Hunted by Sin: an Urban Fantasy Novel (The Gatekeeper Chronicles Book 2)

by Jasmine Walt

  But Banner wasn’t interested in Emma any longer. His eyes were fixed on Jenny as she pulled away from her group and clipped toward him in her knee-high fuck-me boots.

  “Jenny, what the heck?” another girl called out.

  “Seriously?”

  Emma broke into fresh sobs, and her remaining friends huddled around her like a protective blanket. The queue moved up just as Banner strode through the entrance, Jenny on his arm, grinning like the cat that got locked in a dairy.

  “What did he do to her?” Ajitah asked Drake.

  “Nothing. Using magic on her without her consent would be breaking the Inter-Entity Pact. But then, he’s Mal Banner. He doesn’t need to use magic. He’s the golden boy of the Magic District. The playboy, the man every woman wants to bang at least once, and the man every woman secretly hopes to tame and keep. Banner is an elder for the Piccadilly Coven, a patriarchal coven. He’s next in line for high witch.”

  We were almost at the head of the queue now, just one guy in front of us. The bouncer looked him over, lifted the thick red rope that hung in front of the entrance, and ushered him forward. He took a step across the threshold, and a web of red lights lit up the doorway.

  “What the heck?”

  “Wards,” Drake said. “There’s always one.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant until the bouncer hauled the man back by the collar of his jacket and then threw him onto the road. The guy scrambled up and grinned, his eyes all pupil as he blew the bouncer a kiss and offered us a deep bow before strolling off.

  Drake shook his head.

  Ajitah snorted. “Did he seriously think he’d be able to fool them?”

  “He was probably on Nix.”

  Ah, Nix, the infamous underground hit that mimicked magic. The effects didn’t last long and weren’t physically addictive, but the high was a psychological crutch, or so I’d heard.

  The bouncer ushered us forward.

  “Take my arm, both of you,” Drake said. “You need to be touching me.”

  Ajitah hesitated a moment before grasping Drake’s arm, but we were striding through the doorway into the Moon and Star without a problem. A man dressed in nothing but form-fitting pants took our coats. His eyes were heavy with kohl, and his chest was covered in some kind of glittery substance that highlighted every muscle and sinew.

  Coats checked in, we followed Drake toward the velvet-draped arch that led to the club proper. The bass beat was filtered by the heavy purple drapes that hung at the entrance, but the vibrations of the music made the soles of my feet tingle.

  “We canvas and meet back here in an hour,” Drake said. He handed me a stack of photographs and did the same for Ajitah. “Try to be discreet. Don’t mention the kidnappings if possible. This place is filled with coven witches and their humans. The abductions are confined to two covens at present, and we wouldn’t want the others getting wind of it. Panic could lead to rash actions that could force our kidnapper underground.”

  I tucked the photos into my clutch. “Let’s get this done.” Drake pulled back the drapes, and I stepped through into the club.

  I’d imagined what this place might look like on several occasions based on what Carmella had told me, but none of that prepared me for the reality of it. Constellations hung above me, planets and stars and the inky blackness of space. At its center was a swirling mass of color—rainbow threads that slid over one another as if alive.

  “The skein, or what they think it may look like,” Drake said. “I’ll catch you in a bit.”

  He headed off to the left, vanishing into the mass of bodies that covered the floor below us in a writhing, sensuous mass of dance and make-out sessions. Skin on skin, mouths on mouths and other places. The air hung heavy with the scent of arousal, sex, and vanilla. The first floor above was a circular balcony with seating shrouded in gloom. Walkways shot out like the spokes of a wheel to connect to a huge central column that housed the bar. The bar itself rose from the center of the club right up to the ceiling. From my vantage point, I could see both floors of the bar with staff working hard to keep the patrons topped up.

  With the alcohol, the vibrating music, and the sex—the Moon and Star was one big orgy.

  “Well . . . wow,” Ajitah said at my back.

  His arms slid around my waist, pulling me toward his hard, taut chest. “If only we didn’t have to work.”

