The fae-touched were humans so gone on fae sex that they’d turned mad. Long before my time, when Veilers had first announced their presence in our world, no one had known the devastating effects the fae could have on their human lovers.
A few could handle fae flesh, but for the majority of the world, being fae-touched meant an irrevocable change in the very strands of their DNA.
The humans became long lived, living to be several centuries old, some of them even thousands of years old. It was rumored that one in Chile was well over twelve hundred. And while for some people that seemed like a positive trade-off, magick always demanded its due. With long life came raging insanity. They could no longer function, no longer reason beyond their obsessive need to touch fae flesh. It was for them that a law had been enacted in the thirties, classifying them as meta-human, no longer able to live among their own kind. They chose to willingly bind their lives to the fae. In exchange for three hots and a cot, they got to touch as much fae flesh as they could. It preserved their sanity, and curious fae got to legally play with humans.
“What did she do?”
“He didn’t say.” He shook his head.
And that was that, really. One was never to question an Alpha’s reasons. No doubt Blanca knew James was coming. Diane must have been sick with grief.
Thinking of my own grief, I knew how she felt. Fae were mostly sterile. Because of their long lives, they usually never gave birth to more than one childling, the Farley brothers being the rare exception.
“Deal how?”
“Better if you stop asking questions now, Scarlett,” he said, and his words brooked no argument.
I had a feeling there’d be little to no talking tonight. I stood up, looking down at him. “I’m coming with you.”
He frowned and hopped to his feet. “Why?”
I shrugged. “Because I have nothing better to do until Carter calls me. And I can’t sit in Clarence’s territory right now. I screwed up big. If I give them time before showing my face, it might work to my advantage. All Emerson needs right now is another excuse to get me banished.”
It was known that Clarence often forgave the minor sins of his kin, of which—oddly—I was one. For the time being. Add to that the fact that my parents were just murdered, and as long as the madness was in check, I might yet survive the night.
My stomach twisting with nerves that Carter still hadn’t called me—even though I knew it could take days or weeks before we got a hit out on Matilda—I brushed my hands down my shirt. I was reminded again that I looked like a murderer’s latest victim.
“Just give me a minute to get changed,” I said. Diane ran a high-end establishment, and I’d never get through the doors looking as I did.
James glanced at the moon, wearing a tight frown. “No. Sorry, I have to handle this on my own. I just wanted to make sure”—he paused, staring at my eyes so intently that a shiver passed through me—“just wanted to make sure you’d be all right.”
Then he leaned forward and pressed a hard kiss to my brow before nodding and stepping back.
“Take care of yourself, Vampire. Don’t let the emotions kill ya, aye.”
With those words, the wolf slunk into shadow and was gone, and I suffered the strangest premonition that that’d been a lot like goodbye.
Chapter 14
Scarlett
There was no way in hell I was going to be idle tonight. Being with James had helped me temporarily forget my own problems. And until Carter called, I had nothing to do.
I hadn’t had to go home to change. The haunted shack had become sort of a macabre second home for me over the years. Giving the demons inside wide berth, I ran around the decrepit old building to a root cellar door a few hundred yards back.
I’d carved out the underground cellar years ago. A flight of fifteen steps led down into the earth, but the place wasn’t a crypt.
I’d learned how to run electricity through it so that every inch was nicely lit and inviting. Tennessee wasn’t exactly known for having rich deposits of freshwater beds. But it did. And my oasis had two.
I used mine as pools. Water came in from the mountains upstream, so there was a constant flow, keeping it naturally clean. I hopped in quickly, scrubbing off the caked blood, trying to not think about who the blood belonged to.
My movements were efficient but brisk. I needed to catch up with James. I didn’t know why I’d become so obsessed with learning why he’d really come to Silver Creek, but something told me I’d be getting my answers tonight. And that it had a whole hell of a lot more to do with the fact that Clarence had simply needed a couple of associates taken care of.
