarlet. What did she do to the revenant?”
“Oh. Right.” They looked a little embarrassed, and the apprehension in their expression and tone reappeared right away. “She comes up to me and is like, ‘Who’s that guy over there,’ so I told her I didn’t know, just some zom— uh, revenant,” they quickly corrected themself. “But then she looked at him and said, ‘I think I know him,’ so I’m like, ‘Great.’ So she grabs a decanter of something— I dunno what it was, whiskey or something. Anyway, she goes over there.”
Klein set down the glass they were cleaning and topped off Edie’s water. It overflowed a bit, ice clinking over the rim and onto the sleek bar, reminding her of Fisk’s ice trick. Poor Fisk—he was mostly stuck inside for now, on Astrid’s orders, and mostly confined to the bathtub. At least Mercy hadn’t filleted him.
“And?” Satara urged.
“Well,” they said with a sigh, “they talked for a while. He didn’t seem to recognize her. He looked kinda pissed that she was bothering him, anyway.” After a pause, they added, “And you know what was really weird?”
“What?” Mercy asked the rim of her martini glass, chestnut eyes wide. Satara shifted where she stood, disapproval rolling off her in waves, which Edie could understand. It seemed like Klein was trying to divert the conversation at every corner.
“She was all over him. Like all over him. I mean, his glamour wasn’t bad, but you know how she feels about—” Klein cut themself off and waffled for a second. “I guess you don’t. Let’s just say she doesn’t believe vampires and undead should mingle.”
“But vampires are undead,” Mercy said.
Klein shrugged. “Bigoted logic doesn’t usually make sense, does it? But anyway, so it was just weird that she was so into him. I mean, even if he wasn’t a revenant, she’s not really the type to fall all over guys in general. She’s, like, an ice queen.”
“Yeah,” Edie mumbled. “And then what happened?”
Their face fell again. Apparently, they were more comfortable dishing out gossip than information on whatever it was they saw. “He was … watching Mercy pretty closely.”
“Probably trying not to look at Scarlet,” Edie said, managing a teasing smile at Mercy.
“Wait,” Mercy said. “What did you mean by glamour? That’s not what he looks like?”
Klein continued before anyone could answer: “He was watching Mercy pretty closely, and I … saw Scarlet slip something into his drink,” they finally admitted, clearly ashamed. “And the Worst Bartender Ever Award goes to….”
Edie set her glass down a little too hard, snorting some water up her nose in the process. Through a fit of short coughs, she managed, “Scarlet roofied him?!”
“Yeah. Right in front of me. And then looked at me like, ‘What are you gonna do about it?’ and the answer was nothing.” Klein looked away, wringing their hands. “I think he realized it, though. Mercy, that was around your last song, actually. He shook her off and got up pretty quick, I guess to follow you.” They glanced to Edie for confirmation.
“Yeah,” she said, lowering her gaze. “I sent him out to look after you. And make sure you didn’t come home and find Fiskbein in the tub.”
“Fiskbein?” Klein wrinkled their nose, then held up a hand. “On second thought, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”
Satara’s took a breath, brow creasing in concern. “We need to know what happened to him as soon as possible.”
Klein looked uncomfortable again. “He … passed out, and she moved him out back. I didn’t see what happened after that. You don’t think she’s going to hurt him, do you?” Their brow furrowed. “I can’t imagine what she’d want with him.”
“Wait.” Edie shook her head. “You saw her drug a guy and drag him off and you didn’t … I dunno … think to tell anyone? Report it?”
They shrugged helplessly. “To who, the police? It’s a free-for-all out here, Edie.”
This wasn’t like Klein at all. They were usually absolute death on people who even so much as looked at patrons funny, much less drugged them. Edie tried to hide the betrayal she was feeling. If she’d learned anything this past week, it was that you never really knew someone, and people you loved could turn out to be … awful. But Klein? She turned to exchange a look with Mercy.
“Look,” Klein said, probably sensing their distaste. “I know it’s fucked up, okay? No one knows that better than me. But you don’t know the kind of people she hangs out with.”
The bartender looked less than thrilled that she’d even said the word. “Yes. I’m totally against those assholes. I take my chances with being neutral—in more ways than one,” they added wryly. “But who else could she be working with if she’s kidnapping dudes and spending all her free time at The Ash Wyrm Club?”