  I sighed as his fingers dug into my hips. A soft moan escaped my lips as his heat and hardness pressed against my buttocks. “If only.” I pushed back against him, reveling in the feel of him, but then I forced myself to step away. We had a job to do. I turned my head and pressed a kiss on his smooth jaw. “I’ll start at the bar.”

  “Be careful.” He dropped a kiss on my forehead and wandered down into the mass of sex and magic. I watched a moment while he wove his way through the crowd as hands reached for him, caressing him. A woman stepped into his path and reached out to stroke his face. For a moment, Ajitah faltered, and my heart squeezed in warning, but then he was shaking his head and moving on.

  I set my trajectory toward the circular monolith rising to the ceiling and climbed down the steps into the fray. Despite steeling myself for it, my senses were immediately on overload. Beer and sweat mingled with the vanilla and incense. Laughter competed with the bass beat. Moans of ecstasy punctuated the climax of the song. The dance floor was not being used for dancing, and the heavy scent of sex pressed down on me. Warm skin, slick skin, soft skin, it all brushed against my bare arms. Silken hair caressed my shoulders as I squeezed past a couple fucking up against a table. The whole atmosphere was heady and intoxicating—a deep, dark forest of sin and pleasure. By the time I made it to the fringes where the witches were spread sparsely like lone regal pines sipping gin and whatever juice was in it, I was dizzy with a throbbing need of my own.

  The bar was surrounded by a light crowd, nothing too intimidating. The air here was fresher, clear of the pheromones from the dance floor. A couple of vents in the ceiling blew cool air.

  Thank God.

  A few deep breaths and my head was clear once more. A gap in the crowd was all I needed for a minute with the bar staff, who were the eyes and ears of the place. A wriggle and a smile, an elbow and a nudge, and I was at the front with my hand on the bar.

  Touchdown.

  The barman closest to me—a young, good-looking guy with a purple feather hanging from his ear—finished serving his customer and moved down the bar toward me. “What can I get you?”

  “An orange juice, please.”

  His brows shot up, but he didn’t comment. While he poured my juice and added ice, I retrieved the photographs from my clutch.

  He placed the juice in front of me. “Ten forty, please.”

  Daylight robbery more like. I handed him the cash and took my change. “Hey. I need a favor.” I held out a twenty.

  He eyed it as if it were a piece of dirty toilet paper.

  Okay, maybe the bar staff at this establishment got paid a lot more than average. “Look, I need your help. Have you seen any of these people in here before?” I pushed the photographs toward him and waited as he picked them up and examined them one by one. If I’d blinked, I would have missed the slight pause, the widening of his eyes, but observation was my forte. He pushed the photographs toward me, shook his head, and moved on to the next customer.

  Crap, he knew something! I considered grabbing another bartender and quizzing him. A guy to my left was finishing up with a customer, but I had my drink, and the crush behind me was building. Someone cupped my ass, giving it a good squeeze. I batted the hand away and shouldered my way to the outskirts of the trough ring. This wasn’t going according to plan. I really hoped Ajitah and Drake were having better luck. I spotted Drake a moment later, tongue deep in an alabaster-skinned redhead.

  Great. Unless he was digging for information down her throat, we wouldn’t be getting much use from that little exchange.

  Maybe this had been a bad idea. This place w
as filled with the self-absorbed and self-obsessed. Unless I happened to randomly pick someone who’d had specific interaction with one of my missing witch bloods, I was unlikely to get any information at all. I moved over to a nearby balustrade, leaned up against it, and sipped my juice. A group of young girls caught my eye. I wasn’t sure if they were human or witches, but they seemed at home, relaxed, and they were around the same age as our missing witch bloods. I sauntered over. Time for a little performance.

  “Hi, this place is pretty amazing. I still can’t believe I’m here.” I caught my bottom lip between my teeth. “I’m sorry, I probably shouldn’t have come over, but my witch friend got a little . . . tied up on the dance floor, and I was at a loss as to what to do.”

  One of the girls snorted. “You find someone else to have fun with, of course.”

  The other girl nudged her. “Aw, come on, Felicity, remember our first time?” She smiled kindly at me, unclasped her clutch, and retrieved a vial. “Here, take a sip of this. It’ll relax you.”

