Instincts flared. “Talking about what?”
“Well, it’s mostly been the usual suspects—Kimmy and them. But so many strange things have happened around here.” She pushed to her feet and yanked her curls into a messy ponytail. “First, Beth and Dawson just drop off the face of the Earth. Then Sarah Butler dropped dead last summer.”
Ice coated my skin. Sarah Butler had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. The night I’d been attacked by the Arum, Daemon had showed up and chased him off. Out of anger, the Arum had killed the girl.
Lesa started to pace. “And then Simon Cutters disappeared. No one has heard from him. Adam dies in a freak car accident, and then Dawson pops up out of nowhere, minus the supposed love of his life.”
“It’s weird,” I said slowly, “but totally coincidental.”
“Is it?” Her dark eyes gleamed. She shook her head. “Some of the kids—Simon’s friends—think something’s happened to him.”
Oh, no. “Like what?”
“That he was killed.” She sat beside me, her voice low as if people were listening. “And that Adam had something to do with it.”
“What?” Okay, I was so not expecting that.
She nodded. “They don’t think Adam’s really dead. No funeral that anyone could go to and all. They think he ran off before the police could figure out he did something to Simon.”
I stared. “Trust me, Adam’s dead. He’s really dead.”
Lesa’s lips pursed. “I believe you.”
I didn’t think she did. “Why do they think Adam had something to do with Simon?”
“Well…some people know that Simon tried something on you. And Daemon beat the crap out of him. Maybe he tried something on Dee and Adam snapped.”
I laughed, more out of shock. “Adam wouldn’t have snapped. He wasn’t like that.”
“That’s what I think, but others…” She leaned back. “Anyway, enough about this crap—you’re going to look hot tomorrow night.”
The conversation eventually went back to studying, but I had this icy feeling in the pit of my stomach, a piercing sensation. Like when you did something bad and knew you were about to get caught.
If people were starting to pay attention to all the weird stuff around here, how long would it take them to follow the clues back to the source of everything? Back to Daemon, his family, his kind, and to me?
Chapter 14
Martinsburg wasn’t really a town, but it couldn’t be called a city, either, at least not by Gainesville standards. It was on the cusp of growth, about an hour from the nation’s capital. It rested right off the interstate, nestled between two mountains—a gateway to larger cities like Hagerstown and Baltimore. The south side of the town was heavily developed—shopping centers, restaurants I’d give my favorite book for Petersburg to have, and office buildings. There was even a Starbucks, and dammit if it didn’t suck to have to drive past that. We were running late.
The whole trip started off badly, which didn’t speak well for how the night would progress.
First off, Blake and Daemon had gotten into it before we even made it out of Petersburg. Something about the quickest way to get to the eastern panhandle of the state. Blake said to go south. Daemon said to go north. Epic argument ensued.
Daemon ended up winning, because he was driving, which made Blake pout in the backseat. Then we hit a snow squall around Deep Creek, slowing us down, and Blake had felt the need to point out that the southern roads were probably clear.
Also, the amount of obsidian I was decked out in and the lack of clothing had me all kinds of twitchy. I went with Lesa’s choice in attire, much to Daemon’s happiness. If he made one more comment about the length of my skirt, I was going to hurt him.
And if Blake did, Daemon was going to maim him.
I kept expecting a fleet of Arum to arrive out of the middle of nowhere and knock our vehicle off the road, but so far, the obsidian necklace, bracelet, and knife strapped inside my boot—for crying out loud—had stayed cool.
By the time we arrived in Martinsburg, I wanted to jump from the moving vehicle. As we neared the Falling Waters exit, Daemon asked, “Which one?”
Blake popped forward, dropping his elbows on the backs of our seats. “One more exit—Spring Mills. You’re going to take a left off the exit, like you’re heading back to Hedgesville or Back Creek.”
Back Creek? I shook my head. We’d gone farther into civilization, but the names of some of these towns begged to differ.
About two miles off the exit, Blake said, “See the old gas station up ahead—the pumps?”
