I took a deep breath in and let it out, preparing myself for the roller coaster ride we would experience once we entered the club, knowing nothing was for certain once you opened those doors. I could feel the energy of everyone inside, good or evil, human or inhuman, and it caused goose bumps to form all over my flesh. I had changed clothes to match more of what I was known for with the Initiative as well as a better way to hide the throwing knives. The sword couldn’t actually be hidden in the heat and humidity of Louisiana, and the sais were something I didn’t want to hide. The gun was on the holster strapped around my thigh; the hip had become an uncomfortable place with the sais placed there.
“Yup, we just walk in. They know exactly who I am,” I replied as I closed the distance between myself and the heavy wooden doors with McGrady and Stephenson following closely behind, McGrady practically at my heels since I was still technically healing from my injuries.
The cool air from the air conditioning was virtually canceled out by the heat from the amount of bodies inside the building, a great deal more preternatural creatures in the club than usual. Their energies were mixing and hitting me with a heady combination of alcohol, sex, and drugs which were always present in places such as these. I was even willing to bet that there were party lines in the bathroom for those that wanted a quick hit of cocaine or heroin, but I wasn’t a cop, and Stephenson wasn’t here for a drug bust. I stopped at the hostess station by the door, a tall and lean blonde woman all in black standing just behind it, looking extremely self-important and self-involved as she examined her immaculately painted nails.
She looked up and seemed almost bored, recognizing me instantly as she took in the weapons and face and smirked.
“He’s been expecting you, but you know the rules. You’ve gotta lose the weapons or you’re not getting in there,” she said, her monotone explanation not sitting with me the right way.
Something was off. He had expected me. I was prepared for that, but the absolute boredom and nonchalance bothered me. So much so that I didn’t want to give up my only defense, but did it anyways, knowing I wouldn’t be seeing Eshu with blades strapped all over me. Even the gun was a no-no, even though it didn’t contain bullets that should’ve been able to dispatch any type of creature in the club that night. The woman took each of our weapons with precise movements, placing them in a special compartment near the hostess station and handing each of us a claim ticket for when we left. I stuffed it into my pocket and began to follow her as she walked toward the back offices.
“Follow me, please,” she said, waving a hand over her shoulder as she led the through the menagerie of tables filled with patrons of all types.
Club Three-Two-Five was normally a haven for humans with very few preternatural creatures in it, but it was crawling with all sorts tonight. One pair of yellow eyes met hers as they weaved through the crowd, the music of strings and a crooning male voice floating around me and bouncing off of the crimson walls. The hostess moved in slow, deliberate movements almost like a sashay as she made her way through the throng of people and beings like she wanted to be seen. It worked in her favor as I noticed eyes grazing not just over my body, but hers as well. I took a deep, calming breath and continued to follow her until we came to a pair of black French doors fringed with gold and even gold door knobs that the hostess turned, pushing the doors open. There was a tapestry above the door. It was a symbol I had seen before in Constance’s shop. The symbol of Papa Legba, was kind of like a cross-waved within intricate designs. The hostess was waiting for us to pile inside before closing them behind us, the final click of the closed doors causing my blood to run cold.
The flooring had been changed from black ceramic tiles to lush black carpet, but the walls remained the same color. The color of blood. There was a desk at the far side of the room, expansive and elaborately carved in a kind of old Gothic style, the room decorated in such a way that you couldn’t tell there was any particular interest in anything. Knick-knacks and idols from different faiths lined shelves ranging from Voodoo to Christianity to Hinduism as if there was no commitment to any of them. We were alone, not even the hostess remained in the room as we took it all in.
The desk was so large that it could fit what I could only describe as a throne behind it, solid wood with a high back and even more intricate swirls carved into it. It was a way to remind everyone that he was the king here, and everyone should be sure to remember that. The only other people in the room were two large bodyguards in black suits standing on either side of the room like sentinels, guarding their master that could strike them down without raising a hand to do so and he was nowhere to be seen.
