by K. M. Shea
The doors slid open, and Killian’s smirk deepened as he offered me his arm.
I gulped, but took it. My only choice was to join Killian in leaving the elevator and hope that catching the murderer was such a priority he’d play nice rather than risk blowing our act.
I raised my chin and prepped myself to put on my ‘smitten wizard’ act, but the air of the club caught me completely off guard.
I don’t know exactly what I had expected—maybe a stereotypical club with loud music that pulsated with overly-obnoxious lights, expensive drinks, and the pervasive smell of BO and perfume.
But this place was an entirely different sort of club.
Settled on top of the warehouse roof, and divided off with glass walls and windows that I bet were heavily warded, Club Luminary was a blend of European decadence and modern convenience. It appeared that the club was built like a wheel to allow the best views of the city and countryside, and the center hub was where the kitchens, the granite-topped bar, and restrooms were located. The ceiling was tiled with stretches of skylights and stained-glass windows that paid homage to the various races. The most beautiful, in my opinion, was the stained-glass forest that showed wolves peeking out from behind glowing trees.
“Your Eminence.” A woman dressed in black bowed to Killian. “If I may show you to your table; right this way.”
Killian and I followed the hostess to a table which was, naturally, set under the stained-glass skylight dedicated to vampires. (There was a castle on it, a silver orb that was probably the moon, and—of course—red-eyed men and women dressed in the height of Renaissance fashion.)
We passed a few tables of werewolves and three wizards seated in their own section. Beyond our table was a cluster of fae, and they, the werewolves, and the wizards watched with obvious attention as Killian pulled my chair out for me, then seated himself.
“Your server will be with you promptly. Enjoy your evening.” The woman curtsied this time, then glided off.
“She’s human,” I realized.
“Club Luminary management staffs the place with humans—so politics aren’t swirled into service and no one is…tempted,” Killian said. “A fae and vampire own the place—we do get along with the fae outside the Night Court,” he said when I raised my eyebrows.
I wasn’t sure I believed him, but pushing it wouldn’t further our act. So I tried to sneakily peer at everyone while smiling adoringly at Killian. I didn’t know anyone present, but I recognized them as the movers and shakers of the Midwest. Heck, these people were far above my parents, and they had been highly respected!
When I got around to inspecting the fae, I realized they were clustered around a single male with white hair and a long mustache. “The Paragon is here.”
“Yes.” Killian idly inspected the cutlery—probably trying to decide which would be most useful to stab someone. “Even he isn’t wily enough to avoid the Courts forever.”
Our waiter—a human male—swept up to take our orders. Killian ordered a specific blood type for himself, and a five-course dinner for me.
It was a good thing my only real job was to smile adoringly at Killian—like a besotted idiot—because I couldn’t have done much else when I saw the string of numbers that my dinner cost. I dearly, dearly hoped this dinner, the cost of my dress, my suit—and heck, my workout clothes—weren’t all being recorded for me to pay back at a later date, or I was in big trouble.
“Something wrong, Pet?” Killian inquired in a dangerously dark and smooth tone.
“Nothing at all,” I squeaked.
Killian’s look of indifference settled into a slight smirk, and he leaned forward, just before the Paragon pulled up a chair to our table and plopped down.
“Am I glad to see the two of you,” the Paragon said. “I’ve been stuck here an hour already—and they made me change out of my panda slippers before they dragged me here!”
“Good evening, Paragon.” Killian accepted the wine flute of blood our waiter delivered. “It seems the representatives from the various Courts have finally caught up with you?”
“Oh, it seems, does it?” The Paragon snarled and ruffled his mustache. “You better not have tipped them off.”
“I would never,” Killian said in a flat and unconvincing tone.
“Why don’t you just leave the Midwest?” I asked.
The Paragon sighed deeply. “Can’t,” he said. “Fae business.”
“How terrible,” Killian said. “Now buzz off. You are ruining our dinner.”
“You have a strange sense of humor.” The Paragon eyed the white wine a second server set in front of me.