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing bad, just a little purple Nix. It heightens the sense and reduces inhibitions. Trust me, you’ll have the best sex ever.”

  Like I needed my senses heightened. I smiled anyway. “Thanks, that’s so sweet of you, but I have some here.”

  I opened my clutch, rooting around clumsily so the photographs fell out. The girl who’d offered the vial bent down to grab them. I watched her face carefully for a reaction. She lifted the photographs up to the light, her eyes widening.

  “Why do you have pictures of Gemma Carlisle and Vanity DeClaire?”

  The other girls crowded in to riffle through the photographs. “Oh my God, isn’t that the guy Vanity was with a few weeks back?”

  She was clutching a photograph of Wallace Edmonton, our vamp. Bingo.

  “And this girl, she was chatting to Gemma the same night . . .” They turned on me, their eyes lighting up with an inner glow.

  Yep, definitely witches, but I had the info I needed. Four of these witches had been seen here a few weeks ago. Two witch bloods hanging with two aberrations, one of which was also either our vamp or his doppelganger. Now it was time to spin a lie. I held up my hands. “Okay, look. I’m an investigator, and I really need to . . . speak to these witches, so I was hoping you could tell me where I could find them.” Wow, that was lame . . .

  The one who had been so friendly a moment ago took a menacing step toward me. “How did you get in here? What are you investigating?”

  The girl, who’d been silent up until now, grabbed the ring leader’s arm. “Oh God, when was the last time you heard from the girls?”

  Shit, I was inadvertently stirring up a mini shitstorm. The high witch was keeping the disappearances on a need-to-know basis, and these girls must be from one of the covens who hadn’t been hit yet.

  “Okay, thank so much for your time, ladies.” I turned to walk away and stepped smack into a solid wall. No. Not a wall. It was the mini tank from the door. I waved up at him. “Hey, I’m here with an escort.”

  “You come with me. Now.”

  He cupped my shoulders and steered me in front of him. The crowd parted to let him through. Shit, shitty, shit. Where the heck were Drake and Ajitah? I took a breath. No. It was okay. I hadn’t done anything wrong. This was witch domain, and I was on official witch business. No need to incapacitate or hurt anyone. If worse came to worst, I’d just refer them to the Mayfair high witch, get them to give her a ring. Yeah, I’d play the call my boss card.

  A red door loomed up ahead. It opened as we drew close. We stepped through into a tiny room. A bloody lift. I spotted Ajitah’s face just before the doors slid shut.

  At least he knew I might be in trouble.

  I just hoped it was the kind of trouble I could talk myself out of.

  11

  The doors slid open, and the mini tank gave me a gentle shove, propelling me out. I turned to see the doors closing behind me.

  “Hey!”

  “Don’t mind Charlie, he’s not much of a talker.”

  I recognized that voice and turned to face Banner. “What is this?”

  He swept a hand out, indicating the room. “My personal hangout when I’m on the premises. Lounge, mini bar, bed.” His lips curved in a slow, overly personal smile. “A very comfy bed.”

  His shirt was unbuttoned, exposing a smooth, bare chest covered in intricate ink. His feet were bare, too, and his hair was slightly tousled. There was no sign of the girl. What was her name? Oh, yeah, Jenny. Banner walked to the lounge area and fell onto the huge leather sofa, slouching down, legs wide. He sipped his drink.

  This was a man space, dark wood, mirrors . . . lots of mirrors, with the whole sexy lighting to set the mood. Yuck.

  “Seriously? Why did you have me brought up here?”

  His amiable expression hardened. “You’ve been asking questions.”

  “So? Last I checked, that wasn’t a crime.”

  “It is when it involves a case that is supposed to be strictly on a need-to-know basis.”

  Shit, of course, Drake had said Banner was an elder with the Piccadilly Coven. “Look, I’m just trying to do my job the best I can within the ridiculous limitations set. Have you any idea how hard it is to find answers when you can’t ask the right people the right questions?”

  He downed his drink. “Sit.”

  Gone were the come-to-bed eyes and the playboy persona. In their place was a calculating elder witch. The face was still as youthful as before, but the eyes were ancient. I approached the lounge area and perched on the edge of the armchair.

