Encore (Descendants of Ra: Book 4)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Exactly none.

  She pressed the button and listened to the phone ring.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Midnight. Ridley dressed for the occasion in a red catsuit, which hugged her lean body and proved she had curves in the key areas. She traded her Doc Martens for a pair of black patent leather platform heels adding four inches to her height. She did miss her Doc’s. They gave her the proper amount of traction for a speedy getaway.

  Tonight was about seduction, and if a pair of heels would aid her cause, then she’d strut her stuff and preen.

  She’d been to the unnamed club in the meat-packing district of lower Manhattan several times, always arriving and leaving in a cab. They thought she was human and powerless, a groupie. Keeping them oblivious served her purpose.

  She finished eating a protein bar as EJ exited the cab first then lent a hand and guided her from the car. When her fingers brushed his palm, a luscious thrill ran through her. She had to admit, he was imposing dressed in all black. The cable knit sweater hugged his pecs under his shearling winter coat. Black jeans complemented by his own Harley Davidson belt buckle and silver-toed combat boots. She’d never shopped for a man and found a great deal of satisfaction in seeing him in the items she’d purchased. His stubbly jaw added another layer of menace she found irresistible.

  The cab pulled away, leaving them on the sidewalk staring at a nondescript building. A cold wind barreled around the corner. She teetered in her heels and stumbled into EJ. His arm circled her waist. He gave his back to the wind, sheltering her from the cold.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, not expecting a reply, though wishing he had given her one.

  There was nothing special about the brown two-story building with the steel blue door. Only if you had a superior chromosome fused to your DNA would the thumping bass, the two guards standing at attention, and the line of partygoers waiting to enter the establishment, be visible. However, that single chromosome wouldn’t entitle you to enter the exclusive establishment as attested by the line of sullen people awaiting entry.

  Ridley stepped forward and EJ’s arm shot out, blocking her. He gripped a gun in his other hand. She looked around, confused at what could’ve set him off. Then she realized how startling it could be for a first time visitor to the club. The protective cloak surrounding the building would appear as a shimmery opaque lake. A person could almost glimpse the blurry shadows on the other side, as their mind attempted to focus on the reality they’re accustomed to and the supernatural stunning their senses.

  “It’s okay.” She squeezed his strong, calloused hand. Once they passed through the barrier, his mind would accept the change. “Trust me.”

  It was silly to tack on that last part when EJ had no choice in the matter. Still, it felt right even if he had no free will.

  The attention of the crowd swiveled to them as she strutted up to the entrance and glared at Tony, the bouncer on duty. Usually, he let her in without commentary. Tonight he stepped into her path. “Are you guys going to open the door, or do I have to dance out here?”

  Tony only had eyes for EJ who stood inches taller than everyone in the vicinity. “You never bring a guest.”

  Ridley shrugged and gave a coy smirk. “Then I met him.” She waved a hand at EJ as if to say, ‘what woman wouldn’t want to be seen with him’. By the appreciative stares from the females waiting in the cold, they agreed.

  Tony hadn’t budged and neither had his pal. “He got a name?”

  Yeah, though she wasn’t about to give it. “Stay in your lane, Tony. You get paid to bounce. Not to question me.”

  Was that condensed air or steam blowing out of Tony’s nose? Ridley fished her cell phone out of her coat pocket. “Shall I tell Frederick how rude you were to me?” She arched an eyebrow and curled her lips as she swiped her finger over the screen and went through the motions of dialing. Since she removed the SMS card, the phone was basically useless. Tony didn’t know that. As Frederick’s best supplier of stolen artifacts, the Collector—as he liked to be called—wouldn’t appreciate his bouncer refusing her entry.

  Tony’s eyes narrowed and a grimace tightened his meaty face. “That won’t be necessary, Miss Cross.” The door to the club swung open. Ridley strolled over the threshold. A wave of humid air slapped her. The temperature inside had to be sixty degrees warmer than outside the club. As a descendant of an African god, heat was in Frederick’s nature.

  And scantily clothed women.

