Nite Fire: Flash Point

by C. L. Schneider

  Evans laughed as he gave her his credit card. “It’s that obvious?”

  “Honey, it seeps from your pores.” With a wink, Nadine sauntered off. She put an extra shake to her ass just for him. As Evans watched her go, a familiar curiosity sprung to life in his eyes. He wanted to know exactly what Nadine was.

  My phone vibrated against the wood of the bar. The incoming text wasn’t from a number I recognized. The message was nothing but an address. It only took a second to remember what stood in that particular location. From there, the sender became clear. It was far less obvious was how Ronan got my number. Though, I doubted it was difficult. He had more seedy connections in the city than Nadine had bottles behind the bar.

  Staring at the address, I thought a moment. Then I wrote back. 30 minutes. Shoving the phone in my pocket, I tried to decide what to do about Evans. I didn’t relish telling him I’d decided to push Ronan into Brynne’s crosshairs. If I placed so little value on the life of someone I once loved, what did that mean for him?

  Evans sensed my internal conflict. “What is it?”

  “I’m sorry,” I winced.

  His face fell. “That’s a damn crappy way to start a conversation.”

  “How about this one… I need you to trust me.”

  He rubbed a hand over his face. “This is going to be one of those times where being the sidekick sucks ass, isn’t it?”

  “Some days you get to travel to other worlds and go hand-to-hand with crazy shifters. Other days…you have to stay behind.”

  “Can you at least tell me where you’re going?” I showed him the text on my phone, and he laughed. “No way. I’ve answered more calls at that damn address than I can remember. Fights. Drugs. Prostitution. Racketeering. It’s an equal opportunity shithole and a tactical nightmare. Too many drunks. Too many backrooms. And too many places for the bad guys to hide.”

  “I know. I’m meeting one of them.”

  Evans glanced briefly away, hiding an angry grin. “Do you know the heat I had to take from Barnes to get him to sign off on this place? It wouldn’t have happened at all if it wasn’t for your buddy.” He jerked a thumb at the stairs Oren had ascended a moment ago. “Without his call, you would have been locked up tight until this was over. If I let you go there,” he pointed at my phone, “and something goes wrong… This could cost me my job, Nite. My real job. It could cost my partner her job. And Ronnie deserves better than that.”

  I stared at him, unsure what to say. I was glad he held his ground. I didn’t want the man to cower or go along because it fit with the

  self-appointed supporting role he’d stumbled into. Evans had a mind of his own, and I wanted him to use it. But that didn’t change what I had to do. Just the way I had to go about it. “Okay,” I relented. “We’ll leave. I’ll give you time to clear it with Barnes and move the meeting to tomorrow. You can even pick the place.”

  He lifted his chin, eyeing me. “You won’t disappear when I turn my back?”

  “Course not.” I gave him a nudge. “I’ll wait until you fall asleep.” Turning in my seat, I left Evans to decide if I was joking and picked up my phone. If I couldn’t slip away now, I had to push back my meeting with Ronan until I could.

  I started typing my message when Nadine returned with Evans’s credit card. I felt her eyes on me and looked up. She mouthed the words: I got this.

  Intrigued, I watched her reach out and run a sparkly hot pink fingernail over the top of Evans’s hand. “Don’t run off yet. You haven’t seen my show.”

  His lips twitched in curiosity. “You’re the owner, the bartender, and you sing?”

  “A girl needs more than one talent to survive in this world, sugar. And…” she paused, sliding into a languid smile. “I don’t sing. I perform.” She shooed him back to his table. “Now, make a lady happy and sit down. I promise. You won’t be disappointed.”

  Torn, he looked at me. “What do you think?”

  I shrugged. “It’s not like we have anywhere else to go.”

  “Are you pouting?”

  “Me?” I blew out an offended breath. “Dragons don’t pout.”

  “Uh huh.” He glanced at Nadine. “One song.” His gaze darted back to me. “Then we leave.”

  I saluted Evans as he walked away. When he was out of earshot, I turned to Nadine. “I need an hour. But Casey’s smart. He’s not going to—”

  “Relax,” she broke in. “Keep your eyes on the mirror when the song starts, not on me. Got it?” I nodded at her firm warning, and Nadine disappeared into the kitchen.