I wet my lips as I climbed out of the pool and snatched up a black towel from a bench, then lightly rubbed myself dry. My cave wasn’t large; it had just enough room for me.
I’d constructed it years ago as a place of refuge, a place where I could go and hide to get away from the world when I’d needed to. Only Mercer knew about it. I walked to the bedroom where I’d placed a small full-sized bed, a walnut wardrobe, and a vanity, and I pulled out the only thing I could wear to Diane’s.
I didn’t own many fancy dresses. If I’d lived in a Blood House, I’d have more occasion for balls, as my kind tended to be enraptured by them. Shifters, on the other hand, were much more low-key and backyard BBQ than fine-dining types.
As a human, I’d lived and breathed fashion. A part of me would probably always love it.
Slipping on the body-hugging, sexy black gown made my skin tingle with appreciation. The sleeveless black lace halter dress had a choker collar. I was naturally short, but the dress had a way of elongating my body somehow, or at least giving me the appearance of it. Most of the gown was see-through—at the waist and the legs—so though it spilled like shadow around my feet, it gave the illusion that I’d grown several inches.
With my four-inch heels, I felt like an Amazon. I gathered my hair up to create a tight bun behind my head. I’d moved to stand in front of the only mirror in the place, a hanging one with an antique brass frame that’d reminded me of Alice’s looking glass when I’d first spotted it in Teresa’s store two years ago.
I had never been all that great with hair; I tended to favor the ponytail more often than not. But a bun wasn’t above my meager abilities. Slicking it back tight so that it showcased my razor-sculpted cheekbones and strong jawline, I was just about perfect. I could almost pass as one of Diane’s high-class call girls.
After opening a drawer that held a few cosmetics, I withdrew a tube of lipstick in a shade called Bloody Heart Red and applied it generously.
Diane, the demi-fey, breathed fashion as I once had. None could pass through her doors unless they looked as though they’d been plucked from the pages of a high-end catalog.
Once I put the lipstick back, I reached for the silver-handled stiletto covered in filigree patterns and slipped it into a leather sheath. Lifting my skirts, I stuck out one leg and cinched the weapon around my thigh.
No fey liked the kiss of iron. It was always wise to go prepared for war whenever one frequented a fairies den.
~*~
Regardless of the fact that Diane’s was technically a whorehouse, everything inside screamed opulent luxury and class, from the burgundy wine-colored rug on the massive club floor to the low-lit mood lighting in soft gold. Expensive leather seating set within recessed alcoves was designed to give the impression of privacy, though anyone and everyone could see inside. To the very back of the massive warehouse was the bar, backlit in blue and stocked with only the most expensive and premium liquors on the market.
Bruce—Diane’s half-giant bodyguard—waved me toward him. Nearly nine feet tall, he was short for his kind, but then being a halfie did that to a body. His kind tended to grow from fourteen feet at their shortest to twenty at their tallest. They also had the mass to go with that length.
Bruce was typical of a giant in that way, easily weighing close to six hundred pounds of solid muscle. There w
asn’t even a bulge to his stomach. He was nothing but chiseled hard lines and gristle. His face was more handsome than most of his kind, thanks to his fae heritage, but he was a far cry from good looking. He had a flattened nose, as if he’d gone a round or thirty in a boxing ring bare knuckled, and thick scars lining his forehead. But he had the prettiest hazel eyes I’d ever seen, hazel so clear that at times they looked as if they’d been lit on fire.
Smiling at the pissed-off faces of men and women—some fae, some human, and most Veilers—who’d no doubt been standing in line for hours already, I breezed to the front of the line, plucked at Bruce’s white-collared shirt, and pulled him down for a kiss on both cheeks.
“Scarlett,” Bruce said in the deep, gravelly voice typical of a giant. “It’s good to see you here. It’s been too long.”
I’d rarely come around those parts, as I’d rarely had the time to indulge, but a few years back, I’d recovered over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in stolen gems for Diane. She’d called me a friend ever since.
I nodded. “It has been. Tell me, how are the kids?”
