Felicia was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. She’d donned black stretch pants, stiletto heels, a tiny blouse resembling a beaded cobweb, and a new blue leather jacket. She nodded her head in approval at their appearance.
“Your outfit is great, Raven. Fletcher, you’re rocking that eyeliner.”
“I look like Billy freaking Idol!”
“The vamps will love it.”
“I don’t want the vamps to love it.”
“Tough. It’s a better look than your usual fairytale prince persona, and far more approachable. You don’t want the whole club to think you’re some kind of undercover cop, do you?”
Fletcher made a sound of protest which was halfway between a grunt and a growl. The three of them left Blackfriars on their motorbikes, their headlights parting the darkness like prows on a ship. After they arrived at Tori’s house, Raven went to ring the doorbell with a pleasant feeling of anticipation. Yes, the evening’s excursion was to glean critical information from the mysterious Stormchaser, but that didn’t preclude him from enjoying Tori’s company at the same time. As he waited for someone to answer the doorbell, Felicia joined him. When her brother failed to materialize, Raven glanced over his shoulder. Fletcher remained seated on his cycle with his helmet still in place.
“What’s with him?”
“He’s embarrassed.” Felicia sighed. “Honestly, I thought he was made of sterner stuff.”
“If I looked like him, I’d keep my helmet on too.”
The door opened just as Felicia landed a sharp punch on Raven’s upper arm. He was so busy staring at Tori, his brain didn’t even register the pain.
“I, uh…wow.” He gulped.
“You look amazing, Tori,” Felicia said.
Tori’s smile made Raven’s heart sing. “Superlative, actually,” he said.
“Really? I wasn’t sure,” she said. “You two look great. Where’s Fletcher?”
“He’s waiting outside. Are you ready?” Raven asked.
“Hang on.”
When she turned to grab a purse to sling across her body, his eyes traveled down her taut curves and back again.
Felicia snorted. “Your tongue is hanging out, Raven.”
Although her assessment was accurate, it occurred to him he probably shouldn’t rub her nose in his preference for Tori.
“You two ladies could loosen anyone’s tongue.”
“Ever the gallant.” Felicia turned on her heel.
After she’d locked the front door, Tori accompanied Raven to his motorcycle. Fletcher removed his helmet as she approached, visibly gaping at her beauty. She peered at him, as if in disbelief. “Fletcher?”
He gave her a sheepish smile. “Don’t say a word. I’m undercover.”
“Actually, the look suits you.” Tori glanced at Felicia. “Did you do his makeover? I’m impressed.”
“Thanks. I’ve always had a flare for costumes.”
The address Cody had given Felicia was for a former movie props and costume warehouse in Hollywood. The large brick edifice had a For Rent sign posted and a pair of enormous demons were patrolling the walkway out front. As Tori dismounted Raven’s motorcycle, her eyes widened at the size of the seven-foot-tall creatures.
“What are those?” she whispered. “Trolls?”
“Security goblins,” Raven said. “You don’t want to mess with security goblins. They’re much harder to kill than other sorts of demons.”
Felicia pulled a small spray bottle out of her pocket. “Lift your hair so I can spray this on your neck, Tori.”
“Is that perfume?”
“Colloidal silver. Discourages vamps from taking a nibble.”
A pang of fear shot through Tori, along with a surge of adrenaline. “Would they really do that?”
“It’s considered bad manners for anyone to eat, maim, or kill one another at these sorts of parties, but accidents have been known to happen. Better safe than sorry.”
Felicia sprayed Tori, Raven, her brother, and herself with the clear, odorless liquid, and then they crossed the dark street toward the warehouse. One of the security goblins pointed them to the side entrance of an adjacent soundstage, which was guarded by another pair of goblins dressed up as ancient Egyptian pharaohs. Inside the door, a woman clad in a gold toga sat behind a replica of an Egyptian coffin.
Tori leaned closer to Raven. “I’m sensing a theme.”
The toga-clad woman peered at them through her heavy black eyeliner. “Who invited you?”
