by Melody Raven
Sam was quiet as she looked out over the city. It was hard to disagree with events she couldn’t fully remember.
All of a sudden, Derek started to turn. For a moment, she thought he was going to go back inside, but instead he stretched out with his feet away from her and his head just under the window. He rested his head on one of his hands as he looked up at the sky.
“You just going to sleep out here all night?”
“Nah,” he said. “It’s not comfortable enough for that. But for now it’s nice.”
Sam debated going back in and leaving him to his thoughts but found herself mimicking him as she turned and stretched out on the roof. It might be better to have their weight distributed more on the aging section. Her head ended up being a few inches away from his, and she hooked her arm behind her head as a half-assed pillow. It was uncomfortable but for the moment there was nowhere else she’d rather be. Even with the sounds of the city all around them, it seemed quiet. Still. After the hell of a day she’d had, sitting out here and being still with Derek seemed like the perfect place to be.
“This is a bad idea,” said Jackson.
Claire rolled her eyes as she adjusted the skirt portion of the little black dress. Another one of the pieces she’d gotten from Sam’s closet after she’d taken over the apartment. Now that she had a job of her own, she might go out and get some clothes, but she didn’t see the point of using Sam’s money to buy new clothes when she already had a closet full of stuff she wasn’t wearing. This dress in particular still had a tag on it, and the price had been more than the car Claire had been saving up for before she ran away from home. “No, this is a good idea.”
“I thought you were supposed to be laying low.” Jackson leaned against the door to the bedroom she was currently borrowing at his place.
She kind of thought that by coming here, she’d be able to learn a bit more about the elusive witch. All she knew so far was that he and Sam used to have a thing, Derek hated him, Dante didn’t seem to be a fan, and now apparently that he was a soul sucking demon witch.
Okay, he hadn’t said demon out loud, but it was the implication.
But his apartment was… normal. No, not normal. It was utterly bare. No pictures, completely clean. Not only was there no clutter, but there wasn’t even a speck of dust in the spare room she’d set her stuff in. A room that supposedly was hardly ever used. Maybe that was a witch thing. It was easy to be clean if you had magic on your side.
She adjusted the skirt one more time, trying to get as much length as possible. The dress was deceptive because it almost looked decent, but it really wasn’t. Even though the black lace went halfway down her thigh, the bottom few inches were transparent. And it had long lace sleeves, but the front was a plunging v-neck that could very possibly lead to a wardrobe malfunction if she wasn’t careful. “I’m supposed to be staying away from places Claudia and her guys would look for me. Not sure what makes you think your place is so much safer than anywhere else in the city.”
“Because I’m here?” he said with a cockiness she had no way of knowing whether he could actually back up.
“If the most powerful witch in the world knocked on your door, you’d protect little old me from having my mind wiped?” She glanced over her shoulder at him but he didn’t say anything to defend himself.
A guy like Jackson probably wasn’t used to defending himself. It was hard to think of Sam being with him. She supposed she figured Sam’s type was more like Derek… big, gruff, badass.
Not to say Jackson wasn’t attractive. In fact, so far every witch she’d met had been drop-dead gorgeous: Sam, Dante—even Claudia in a more sophisticated way.
Jackson was just pretty in a different way from Derek. He was tall and lean. Where Derek was a cop who was essentially Big Brother personified, Jackson seemed as though he could just melt into the shadows if he wanted. And drag people with him into those shadows if he wanted….
“So,” said Jackson finally. “If you called up your bestie, Detective Pierce, right now and asked him if he thought you should, A,” he held up one finger, “go clubbing or B,” he held up another finger, “stay in and keep your head low, what do you think he’d recommend?”
Claire crossed to the vanity where her makeup was still spread out. She picked out her lipstick and some eyeliner to keep in her purse. “I think that he’s too busy to take my calls at the moment.” She turned to face Jackson. “I also think I’m a nearly friendless witch, so when my new boss was generous enough to personally call me and invite me out tonight, I’d be stupid to say no.”
“I don’t count as a friend?”
“You just told me I’m a soul sucker who can never get close to anyone. This is me saying screw you.” She put on a mock smile and started to leave the room, but Jackson stopped her with a hand on her upper arm. His hand was so big it practically wrapped around her entire bicep.
Instead of jerking free, she gave him a look of obvious displeasure at the treatment, but he didn’t seem to mind as he stared her down. “This is a bad idea,” he repeated.
“Then stop with the vague warnings and just tell me. What’s going to happen? What will they do when they find out I suck souls away?”
Jackson pulled her in closer. She didn’t know why. He was plenty intimidating from where he stood. “Fine. Go out tonight. Dance your little heart out. And when your boss gets all hot and bothered watching you slink around in that dress and goes in for a feel, you’ll know exactly what I’m talking about.” Jackson abruptly released her but didn’t move away.
It was Claire who had to fall back a few steps as she considered what he was saying. Half of her believed it was all bull. She’d never had any issues like this before.