  Clothing optional was the unwritten rule. Didn’t matter to Ridley. She could roast next to Hades at a July barbecue and she still wouldn’t give up her precious red coat. She did undo the buttons and let the halves part. Without pause, she strode to the bar and ordered a White Russian with Kahlua and a Sam Adams Winter Lager for EJ. A little detail she pulled from his file.

  “Drink up.” She passed him the bottle and, between blinks, she would’ve sworn he smiled as he brought the rim to his lips. Impossible.

  A casual sweep of the bar enabled her to take in the scenery. Dressed in their customary dark greens and browns, a group of Celtic demis were lording it over a few Valkyries decked out in silver and gold. As if appealing to their quarrelsome nature would help the Celtics get into a Valkyrie’s panties.

  Asgardian cast-outs, dressed in shiny armor, held a drinking contest at a quartet of tables on the left side of the club. The Greeks—those arrogant bastards—had center court on the dance floor. White was the only color that graced their perfect forms. There were a few Roman demis dressed in purple togas as were a few tanned Aztecs.

  She noted Frederick at his usual table in the VIP section at the rear. He was descended from an African spirit god, which one, he refused to say. She guessed it was possibly Elegua, the God of Opportunity, or Shango, the God of Storms. Frederick excelled at swindles and blowing smoke up people’s asses.

  Frederick Hughes wasn’t the most powerful demi in the building. That honor went to the great-grandson, tenth removed, of Zeus who was currently nailing a nymph in a not-so-dark corner.

  Ridley finished her drink and walked straight across the dance floor. The only woman in red, all eyes were on her and the man guarding her rear. Good. She wanted to be seen before she was dead. “Rage against the dying of the light,” Dylan Thomas said. While she still had a little time left, that’s exactly what she planned to do.

  Frederick lounged in a velvet circular booth, women on either side. She’d always thought he was handsome with his dark, wavy hair, olive skin, and midnight eyes, highlighted by the crisp white suits he favored. She loved the way he commanded respect, and the club was his domain. Something about aggressive men got her juicy.

  His gaze settled on her, slid down her body, and slowly traveled back up. A sexy smile split his face. That smile used to give her a tiny thrill, though she never dared to mix business with pleasure. Now, she preferred icy baby blues, freckles, and a buzz cut.

  “I remember you from the RedZone.” A woman separated from the crowded dance floor and sauntered up to EJ. Her walk was a seductive display of rolling hips and jutting breasts. Easy Hole may as well have been tattooed above her glossy lips.

  She stretched her grubby hand to touch EJ. Ridley was at EJ’s side, knocking the chick’s hand away and hissing, “He’s mine. Go hump someone else’s leg.” Yeah, she sincerely meant every word.

  “Listen to her, Charlotte. Ridley is here for business, not pleasure. Though I would enjoy a catfight,” Frederick cackled.

  She waited until Charlotte skulked away. Then she did a slow pivot to Frederick, but his gaze had shifted to EJ.

  “Tony said you brought a friend.” The disappointment in his voice made her smirk. He’d hoped she brought a female along, someone new for him to conquer as if she would ever leave someone to his tender mercies.

  “I have something for you.” She reclaimed Frederick’s attention.

  “Really?” Interest piqued, he shifted in his seat. “You brought me a trinket when all I desire is you?”r />
  His opening salvo. So predictable. Frederick used flirtation to mask his persuasive powers. All of his customers and friends wouldn’t appreciate having their wills subverted for Frederick’s amusement and gain. After all, how else would the offspring of a minor deity rise to the heights Frederick achieved so quickly?

  Ridley batted her lashes. “You flatter me.”

  “Truth, not flattery. I’ve wanted you since forever.” His gaze glided to EJ and darkened.

  Ridley touched her coat pocket. It wouldn’t do to have Frederick stray off topic. His sharp eyes caught her movement. He got rid of his female entourage and signaled her to move closer.

  Ridley invaded his personal space. She bent low, allowing him a bird’s eye view of her cleavage. Next, she placed a tentative hand on his thigh and whispered in his ear. “For what I have to show you, privacy is key.”

  He covered her hand and moved it to his inner thigh, right below his bulge. For some reason, she noted the softness of his palm against the back of her hand, the opposite of EJ’s callused hand, and nearly snatched her hand away. She masked her revulsion with a mischievous expression. If she had to do this, she would. Silently, she prayed she wouldn’t. She liked being able to look at herself in the mirror, even if she sometimes cringed.