“Cody Mime,” Felicia said.
The woman’s severe expression softened. “That goat’s a charmer.” Her shiny black hair rippled, and Tori realized it was actually a mass of asps. “All right, boys and girls. No weapons past this point. No fighting with anyone. No photographs or video. Trash talk is strictly prohibited. What happens at the party stays at the party. Do you agree to abide by these rules?”
Tori nodded along with the others.
“Word to the wise; the Zombie cocktails are killers.” She lifted a red-tinged concoction in a tall glass and took a sip through a straw. As she smacked her lips afterward, a wisp of smoke curled toward the ceiling and her asps hissed with satisfaction.
Raven took Tori’s hand and they joined Fletcher and Felicia underneath a plaster archway decorated with the Eye of Ra. A barrage of sights and sounds assaulted their senses. A myriad of colorful lighting effects illuminated a large dance floor, upon which mortals, demons, vampires, and other more unusual creatures were gyrating with one another. The vampires were easy to spot—Tori discovered—due to their pale or ashen skin color, and the sheer beauty of their faces and bodies.
Half the soundstage was set aside for dancing, but the other half was teeming with activity as well. Various sofas and chairs had been arranged as semi-private conversation and passion pits, separated by gauzy curtains, stringed beads, or clusters of fake palm trees. A demon and a half-naked vampire were making out behind a see-through screen in plain view. Embarrassed, Tori averted her eyes.
A gentle white mist covered the ground, swirling to and fro as passersby walked through. The disc jockey—who resembled a human/octopus hybrid—was spinning records from a catwalk suspended overhead. Dance music was thumping from clusters of speakers positioned around the floor. A twenty-foot-long bar had been set up on one side, over which several neon martini glass, arrow, and beer signs were suspended.
Fletcher cleared his throat. “Anyone fancy a drink?”
“No,” Tori, Raven, and Felicia answered at the same time.
As she stood there, Tori felt invisible. No one so much as glanced in her direction or showed the slightest interest in her presence whatsoever. That’s a problem if we want to ask for information. “Everyone’s ignoring us. We should dance.”
“We’re not here for fun,” Felicia retorted. “We have to find Stormchaser.”
“Nobody will tell us anything until we act like we belong here. The best way to do that is to show them what we’ve got.” Tori peeled off her trench coat and draped it over the arm of a life-sized tomb guard statue to her left.
“Not a bad idea,” Felicia acknowledged. “When in Rome and all that.”
“Or Egypt, as the case may be,” Fletcher said.
Felicia, Raven, and Fletcher piled their jackets on top of Tori’s.
Tori flashed a grin. “Let’s dazzle the denizens.”
With strobe lights flashing, she led the way toward the dance floor, striding confidently past creatures that would have made her recoil in the recent past. Perhaps Raven, Felicia, and Fletcher had done and seen things she’d never dreamed of, but this was her milieu.
It’s showtime.
Drawing attention to himself in the midst of Demon Disco Central didn’t increase Raven’s comfort level, but he couldn’t come up with a better plan. The catwalks were patrolled by teams of costumed security trolls capable of quelling any attack. Even so, his senses were on full alert. He followed Tori to the center of the floor just as the
music changed from a slow ballad to a rock anthem. No longer the pristine ballerina, Tori seemed to explode with energy as she channeled the rhythm in a hypnotic head-turning fashion. The vampires in particular were mesmerized by Tori’s jazz pirouettes and funky urban moves. When a circle formed around the four Nephilim, Fletcher added to the excitement by throwing in a few aerials, backflips, and splits. Bloody showoff! Although Raven tried not to embarrass himself, the focus was clearly on Tori and Fletcher. Felicia’s brand of sensuous dancing captivated onlookers as well.
When the tempo slowed three songs later, he drew Tori into his arms. “I think you definitely got their attention.”
“Let’s head toward the bar and see if we can chat up some of the guests.”
Raven caught Fletcher’s eye and beckoned him off the floor. In turn, Fletcher tried to flag down his sister, who was dancing with a handsome, elegant vampire.
