Revelations: Book One of the Lalassu

by Lewis, Jennifer Carole

  Michael shook his head. Even if it had been true, it would only put Bernie in foster care, which would be even worse. He ground his teeth. He’d hoped Joe would have some solution he hadn’t seen, some way to keep Bernie home without tipping his hand.

  “I’m sorry, man, but all I can do is file a report about your concerns. Then it’s on record, at least. I don’t like it any more than you do. I trust you, but I can’t go to a judge and say my friend touched a brochure and now he knows this treatment place is hurting kids.” Joe threw the brochure down on his desk. Michael knew his friend’s frustration was at not being able to help, not his request.

  “No. I get it.” Michael pushed his hair back from his face, wondering if he should cut it before shoving the thought aside. Where can I go from here?

  “Find me something. Anything. Something I can use.”

  He nodded, his mind already busy searching for alternatives. Maybe he could visit the place himself.

  Joe reached out and grabbed his arm. “Hey, be careful. Don’t get yourself hurt or dead or anything. I’d hate to have to write up that paperwork.” Rough concern, frustration, and the desire to help seeped through the contact.

  Michael smiled. Joe might not want to know all his friend’s secrets, but he would crawl through fire to help if he could. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Damn straight. Look, why don’t we go out tonight? We can talk things out, maybe figure out some shit.”

  Michael was about to agree when he noticed a growing group at the front of the station. “What’s going on?”

  “Dispatch said they were bringing in some people from a fight at Last Down. Two guys went to the hospital and the team brought in the only suspect who didn’t scuttle back into the shadows.” Joe gestured toward the door with a handful of files. “They must be taking her statement.”

  Michael spotted her and forgot what he was going to say.

  The woman emerging from the ring of uniformed cops was indescribably unique and impossibly familiar: the woman from the club. He couldn’t believe she was actually there in front of him. Even with her hands pinned behind her in handcuffs, she looked as if she were in control. Long dark hair tumbled over her shoulders, and big dark eyes laughed and flirted with those around her. The smile lurking in the corners of her lips suggested a certain jaded amusement, as though nothing could shock or discourage her. She was tall, and her tight jeans and T-shirt flaunted her statuesque figure. She carried herself with grace and ease, as if the cuffs were only fringe jewelry and her escort a matter of honor rather than detention.

  “Earth to Michael. Wipe the drool off your chin,” Joe teased, thwacking him lightly with a file to get his attention. “Not that I’m blaming you.”

  Details of the conversation slowly swam back into his brain. Bar. Hospital. Suspect. Assault. They led him to an uncomfortable conclusion. He was unable to look away as one of the officers removed the cuffs and escorted her to a desk. “You think she did it?”

  Joe paused, riffling the file in his hand while he thought. “Hard to believe. From what I heard, those guys looked like a truck hit them. No one hits that hard. Besides, she came along easy enough. Not like she tried to hide.”

  The woman ran her hand down the officer’s arm, smiling at him.

  “You want to go over and ask her name?” Joe was grinning.

  “Wouldn’t that be an ethical violation?” Michael couldn’t get his mouth to stop spouting whatever went through his dazed brain.

  “If I asked her, it would be a cop-suspect thing. But you’re a free civilian, entitled to pick up women in any situation you like, no matter how weird. Be a hell of a story to tell your grandkids.” Joe shifted his voice to imitate a piping five-year-old. “Tell us how you met Grandma.” Then, lower again, “Well, son, it was like this. She was arrested for assault and—”

  “Actually I don’t think she’s being arrested,” Michael interrupted, keeping his attention on his mystery woman. She was standing up, collecting her bag and leather jacket from the officer. Winking at the man, she sauntered away from the desk, hips rolling with every step, coming closer.

  “Guess she’s not a suspect after all. Hmm, he still should have gotten a statement,” Joe muttered.

  Michael’s mouth seemed full of glue, making teeth, tongue, and lips a congealed mess incapable of speech. He wanted her to look at him, to talk to him, and yet he also wanted to stay in the background and not come off as a blithering idiot. She was only a few steps away, then one step. Still no notice of him.