“It’s not humor,” Killian said. “I brought my wizard out to enjoy her company, not look at your dusty face. Go away.”
The Paragon snorted. “You’ve never enjoyed anyone’s company since the day you were born.”
“Perhaps you are right.” Killian’s unnatural stillness combined with the iciness of his voice made it hard to sit demurely in my chair.
I fought my survival instincts and reached across the table to set my hand on his forearm. He was stiff, but he didn’t shake me off. I squeezed his arm, then leaned back, grateful the experience hadn’t ended in bloodshed. “I still have to thank you for your help, Paragon. I never would have known my magic was sealed without you.”
“No trouble at all.” He glanced at Killian, seemingly realizing he’d stepped on a landmine of sorts. “I’m glad I could be of assistance. Have you had any luck in breaking the cursed thing?”
“The seal? No. Though it is not from lack of trying,” I said with some acid in my voice.
By now Killian had relaxed marginally and once again returned to leaning back in his chair, the mocking light back in his eyes. “Don’t look now, Paragon, but here comes one of your constituents.”
The Paragon groaned and hung his head as a male fae with silvery hair and copper skin approached our table. He was dressed in a robe of black and dark purples and blues, and had a circlet—or if I was being unkind, a tiara—threaded through his hair. Going by his clothes, I’d say he was a Night Court fae.
“Good evening, Your Eminence,” the fae said in a voice that sounded as dark as the night.
Killian showed no signs of hostility. If anything, he seemed even more relaxed, and a frightening smirk played at the edges of his lips. “Good evening, Ira.”
“Might this be the wizard you accepted into servitude?” the fae, Ira, asked.
“I am surprised you heard of her.”
“Surely you expected the community to talk. Allowing her to pledge servitude to the Drake Family and bring wizard drama into your domain is rather out of character for you.”
Killian shrugged. “I will do much for the sake of my amusement. Hazel Medeis—Adept of House Medeis.” He extended his hand to me expectantly.
Awkwardly, I reached out to take it, and he tugged me out of my seat so I stood next to his chair.
“She’s no servant.” Killian slid his thumb under my palm and tapped me, reminding me to slip on a stupid look of admiration. “Rather, I’ve taken her on as a pet, you could say.”
I smiled as big as I could at him and leaned a bit closer, attempting to appear over-eager. (Good heavens, I hoped House Medeis’s reputation didn’t suffer too badly for this show. Ugh.)
Ira made a noise of surprise in the back of his throat. “You’re keeping a pet—an animal that requires affection to survive? And you believe she will survive? It seems you have become overly optimistic—perhaps the stress of your powerful role has changed you.”
Killian shrugged. “I have a use for her. Given time I’m sure she’ll be terrifyingly adept in magic and fighting. Wizards have the capacity to be stronger than fae, given their war-like magical abilities. It appeals to me.”
“Perhaps, except it would seem you’ll never be able to take full advantage of her blood,” Ira observed. “Even if you coaxed her into putting her faith in you, you could never trust her that much, blood-stal
ker.” Ira smirked. “And given her current level of abilities, it seems she’ll merely be fodder for gossip for some time—if not always.”
“Ira, stop picking childish fights.” The Paragon abruptly stood up. “Everyone in the city knows the fae have enough trouble of their own—the only thing you’re going to get by poking the bear is your hand bitten off.”
“But, Paragon, we fae are only allowed to speak the truth.” Ira made a show of widening his dark eyes and motioning to Killian and me. “What I’ve said cannot possibly be offensive if it is the truth.”
The Paragon rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his hawkish nose. “This job stinks. Why can’t I quit?” he muttered under his breath—though I don’t know that the vampire or other fae were bothering to listen based on the way they eyed each other.
Killian stayed seated—probably a show of power—but raised an eyebrow at Ira. “I was unaware that the Night Court had a reason to fear the idea of my having a pet wizard. She won’t attack except on behalf of my Family, after all. Unless…you are subverting Drake Family interests?”