I felt energy begin to build in the room, neither light nor dark, pulsating around me as I stood and stared at the throne-like structure. Before anyone could utter a single syllable, he appeared just as I remembered him from all those years ago. His dark skin reminded me of the night, his slick head covered with a gray fedora rimmed with red along the rim, a casual gray suit covering his body with a shirt that matched the ribbon on his hat stretched over his broad chest. When I had first met him, he had a goatee, but was now clean shaven as to better project the professional image he strove for. After all, the supernatural was a business for him, and he was good at it. He walked to his chair, gliding across the plush floor as he moved, not once taking his dark eyes off of me, a grin gracing his lips.
“It’s not every day I come to expect a Van Helsing to walk through my doors,” he said as he sat elegantly in the large chair, crossing one leg over the other and steepling his fingers over his curved lips. His eyes were boring into me, trying see within my soul and causing a chill to run up my spine because I couldn’t stop him from doing so. I took a step closer to his desk and took a deep breath.
“It’s not every day the demon possessing one of your priestesses gives me your name,” I replied. I cocked my hip and flashed him my best smile.
Obvious disdain crossed his features as he dropped his hands to his lap, frowning as his brow furrowed. “Yes, there have been whispers of such an act. I have also been told of what she has done but, as you know, I do not always have control over their actions. I do not condone breaking the law even though zombie raising has been a common practice since the beginning.” His eyes dropped and then he looked at me again. “I would take care of this issue myself if you hadn’t already called the Vatican in to do so even though I am tempted to do just that, Miss Van Helsing. Demons do not possess one of mine without consequences.”
“Ah, yes, the long arm of justice at Father Voodoo’s fingertips,” I sighed as I watched his actions carefully. His eyes had barely scanned my companions and stuck to me, making me slightly uncomfortable.
He shook his head and responded, “Not Father Voodoo. Father of everything, and you’d do well to remember that.”
I swallowed hard, but didn’t let him see the anxiety that was causing my stomach to lurch inside of me, turning my veins to ice as the energy of his anger flowed over my flesh. At this point, he hadn’t acknowledged McGrady or Stephenson, but I knew he knew who they were without having to ask. As his hostess had said, he had been expecting us.
“And as you know, I do not work in dealings of the Initiative,” his eyes moved from me to McGrady, who shifted uncomfortably beside me to Stephenson whose breath I heard catch in her throat. “Or the FBI. The law doesn’t recognize my practices as necessary, which is why I do not contract for them. Or help.”
I nodded. “That may be the case, Eshu, but I could always find a way to demand your help... whether you like it or not.”
“Oh, I can assure you, Miss Van Helsing, that I would enjoy any form of persuasion if you were the one to deliver it.” He smiled wickedly and leaned forward in his throne-like seat, eyes blazing with intense heat that caused blood to rush to my cheeks, but I didn’t look away from him. McGrady moved toward me and whispered a question in my ear.
“Ur we sure we need him? We can figure this all out oan our ain.”
I didn’t get a chance to answer before Eshu decided to put in his two cents, which was something he loved to do that I remembered from our brief encounter, a flash of our first meeting running through my mind. Stephenson remained quiet as she absorbed the experience that would surely help her in the FBI somehow.
“It’ll be too late by then, Scotsman,” Eshu croaked. “You have no idea what you’re even dealing with. That symbol carved into that beautiful body,” he said as he pointed toward my scarred belly, “has turned her into a beacon and they’re headed straight for her, and you can’t stop it without what help I am willing to offer you.”
“So you’re willing to help us?” I asked.
Eshu’s eyes moved from McGrady to me, looking me up and down and grinning again as he touched a finger to his slightly parted lips. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Stephenson finally spoke up, finding her vocal chords just long enough to ask something I was sure was burning inside of her skull during the entire exchange. She took a couple of brazen steps forward, the large letters F-B-I on the back of her bulletproof vest she felt she needed to wear glaring at me and begging me to stop her before she did something stupid.