“Ash Wyrm Club?” Edie looked to Satara. “Is that somewhere important?”
“I’ve heard the name,” Satara said with a frown. “It’s a Gloaming meeting place. Astrid would know more.”
What little color there was in Klein’s face drained away. “Not Astrid Fengrave?” They looked at Edie. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into?”
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. She glanced at her drink and thought about finishing it, but the nausea from before was starting to come back. “Do you think that’s where she brought him? The club?”
“Maybe. I don’t have any other guesses. He isn’t here.”
“I know,” Edie replied. She wasn’t sure how she knew; she just had this feeling that if he was in the same building as her, she’d just … know. “Where’s The Ash Wyrm?”
“On the corner of Duke and St. Michael’s, I think.”
She slipped off the black vinyl barstool as Satara drew back from the bar. Mercy downed her martini quickly before following suit.
“Edie?” Klein said, their voice timid again. “I’m really, really sorry.” After another pause, they added, “I thought she would kill me if I told.”
Edie looked back at them, shoulders sinking. They weren’t a bad person. Plenty of people would have done the same. Cal was nothing more than a stranger to Klein, and she had a feeling Klein’s fear of Scarlet killing them was founded. How many people had Klein seen her murder?
Remembering just how little she knew about the dangers of this new world made her stomach churn. If she thought about it too hard, she was likely headed for another breakdown. Best to just shove it down and take things as they came.
“I hope you find him,” the bartender called after the three women as they exited onto the midnight streets.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“This is it,” Satara said as the three of them turned the corner, only a four-lane road away from The Ash Wyrm Club.
After deciding to leave Astrid out of it (We don’t have time, Satara had said, and Edie agreed; Cal’s emotions were getting even more harried) and not being able to find the club on Edie’s or Mercy’s GPS app, they’d had to settle for asking a real person for directions, and it had taken a few tries before they found anyone who was willing or able to help. It didn’t help that it was quarter past midnight, now.
“Why do I get the feeling this is a really bad idea?” Edie murmured, aggressively zipping up the sweatshirt layered under her leather jacket.
“Like walking into a lion’s den, unarmed.” Satara looked down at her, only mostly-succeeding in hiding her own fear. “It’s not a good idea.”
She was right. Edie was considering turning around when another stab of pain sank through her gut, and she swallowed hard, shaking her head. “I think he’s nearby. We gotta find him before she does something to him.”
Just what Scarlet would even want with Cal—let alone what she was capable of doing to him—wasn’t clear to Edie, but he’d gone out of his way to save her before, hadn’t he? A couple times, in fact. She couldn’t just leave him.
If Edie was terrified, Mercy looked terrified times ten. She was hugging herself around the middle, eyeing the building owlishly. For a human who had no powers and had never been in a battle, it really was like walking into a lion’s den. It was practically slathering yourself in antelope guts and then dancing into a lion’s den.
Satara followed Edie’s gaze, and her shoulders relaxed a bit. “You can wait over here if you want,” she told Mercy gently.
But Mercy shook her head. “I said I would help.”
“If anything goes wrong—” Edie began.
Satara cut in: “Just run.”
Edie was surprised at the answer, but she agreed wholeheartedly. If Satara wanted to protect Mercy, Edie had no problem with it. She looked back to Mercy and nodded.
“Okay,” her friend said, apprehensive.
The Ash Wyrm Club was nothing like Nocturnem. Nocturnem had a sort of hidden, homely, hole-in-the-wall vibe. The Ash Wyrm was an unfeeling block of black steel and tinted glass, with a slate marble walkway separating it from the sidewalk. A lush, wine-colored carpet lined with matching rope barriers led to a square entryway of column lights dancing with a gossamer purple aurora. Just beyond it, set into the building, were huge double doors.
Above the doors was emblazoned a strange symbol: a circle with another circle in the center and lines ending in hatches, half-moons, and forks reaching outward—a sort of wagon wheel with bizarre spokes. Edie had seen similar-looking symbols in Astrid’s shop, but never this one.
“One of the Gloaming’s symbols,” Satara answered before she could ask. “A bastardization of an Icelandic stave.”