  She swept past without a glance in their direction. Michael bit his lip as a frustrating mix of relief and disappointment weighed him down. But he still couldn’t take his eyes off her… which was how he noticed the tube of lipstick that bounced out of her bag and rolled onto the floor. Michael bent automatically to pick it up and froze as images pounded his brain even through his leather gloves.

  Every single one was of her face. Winking, smiling, lips thinned in determination, turning a corner, glancing up. Her features slammed into his brain again and again along with an irresistible magnetic pull.

  This way.

  I’m supposed to follow her? He’d never gotten a flash so cryptic and so clear at the same time. The perfume of jasmine and oranges lingered in the air.

  “Man, you okay?” Joe bent down to help him up. “She wasn’t that hot… oh crap, you just got some woo-woo shit off her stuff, didn’t you?”

  Michael nodded. The woman pushed open the doors to leave, and his head throbbed in time with her every movement. “Sorry, but I think I have to go.”

  “Far be it from me to stand in the way of creepy weird shit. Good luck and keep me posted.”

  Sprinting to catch up, Michael spotted her sliding into a cab. A thrill tingled along his nerves and brain. Helping a beautiful, mysterious woman just like a hero in a detective story, exactly the sort of thing he’d always dreamed about doing with his gift. Racing down the steps, he leapt into the next taxi in the queue and uttered a line he never thought he’d get a chance to say.

  “Follow that cab!”

  Chapter Ten

  A smile, a wink, and a twenty convinced the cabby to hurry. Disgusted with the time wasted in the police station, Dani considered simply not showing up for work tonight. Vincent and Eric were still out there somewhere—she refused to allow herself to believe otherwise. The longer the delay, the colder the trail would be. But her earlier impulsive actions left her no choice except cooling her heels. Chomp would still be in the hospital. He might not even have regained consciousness. Either way, he would definitely be the subject of police interest, and she couldn’t afford to attract any more.

  Frustration threatened to stir the Huntress. She’d not only failed to get the information from Chomp, she’d gotten distracted taking Hulk down and nearly lost her only real lead. It wasn’t the first time her impulses had interfered with her goals. She’d lost her temper, forgetting her own strength, and she knew how dangerous it could be. If she wanted to have any chance at rescuing her brothers, she couldn’t afford mistakes.

  She splayed her fingers, pleased to see the puffy redness gone. Whatever else the Huntress did to her, the quick healing was a welcome side benefit.

  Think it through for a change. If she worked, she got her money for the night and avoided attracting any more attention. Besides, her job was the only place she felt balanced and powerful, all sides of herself coming together. She needed that right now, to wipe away the foul taste of failure from her tongue. She reminded herself that she’d made it out of the police station without being put into any official records. That was a minor achievement but hardly a resounding success. Flying under the radar was a Harris family specialty, but it wasn’t Dani’s style.

  Arriving at the club, she couldn’t help but smile at the giant, glossy promotional posters picked out in cheap illumination. Let her family whine about the importance of being invisible. She’d earned her place here as one of the starring performers.

/>   Michael couldn’t believe this was the right spot. Here? You really want me here? More anecdotal proof that the Universe enjoyed a sadistic sense of humor.

  “You getting out or what?” his cabby demanded.

  His quarry had already vanished into the club. Posters of scantily clad women made it clear what kind of performance to expect. He’d made it this far in his life without having to go into a strip club, and breaking the habit wasn’t appealing. The strongest compulsion he’d ever experienced writhed under his skin, itching like cheap wool. There wouldn’t be any peace until he did what was necessary, which meant he needed to get this done so he could focus on helping Bernie.

  He examined the other businesses on the street. A tattoo parlor, a sex shop, a Goth-oriented boutique, and two parking lots with spotty illumination breaking the twilight gloom. Nothing he really wanted to hang around in, waiting to see when she came back out.

  “Getting out.” He paid the driver and stepped out, coughing at the grit in the air.