Now it was Ira’s turn to roll his eyes. “What could the Night Court have against the Drake Family?” he simpered.
It was about then that I felt it: fae magic.
Fae magic has a really strong floral scent that always makes me feel like I’m drinking bathwater that’s been liberally dosed with roses and bubble bath. It was subtle—which meant it wasn’t a fighting spell, but probably something subtle like persuasion magic.
“You really think you can hide it after all of this?” Killian asked.
“You imply we would break the laws of the supernaturals? With what proof?” Ira said. “You dishonor the Night Court!”
I glanced back at the fae who were still seated at the table where the Paragon had abandoned them. They were watching, but the floral feeling wasn’t coming from them. Which meant it was the Paragon—unlikely—or Ira. I let my senses stretch toward the night fae, and sure enough I felt a concentration of floral scent. He had a hand planted on his chest, but I’d bet anything a magic-embedded medallion was under his palm, hidden by his clothes.
“He’s using magic,” I announced.
Everyone in the restaurant was still, and I slowly raised my eyes so I could meet Ira’s gaze. “Forgot I was here, did you?” I smiled—it was brittle, but my meaning was clear. “That’s fine, though. I’m with the Eminence all the time now, so I’m sure you’ll remember in the future.”
My threat—though completely unfounded—was clear: a wizard was throwing her lot in with Killian Drake, which would substantially change things as long as I wandered around alive.
Ira’s expression turned icy. Rather than explode with anger, he seemed to draw all his emotions in so he resembled a stone, but there was something to his eyes—a promise of pain and blood.
I tried to keep my expression pleasant and hoped he couldn’t tell how nervous I was, but between the tension of the room and my natural body temperature I was starting to sweat.
Ira—as unreadable as darkness—opened his mouth.
“Ira, boy, you’ve been bested by the wizard.” The Paragon smacked the night fae on the back so hard, Ira stumbled. “Now drop that neat little persuasion spell you have, or club management will get cross with us. Come on.” He started to shuffle away, then glanced back at Killian and me. “I’d thank you in the future if you didn’t purposely bait my constituents,” he dryly said.
Killian shrugged. “They have to learn to leave my wizard alone.”
The Paragon made a “hmm” of disbelief, but swept off, a glowering Ira reluctantly following him. Another fae dressed in similarly colored robes scurried up to Ira. They exchanged whispers before the other fae—also most likely of the Night Court—fluttered off, disappearing through the elevator doors.
Noise slowly returned to the club—the quiet clink of dishes, the faint hush of conversation, and the rattling of ice as a bartender mixed drinks at his station.
I let out a deep breath and sagged slightly. We’d made it.
Still holding my hand, Killian stood. With the same confident elegance he did everything, he slid his free hand between my shoulder blades and pulled me flat against his chest. He released my hand only so he could brush my cheek with a gentleness that really made me regret opening my big mouth in the elevator.
“Is this really necessary?” I hissed into his chest.
“After the show you just put on? Yes. Be thankful, I could have pulled you into my lap.” His breath tickled my ear as he bent over me so he could whisper. “But I thought you might club me with that purse of yours if I did.”
I released a strangled laugh, relaxing a little more at the thought that I could actually hit him. My heart slowed to a regular tempo, and I was grateful for the coolness Killian radiated—doing more to cool me off than the restaurant’s AC.
“You did well.” Another brush of my cheek, and Killian released me. He sat back down in his chair as if all of this had been the most natural thing in the world, leaving me to totter back to my seat.
I cleared my throat as I sat down. “Well. That was…” I struggled to find the right word.
“Invigorating?” Killian suggested.
“Not at all what I was thinking, but sure. What now?”
Killian looked downright smug as he picked up his glass of blood and swirled it, his fangs flashing. “Look pretty and enjoy your food, Wizard. That’s all you need to do, now.”
The order was easier said than done.
The food was fantastic, of course—probably the best I’d eaten in my life. But eating while Ira scowled at me the whole night wasn’t excessively fun. The dessert course got my mind off of everything, though. (They gave me a salted caramel chocolate tart, fruit meringue, and cafe au lait gelato, so it would have been pretty hard not to love it.)