Daemon’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah.”
“Turn there.”
I leaned forward to get a better view. Tall weeds surrounded old, worn-out pumps. There was a building—mostly a shack—behind them. “The club is in a gas station?”
Blake laughed. “No. Just drive around the building. Stay on the dirt road.”
Muttering about getting Dolly dirty, Daemon followed Blake’s sketchy directions. The dirt road was more like a path cleared by thousands of tires. This was so shady I wanted to demand we turn around.
The farther we went, the scarier the scenery got. Thick trees crowded the path, broken up by rundown buildings with boarded-up windows and empty black spaces where doors once stood.
“I don’t know about this,” I admitted. “I think I’ve seen all of this in Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”
Daemon snorted. The SUV bumped over the uneven terrain, and then there were cars. Everywhere. Cars parked in haphazard lines, beside trees, crammed across a field. Beyond the endless rows of vehicles was a squat, square-shaped building with no outdoor lighting.
“Okay. I think I actually saw this in Hostel—One and Two.”
“You’ll be fine,” Blake said. “The place is hidden so it stays off the grid, not because they kidnap and kill unsuspecting tourists.”
I totally reserved the right to disagree on that.
Daemon parked as far away as he could, obviously more afraid of getting dings in Dolly’s sides than us being eaten by Bigfoot.
A guy stumbled out from among a pack of cars. Moonlight glinted off his spiked collar and green Mohawk.
Or getting eaten by a goth kid.
I opened the door and climbed out, hugging my peacoat close. “What kind of place is this?”
“A very different kind of place,” was Blake’s answer. He slammed his door shut, and Daemon about snapped off his head. Rolling his eyes, Blake stepped around me. “You’ll have to lose the jacket.”
“What?” I glared at him. “It’s freezing out. See my breath?”
“You’re not going to freeze in the seconds it takes us to walk to the door. They’re not going to let you in.”
I felt like stomping my feet as I looked at Daemon helplessly. Like Blake, he was dressed in dark jeans and a shirt. Yep. That’s all. Apparently, these people didn’t care about the male dress code.
“I don’t get it,” I whined. My jacket was my saving grace. It was bad enough that the torn tights did nothing to hide my legs. “So not fair.”
Daemon sauntered up to me, placing his hands on mine. A lock of wavy hair fell into his eyes. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. I mean it.”
“If she doesn’t, then this was one huge time waster.”
“Shut up,” Daemon growled over his shoulder and then to me, “I’m serious. Tell me now, and we’ll go home. There’s got to be another way.”
But there wasn’t another way. Blake, God forgive me, was right. I was wasting time. Shaking my head, I stepped back and started unbuttoning my jacket. “I’m fine. Pulling on big girl undies and all that jazz.”
Daemon watched quietly as I stripped away what felt like armor. My jacket off, he sucked in a low breath as I tossed it on the passenger seat. As cold as it was, my entire body somehow managed to feel like it was on fire.
“Yeah,” he muttered, stepping in front of me like a shield. “I’m not so sure abo
ut this.”
Over his shoulder, Blake’s brows shut up. “Wow.”
Daemon whipped around, arm flying out, but Blake darted to the left, narrowly missing Daemon’s hand. Whitish-red sparks flew, lighting up the dark lot like firecrackers.
I crossed my arms over my bare midsection, exposed by the cropped sweater and the low-rise skirt. I felt naked, which was stupid, because I wore bathing suits. Shaking my head, I stepped around Daemon. “Let’s get in there.”
Blake’s eyes drifted over me quickly enough to avoid certain death from the irritated alien behind me. My hand itched to smack his eyeballs out of the back of his head.
Our walk to the steel door at the corner of the building was quick. There were no windows or anything, but as we drew closer, the heavy beat of music could be felt outside.
“So do we knock—?”
Out of the shadows, a huge mother of a dude appeared. Arms like tree trunks were shown off by the torn overalls he wore. No shirt, because it was, like, a hundred degrees out here or something. The guy’s hair was spiked into three sections across the center of his otherwise shaved skull. They were purple.