  “To leave my guests to their own devices would be rude. So tell me now.” Laced with persuasion, his voice deepened on the last four words.

  He wanted to know, fine. Let him think his power worked on her. “I need a scroll deciphered.”

  “Do I look like a scholar?” he snorted, his voice gruff.

  She bit back a sharp retort. “What you look like is a man who knows an opportunity when it falls into his lap.” She squeezed his inner thigh with a grip that wasn’t enticing. “An opportunity to claim untold power.”

  Ridley released him and opened her coat. She pulled the scroll out of a hidden pocket enough for him to see. He arched an eyebrow.

  Got him. Now to reel him in.

  “Why would I need a dusty scroll I have to spend time and energy to decipher?”

  Damn it, did she have to draw him a map and still lead him to the treasure? “I did say it was powerful, and we’d be allies.” She threw in to sweeten the pot.

  “Ah.” He nodded. “But I have allies, a new one today in fact. And I have power. So I don’t need you.”

  That was not what she wanted to hear. “This scroll—”

  “Is not the Sacred Dagger, the Reaper of Souls. The Harvester. And you, my lovely dear, are not a demi. You’re a conveying human I can kill at a whim. You and your Egyptian lover.” He glared at EJ.

  A cold knot twisted her guts. She didn’t know what shocked her more, Frederick’s knowledge of the Sacred Dagger or his knowledge of EJ. She had to be practical. “What do you know about the dagger?” And what did Frederick mean by ‘Reaper of Souls and Harvester’?

  “It’s an anu’Ra. Able to remove a human soul yet leave the person alive.” A voice came from the crowd.

  A growl rumbled beside her. EJ palmed his gun again and had it aimed at the crowd who laughed, completely unafraid of the weapon. A sense of foreboding tightened her chest, and she found herself searching through the crowd of gyrating bodies for some unknown danger, determined to find whom EJ targeted. She couldn’t tell, and right now, their lives might depend on it.

  The gun flew out of EJ’s hand to Frederick, who twirled the weapon with one finger and slipped it into his suit pocket. The music died. “Guns are a no-no in my establishment. My regulars understand this. Since you are new, and Ridley is a special friend, I won’t kill you this time. Ah, there you are, my new friend.” Frederick waved to someone lurking in an alcove.

  The shadows peeled away as the lights rose and none other than Daniel—Fucking—Nicolis strolled from the other side of the club. With a stilted shuffle, William Chadwick walked beside him along with a blond chick. Ridley didn’t know whose presence shocked her more, Daniel’s or the museum curator.

  “Hello… Brother.” In an instant, Daniel morphed into the beast Alamut. Scales, razor-edged claws, barbed tail, part man, part snake, part crocodile. A whole lotta ugly. William had his own transformation, only on a smaller scale and blond: Master and quimaeras.

  “No-no-no shifting allowed in my club.” Frederick snapped his fingers. Alamut and his cadre of monsters reverted back to their human shells. “You are allowed to use your power, only in human form.”

  “Is there going to be a battle?” someone asked from the crowd.

  Frederick held out one arm toward EJ and the other toward Daniel. “This is tonight’s entertainment! Brother against brother. Let the bidding begin.”

  Bidding? Bidding! What the hell? Ridley blocked EJ by stepping in front of him. “I came here for business, Frederick. Not a spectator sport.”

  “This is business, Ridley,” he said with a scoff and lazy smirk. “The ending of one partnership and the beginning of another.”

  Her hands balled into fists, aching to rearrange Frederick’s smug face. “Are you telling me you’re dumping me for a-a salamander?” She pointed at Daniel who approached carefully. Without his alter ego, he wasn’t as brave.

  Frederick threw back his head and laughed, which jerked her fury up a notch. Seemed their partnership would end with an ass-kicking.

  “The Salamander has something I want.” He gave her a dismissive glance that made her boil.

  Head cocked, fists on her hips, she snarled. “What? What does he have that I can’t steal for you?”

  “The Sacred Dagger. The Reaper of Souls. Gateway to the Gods.”