Fletcher said, “Excuse me,” to the undead man and wrapped his fingers around Felicia’s wrist. “Come along.”
The vampire reacted by clamping his hand on Fletcher’s shoulder. “Leave us.”
“Let go of me before I break your elbow.”
As the two men stood in a hostile tableau, the security goblins came at a run. Raven was impressed with the unflinching way Fletcher held the vampire’s gaze. I can say many things about Fletcher, but the fellow is not afraid of a fight.
Although the vampire loosened his grip, he flashed the tips of his fangs. “You’re either Nephilim or incredibly foolish. But I repeat myself.”
Anger traveled down Raven’s spine and his fists tightened. “What did you say?” He took a step forward, but before he could intercede, a tall Asian man brushed past.
“I’m sure you don’t mean to be insulting Nephilim, Oliver.” The newcomer spoke English with an almost imperceptible Japanese accent. “Besides which, the lady is with me.” His bare, well-muscled arm snaked around Felicia’s waist.
“My apologies.” The vampire’s tone reeked of sarcasm. “All you Nephilim stick together.”
The Asian’s sweeping black eyebrows rose. “And vampires don’t?” He chuckled. “The night is young. Let’s just walk away from this one.” He glanced down at Felicia. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, sweetheart.”
She gave him a besotted smile. “Here I am.”
When the vampire strode off toward the bar, the security goblins relaxed. Fletcher, Tori, and Raven followed as the Asian man escorted Felicia off the floor and toward one of the more isolated conversation areas situated at the outer edge of the party. He yanked a screen across to shield them from prying eyes and his indulgent smile disappeared. As Raven studied the man’s features, recognition dawned. I know this fellow!
“Thank you for your help,” Felicia said.
His eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t thank me. I happen to agree with Oliver. That was the most incredibly stupid display I’ve ever seen, dangling yourselves like fresh meat in front of the most dangerous predators on the planet. What the hell were you thinking?”
Fletcher rounded on him. “Hang on! First of all, you seemed to enjoy putting your hands all over my sister—”
“Your sister, huh?” The man’s eyes slid to Felicia.
“And secondly, I could have handled that lecherous vampire on my own!”
“You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Never mind that.” Felicia stepped in front of Fletcher. “We’re looking for someone called Stormchaser.”
“You found him. Now get out of here. You’ve caused enough trouble for one evening.”
Muttering “stupid kids” under his breath, Stormchaser strode toward a nearby exit, opened the door, and disappeared outside. Felicia, Raven, Tori, and Fletcher scrambled to retrieve their jackets and hasten after him.
Raven burst through the door first, and into a wide alley. To his dismay, Stormchaser had nearly disappeared around the corner. Raven sped after him, nearly running headlong into the man’s drawn knife as he waited out of sight.
“Whoa!” Raven put his hands up. “Stand down!”
“What do you mean by following me?”
“I know you. We were opponents at a martial arts tournament in London a few years ago. Your father is the—”
“Shut up,” he hissed. “You should know better than to blurt things out where anyone can overhear!”
Fletcher, Tori, and Felicia skidded to a halt next to Raven. Tori gasped at the sight of the knife. With a sound of disgust, Stormchaser lowered his weapon and slid it into a sheath inside his boot.
“Is there someplace private where we can talk?” Raven asked.
“It’s important,” Felicia added.
“Compared to what?” he scoffed.
“The end of the world as we know it,” she said.
One eyebrow lifted. “You heard about that, did you?” He sighed. “All right, we can talk at my place. I’m moving tomorrow anyway.”
Chapter Fifteen
Hubris
AS FELICIA DROVE THROUGH THE DARK STREETS with Stormchaser seated behind her, she tried not to dwell on the pleasurable sensations his proximity aroused. It was unusual for her to be attracted to a stranger, much less one who was so completely indifferent to her. She knew nothing about this man, other than the fact he was exotically gorgeous, with an aura of power that made her pulse beat faster. When he put his arm around her waist at the party, her very breath caught in her throat. Nevertheless, she was determined to hold herself in check. I’m through being led by my emotions.
