Warner flicked something that flashed gold as it landed onto the spike — a coin with a hole in its center. The guy flinched, as if he hadn’t noticed Warner behind me.
“That’s enough, I’m sure,” Warner said, completely intimidating in a totally nonconfrontational way.
The guy nodded to Warner and swallowed nervously. The sentinel brushed his fingers against my hand, then stepped to the right, obviously heading to case the room. I let him go without following. With him and Kett prowling around, there was no reason I shouldn’t make a beeline for the dance floor.
“Drink?” the guy asked as he lifted the gold coin off the spike and pocketed it. “We’ve got Bellini charms on special. They’re potent but fun. The euphoria wears off in an hour or when you exit.”
“Nah,” I answered. “I’m just here to dance.”
I stepped around him, heading straight toward the crowd.
The underground space was easily three thousand square feet. Its ten-foot-high walls were constructed from thick, undecorated concrete. Stage lights hung from steel girders overhead, all colored by different gels. A lighting sequence flashed as I crossed through the apparently random clusters of black-lacquered tables and red vinyl-topped stools between me and the floor. The seating areas were obviously moved about according to the whims of the club’s patrons.
A bar ran the entire length of the wall to my left. Adepts were lined up three deep for drinks and what appeared to be — by their unnatural, vibrant color and the various flavors that tickled my senses as I passed — some sort of magical potions. Not everyone got as easily buzzed on magic as I did, except for maybe Kett. The vampire was as much a magical magpie as I was — just more reserved about it. As far as I could tell, there wasn’t a single nonmagical person in the vicinity.
Last time I’d been in a club like this, it hadn’t even been an eighth as full, and Sienna had been by my side. Now instead of hunting me, Kett was hunting someone else in the crowd. But I was still ‘the trap.’ Then, unbeknownst to me, I’d been set by Sienna, and now I was being put into play by the vampire.
Ha. Some things never changed. Except, of course, I was now one of the most powerful people in the club — some of the others there knew it, judging by how they stepped away as I passed. I knew I should learn to dampen my magic as Kett, Warner, and the guardian dragons did, but it wasn’t at the top of my most-urgently-needed-skills list right now.
Questions shouted in friends’ ears became whispers behind my back. “Who is that?” they asked in various phrasings and accents.
Give me a second. I’m going to show you.
It wasn’t just frivolous, this urge to dance and show off. I had a necklace that needed topping up, and a willing crowd casting off magic as they simply breathed around me. It wasn’t stealing if it was offered so freely — even if unknowingly. It would take me years to collect what I could grab in five minutes in this single location.
The music was techno, which wasn’t my thing. I didn’t care.
I stepped into the center of the crowd, as best as I could judge. Then I slowly pivoted, looking over the heads of the bouncing and gyrating crowd until I laid eyes on the heavily tattooed DJ. He was a sorcerer, his blue-tinted magic dancing underneath his hands as he pawed his boards and records.
I laughed. I was quite possibly in heaven, though there wasn’t enough chocolate nearby to make this a true paradise.
The crowd around me was large enough that I couldn’t quite see the edges in the flashing multicolored light. “Every Adept in San Francisco must be here!” I yelled at a dark-haired guy with a thin beard next to me — a spellcaster, judging by his taste.
“At least half of us are out-of-towners,” he answered. Then with an appreciative leer, he added, “But why do I get the feeling that the party just started?”
I laughed, turned my shoulder to him — politely shutting down the conversation — and began to dance.
I threw myself into the beat. This wasn’t a slow build sort of music. This was all day, every day, hard, fast, and forever sort of music.
The crowd pressed against me, shoulders, fingers, and arms brushing. Magic crashed over me from all directions, so many tastes and scents and colors. I had no guidance, and no need for any. It was just me, the music, and the magic.
Peppermint tickled the back of my tongue. I opened my eyes, not realizing I’d closed them. The crowd was all around me, twisting and moving as the magic moved, but I couldn’t see Kett or Warner.