  And the relic she needed. Her heart sputtered. She could use EJ as a distraction and snatch the anu’Ra; no, she wouldn’t use him like that.

  Ridley grabbed EJ’s arm. All she had to do was push her aura around them and kick her engine into high gear. EJ pried her fingers off his arm and sprinted across the distance between him and Daniel with blades he’d freed from his jacket.

  He shouldn’t be able to do that. To act on his own without my instructions. Unless… He was still acting on her first instructions to defend her against all threats, no matter the cost. Daniel Nicolis, aka Alamut, was a big damn threat.

  The two men slammed together with a sickening crunch of flesh and limbs. Ridley gasped as blades glinted and arced downward.

  She’d seen EJ fight Avery, yet this fight was vastly different. The snarl on his face, his gritted teeth, the fierce glare in his eyes, were polar opposite from the congenial man she’d first met. His fists and the blades created a deadly dance, which caused Daniel to back up even with a blade in his hand.

  A gold blade that twinkled from encrusted jewels.

  EJ dropped low and spun on his knee, his blades swiping at Daniel’s calves and thighs. Daniel’s blade nicked EJ’s neck. EJ jerked back, landed on his back with Daniel on top. The blade raised above Daniel’s head, prepared to strike.

  Despite her four-inch heels, Ridley poured on the speed. The blond chick who’d entered with Daniel blocked Ridley’s path. Ridley zoomed around her, but the bitch caught the edge of Ridley’s coat, slammed to her back. Stars danced in her vision as she climbed to her feet.

  “Blondie, I know you’re a zombie, so—” Ridley hauled back and knocked her the fuck out, earning a roar from Daniel. His outrage was cut short by EJ’s fist. Daniel’s head rocked, yet he still managed to bring the jeweled blade down. EJ grabbed the sharp blade, blocked it from piercing his chest. Blood ran freely from his clenched fist.

  Hands grabbed Ridley, slowing her down and keeping her away from EJ. She ripped herself away from the people holding her. All she had to do was swing back around, collect her bodyguard, and zoom.

  “Don’t like me punching your girlfriend?” she shouted, and slung the girl up and hit her again. “Then do something about it!”

  Did the blade slip? Or did EJ let the dagger impale him!

  Daniel yanked the blade free. He leered at his handiwork, then leaped off EJ and c
harged. EJ didn’t move as Ridley met Daniel halfway. At the last moment, she jumped and spun. Her coat flared, activating the twelve pieces of Damascus steel lining the bottom edge of her coat. The metal, forged in 350 B.C., was the only known steel that could wound a god.

  And kill a demi-god.

  “Stop her!” Frederick yelled.

  Her blades shredded those stupid enough to obey Frederick’s order. Bodies fell. Except now, her aim was off and Daniel ducked just as Damascus steel would’ve sliced him open. With her balance off, her best attack—the spinning flare—failed.

  Daniel closed in on her. She snatched a dagger from the edge of her coat and flung it at him. He caught it by the hilt and returned it. The blade nicked her cheek and the warm trickle of blood down her face.

  Shit! She didn’t have much time. But she had to touch Daniel so she could find him later. Ridley kicked into overdrive and landed a punch to Daniel’s jaw. She kept going and grabbed EJ by his shoulders.

  God! He was two tons of dead weight. That didn’t stop her from hauling their asses out of the building with her super speed. Even dragging EJ, she was too fast for any of the demigods to catch them. Her entire rescue mission lasted ten seconds.

  She kept moving until they made it to the next safe house, this time a loft not far from the club. Good because she couldn’t go much farther hauling his dead weight.

  She finagled EJ’s big body through the loft and onto the king-sized platform bed. Checking for his pulse was her first priority. The steady thrum reassured her.

  She stroked his cheek, sure he was simply stunned. “Wake up, EJ. Open your eyes.”

  EJ didn’t budge.

  She tapped his cheek. “Come on, baby.” What had the dagger done to him? And what would it do to her? She didn’t think anything was worse than being a zombie. This…he couldn’t be dead…could he?

  “Time to wakey.” Tears clouded her vision.

  Nothing.

  She clutched his shoulders and shook. Her heart booming in her chest and drowning reasonable thought.