I liked purple.
I swallowed nervously.
Studs glinted all over his face: nose, lips, and eyebrows. Two thick bolts pierced his earlobes. He said nothing as he stopped in front of us, his dark eyes roaming over the guys and then stopping on me.
I took a step back, bumping into Daemon, who placed a hand on my shoulder.
“See something you like?” Daemon asked.
The dude was big—pro wrestler big—and he smirked like he was sizing Daemon up for dinner. And I knew Daemon was probably doing the same thing. The likelihood of us getting out of here without a massive brawl was slim.
Blake intervened. “We’re here to party. That’s all.”
Pro Wrestler said nothing for a second and then reached for the door. Eyes fastened on Daemon, he opened the door and music blared. He gave a mocking bow. “Welcome to The Harbinger. Have fun.”
The Harbinger? What a…lovely, reassuring name for a club.
Blake glanced over his shoulder and said, “I think he liked you, Daemon.”
“Shut up,” Daemon said.
Blake let out a low laugh and went in, and my legs carried me through a tight hallway that suddenly spilled into a different world. One full of shadowed enclaves and flashing strobe lights, and the smell alone was almost overwhelming. Not bad, but a potent mixture of sweat, perfume, and other questionable aromas. The bitter taste of alcohol was thick in the air.
Blue, red, and white lights streamed and dazzled over the teeming throng of undulating bodies in dizzying intervals. If I were prone to seizures, I’d be on the floor in a heartbeat. All the bare skin—mostly female—shimmered like the girls had been dusted with glitter. The dance floor was packed, bodies moving, some in rhythm, others just thrusting. Beyond it was a raised dance stage. A girl with long, blonde hair whirled in the center of the chaos; her slender body was short but she moved like a dancer, all graceful and fluid motions as she spun.
I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She stopped spinning; her lower half still swayed in tune to the beat as she shoved the damp hair back. Her face was radiant with innocence, her smile beautiful and wide. She was young—too young to be in a place like this.
Then again, as my eyes scanned the crowd, a lot of the kids were definitely not of drinking age. Some were, but the vast majority looked like they were our age.
But the most interesting part was what was above the stage. Cages hung from the ceiling, occupied by scantily clad girls. Go-go dancers was what my mom would’ve called them. I wasn’t sure what the name was now, but the chicks had on some kick-ass boots. The top halves of their faces were covered with glittery masks. All of them had hair that was all the colors of the rainbow.
I glanced down at the skin between my denim skirt and cropped sweater. Yeah, I really could’ve gone crazier.
Even stranger, there wasn’t a table or set of chairs anywhere I could see. There were couches peeking out of the shadowed sidelines, but there was no way in hell I’d sit on those things.
Daemon’s hand was firmly on my back as he bent over, speaking into my ear. “A little out of your element, Kitten?”
Funny thing was, Daemon still stood out in this crowd. He was a good head taller than most, and none of them moved like him or looked like him. “I think you should’ve gone with the eyeliner.”
His lips quirked up. “Not ever going to happen.”
Blake moved in front of us as we followed him around the dance floor, the fast techno beat easing off and another picking up, heavy on the drums.
Everyone stopped.
Fists suddenly shot into the air, followed by shouts, and my eyes widened. Was there going to be a mosh pit? A part of me kind of wanted to try that out. The angry beat may have had something to do with it. The cage girls slammed their hands against the bars. The pretty girl on the stage with all that blond hair had disappeared.
Daemon’s hand slid to mine and squeezed. My ears strained to pick up the lyrics over the screams. Safe from pain and truth and choice and other poison devils… The yells picked up, drowning out everything except the drums.
The hair rose on the back of my neck.
There was definitely something up with this club. Not right… Not right at all.
We rounded the bar and entered a narrow hallway. People were against the walls, so close to one another I couldn’t tell where one body began and another ended. A guy peered up from the neck he was busy with, and his heavily kohl-outlined eyes met mine.
He winked.