Stormchaser’s current residence was a dark, boarded up structure, a former small hotel in a dodgy part of Hollywood. They parked in the rear, and he fished a small penlight from out of a cardboard box next to a battered dumpster.
“Follow me and try not to wake the children.”
“Children?” Tori asked.
“Runaways. Drop outs. Kids who need a place to crash. I take the penthouse on the top floor and they get everywhere else.”
The stairs were immediately to the right as they entered. Stormchaser trained the flashlight on the steps while they climbed up five stories. The “penthouse” turned out to be a recreation room, which was largely empty of furniture except for a broken down sofa, a threadbare pool table, and a few folding chairs. He lit several prayer candles with a torch lighter and set them on a linoleum counter. Felicia picked up one of the candles, which featured a picture of St. Jude. “Are you religious?”
“The candles were two for a dollar at the discount store.” He peered at Raven. “Now I remember you. You’re that annoying kid who kicked me in the head.”
“The name’s Raven. This is Fletcher, Felicia, and Tori,” Raven said, pointing in turn. “You raised a knot on my forearm the size of Big Ben.”
“It’s your fault for blocking my roundhouse.”
Raven chuckled. “What can I say? I didn’t want to die young.”
“I’m sorry, what are you talking about?” Tori asked.
“Martial arts tournament,” Stormchaser replied. “I won.”
“Yeah, but I hadn’t had my final growth spurt yet,” Raven said. “I’ll bet things would be different today.”
“Doubtful.”
“I hate to interrupt your reunion, but don’t we have some questions to ask?” Fletcher demanded. “What kind of a name is Stormchaser anyway?”
“The kind that lends anonymity. My real name is Chase Oshiro.”
A shock ran through Felicia. “Oshiro? Are you related to the former Tokyo Shakespearean Institute director?”
“He’s my father—or was.”
“I was very sorry to hear about his passing,” she said. “What are you doing here…living like this?”
Chase brushed off her question. “I know who you all are now. Raven Cassidy, son of Ian Cassidy, one of the higher profile Shakespearean hunters. Fletcher and Felicia Harrington, grandchildren of the Director of the Shakespearean Institute of London.” Chase’s gaze rested on Tori. “T
he only one I can’t place is you.”
“Raven and I met at school,” she said. “He discovered I can see demons.”
“Interesting.” He turned his attention to Raven. “So you’ve heard about the Apocalypse?”
“Yeah,” Raven said. “Do you know who’s behind it?”
“You won’t believe me.”
“Try us.”
A shrug. “Okay. All Shakespeareans know the demonic sacrifice of a Leap Day child will lead to the Apocalypse, but that’s not the real goal here.”
“No? Then what is?” Raven asked.
“A lesser blood sacrifice, which will make the shadow world visible to everyone.”
Tori had a look of disbelief on her face. “To what end?”
“Over the centuries, Shakespeareans have been doing an excellent job eradicating demons—so much so that hunters are retiring and chapters are closing. What better way for the Institute to regain power?”
“That’s preposterous!” Fletcher exploded.
“Absurd!” Raven exclaimed. “My father would never agree to such a scheme.”
“Nor would mine, which is why he was killed and I’m on the run. This plot was hatched in a meeting of Institute directors and my father refused to go along. Shortly thereafter his car went off a cliff…only he couldn’t have been driving because he was locked in the trunk.”
Tori gasped.
Felicia rose. “My grandfather couldn’t be part of this.”
Chase’s smile was brittle. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you differently, Felicia. Lord Birmingham is the mastermind.”
His words felt like a blow to the stomach. “You’re lying,” she managed.
He regarded her with something akin to pity. “I guess we’ll see on March first who’s been lying to whom.”
“This is stupid. I’m not listening to any more nonsense,” Felicia said. “Let’s go.”
Dancing With Raven (The Young Shakespeareans Series) Page 14
