Raven rolled her eyes. “You have no sense of adventure. Granted, it was rude of us, but he didn’t have to throw that big of a tantrum, either. It took me two days to wash all the ectoplasm off my walls, and even longer to convince the ferrets that it was safe to come out. I thought we might get a song out of him, but really, Jim could have just said ‘Leave me alone’ and I would have canceled the spell. But you have to admit, at least the evening wasn’t boring.”
“Boring? Definitely not. Fun? That’s another matter. But seriously, what should we do tonight?” Angel topped off our glasses. “I could use something fun to distract me.”
“I just bought a whole lot of new makeup, and I raided the Vanity Vintage store. I’ve got a bunch of gorgeous clothes. Why don’t we dress up and hit the Burlesque A Go-Go? It’s a great new nightclub out near TirNaNog.” Raven clapped her hands. “A friend of mine opened it recently.”
“Sounds good to me,” I said.
Angel agreed. We headed toward Raven’s bedroom, which was almost the opposite style of the living room. Done up in purples, greens, and black, her bedroom was a lush boudoir, with the king-size bed piled high with velvet throw pillows. She brought out an armful of clothing, and we played dress up.
I tried on a short blue lamé mini dress that barely covered the tops of my thighs. Raven and I were almost the same bra band, though her boobs were fuller than mine, and she tucked me into a push-up bra, adding just enough extra cushioning so the cups fit right. The dress was low cut and I felt like sex on legs.
“All I need is a pair of go-go boots,” I said, staring at myself in the mirror.
“Wrong era. Here, try on these.” She dangled a pair of strappy heels with five-inch stilettos on them.
“I can’t walk in these.” I shook my head, holding up the sparkling silver shoes.
“Yes, you can. They’re platforms. They may be five-inch heels, but they feel like three-inch ones and I’ve seen you manage those perfectly fine.” She shoved me on the bed and dropped the shoes next to me. “We’ll do your hair next.”
Then she turned her attention on Angel. “For you, I have this.” She brought out a flowing caftan in gold lamé. “Belt this with a black belt. I’ve got a five-inch wide stretchy one that might be small enough to fit you. Wear the same boots you’ve got on, and it will be gorgeous.”
Angel looked skeptical but she tried on the dress. It was a little short, but it worked with the black patent leather boots she was wearing, and the belt cinched it in so that she looked like she was right out of the 1970s.
As Raven changed into a black tulle mini-skirt, a pair of fishnets, and a silver corset, I admired the tattoos normally hiding under her clothes. She was heavily inked with intricate patterns across her back and down each leg. Raven fastened a silver chain around her neck and then pulled on opera-length fingerless gloves. Finally, she slipped into ankle boots that were a mile high and studded with metal spikes. Both the heels and the spikes looked like they could put your eye out.
“All right. Hair.” She pointed for Angel to sit on the vanity bench, but she shook her head.
“Nope. I’ve got this. You chose the outfits, I get to do hair, and Ember gets to choose our makeup.” Angel cackled. “By the way, we probably shouldn’t be driving tonight.”
“No problem. I’ll call a LUD. And if you aren’t sober enough to drive home, you can just take one back to your place and come get your car tomorrow.” Raven put in a call. “They’ll be here in forty-five minutes.”
We primped and powdered and by the time we were ready to leave, we looked like we were heading off to Studio 54 back in its heyday. Laughing, half-drunk already, we squeezed into the LUD, and we were off for a night of partying.
Chapter Fourteen
The Burlesque A Go-Go was in the basement of a dark building in Old Town, a small, gritty suburb squeezed between Redmond and Woodinville. It had built up as Navane and TirNaNog stretched out to take over the area, and it was haven to some of the shadier types. Mostly Fae, but some vampires as well.
The streets were wide, the buildings grungy, and half the street lamps were constantly broken. The LUD driver parked in front of the Shaft, a store catering to kink, and Angel and I looked at each other. This was an unfamiliar area for both of us, but Raven hopped out of the cab, looking perfectly at home. She motioned for us to follow her and, with a shrug, I fell in behind her.