  Spinning in my seat, I saw Evans return to his. With the tension in his partner’s shoulders as they spoke, she wasn’t happy with the delay. But her protest was cut off a moment later by the parting of the black silk curtain over the stage. A vivid white spotlight hit the floor. At its edge was an old-time, 1950’s microphones. Behind it, in the center of the spotlight, was Nadine. The sight of her hushed all conversation in the bar.

  Aside from how her swift, complete wardrobe change defied explanation, she looked amazing. Nadine’s usual attire consisted of mini-skirts, skinny-jeans, and whatever top worked best to show off her jaw-dropping cleavage. The highlights in her hair changed as often as the color on her nails. Yet, it was hard now to conjure even a single clear image of that Nadine. This one, swathed in a full-length gold lame evening gown tighter than skin, was far more mesmerizing.

  Her waist was even tinier than I thought, wrapped in a black silk belt with a bow sitting off to one side. The slit high on her right hip, widened gradually. Its edges dropped away at the knee, falling back into a pleated train that fanned out behind her to cover the stage. Her hands, wrapped in elbow length black gloves, seized the microphone stand with a passionate grip. The pink suddenly gone from her hair, she tossed a section of white-blonde curls over one side of her face. They coiled down, nearly brushing the bright red of her lips. Longer sections cascaded on to caress her tightly cinched breasts, held within a gravity-defying sweetheart neckline worthy of its own calendar.

  Nadine’s oddly sparkling gaze caught mine. She gave a single nod, and I turned away. Watching her in the mirror, she pivoted gracefully in her pencil-thin black stilettos. The crowd muttered at her low-slung backless dress, and the large tattoo of a harp that covered her skin. The detail was beautiful, as was the instrument, with the figure of a raven-haired woman branching out from the column on the end. Naked on top, the bottom half of the woman extended on, but was lost beneath Nadine’s dress. Only the swirl of waves peeked out like a ruffle on her lower back.

  I was positive I’d never seen a tattoo on her before.

  Music exited the speakers in the ceiling. Nadine swayed, and the waves seemed to undulate. Looking over her shoulder at the audience, she opened her mouth. Sound sailed from her throat. The words were none I recognized, or could even understand, but it was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard. A tingle ran up my spine with each note; striking my nerves, plucking them slowly and sensuously, like the piano keys that so perfectly complimented her voice. No, not a piano, I thought. The strings of a harp.

  Finally, after nearly a hundred years, I had a clue as to what Nadine was.

  Feeling moisture on my face, I wiped at it. I was crying. So was everyone else.

  The entire club was captivated. Shedding silent tears, they leaned forward in their chairs as if their bodies were being drawn toward the stage.

  I looked at Evans in the mirror. Once I confirmed his shoulders were rising and falling in calm, gentle breaths, I grabbed my bag and bolted up the stairs.

  Thirty

  Forty minutes had gone by since I’d left Nadine’s. I was still in the city, only a mile or so away. It felt like a whole other world as I stood, watching another performer on another stage.

  This one held nothing of Nadine’s glamor, yet there was something spellbindingly serpentine about how the girl’s body moved. Long and lean, it bent and wound, clinging to the pole as if she had no bones to restrict her.
With the perfect arch to her back, she spun; slowly, strategically, so all sides were treated to a lingering glimpse of flawless curves. Her inner thighs hugged the round metal with a strength every man in attendance wanted to feel for himself. Even I had trouble not staring. Tawny skin, lush dark hair, deep oval eyes, her wine-colored thong matched the heavy gloss coating her mouth and the beads dangling from her pierced nipples.

  Juicy Bits smelled just like it always had; of spilled beer and stale dreams. But it had finally scored a headliner who was clean and knew how to move. The two dull-eyed brassy blondes gyrating behind her were more like I remembered. The movements of their skinny, stick-like limbs were slowed by whatever they’d ingested on their last break. It certainly wasn’t food, not with their way their ribs were showing.