The other half of her couldn’t stop seeing the pained look on Heather’s face as she doubled over and passed out. No. Whatever Jackson’s issue was, it wasn’t hers. She’d been around witches. She’d been around Sam and had other trainers. Sure, she’d never gone clubbing with them, but if Jackson had soul sucking dysfunction, that wasn’t her problem.
“Thanks for the warning, but I’ll take my chances.”
Jackson tilted his head and regarded her. “I guess I can’t stop you.”
Claire nodded and clutched her purse tighter. She started for the door before she stopped and turned back to Jackson. “What makes you think Dante is going to get too close anyway?”
Jackson raised a brow. “You and that dress? I know I’d make a move. He’d be a fool not to.”
Claire threw her head back as she downed another shot of tequila and winced at the burning as it went down.
“Why do that?” said Dante right in her ear.
She jumped at the unexpected closeness, but considering how loud it was around her, Dante would have to get close for her to hear anything he said. Apparently Jackson’s words had stuck with her more than she thought. “I’ve had a stressful day,” she said loud enough for him to hear without having to get any closer.
Dante held up a glass with clear liquid. “Try this. It will do the trick.”
She frowned at what he was offering, but at this point she was willing to get adventurous. She took the small glass, tipped her head back and downed the contents. It didn’t burn. It was cool and crisp and— “Water?” she asked, the perplexity clear on her face.
Dante leaned in so he could talk in her ear. “You can’t get drunk so don’t bother trying. At least water will keep you hydrated.”
Claire was tense as she waited for him to move back and it wasn’t lost on Dante. “We don’t have to stay here,” he offered.
Damn it. She was trying to be normal and here she was ruining the evening. It wasn’t as though it was just Dante. He’d brought two of his other friends, Lacey and Lindsey, who were off dancing and having fun and being normal. And if the damn tequila would burn through her system like she was anyone else and give her the ability to loosen up, she could be having fun too.
Well, since she didn’t have artific
ial courage, she’d have to just muster up some of the real stuff. “Let’s dance.”
Dante seemed surprised but he didn’t say no. Instead, he held out his hand.
Once again, Jackson’s stupid warning danced in the back of her mind, but she pushed it away as she set her hand in Dante’s. The music blared so loud she couldn’t even make out the lyrics, and there were so many people on the dance floor that she felt as if she couldn’t breathe.
She closed her eyes and tried to shut everything out. She could do this. Normal. She could be norma—
Suddenly the music stopped and there was no noise at all. She cracked open her eyes to see Dante looking down at her with concern evident on his face.
“Come on, Claire. I brought you here to have fun. If you’re not having fun…”
She glanced around. The crowds of people who had just been throwing themselves wholeheartedly into a song now stood stock-still, like zombies. She heard a giggle from a ways over and saw Lindsey and Lacey over by the bar. “You did this?”
“Just for a second. If you want to leave or go somewhere else—”
“No.” She shook her head. “I’m okay.”
Dante set a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. “It’s okay not to be okay.”
She blinked a few times and worked her damndest to keep any tears from welling up. “I want to be okay, though. I want to go out and dance and flirt and have a fun time. I don’t want to do… this.” She motioned to the crowd of zombies around them. She was equal parts impressed and horrified. On one hand, she knew what it was like to have someone worm their way into your mind and take away all control. On the other, it was nice to know how serious Dante was about keeping her comfortable. Considering she just met the guy, he had every right to get annoyed with her for being so wishy-washy about this whole thing. “Besides,” she said casually. “I’ve never been dancing.”
The corner of his mouth hooked up. “Never?”
“I have no rhythm,” she admitted sheepishly, happy they were on a slightly happier subject.
“Now, I don’t believe that. How does someone as pretty as you never go dancing?”
“The joys of running away from home when you’re sixteen.”
“Okay. Then obviously you need dance club lessons.”
“You mean dancing lessons?”
“No. Dance club. It’s a very different animal. No one wants to have a bunch of strangers rubbing all over them and music loud enough to scramble your brain. Do you know why people come here?”
She took a wild guess. “Sex?”
Dante let out a little laugh. “Well, maybe, but no. They come here for the same reason Abigail Harris throws those massive parties on the solstice. It’s the energy. Even humans can get off on energy like this. So when the music comes back on, close your eyes, throw your hands in the air and just let the energy guide you. Don’t think, don’t process, just move. The creepy smells, the annoying music—it’s not going to mean a thing once you really get into it. Want to try it again? Or I can take you home. I promise I won’t think any less of you.” He held up a nonthreatening hand as if to prove his point.
Claire frowned up at him. The row of earrings glittered in the dim lighting of the club and the tattoo on his neck, apparently one of a bright red and deep black bird, was more visible in the open collar of his shirt. He really didn’t look like he should be this nice. “I don’t want to go home,” she said honestly.
He smiled and she knew that was the answer he wanted to hear. “Okay, I’m going to start things up again.”
She nodded and, as if a switch had been flipped, the entire club was thumping again. She closed her eyes once more and instead of allowing herself to focus on everything that had freaked her out, she took Dante’s advice and focused instead on the energy. Jackson had given her a lesson about meditating before. She tried to use that calm. When she opened her eyes, she saw that Dante had found a woman on the dance floor and he was running his hands along her body as she leaned into him, both of their bodies moving to the beat.