After the meal I was overall pretty content, and by the time we left, I was happily zig-zagging back and forth, swinging my clutch as I hopped off the elevator.
“Excuse me, Your Eminence, a moment of your time?” One of the waitstaff had rushed down what looked like a set of emergency fire stairs, catching Killian just outside the elevator.
Killian slid his hands into his slacks. “Yes?”
“Club Luminary offers our sincerest apologies for this evening…”
Not sensing any magic, and swiftly losing interest, I continued ahead through the dirty warehouse, making a straight line for the door that opened out onto the street where our SUV waited.
I was hoping if I got out there and buckled into the front seat before Killian followed, he’d forget to order me to sit in back with him.
I walked past the rusted-out car, then felt the sizzle of wizard magic.
Chapter Sixteen
Hazel
Pinpointing it behind me, I switched so I held my clutch by the edge and whirled around.
A female wizard had snuck up behind me. She held sparking fireballs in each hand. “Surrender, Hazel Med—”
I slammed the edge of the clutch into her throat, choking her. The fireballs evaporated from her palms, and she toppled like a log.
As she went down, she flung a bolt of electricity. I jumped over it—though the landing made my feet hurt, and one of the heels almost slid out from underneath me.
She tried to jab me with an icicle, but I dodged it and—following the endless martial arts drills I’d practiced—kicked her in the gut.
I let my clutch dangle from my wrist by its strap, then slammed a foot down on her stupid robe, pinning her in place. “This! Is Why! You should! Have let me! Bring my! Sword!” I shouted as I pummeled my clutch into her head again and again.
When she sagged listlessly, I stopped smacking her and studied her clothes.
Unlike House Tellier and House Medeis, she was dressed in a robe of periwinkle blue. Only one House in the area wore that shade of blue—House Rothchild. “It can’t be,” I whispered.
Somewhere behind me, a man roar
ed. I turned around, but I could tell I was going to be too late. He was right behind me, supporting an orb of spark-spitting lightning and wearing the same color robe as the woman.
I braced myself and blinked, and my vision was abruptly filled with the back of a black suit.
Killian stood in front of me, casually holding the wizard’s arms as if this was a common occurrence. “I issued a warning,” he said—the red of his eyes glowing unnaturally in the shadows of the warehouse. “It was the only warning you’re going to get.” He threw the wizard so hard, the man flew halfway across the warehouse and dented the metal wall on impact.
I winced, then turned back to the female wizard—who was still dazed on the ground. I squatted down next to her, inspecting the House crest sewn on the robe. Yep, it was definitely House Rothchild. But why? They had been my parents’ allies! Even more troubling, they were a heck of a lot more powerful than House Tellier. Their wizards all packed a lot more magic in their blood.
Which is why it was an equally shocking realization that I had just beaten down a House Rothchild wizard, using just my training and a book-padded purse. “Oh my gosh,” I said, thunderstruck. “Killian is right. We are easy to fight off!”
“You don’t say!” Killian’s velvety voice was a hair’s breadth from a snarl.
I rushed to get between Killian and the wizard. “Don’t kill her!”
“I don’t intend to,” Killian coldly said. “She needs to be questioned—and she’ll have to be alive for that. But Manjeet and Leonardo will take care of it. We’re leaving.” He grabbed me by the wrist and tugged me away from the woman.
Already two vampires I recognized as belonging to the Drake Family stepped through the open side door. Killian only had to flick his eyes at the woman. Both of the vampires bowed slightly, then glided up to her. I didn’t get to see any more—Killian towed me out of the door before they reached her.
The SUV was waiting for us, and I knew better than to aim for the front seat when Killian slid in, still holding my wrist. I scrambled after him, and it wasn’t until I had my seatbelt in place that Killian let me go. I glanced at the warehouse as the driver appeared in the driver seat with his vampiric speed and started the car.