  The building might have been a movie theater in the thirties and forties. The marquee proclaimed the Blue Curtain Club was the home of the Jewels of the Night, the city’s top burlesque act. The red and white paint was flaking away in patches. The brilliantly lit signs blinked to attract attention, tacked on after the fact like cheap costume jewelry. Swallowing his discomfort, Michael stepped up to the bored bouncer. Relinquishing his ID and a twenty-dollar cover, he pulled back his glove long enough to get a blurred stamp in return and permission to pass through the beaded curtains into the club proper.

  The business might not have spent much outside, but inside, the club was decorated in warm sensual reds and golds. Waitresses in tight corsets and heels clicked efficiently through their rounds. The bar stretched across one wall, and a small stage dominated one end of the club. Most of the tables were a mix of businessmen, frat boys, and, to his surprise, women in shiny club attire. Michael claimed a tiny standing bar table and ordered a beer. He took the time to survey the room, searching for his mystery woman. A heavy compulsion weighed him down, pressing his feet into the floor.

  Maybe she was in trouble. Or something could be about to happen to her, something he could prevent. Guessing why the compulsion wanted him there seemed futile. He shifted uncomfortably, wishing the universe had picked another time to play with his life. A pair of dancers on stage performed an improbable series of acrobatic maneuvers in lacy body stockings. Funny, in a crude and bawdy kind of way. Anticipation and amusement buoyed the crowd, lightening his spirits despite his attempt to stay focused.

  He shook his head as the dancers produced bananas from hidden thigh sheaths and the crowd broke out in laughter and applause. He disapproved of strip clubs in general. Too many women ended up in them, stripped of their choices along with their clothes. People shouldn’t prey on other people’s desperation. No one should have to accept humiliation for a paycheck.

  Of course, this one didn’t seem to quite fit the mental image he’d gleaned from various psychic intrusions. It was well lit. There were no booths along the back for private performances. The women on stage might be in provocative costumes, but they weren’t just wiggling and jiggling for the crowd. The crowd itself was light and cheerful, enjoying the show but not demanding more.

  The compulsion crawled along his nervous system as he sipped the beer he’d ordered. Why am I here? Curiosity added its own weight to press him into his seat. He felt as if he were on the cusp of a major change, the end of the world as he knew it.

  The acrobats accepted wild applause and cheering as they skipped off stage, waving gleefully at the audience. A hush of anticipation fell over the crowd. Michael glanced at the eager smiles around him. People hurried from the bar to reclaim their seats and the waitresses discreetly withdrew to the edges of the room.

  The lights dimmed, drawing his attention to the panels behind the small stage. The silhouette of a woman appeared against the panels, igniting applause. An unsmiling pair of men in tuxes appeared from the wings, glaring at each other.

  A familiar song began, and the panels slid aside to reveal a woman with her back to the crowd, her curves sheathed in a glittering black dress. She moved away from Michael, dipping her hand into the man’s pocket to pull out a long rhinestone-studded string. She held it up to the light and then tossed it away with a shake of her head.

  Michael smiled despite himself. Cute. As the singer turned to face his side of the audience, Michael’s jaw dropped as he recognized her. She looked very different with her black hair piled high in curls and wearing elaborate stage makeup. But after his earlier flash, he would have recognized her no matter what disguise she wore. It was his mystery lady.

  Chapter Eleven

  Oblivious to Michael’s shocked realization, the singer continued with Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend, making the rounds of the men and pulling sparkling ornaments out of their pockets and decorating herself as she moved around stage. Two other women joined the performance, but he kept his attention focused on her. She’d been sexy at the club and the police station but now kicked it up to a new level of indulgent sexuality. Discomfort nagged at him, as if he were trespassing on something private that had accidentally been put on display.

  The number came to a close, with all the women glittering in their jewels and the male props banished from the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen,” an unseen MC announced, “the Blue Curtain Theatre and Club is proud to present our lovely Jewels of the Night, beginning with the lovely and fiery Ruby!” The strawberry-blond dancer dressed in brilliant crimson sashayed forward, lifting her skirts just enough to reveal high heels covered in shimmering red sequins.