“So who owns the club?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual.
“It belongs to one of my friends, Vixen. Vixen’s one of the Ante-Fae, though the club caters to Fae and human as well. Not so much shifters. They’re uncomfortable with the amount of magical energy.” Her eyes were sparkling, and I could feel the excitement wafting off of her. “I work hard and I play harder. And I’m so perplexed by this current case I’m on that I really need to just forget about it and cut loose.”
She strode around to the side, walking effortlessly in the stiletto death-boots. We followed her into the shadows, only to stop in front of a man in a black and white pinstripe zoot suit, leaning against the railing of a stairwell that led to a door below ground. He tipped his fedora as we approached.
“Miss Raven, good to see you again.” His voice was husky, and his eyes sparkled as he looked us over. He wasn’t Fae, but I couldn’t put my finger directly on what he was. Not human, that much I was sure of.
“Zylo, love. I’ve brought friends of mine to play. May we go in?” Raven reached out and with one long black nail, stroked his cheek, leaving a welt as she ran her nail down to his chin.
He shivered, but just nodded. “Yes ma’am, you may. Have fun.”
“Is Vixen in tonight?” Raven asked as she started toward the stairs.
“Yes, and tonight Vixen’s a woman and would prefer to be referred to as ‘she.’ I suggest paying your respects.” Again, the slow tip of the fedora as Zylo nodded.
I was beginning to feel like Angel and I might be out of our depths, but I trusted Raven. She wouldn’t take us somewhere too dangerous. Or at least, not dangerous to us…I hoped.
I cautiously descended the steps. The heels weren’t too bad, given they were platforms, but I felt oddly exposed and vulnerable. Angel navigated in heels better than I did, but she also looked mildly apprehensive.
As Raven neared the plain steel door, it opened, and we faced yet another bouncer in yet another zoot suit. He said nothing, just stood back, holding the door as we passed by. Raven gave him a short nod as we entered the club.
The first thing that hit me was the luminous quality of the nightclub. It was almost as though a black light filled the entire room, with all brighter colors standing out in a blaze of neon. I glanced down. The blue sparkles of my dress were almost blinding, and they shifted as I moved.
There was a long bar to the left, with a dim light behind the counter that cut through the haze of black light so that the bartenders could see what they were doing. A line of bar stools bordered the bar, half of them filled. Around the edges of the massive room were small tables for two to four people, and about half of them were also filled.
The center of the room appeared to be a dance floor—that much we could tell by the couples who were shimmying to the music. The smell of marijuana filled the room, and in one corner, I spied a table with a large hookah sitting on it. The music was hypnotic, heavy on percussion with a beat that made my body want to flow into it and move. The magic here was so strong that I could feel it prickling on my arms, on the back of my neck. I wasn’t sure if it was in the decor, or if it was coming from any one person in particular.
At that moment, Angel poked me in the ribs and nodded to the far corner of the bar. There, at a table, sat the source of the magic. Or at least one of the sources—power emanated from the woman in waves.
“Who’s that?” I leaned over to Raven and nodded toward the figure.
“That’s Vixen. Tonight she’s a she. They’re a powerful Ante-Fae, who’s gender fluid in the truest sense of the word. They’v
e settled into their feminine form tonight. Vixen prefers we use the pronouns for their gender of choice at any given time, so refer to them as ‘she/her’ tonight. Come, I’ll introduce you.”
Before we could say anything, she was dragging us toward the Ante-Fae. As we approached the table, we got a better look at Vixen, who stood, bowing gracefully. Vixen was wearing a shimmering silver gown that flowed down to her calves, and it billowed gracefully out from her body, almost as though she was wearing a light full-body petticoat beneath it. Vixen’s hair was shoulder length and also silver, and her eyes were a pale hazel that seemed to shift into green tones as we neared. Her features seemed smooth, and there were no wrinkles or lines on her face.
Raven circled around the table and curtseyed, taking Vixen’s hand as she held it out.
“Your Grace,” she said, pressing her lips to a massive diamond ring on Vixen’s finger. Then she rose and stepped back beside us.