All of a sudden, a bolt of something shot through her. Arousal? It was so unexpected and unfamiliar that for a second she just stood there and watched the two people move. The woman was short and curvy in all the right places while Dante dwarfed her, but that didn’t seem to bother either of them as they became more and more wrapped up in each other.
Claire’s breath came faster as she watched them and she realized it was working. The music wasn’t pounding in her head anymore. It didn’t seem as if she were a drop in the ocean of people. It felt as if it was just her; Dante and this stranger and everything else was just white noise.
And then Dante looked up and his dark eyes fell on her. Claire caught her breath but didn’t look away. She didn’t care whether Dante knew she was staring. She wanted him to know.
Apparently he didn’t mind either, because he held out a hand to her. Just a few minutes ago, he’d held out a hand as he led her to the dance floor. That was friendly and nonthreatening. This wasn’t friendly and that made Claire… happy. She came over and he pulled her in close. The poor woman was immediately forgotten and Claire didn’t even look to see whether she was upset or not. Because Dante had pulled her up against him as they both moved. She set one hand on his shoulder as her hips dipped and swayed, every once in a while just brushing his.
One of his hands traced the curve of her waist and settled on her hip, where he could guide her movements. Claire didn’t think or focus on anything, instead letting the energy guide her. Before she knew it, she and Dante where intertwined and one of his legs pushed between hers. Claire never realized how sexual it could be. They were both fully dressed and surrounded by people, but it didn’t feel that way. It felt as if they were all alone and could do whatever they wanted….
She opened her eyes and looked up at him from beneath her lashes. She didn’t smile. Things were too intense for that. Instead, she focused on breathing through the thick tension in the air as Dante moved a hand up her back. Because the dress was low cut in the front and back, soon enough he was touching bare skin and her heart seemed to kick up even further. She was totally and utterly lost when Dante leaned in for a kiss. But before their lips ever touched, he started to scream.
Heather threw her collection of shopping bags on the small uncomfortable bed while she let out a disgusted sigh. She looked around the ruins of the old Marco Building she was currently calling home. It wasn’t nearly to her taste or standards, but it was all she had right now.
She missed her apartment. She missed her three-thousand-dollar mattress and having a closet to store her things in. Sure, she could just get a new outfit every day if she wanted to, but having an entire room full of pretty things to decorate her body with was just a natural right for every woman.
At least it would be once she was in charge. Once she finally worked things out with Claudia. Speaking of which…. “Are you going to stare all night or were you planning on introducing yourself?”
The man was utterly silent. Heather had no doubt that he could normally sneak into places and never be discovered, but Heather wasn’t just anyone. “I’m insulted that you even thought you stood a chance against me.” She turned to the section of wall he was hiding behind. But it was too late for games. He couldn’t hide any longer. With the flick of her wrist, the drywall and studs were ripped away. The building creaked and moaned as she defiled it, and for a second she wondered whether the entire place would fall down around her. That would be a shame. She’d put a lot of work into securing this little home away from home.
The rude man didn’t look scared. Good. She’d be rather insulted if Claudia sent anything less than her best. He was big and the scar on his face gave her pause. Most witches didn’t have scars. It was easy enough to make a poultice to make them go away. Maybe he’d pissed off Claudia in the past and she made him wear it as a point? Wouldn’t surprise her. Her grandmother could be a sadistic bitch at times.
“You know,
it’s rude to stare.”
The man was still silent. She kept on waiting for him to defend himself or start begging, but he was frustratingly silent.
She rolled her eyes and set a hand on her hip. “Really? You’re not even going to give me a name.”
“Bastian,” he said simply. No tremors of fear. Not even a note of defiance. Just a casual answer of her question.
“That’s a start.” She took a few steps closer and he didn’t try to move. “Want to tell me how you found this place?” She’d gone through a hell of a lot of trouble to make sure no one could find her here.
“You know I can’t do that.”
She tilted her head as she considered him. “You know I can’t let you leave here, right?”
He shrugged but didn’t say anything, continuing to surprise her.
“You aren’t even the least bit curious about what I am going to do to you? About how painful your death is going to be?”
“I try not to dwell on the negative.”
Heather smiled, enjoying this whole exchange way too much. Luckily for him, he had much better use to her alive. In less than the blink of an eye, Heather was in front of him and grabbed Bastian by the back of the neck. He never even had a chance to get a swing in before her nails sunk into his neck and then the top of his spine.
His cool demeanor was finally broken as he let out a little gasp of pain. She smiled. There was the reaction she was more used to. “Listen up, Bastian. I’m going to need you to do something for me.”
Derek shouldn’t be this happy to be looking at a dead body. Really, it was a tragedy. The guy who currently was bloated from lying undiscovered in a pile of his own blood deserved some measure of respect.
The problem was that Derek knew him. Normally he felt worse if someone he’d brought in before was found dead, but this guy happened to be a dick in life and finding him dead wasn’t a huge shock.