  “What have you got so far?”

  I blinked at him. “Sorry? You called me up here for a report?”

  “Yes. Yes, I did. And you’ll give me one.”

  Like hell, I would. I’d been hired by the Mayfair witches, and although Piccadilly witches were also missing, it was the Mayfair high witch I reported to. Pissing off a high witch was not on my to-do list for the day.

  “Look, I’m sorry, but I don’t work for you. You’re an elder, so I know you must be aware that the jurisdiction of this case has been ceded to Mayfair.” I made a move to stand.

  He waved his hand. “Adhuc manere.”

  My body involuntarily pressed itself back into the seat. “What the heck?” Had he just used magic on me?

  His eyes narrowed. “Loquimini veritate.”

  Words sprang to my lips, information I intended to pass only to the high witch. The desire to spill it was almost unbearable, but I bit back the urge, closed my eyes, and exhaled through my nose. He didn’t realize I wasn’t human. I was a fucking hellhound-naga hybrid, and I would not be manipulated. The bands around my limbs loosened a fraction before melting away.

  I stood and smoothed down my trousers. “Don’t you ever try that shit on me again. If you want information, then hire your own damn investigator.”

  His brows snapped down. “How did you—”

  I took steps toward the lift.

  “Wait! Please.”

  The raw desperation in his voice had me hitting pause on my annoyed exit. “What?”

  His exhale was heavy and heartfelt. “One of the girls . . . one of the witch bloods . . . she was special to me. Please. I need to know what’s happening.”

  I turned to face him. “From what I saw outside, there are a lot of women who are special to you, but you seem to set a very small window for your use-by date.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “This one is different. I haven’t . . . I haven’t slept with her yet. Since Jayda went missing, I haven’t been able to sleep or eat. I thought I could just go back to being me . . . the cad who fucks around . . . but I can’t even do that with any enjoyment.”

  Oh man, when had I become a sucker for a love story? I sighed and made my way back to the sofa. Opening my clutch, I pulled out the photographs. “Show me Jayda.” I figured which one she was, but I needed to make sure he wasn’t pulling a fast one to get inte
l.

  He carefully selected a picture and held it up, his eyes scanning it with way too much emotion. “Man, she’s . . . something else.”

  Yep, that was her all right, and the look on his face was the first genuine emotion I’d seen on him. The interview Mayfair had provided had been sparse, but at least I knew Jayda was connected to this place, too. Banner was eyeing me expectantly now, throat bobbing.

  “Look, as far as I know, most of the missing witch bloods were regulars here. My gut tells me they may even have been taken from this location.”

  He shook his head. “The security here is tight. The girls must have been abducted outside.”

  “Or coerced to leave and then taken?”

  He gnawed on his lip. “Jayda was mad at me. I was . . . overwhelmed by my feelings. She found out I was still sleeping around. I just . . . I wasn’t ready to face it . . . my feelings, I mean. I wanted her to see me with someone else. I wanted to push her away. I thought she was avoiding the club. I thought I’d succeeded in scaring her off, but then I discovered she was missing altogether. Witch bloods and full witches, we don’t . . . as a rule . . . long term, you know. And me being an elder.” He shook his head. “But I don’t care about that right now. You have to find her.”

  “I promise we’re doing everything we can, but it would help a ton if the Mayfair Coven and the Piccadilly Coven worked together, shared info, and interviewed the witches who are regulars here.”

  He snorted. “No self-respecting witch likes to admit this place exists. They all come here to blow off steam, but it’s never spoken about in polite company. Once you walk through these doors, you’re no longer an elder or a high witch, you’re just a witch desperate to scratch the itch that is magic—base and hungry and primal.” His lips curled. “The face we present to the outside world is nothing but a controlled façade. There’s a beast inside us all. The only difference is, witches share the same one . . . magic.” He leaned forward. “Mayfair is the largest coven, the most powerful. They own the lion’s share of the beast, and the other covens must bow to it.” He sat back, rubbing a hand over his face. “Just find them, please. And if you need anything, let me know. I’m not ashamed to exploit my shadier connections if it gets the job done, even if I’m not openly permitted to act on this.”