“My love, Raven. It’s good to see you back. And these are friends of yours?” The Ante-Fae turned her gaze to us and I suddenly felt naked, as though she could see through me. All Ante-Fae had unique abilities, and I had no idea what powers Vixen possessed, but whatever they were, the magic around her was thick and lush.
“Yes, may I present Ember Kearney, and Angel Jackson. They’re from the Wild Hunt Agency. This is Vixen, the Mistress of Mayhem. She owns the Burlesque A Go-Go.”
“Well, well, a couple of Herne’s chickens in my coop. Welcome, dearies, mind your manners, and we’ll all have fun.” Vixen stared at us without blinking so long that she made me think of an owl. “We play hard in this club, but everything’s on the up and up. The only scenes allowed are those of which I approve.”
As if on cue, the dancers vacated the floor.
“The show’s about to begin. I suggest you order your drinks and find a table.” Vixen motioned for us to leave and Raven, again curtseying, turned and led us to the bar.
“Their specialty here is Rasabella mead. I highly suggest it.” She ordered a bottle, along with a plate of assorted appetizers, and led us to a table on the edge of the dance floor.
“What kind of show is this?” Angel started to ask, as a slow beat began. A line of drummers entered the room. They were carrying various drums, and two of them had instruments that looked like flying saucers.
“Those are handpans,” Raven said. “I own one and play it. I use mine for my magic, but they’re beautiful instruments.”
As the drummers settled themselves in a circle around the edge of the stage, they began to play. True to what Raven had said, the handpan players began to tap out a rhythm on their instruments and the sound reminded me of some ancient song, metallic and melodic and melancholy all at the same time. They interwove their song with the beating of the drums as the lights narrowed to a single golden spotlight on the main floor. A dancer appeared.
He was gloriously beautiful, his skin had a golden hue, and his long hair flowed over his shoulders. He was muscled but not overly so, and his body rivaled that of the statue of David. He was wearing a pair of ivory harem pants, so sheer that we could see the golden bikini below. A circlet of golden bells surrounded his ankle, and he began to dance, his body flowing in ways that no normal body should be able to. He was breathtaking to watch, beautiful, like a ray of sunlight dancing against the ground.
I caught my breath, realizing that I wanted him, and yet there was a feeling that he was an illusion—too beautiful to be real, too ethereal to touch. He made my heart stand still as he wove his way around the floor. I managed to pull my gaze away to look at Angel. She, too, looked transfixed.
The music flowed around us, the handpans echoing through the club, their notes airy and almost impossible to capture, yet they reverberated through me, speaking to the core of my heart, inviting me to join the unearthly dance.
I wasn’t sure how long the dancer wove his dance, but after a time, he slowly lowered himself to the floor, folding down into a delicate ball, his arms stretched forward in a plea of supplication, his forehead touching the ground. For a long moment, nobody moved, then as the last note faded away, there was uproarious applause, and I found myself joining in.
“He’s… I’ve never seen anything quite like it,” I said, turning to Raven. “Who is he?”
“His name is Apollo, the Weaver of Wings. He’s Vixen’s Golden Boy. He’s Ante-Fae as well. Wait till you see the next one.”
I took a long drink of my Rasabella mead. It went straight to my head and was far stronger than I expected it to be. I shivered as the glow spread through my body, and found myself sinking into our surroundings. Visions of Apollo danced through my mind, but then the spotlight shifted from warm to an icy glow as three women appeared. They looked similar enough to be sisters, and they were obviously Ante-Fae. Their hair was long and caught into dreads, a caramel color streaked with black and white, and their skin bore an olive undertone.
As they looked around the audience, their eyes gleamed with a green light, like sunlight shining through summer leaves. They were muscular and curvy, and taller than most women I knew. Dressed in black PVC short shorts that started well below their belly buttons and barely covered their butt cheeks, their shorts had long strings of fringe. They were wearing shiny black boots with platforms a good six inches thick, studded with hardware and chains, and on their heads, they were wearing deadman’s hats, with long red and green feathers streaming off them.