Standing outside the door was a stocky but well-muscled guy in a black T-shirt and jacket, mid-30s, with a wide jaw and dark red hair. He looked like any bouncer at any fancy nightclub, but he reminded Edie of Cal in a weird way. Maybe it was the way he stood stone still with his eyes straight ahead, or the sour expression on his face. Or maybe it was the bulge under his jacket that was almost certainly some kind of firearm.
He’d no doubt clocked them a while ago, and didn’t seem surprised when the three of them finally crossed the road and approached the club. He had just unhitched one of the velvet ropes to let a couple through when Satara, Edie, and Mercy started up the claret carpet. By the time he had hitched his rope back in place and turned, they were waiting in front of him.
With a grunt, his voice low and gravelly like grating stone, he said, “Names?”
Oh. Edie straightened up a little and peered at him closer. As his eyes traveled from one face to the other, she recognized the little points of blue light deep inside his skull. A revenant?
“We’re not on the list,” Satara replied, every muscle in her body wound tight. “Someone is expecting us.”
“If you’re not on the list, no one’s expecting you.” His eyes lingered on Edie for a moment before he turned his attention to Mercy, who was standing there with a large wool jacket over her shoulders, shuddering.
“There’s a vampire in there who invited me. Scarlet. She’s a friend of mine,” Edie said. She tried to reach out with her powers and prod at the bouncer’s mind, wondering if she could force him to let them in like the time she’d forced Cal to leave her apartment, but she honestly had no idea how she’d done it the first time. Just thinking it at him was only giving her a headache.
The bouncer scratched the back of his head like he’d felt a gnat bite him there or something, and Edie felt her heart race. What if he could feel her trying to prod at him? “Scarlet?” he grumbled. “Scarlet invited three humans, here?”
Satara clenched her jaw and muttered, “Yes.”
Edie felt her tendrils of power hit a hard wall; more than that, it felt like something had caught her tendrils and given them a good slap. A shard of pain cut into the base of her skull and the coils retreated, snapping back into her body like rubber bands. It stung, and she had to turn her head away and rub the bridge of her nose to try to dissipate the discomfort.
The bouncer had probably hurt her without meaning to, because he didn’t even seem to notice. He just pursed his lips sourly at Satara and shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. You’re not on the list.”
He reached under his coat and grabbed the weapon concealed there. Edie had turned her head back in time to see, and a surge of panic fled from her stomach up her spine. Without thinking, she lashed out and seized his forearm.
Their eyes met, and for a moment, she could see him for what he was: his eyes sunk in his skull, milky and lopsided in a bruised an
d peeling face. His torn lips stretched back, parched and blackened and revealing long teeth meandering in sallow gums. Edie balked, but didn’t move her hand.
Mercy squealed. “Oh my god!”
The bouncer inhaled shudderingly and jerked his head to look from Edie to her companions, and back again. He seemed stunned for a moment, then he regained his composure and pushed Edie away.
“Get the hell off me!” he snapped, taking a couple steps back and glaring at her. He withdrew his hand from his coat, but there was no gun there—just an old PDA device with an attached stylus.
Edie inhaled sharply. “Oh. Sorry. I thought—”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” the revenant demanded, the glamour returning with a shimmer.
Edie looked back at Satara, unsure if the truth would help or hurt the situation. Satara only looked back at her with the same unsure look. In almost every other case, when she’d said her name, she’d gained some sort of fear or at least respect. Would it work now, too? And even if it did, did she really want to go around invoking her father’s name? Sure, it might get her what she wanted, but it wasn’t … right.
The dull mumble of Cal’s panicked brain still thrummed through her head, clinging to the back of her skull and radiating to her temples. She couldn’t let him get hurt because of her. Again.
With a sigh, she looked the bouncer in the face. He was looking at her with disgust, and she felt a dim wave of anger wash over her heart. “My name’s Edie Holloway. Is that on your list?”
There was a tomb-silent pause. The revenant studied her features, his look of disgust dissipating somewhat and giving way to one of unease. Slowly, he lifted his PDA, using the stylus to scroll down his list. “Holloway?” he mumbled, as though he needed confirmation, never taking his eyes off the screen.
“Edith Holloway.”
Still looking uneasy, he lowered the PDA, trying to glance anywhere but her. He looked down the street to one side, then the other. “You’re … not on the list, but you’re right. We’ve been expecting you.” He sounded angry, and his brow twitched like he was trying to correct the glare of complete loathing and disgust that shone through anyway.
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