  Moving away from the stage, I scanned the room as I wandered. Marking the location of each customer, the bartenders, and the bouncers, I made note of who went in and out of the curtains partitioning the private rooms. It was a large crowd for a weeknight. A number of girls were working the floor, waiting tables in shiny, red pleather corsets and black hot pants. Others, in thongs and heels, granted a touch, a stroke, or a dance.

  Hating the sound my shoes made as they stuck to the linoleum, I found a spot at the end of the bar. The bartender fluffed up the collar of his bright orange bermuda shirt and threw me a grin. I ignored it and ordered two shots. Tossing some bills on the bar, I took the drinks to the row of curtains lining the back wall. I stopped when I found one with the unmistakable scent of a lyrriken male drifting out from beneath the fabric. I could smell his desire, his sweat. Enough, that I knew Ronan wasn’t alone.

  I nudged the curtain aside and ducked into the private room. It was small and full of shadows. Ronan occupied the only chair. He was scooted low in his seat, with his hands gripping the armrests. I couldn’t see his face, but I had a great view of dark brown pigtails, a bare back, and the tanned round ass sitting on his lap.

  I cleared my throat.

  Ronan looked around the girl. His eyes ran over me, playful and mischievous, and his dimpled grin surfaced. Perfect, I thought. That was the exact reaction I’d been hoping for when I got dressed.

  “You’re late,” he said. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

  “Good thing you found something to keep you busy.” I gestured at the girl decorating his jeans. “Nice pigtails.”

  At my compliment, she turned. Surveying my tight jeans and purple leather corset with an exaggerated lick of her tongue, she grinned. “Nice everything.” She glanced back at Ronan. “Redheads are so scrumptious. I could just eat them up.”

  Eagerness glinted in his eyes. Chemicals glazed hers as she giggled.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “I’m sure Dahl won’t mind.”

  Peeling herself off his lap, the stripper stood. She sidled up next to me with a clack of her heels. “For an extra fifty, you can stay.”

  I gave her a tight-lipped smile. “For an extra twenty, you can go.” Not waiting for her answer, I placed both drinks on the table beside the chair. I dug the money out of my pocket and held it out between two fingers. “I won’t offer twice.”

  She rolled her eyes. I stuffed the bills in one side of her sparkly thong and she stomped out. As the curtain settled into place, I picked up the two shot glasses and drained them both.

  Ronan threw up his hands. “No girl? No drink? What the hell, Dahl?”

  Leaving the empty glasses on the table, I gripped the edges of his denim jacket and pulled him to his feet. Coal gray t-shirt stretched over his chest, hair tousled; I couldn’t help but kiss the emerging grin on his lips.

  I let him go and stepped back. “We need to talk.”

  “Then talk. Might as well use the room for something.”

  “Don’t be a baby.” I moved for the curtain. “Come on. I need some air.”

  His head tilted. “You seem different tonight.”

  “Sorry. It’s been a shitty week.”

  “I’m potentially running from my life and you’re having the shitty week?”

  I shrugged. “It’s only Tuesday. Maybe it’ll get better.”

  “Yeah,” he grunted. “I’ll get some drinks. It’s private enough in here.”

  “No. I told you. I need some air.” I turned away. He didn’t argue this time. Part of me wished he would, that he’d call me on my odd behavior and my reason for making him leave the club. Only days ago I’d urged Ronan to lay low. Now, I was about to parade him in public, in full view of a psychotic killer who was most certainly tailing me.

  It was a callous move I wouldn’t have thought twice about when I was working my way up through the Guild. Then, I would have ordered Ronan to play the bait, and he would have complied without question. Now, a part of me knew it was wrong. The human part.

  Yet, I couldn’t stop.

  Oren was right. The death toll would keep climbing if I didn’t draw Brynne out. And Ronan was my best option. She has to remember him. Many of the young female trainees had an eye for Ronan. And with all operatives forced to disclose their sexual relationships to the Guild, his status as my mate had never been a secret. All I had to do was make Brynne believe my feelings for him were just as strong now. Then sit back and wait for her to try and kill him.

  Reassuring myself with a quiet breath, I pushed Ronan through the curtain. We headed down the hall to the back door. As we passed the bathrooms, one of the bouncers gave Ronan a wave and a nod. It was friendlier than it should have been.