I lifted my hands, stretching my arms back through the jumping and twirling crowd to gather all its wild magic to me. I pulled it … drop by drip, strand by thread … pulled it to me, through me, and into my necklace. I gathered the wild cast-off until the chain and wedding rings were heavy against my heart. A comforting barrier to all the aches that had resided there for so long, and all the worries that threatened to live there forever. A magical shield of golden links. Heart armor.
I threw my head back and laughed.
If I was an egotist, I would have referred to this as an offering, but it was a freely given gift. A gift the crowd didn’t even know it had to give.
All this gathered, multicolored magic roiled around in my necklace. I coaxed it to settle, molding it with my alchemist power. Then, shielded from the crowd, I found some clarity on the dance floor. Some reminder of my duty, my hunt.
I wasn’t sure who we were hunting. Who I was supposed to seek within the crowd.
An amplifier, Kett had said … who wasn’t a witch or a sorcerer, but who could have sought allegiance among either. And a bodyguard who wasn’t ‘well-matched’ to a vampire. What did that mean?
I’d gotten so wrapped up in the prospect of dancing — and honestly, of managing the tension between Kett and Warner — that I’d been forgetting to ask all the right questions. Again.
I drew from the protective magic of the necklace, then visualized it creating a thin, sparkling barrier between me and the onslaught of the Adept magic surrounding me. If I was going to see myself coated in magic, it might as well be sparkly, right?
My head cleared further, and I briefly mourned the lessening of the buzz. Being too drunk to think was freeing.
Refocused, I surfed the crowd with my dowser senses for magic I couldn’t easily and immediately identify. The taste of sand, ashes, and some sort of spice — maybe sun-dried red pepper? — filled my mouth. For a split second, I thought I was somehow picking up my own magic, which might be possible if an amplifier was near. If that was what an amplifier did.
But it wasn’t me. The taste was coming from an unknown Adept two dancers away. An Adept who appeared to have a diluted orange-red aura that screamed of possible demon ancestry. Which was freaky, because based on my minimal knowledge, demons ate Adepts for breakfast rather than buying them waffles with strawberries and whipped cream the morning after. Though maybe waffles the morning after was just my thing.
I focused on the spice of her magic, which I was pretty sure was paprika. I caught another glimpse of orange when the crowd before me shifted, then closed again.
She didn’t appear to be a half-demon, as far as I could see. A woman a couple of years younger than me, her dyed blond hair chopped short — almost ragged, as if singed at the ends. She was swathed in different shades of orange, tangerine to deep sunset. Head to toe. T-shirt, jeans, and shoes. And magic.
But she wasn’t the most interesting being on the dance floor.
Paprika’s two dance partners were exceedingly intriguing. Number one — a completely nondescript guy who needed a haircut, and who should really try a T-shirt color other than white. And number two — a woman. She was cute with her slightly upturned nose, though her eyes were too widely set for her sweetheart-shaped face. But it was the gorgeous, scroll-etched tan leather bag that she wore slung across her body that really drew my attention.
The guy was interesting because he didn’t taste like anything. Not one drop or color of any magic in him — yet he sure as hell wasn�
�t wholly human.
And the second woman with the lust-worthy bag? She tasted of everyone else around her. She was still tasting of paprika, but every time she dropped her shoulder to the beat, twisted left, then curved back toward me, she bounced the grassy base of the group of witches right behind her directly at me. I wondered if she had any idea she did that.
So, yeah. Interesting trio.
I swiveled my hips to the beat, threw my hands up in the air, and sidled a step nearer to my prey … err, targets … err, soon-to-be friendly acquaintances.
Closer, I continued to dance as if with abandon, but I let my own dowsing magic leak out through the barrier the necklace maintained. I wasn’t good at dampening like Warner and Kett, but I was good at attracting all the wrong types. Usually I did it without trying. This time, I was laying out a welcome mat.
Paprika reacted first, stumbling. Her singed blond bangs brushed across her cheek and ear as she whipped her head to look at me. Once I was in her sights, a slow grin loosened her pinched features.
I got that look a lot. Supposedly, my magic was tasty.