I quickly looked away. Note to self: do not make eye contact.
Before I knew it, we’d stopped at a door that read Personnel Only, but the Personnel part had been scratched out and someone had written Freaks in permanent marker.
Nice.
Blake went to rap his knuckles on the door, but it cracked open first. I couldn’t see who was behind it. I glanced over my shoulder. Kohl Eyes was still watching. Skeevy.
“We’re here to see Luc,” Blake said.
Whatever the mystery person behind the door said didn’t look good, because Blake’s spine went rigid. “Tell him it’s Blake, and he owes me.” There was a pause and the back of his neck flushed red. “I don’t care what he’s doing; I need to see him.”
“Great,” Daemon muttered, his body tensing and relaxing in intervals. “He’s friendless as usual.”
Another garbled response and the door opened a little more. Then Blake growled, “Dammit, he owes me. These people are cool. Trust me. No bugs here.”
Bugs? Oh, another word for implants.
Finally Blake turned to us, his brows drawn tightly. “He wants to talk to me first. Alone.”
Daemon drew up to his full height. “Yeah, not gonna happen.”
Blake didn’t back down. “Then nothing’s going to happen. Either you do as he wants and someone will come for you, or we made this trip for nothing.”
I could tell Daemon wasn’t cool with this, and I hadn’t sat through the car ride from hell and brought out my inner stripper for nothing. Rising onto my toes, I pressed against his back. “Let’s dance.” Daemon turned halfway, eyes flashing. I tugged on his hand. “Come on.”
He relented and as he turned completely, over his shoulder I saw the door open and Blake slid through. A bad feeling settled in my stomach, but there wasn’t anything we could do now that we were here.
The drums had faded off, and a somewhat familiar song had started. Taking a deep breath, I pulled Daemon out to the floor, slipping around bodies as I searched out a spot. Finding one, I pivoted around.
He watched me curiously, almost like he was saying, Are we really doing this? We were. Dancing seemed crazy when so much rested on the information we’d come for, but I pushed away our reasons for coming here. Closing my eyes and drawing on courage, I stepped up to him, draped an arm around his neck, and placed my other h
and on his waist.
I started to move against him, like the other dancers were, because in reality, when guys danced, they sort of just stood there and let the girls do all the work. If I remembered correctly from the few times I’d snuck off to clubs with friends in Gainesville, the girls made the guys look good.
It took a few seconds of stiffness to find the beat to the song and loosen up muscles that hadn’t really seen any action recently, but when I did, the rhythm of the music resonated in my head and then through my body, my limbs. Swaying to the music, I whirled around and my shoulders moved with my hips. Daemon’s arm crept around my waist, and I felt his chin graze my neck.
“Okay. I might have to thank Blake for being friendless,” he said into my ear.
I smiled.
His arm tightened as the beat picked up and so did my movements. “I think I like this.”
All around us, bodies were slick and shiny with sweat, as if they’d been dancing for years. That was the thing about places like this—you get caught up and hours go by but it only feels like long minutes.
Daemon spun me back to him, and I was on the tips of my boots, facing him. His head lowered, forehead pressing against mine, our lips brushing. A rush of power went through Daemon, transferring to my skin, and in the flashing lights, we were lost in this world. Our bodies surged with the beat, fitting together fluidly while others seemed to thrash beside us, never able to find the right sync.
When Daemon’s lips pressed more firmly against mine, I opened up, not losing the rhythm even though he was stealing my breath. My—our hearts were pounding, hands grabbing, clutching, his slipping over the curve of my back, and behind my lids, I saw a pinprick of white light.
Sliding my hands across his cheeks, I kissed him back. Static flowed, cascading off our bodies in streams of reddish-white light that was hidden under the flickering strobe lights, flowing over the floor like a wave of electricity. And all around us, people danced, either oblivious to the shocks or fueled by them, but I didn’t care. Daemon’s hands were on my hips, tugging me closer, and we were so gonna end up like one of those ambiguous couples in the hallway.
Opal (A Lux Novel) Page 12