Making small talk, I briefly scanned the crowd. But I didn’t smell James. At least not in the main part of the club. I doubted he’d come past Bruce; private matters were handled in the back.
“How about you?” Bruce smiled.
One of the great things about being a vampire was that even when I gave conversations only half an ear, I could still usually recite the words back verbatim.
“Just another day in the life, Bruce. Crowd looks good tonight. Think I’ll go get me a drink.” I took a step and then paused. “Oh, by the way, is Diane home tonight? I’d really love to say hi.”
Wrinkling his squashed nose, he shook his head. “She had an emergency call this evening. I’m sure she’d have loved seeing you too.”
I kept my face neutral as I nodded. But I didn’t like that. Not James being here. Not Clarence’s call to send him here. And especially not the fact that Diane had been called away last minute.
In my line of work, coincidences generally weren’t coincidences at all.
“But if it’s any consolation”—Bruce leaned down far to whisper into my ear—“a little birdie told me there’s a new ginger just been hired. A pretty little thing with glass-blue eyes.” He winked, and I nodded.
I’d developed a reputation for getting all hot and bothered by redheads, no doubt a rumor spread by Diane. I snorted. In this case, though, I could use it as cover.
“Why don’t I just go check that out for myself?” I winked back at him.
Bruce chuckled; the sound of it reminded me of rolling thunder as he waved me through.
After walking inside, I continued to sniff at the air, tasting it for any scent of James, occasionally picking up a faint trace of it to let me know he was here but not enough yet to tell me where he’d gone.
Diane had designed The Pink Lady to appeal to just about everyone. The seating areas were drenched in fae shadow, so though everyone could see writhing orgies and even hear the keening cries of orgasm, they could never actually see a full picture of what happened. It was perfect for both the exhibitionist and the more discreet among us.
The ripe scent of blood filled the air. A little blood play wasn’t uncommon among Veilers, though the amount of blood let me know there was another vampire on the grounds.
I never liked bumping into my kind alone. I walked just a little bit faster, arriving at the bar a minute later. I needed to mingle, not draw attention to myself. I doubted that James thought for a moment that I’d let it go. If he was smart, he knew I’d followed him.
So wherever he was, he’d be expecting me to pounce on him, demanding to know what he was up to. I needed him to drop his guard. I also planned to never let on that I’d followed him.
A male bartender had his back to me. He also happened to have ginger hair. I’d expected orangey-red as was typical of most human gingers, but he was a true redhead with hair like crushed rubies that’d been doused in flame.
The color was typical of a true-blooded fae. No doubt he was who Bruce had been talking about. The male was tall and slender—as most sidhe tended to be.
I lifted a brow. Diane was moving up in the world if she could afford to pay Unseelie salary. Having true fae work for her was a sign of wealth, power, and class. The fae never came cheap.
A cat-shifter sitting at the end of the bar flirted with him mercilessly. His slitted irises flared as he traced a clawed fingertip up the fae’s hand, begging that he help slake his lust.
It wasn’t typical for a Veiler to become fae-touched, mostly because we knew better than to tango with our sultry brethren, but it happened.
He was efficient and brisk as he mixed his drink, laughing lightly and shaking his head at the shifter’s constant barrage of questions.
“What’ll ya have, sugar?” A voice that sounded fluted and lovely broke into my thoughts.
Looking down, I grinned at Helen of Troy. Well, her name was just Helen. I’d added the Troy bit because it seemed to me she was the type of woman wars would have been fought over. There wasn’t much to Helen, though she was a legend ’round those parts.
She was a head. In a jar. A beautiful, lovely head of a woman with long golden-blond hair that floated prettily in her formaldehyde home. With piercing steel-gray eyes and perpetually-painted red lips, she was as stunning as she was macabre. She rested upon a bed of her own nerves.
Rumor had it that when a dignitary or mega wealthy came around looking for something really exotic, they turned to Helen. I wouldn’t know, but I was certainly curious if those nerve endings were still as sensitive as they’d surely once been in their pre-decapitated life.