I twirled away from eye contact, dancing near them but not trying to force myself into their group. They followed — moving together almost as one — shifting until we were riding the beat side by side.
Then Warner was half-behind, half-beside me, slipping into my space without touching me or making me miss a beat. The girl with the wide-set eyes, who I thought might be the amplifier, missed a beat or two, though. The guy who tasted of nothing scowled at her, then turned his head to see what had her attention — and dropped his jaw at the sight of Warner.
The sentinel slid his hand across my hip and up my back, causing me to arch into him. My heart was racing from more than just physical exertion by the time his caress reached my shoulders, his fingers tangling in the damp curls at the base of my neck.
“I like modern dancing,” Warner said, his unshaven jaw prickly against my left temple and cheek.
Jesus. Dancing had always been about sex for me. Better than sex actually — less commitment, fewer bodily fluids, and no aftermath hassle. But I’d never actually had sex on a dance floor. That would be crazy … and illegal … and embarrassing.
But I wasn’t a hundred percent sure I could say no to anything Warner wanted right now. My newly constructed heart shield opened right up and let him in … deeply in … like I wanted him to be in … Hey, maybe I should wear the necklace slung across my hips. A loin shield would be much more helpful right now.
“Peppermint,” I shouted, vocalizing the instant I tasted Kett’s magic. The vampire was near, and his cool peppermint always steadied me.
Warner glanced over my shoulder. I stepped fully in front of him, placing him at my back and the trio directly in front of me.
“Peppermint,” I muttered. “Good safe word.”
“Safe word?” Warner asked in my ear. Both his hands were on my hips now, as I attempted to focus on dancing.
“I’ll explain later,” I answered. Not adding that I’d like to do more than freaking explain later. I tamped down on my instinct to press my ass back into his groin as I laid a blistering smile on the wide-set-eyed woman before me. She was staring as if I was a porn star or something.
Sex with dragons. There was an unexplored niche market.
I laughed at my own joke. Warner threw his head back and laughed behind me. His power rippled through the room, then bounced back at me from the woman. That definitely seemed like the sort of power an amplifier would have.
My knees turned gooey at this utterly delicious, two-front magical assault, confirming that I had absolutely no shielding ability when it came to Warner.
The crowd shifted, pressing even closer. Tasting magic might be a fairly unique power, but every other Adept in the club could feel, see, or sense magic in some way … even if they didn’t know it.
The guy finally snapped his jaw shut, but a frown was firmly etched across his unremarkable face. Yeah, only scary people thought Warner was sexy … like Kandy, Haoxin, and maybe even Kett. To everyone else, he was terrifying.
I wondered if that made me one of the scary people.
Kett was standing behind she-who-might-be-an-amplifier, having just appeared out of nowhere within the thrashing and gyrating crowd. His ice-blue gaze flicked up to meet mine. He was utter stillness brought to life. He was the antithesis of music, of beat, of breathing.
Speaking of scary people.
His eyes were blood red.
Shit.
I lunged forward. One second, I was dancing. The next, I was feeling the girl’s soft, shiny hair slide across my fingertips as Kett grabbed her across her shoulders and spun her away from me.
Her guy friend shouted, but his words were lost in the music. He was a few seconds behind me as I spun to scan the crowd for peppermint magic and blood-red eyes.
Then something hit my shoulder. I turned my head to see that my sweater and hair were on fire.
Double shit.
The guy shoved by me and dove into the crowd.
I slammed my hand on my shoulder to smother the flames, spinning to come face to face with the orange-swathed girl whose magic tasted of paprika.
Half-demon. Not girl.
She swung at me, slow and clumsy. Warner caught her fist as if she might have been standing still. She needed to learn not to telegraph her punches.
Surprise spread across Paprika’s face, then she smiled wickedly. Which would have been fun, except it was directed at my boyfriend. Her fist, still enveloped in Warner’s hand, started to glow.
Yep, orange.
The half-demon controlled heat or fire.
Cool. Except —
“You ruined my sweater,” I shouted. “And my freaking hair!”