  I glanced back at him. “Don’t tell me you still own this place. I thought you lost it in a poker game thirty years ago.”

  “And I won it back ten years later. I have a partner now, a human. He keeps it running. I funnel the money in…among other things.”

  I stopped. “What kind of things?”

  “Whatever you want.” With an impish grin, Ronan leaned against the wall; one knee bent, a chunk of hair positioned perfectly over one eye. He knew how it drew me in, the way he could make even the most casual pose look sexy. Yet in his eyes was the hope that I would ask for something illicit, and it aggravated me. This was his domain. Nothing would make Ronan happier than to drag me down in it.

  I reached past him and shoved open the exit door. We stepped out into the alley, rattling the mess of empty beer cans and cigarette butts. Several of the crushed tips were still smoldering. Their slender tendrils drifted up past our shoes, adding to the smell of wet ashtray clinging to the moldy brick walls and uneven cobblestone. Yellow light shone in from a black cast iron street lamp on the sidewalk. It gave the alleyway an old-world, quaint feel as we crossed it. But the narrow, one way, backstreet wasn’t a hold-over from days gone by. It was simply a section of town no one gave a shit enough about to renovate.

  Nearly to the sidewalk, I noticed a fire escape affixed to the adjacent building. Faded, torn concert posters lined the side of the old music store on the bottom. It was closed for the night. Most of the windows on the five stories above were dark.

  I pulled the ladder down with a screech of metal. The sound echoed back through the alley, making Ronan cringe. I gave him a look of invitation and headed up.

  I had no doubt he would follow.

  Rounding the grated landings, we made fast work of the stairs. The upper floors were apartments, with a few chairs and potted plants left out by the tenants. The rungs on the ladder to the top were loose and rusted. They rattled as I climbed. I didn’t try to quiet them. For once, I wanted the attention.

  I jumped down onto the roof. The view was decent, only partially obstructed by taller buildings, with Sentinel City stretching out in all directions; a lattice of gold and neon lights against the dark. The ever-present soundtrack of nightlife and traffic was muted by the height. It would have been peaceful, if not for the air conditioning units humming in the center of the roof. Pipes and vents traversed the pebbly surface. Four lounge chairs and a round plastic table sat near the sturdy metal door leading into the building. Tiny gold rope li
ghts ran around the trunk of a nearby potted tree. More lights were strung around the frame of the door. Ankle-high plants sprouted from a row of wooden boxes. I paused, breathing in the welcome fragrance of mint and dill.

  Someone had built the rooftop oasis as a way to retreat from the filth of the neighborhood. I wondered if it worked.

  Gravel crunched as Ronan came up behind me. “Did you do this?”

  I spun around. “You picked the place, not me.”

  “Oren said you wanted to meet at the club. I only sent that text in case you forgot the address.”

  That son of a bitch. Anger raced up into my throat. I struggled to keep it in. “Oren texted you to set up this meeting?”

  “He said you asked him to.”

  “Right,” I said, feigning embarrassment. “I forgot.”

  Ronan took a reflexive step back. “What’s wrong? You seem flustered.”

  “I guess I am. I’ve made a decision, Ronan. I’m going home.”

  “You’re what?”

  “Seeing you again has made me realize the truth. I’ve lost sight of what’s important. I’ve forgotten what used to matter. What should still matter.”

  His lips pursed in thought. Expectation built in his eyes. “Which is?”

  “You. Me. Us. Our kind. You were right, Ronan. I’ve been here too long. I’ve sunk too deeply into their lives. I tried to protect them. I’ve tried for years, thinking I could stop the inevitable. That I could prevent the catastrophe we all know is coming when the exits are revealed. But I can’t. I can’t even stop these killings. I can’t make a difference. So I’m going home. I’m going to prove Naalish wrong. I was never a liability or a danger. I’m an asset. I can help her keep Drimera pure.”

  “Dahl, this is crazy. The warrant—”

  I took his hands. “Come with me.”

  “She’ll kill you. She’ll kill us both.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe not.” I let him go. “Once I show her what I can do now.”