“Mr. Eshu, I’m not sure how this entire thing goes, but I’m done playing games. We are wasting valuable time while we sit here and chat like old friends. Let’s cut to the chase. Is Richards behind this or not? Or is he an accomplice?”
I winced at the brute force of her words, attempting to hide the cringe that my body desperately wanted to give into. Eshu’s eyebrows shot up in amusement, the smile that had been on his face turning into a frown of contempt. Without saying a word, Stephenson breathed in deep, but couldn’t seem to let the breath out, her hand rising to her chest to rest just over her heart like something had gripped it tight and refused to let go. I stalked to her side, placing a hand on her back as she fell to her knees, McGrady not too far behind with a hand on his hip holster like he had forgotten he had to leave it up at the front. Eshu glared at McGrady, but didn’t do anything to him. He didn’t have an issue with McGrady because he hadn’t outright disrespected him in his own house. Stephenson’s eyes glazed with unshed tears, and I stood and turned to Eshu, placing my hands on his desk.
“Eshu, I believe she’s learned her lesson. She won’t do it again,” I practically begged as I looked at him, his gaze on Stephenson as a smile played at the corners of his mouth.
With a sigh he released her, and I felt the energy leave her in a whoosh of warm air.
“If someone doesn’t teach her a lesson, I’m afraid she’ll encounter someone who is even less forgiving than myself. Agent Stephenson, I hope you have learned from this experience. You do not come into my house and disrespect me, or you will face the consequences of your actions. You are lucky Miss Van Helsing is here, or I’d cut you down where you stand. I am above the law, Agent, and I will not be intimidated. Are we clear?” His eyes moved from me to Stephenson, who was now standing trying to catch her breath with her back turned to him. She nodded and that response satisfied him. It was as I had thought earlier in the day, feeling the terror come off of her like smoke once again. She was not meant for this type of work, and I believed she was beginning to realize that for herself.
I watched Stephenson work to steady herself, irritation and frustration plain on my face and in my body language. This was something she didn’t understand about the Supernatural. There were certain lines you did not cross, but at least I could say during her time with she had learned of at least one. And at least she had been with me when meeting the supernatural for the first time or she could be dead, having suffocated on the black carpet beneath our feet. She could either use her new knowledge to continue to help the Initiative or go back to her job at the FBI dealing with the regular brand of crazies. I was betting now that she would do the latter.
“I’m sorry, Eshu. She doesn’t know any better. I do apologize,” I said as I nodded my head just enough to show that I was truly sorry for what had just transpired. When I looked up, he seemed to take it at face value, watching me with interest. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw McGrady next to Stephenson, pulling her away from the desk and making comforting sounds and gestures, speaking to her in hushed tones. Our eyes met, and he shook his head. He felt we didn’t need Eshu’s help, but I knew better. Eshu had even said it himself.
“We need your help to bring this demon down, and we were told you were the man to come to.” I was hoping that ego boost would help my cause. My eyes met his and I felt a spark inside my chest, but refused to break eye contact.
“And what’s in it for me?” Eshu asked, a hint of knowing behind his dark orbs as he leaned forward, putting both elbows on the massive desk in front of him.
“We’ll give ye whatever ye want fur yer help. Jist lit us knoo an’ we’ll make it happen,” McGrady said from behind me. He was now standing at my back and had moved so suddenly he startled me just enough to where my heart skipped a beat.
“Alright,” Eshu said as he leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers just in front of his lips once more, “I want two things in exchange for my assistance.”
“Name them,” McGrady said curtly, clipping his words short as if he wanted this to be over as quickly as possible, which I couldn’t say I blamed him.
“First, I want legal guardianship of Constance Rillieux, unexercised of course,” he demanded smoothly.
My breath caught in my throat as I thought I knew his purpose for this, but you never really knew with Eshu, did you?
“Doon. Whit else?”