“Helen, how’s it hanging, dollface?” I winked, flirting with her as I usually did.
I didn’t know much about Helen’s past or history, whether she’d once been human or Veiler. All I knew was that she loved to flirt with anything that moved.
“Long and to the left,” she said back, then laughed uproariously. “Haven’t seen you in forever, Scarlett. What case are you working this time?”
Her eyes were piercing and intelligent, and I simply snorted, shaking my head. “Why would I have to be working on anything? Maybe I just missed your company, gorgeous.”
Her smile was beatific. “Aw, I bet you say that to all the girls.” Her long lashes batted back at me furiously.
Helen might not have much, but she worked what she had.
“Talix”—she jerked her chin toward the bartender—“makes a mean Bloody Mary.”
I shrugged. “Whatever.”
I watched as Helen’s large glass jar glided across the smooth bar top toward Talix. I hopped one seat over, taking a deep whiff of scent, when suddenly I smelled autumn and peppery leaves ahead of me.
Narrowing my eyes, I stared at the shelf of liquor, noticing the not-quite-so-shiny glass. Two-way mirror, no doubt. Diane’s money room was back there. No one ever went in there without the boss. But there was another room behind that one. That was where James was. And I needed to find out why.
Twisting on my seat, I suddenly regretted the fact that I’d put my hair up. I could have shielded my profile if I’d left it down. I doubted James would have spied me yet; I’d only just arrived. But if I smelled him, he’d no doubt be able to smell me too if he was still on high alert.
I had to get back there. But there was only one problem. Not all of Diane’s business was on the up-and-up. She was careful, very careful, to keep her more illicit affairs out of sight from the fae enforcers. Very bad news, the fae enforcers were Night Court demi-fey and nasty as the devil. Basically, as cops were to humans, so they were to their brethren. Diane had made some dangerous enemies in her time, Veilers who’d have loved nothing more than to see the once mighty fae’s kingdom topple. I knew for a fact she’d put out hits on more than one staff member who’d been uncovered as an enemy plant. Her rule was simple: kill anything that went where it didn’t belong.
“Bloody Mary.” A glass was thrust into my hand; soft fingers slid along mine and caused me to jump as a spark passed from him to me.
I looked up into the crystal-blue eyes of Talix. The fae was as beautiful as I’d known he would be.
His hair was stylishly short. Sithen fae—that was to say, the fae that still lived in the magicked lands of fairy—kept their hair long. Some of them even had hair that dragged along the ground. But in the human realm, keeping up with hair that length was near to impossible. Most males cut it when they came over. Since a female’s hair length was tied directly to her fertility, very few females cut theirs.
Talix’s hair was a color so deeply red that I was curious if it would have fallen like a living flame down his back. Shame I’d never know.
His smile was large, sexy, and inviting. His eyes, in that strange icy blue, burned with lust. What that male shifter at the end of the bar had failed to do, I’d done without even trying.
Realizing that Talix had become an answer to my current dilemma, I pursed my lips invitingly and leaned forward a little, just enough to push my breasts up. I’d always loved flirting with Blue, but he was forbidden fruit. Mostly because Mercer didn’t think I could handle what that fae dished out. He was probably right. I knew Blue too well; I’d go further than I knew I should with him.
But Talix was a stranger. I’d keep my wits about me with him.
Talix’s fingers, which had pulled back enough to barely graze the tips of my own, were sliding right back toward me and pumping even more of his glamour into me. That first touch had clued me in, but the way he unabashedly pulsed glamour into me cemented the fact.
Talix was no doubt some sort of Green Man—legendary for their fertility powers. They were walking, talking sex on legs. Talix was pretty and softly effeminate, same as most of his male counterparts. Where James was all raw masculinity and wild strength, Talix was the opposite. He was lanky, long, and with a gorgeous face that was far more beautiful than handsome.
Whiskey, Vamps, and Thieves (Southern Vampire Detective #1) Page 18