Warner stepped into her, twisting her hand down as he did so. The dancers around us were still oblivious to our scuffle. Or maybe they were just accustomed to magic breaking out on the dance floor.
Paprika lost the smile.
I stepped closer so she could hear me, still completely pissed about my new sweater. “You don’t use fire against a dragon, stupid!”
Suddenly, the crowd wasn’t pressing us anymore, though people weren’t abandoning the dance floor quite yet. I didn’t blame them, on either count.
I turned to scan the dancers for Kett, but came face to face with the ordinary guy.
“Nice moves, buddy,” I said. “No one sneaks up on me.”
Ordinary guy really had no sense of humor, because he glared at me — the furious scowl looking seriously toddleresque — and grabbed my shoulder. My scorched sweater crumbled underneath his grip, and I barely stopped myself from ripping his head off over it. Instead, I opened my mouth to give him a tongue-lashing about grabbing unknown Adepts — which is when he grabbed my magic … or took my magic … or stopped the flow of my magic.
It hurt.
My shoulder, my arm, and the side of my neck went instantly numb.
That terrible emptiness was creeping up the side of my face, and I reacted … badly.
I rewarded this rare and damn impressive talent by slamming my hand into ordinary guy’s chest and stopping his heart.
I told myself he should have known to not play with powerful people who didn’t know their own strength, because they were always the weakest in the room … well, in rooms full of dragons, at least.
I caught him before he hit the floor. So I wasn’t a complete asshole.
Then some sort of foam retardant fell out of the ceiling and blanketed the club.
Well, that was really going to ruin my hair.
The crowd scattered, slipping and slinging foam as they all attempted to vacate the space at once. Naturally, they all instantly bottlenecked at the entrance and stairwell. The cloaking spell that had obscured the exit apparently dissipated when the foam was triggered. A safety-conscious underground club. Nice.
The foam was laced with some kind of spell — fire retardant spelled into a magical suppres
sant.
I spat the icky stuff out of my mouth as I lowered the guy to the floor, holding his head above the foam layer even as I knelt in it myself.
The suppressant spell stung me, like little mosquito bites attempting to quell my magic. It was annoying, though easily countered with an extra tug on my necklace’s topped-up reserves. Not that a personal ward could do anything about my ruined outfit.
Feet — loud enough that they sounded as if they were shod in hundred-pound cement boots — thundered around us. As I pressed my ear to now-Not-So-Ordinary’s chest and confirmed that his heart wasn’t beating, I saw five huge bouncers form a circle around the four of us. Nope — the six of us. Kett and the wide-set-eyed woman were still in the mix. I couldn’t tell if the amplifier had been bitten or not — but then, I was rather more concerned about the guy I’d just killed.
Warner’s magic rolled up and around him. And then — voila — he didn’t have a speck of foam on him.
Paprika stumbled away from the sentinel like he was the second coming and she was a dreadful sinner. Too bad for me — and the guy whose heart I’d just stopped — he wasn’t.
“He’s not breathing,” I cried, wishing for the hundredth time that I had some healing magic at my fingertips.
“Hit him again,” Warner growled as he stepped closer to me, placing Paprika between him and the bouncers.
“Step away from the man,” one of the club’s enforcers intoned. They were wearing riot gear. I hoped for their sakes that it was magically enhanced.
“Warner! I’m not hitting him again!”
Warner lifted up his foot, then deliberately slammed it back down. The concrete floor cracked. The layer of foam coating the floor lifted about a foot in the air all around us. Paprika and the bouncers lost their balance, tumbling every which way. I slammed my knees and the guy’s back against the floor.
Dragon magic — smoky, black forest cake — flooded the room.
The guy jerked in my arms, gasped for breath, then scuttled away from me like an upside-down crab. So hitting him again might have actually worked.
The bouncers fled, following the last of the patrons out of the club and into the dark night beyond. I didn’t blame them. We were way above their pay grade.
Maps, Artifacts, and Other Arcane Magic (Dowser Series Book 5) Page 11