The beat picked up, strident, demanding, and the women began to dance, their movements precise and angular, turning belly dance into something entirely new. As I watched, their fringe became feathers, and the dancers became vulture-like, cautiously interweaving with each other. Then they spread out toward the audience, hunting, their eyes glinting with hunger.
Angel clutched my arm and I took her hand. They were on the prowl, looking for prey. I glanced over at Raven, who was staring at them with delight. There was no fear in her face but an odd joy, as the dancers circled the room, beautiful and deadly.
As much as Apollo had entranced me, these dancers made me shutter up. I wasn’t afraid, but wary. I felt a wave of emotion swelling within, and suddenly realized that my Leannan Sidhe side didn’t like them. These creatures were beyond my control, and that didn’t sit well with my mother’s blood. I was about ready to excuse myself when the dance ended. The lights came up as the dancers exited the room and a round of applause rang out. I leaned over to Raven.
“What the hell are they?”
“They’re the Vulture Sisters. They live out in Snoqualmie, away from the city. They dance every month or so and they fetch a good fee, enough to hold them over until the next time. But…” She paused. “You don’t want to cross them. And they don’t make good friends. I found out the hard way. But at least when you tell them to fuck off, they usually do so.”
I almost spit out my mead. “You were involved with them?”
Raven shrugged. “They looked like they might be fun to hang out with. But…not so much. I love watching them dance, but yeah, that friendship ended quickly.”
Angel poured another round of mead, emptying the bottle. “Well, they about knocked me over. They feel like actual birds of prey, but not like some shitfaced serial killer.”
She was slurring her words a little and I could tell she was tipsy. For that matter, so was I. Raven ordered another bottle of mead as the drummers left the floor and a blast of techno started up. She grabbed my hand and pulled me onto the dance floor. Angel joined us and we began to dance to Mai Lan’s “Pumper” as the lights began to shift and sparkle. I turned around and found myself dancing with Apollo. I almost dropped my glass, which was still in my hand, but as we swayed to the music, I felt my inhibitions slip away. The night flowed on, and so did the mead, all awash in a haze of sparkling lights and magic as the music drove us on.
By the time the LUD poured us out at our doorstep, Angel and I were carrying our shoes. We hadn’t bothered to go back to Raven’s house. We were too wasted, so
we told her we’d be back the next day to pick up everything and return our party clothes. We were all drunk off our asses, including Raven.
“I can’t see to get to the door,” Angel said, weaving toward the fence.
“That’s because it’s four in the morning.” I squinted, trying to make out anything in the dark. I was carrying my shoes because I couldn’t walk in them. “Ew, I think I just stepped on a slug! Ick! Hey, do you have your keys?”
“Keys? Of course I’ve got my keys. They’re in my bag.” Angel stopped, turning to the side to throw up. “Oh gods, I’m going to have the hangover from hell,” she said, managing to find the handle of the screen door and opening it. “Where’s my bag?”
I groaned. “I don’t know. I’ve got my keys right here. Can you use the flashlight on your phone so I can see the keyhole?”
After a few minutes, Angel managed to turn on the flashlight and I went about trying to fit the key into the lock. After a second attempt, I giggled.
“Boy, I’m sure glad Herne can find his way around me better than this.”
“His key fits in your lock just fine, does it?” Angel said, snorting.
“Well, there’s not much spare room, but he gets in there pretty good.” I leaned my head against the doorjamb. “Oh, my stomach’s fighting a war with itself. All right, let’s try again.”
This time, I managed to get the key into the lock and opened the door, but Angel and I were pressing against it and we went sprawling through into the foyer, a tangle of shoes and coats and limbs. Angel’s bag was on her wrist and she held it up.
“Oh, look what I found. And ow, I think that hurt,” she said, rolling over onto her hands and knees.
“I think my pride hurts more than anything, though I’ll let you know in the morning. Well, later this morning.”
I crawled over to the wall and used it to balance as I struggled to my feet. I flipped on the light, which brought another stunning round of pain. Squinting, I lifted my foot to stare at the bottom. A blotch of slime and fir needles were stuck to my sole.
The Hallowed Hunt Page 22