“Now, wait a second,” Stephenson called out, finally coming out of her stupor. “What for? She is of no use to you.” She walked up beside me and slammed her hand down on the desk, palm down. “She is a murderer and has committed a felony. How can we just hand her over to him?”
“As I’m sure was never explained to you, Agent Stephenson, there is a balance, and it must be restored…”
“Which will be done once her exorcism is complete,” Stephenson interrupted.
My gaze shot to her, shock apparent on my face. Apparently she knew more than I was giving her credit for. That taught me never to make assumptions again.
“Technically accurate,” Eshu responded to her criticism. But something clicked in my mind.
I looked at him, our eyes meeting and accused, “You want revenge. This demon took possession of one of yours, and you want to punish it.”
“Restoring the balance,” he reaffirmed.
“That is an entirely selfish act. Selfish acts do not restore balance, Eshu. You know that,” I lectured.
“Izzy,” McGrady pressured. “We need himm. We hae tae lit him have this.”
I sighed and waved my hand in the air as if I was making it so with the action itself. “Fine. What else do you want, Eshu? My soul? Because I’m sure the Initiative wants me to keep that, but whatever else you want they will give you.”
“Actually,” he hummed, pausing to stand and lean on his desk, looking me directly in the eye. I returned his stare without even flinching. “It’s something that only you can give me, Miss Van Helsing. And, as you know, there is an extensive list of things I will accept in return for my help.”
I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest as I waited for what he wanted that only I could give him. My entire body broke out in a sweat as anxiety shot through it, tightening my gut in response. He took a Cuban cigar out of the box on his desk and cut off of the tip, lighting it and taking one large puff only to blow out the smoke as slowly as he could, drawing out his answer as my heart reverberated inside my chest.
“I want,” he paused, taking another draw from the cigar, “you to strip for me.”
The room went silent for a moment and then exploded with rage from McGrady,
who began to yell as if that would help matters or change Eshu’s mind.
“No! No, Izzy! Ah draw th’ line hur.” He paused, fury plain on his face as he fumed, turning to look Eshu in the eye and pointing a finger in his direction. “Whit th’ fuck?” His accent was only getting thicker, meaning his rage was building until I was sure he would hit the man. All Eshu did was smile at him condescendingly.
I had been frozen to the spot after hearing the words, but hearing the hurt and the anger in McGrady’s voice made me jump into action. I grabbed his arm and pulled him away from Eshu, knowing if I let this continue that he would punch him in his smug face. I looked to Eshu for a moment, and his eyes only showed a glimmer of glee at McGrady’s pain.
“Jonas, please,” I hissed as I pulled him as far away from Eshu as possible. “You have to calm down.”
He couldn’t stay still and, as I watched him fall apart, his muscles rippled underneath his shirt in pure, animal anger. What could I do to stop him from feeling like this? Not do as requested by Eshu? Where would we be with Richards then if I refused? I could always make him another offer, right? That was something I seriously doubted.
“Ye can’ do this, loove. Ah don’t care if it puts us back at squaur one. We can catch Richards anither way. We don’t need him.” McGrady pointed at Eshu, who was grinning like a sadistic man who had just seen something spectacular in someone’s pain and took pleasure in it.
I placed my hand on his chest, trying to steady him as he freaked out over the possibility of this man seeing his girlfriend half naked and vulnerable, dancing around for him like a stripper. That’s what I had been practically reduced to, so I understood why he felt the way he did, but if we wanted answers someone had to do something and do it fast. I could offer him anything from another bottle of spirits like rum or coffee, but that wouldn’t be good enough after what he had just laid out on the table. There would be no better offer than a strip tease from a woman he obviously found attractive and had been flirting with when not distracted by a renegade FBI agent who didn’t know any better. He had been taking my clothes off with his eyes since I had walked into his office, salivating and foaming at the mouth for whatever he could get out of me.
Chasing Shadows (The Initiative Book 1) Page 14