  “Our beautiful and exotic Opal!” The statuesque woman with chocolate skin shimmied up, her white dress glittering with an iridescent rainbow of colors.

  Michael stayed focused on the third woman, held by both his compulsion and sheer disbelief.

  “And of course, the star of our show, the incomparable and always-sexy Onyx!”

  The black-haired singer stepped forward, lazy bedroom eyes sweeping the audience as she undulated her spine in her clinging cocktail dress. “Diamonds are good, but sometimes a woman has to be her own best friend,” Onyx said. “But this isn’t what you came here to see. You came here and plunked down your hard-earned money to see dancing and singing by beautiful women.”

  The audience clapped and hooted with approval. Uncomfortably, Michael began to wonder if he’d misjudged the entire thing. But why would he have been compelled to come here if not to rescue his mystery woman?

  Onyx pressed an open-mouthed kiss onto Opal’s scarlet lips and the audience broke out in enthusiastic hollering. Michael looked away. It was more than just discomfort at the voyeuristic display—he could sense an aura of danger around her. Masked by the sensuality, it changed a commonplace act of titillation into something darker, like a cobra swaying to hypnotize a mouse.

  “Every lady here is a precious gem, ladies and gentlemen.” Onyx’s arms spread wide to encompass her fellow dancers. “Every one a stone cut into a beautiful, glittering work of art and illusion. But maybe it’s time to strip away the illusion. What do you think?”

  Her darkened lips curved in a delighted smile as the crowd shouted. Reaching out, she yanked down the zipper keeping Ruby’s dress closed. The strawberry blonde’s eyes and bright-red lips went round and she clutched the loose fabric against her. Michael quashed his automatic instinct to intervene. It all had to be part of the show.

  Onyx flicked a finger underneath the material as if peeping underneath while Ruby winked approvingly at the audience. “Tonight, you’ll look beneath the fantasy.” Onyx sauntered over to Opal, slowly unzipping the other dancer’s costume. She paused to listen to the audience’s encouraging applause before shaking her head, zipping it back up.

  The audience erupted in wolf whistles and shouts, and Onyx smiled at them, stripping down the zipper fast enough that Michael would have bet money it would rip. But it had clearly be
en designed for this kind of hard usage. Her eyes swept the crowd, meeting his for the briefest moment. He sucked in a breath, the air resonating in his chest as if he’d inhaled a chiming bell.

  It vanished when the performer’s mask was firmly in place once more. “A little fantasy can be a good thing. Because fantasy is just another word for imagination.” She sauntered to the back of the stage, glancing over her shoulder at the rapt crowd. Slowly, she began to pull down the zipper of her own dress. “And we can all use more imagination.”

  Michael couldn’t help his body’s reaction to the thought of getting a glimpse of what lay beneath the sequined fabric. But he wished he wasn’t sharing it with sixty other people. Erotic arousal began to overwhelm the earlier amusement of the crowd.

  The drums and lights flared as all three dancers dropped their costumes simultaneously, revealing multi-colored corsets and knee-length fringe. Dancing and rolling to the music, the stage was a frenzy of decadent sexuality. The sense of release from the audience threatened to overwhelm him, but Michael’s gaze remained firmly fixed on Onyx. She smiled as she slowly undid the fastenings on her corset then held it closed, winking at the crowd as she flashed one side then the other. She teased them all as if each person were a private lover. Who is she and why am I here? The curiosity would drive him crazy if he didn’t get answers soon.

  Eventually the three dancers were draped in provocative poses, sparkling pasties and G-strings catching the stage lights. The floors shook with stamping feet and the music couldn’t be heard over applause and shouting.

  Onyx lifted her hands and the audience quieted as if puppets on her strings. “We are a dream come true and like all the best dreams, when the night is over… we’re gone.”

  The stage lights snapped off, leaving the club in absolute darkness. As the house lights slowly brightened, the panels were closed, and a young woman in a bikini twirling hula-hoops on her arms occupied the stage.