a full view of herself in the hallway mirror. “Oh my God, Addison!” she said to herself. “Look at you! You’re so damned hot.”
James interrupted her display of self-love and pushed her out of the house. He watched as she almost quantum leapt to the car. James was about to take a step off the porch, but something in the air caused him to hang back. He looked around, scanning the darkness for whatever was causing his ill feeling. He thought he heard a voice—a small whisper. Simultaneously the dull pain in his stomach became razor sharp.
“What’s wrong with you?” Addison asked, impatiently waiting for him to open the car door.
James listened closer to the night air, half expecting something to jump out at him. But he only heard a peculiar rustle bristling through the trees.
Club Entice was the hottest spot in Chesapeake. It was housed in a stand-alone building that was noticeably taller than the others on the street. The creepy exterior was made up of large, gray stones that were weatherworn and dirty. The muted sounds of death-industrial music thumped from inside, causing the ground to quake to its rhythm. Club Entice’s patrons clustered on the wrong side of the velvet rope in front of a Gothic arched, black door while two depraved gargoyles looked down at them in judgment, as if they were god himself.
James and Addison strolled past the pulsating crowd and showed the burly bouncer a gold VIP card. The bouncer unlatched the rope and let them pass, no questions asked. As the Bolingbrokes made their way into the club, the restless crowd hissed and threw an assortment of items they found on the street.
The ringleader of the rebellious crowd was a wanna-becool redneck taking out his blue-collar frustrations on the Bolingbrokes. “You fucking assholes,” the redneck said through his yellowing teeth. “You think you’re special or something? That you don’t have to stand in line? Fuck y’all!” The redneck threw, with all his might, an unopened forty-ounce bottle of beer, straight at James’s head.
From James’s perspective it appeared as if it were happening in slow motion. He calmly closed his eyes and used the slightest bit of magic to block the impending torpedo. The glass bottle fell to the sidewalk like it had hit an invisible wall. The crowd heckled the redneck; they were all too drunk and stupid to know they had just witnessed a nifty bit of witchery. The bouncer snapped his fingers, summoning his buddies. They picked up the redneck by all four of his limbs and tossed him into a trash container in the alley.
Addison took the whole thing in stride. “What an asshole,” she said, adjusting one of her stray hairs.
The door opened, releasing a pent-up barrier of sound. James and Addison followed the long hall of flying buttresses, lined with stained glass images of red devils and statues of demons. The hall led to a cavernous space in the center of the club complete with seizure-inducing lights and eardrum-piercing music.
James could see Addison resisting the urge to dance. “I’m going to go look for Adrian,” she shouted and then was quickly swallowed up by the crowd. James scoured the room as he made his way through the packed horde of wildly dancing clubbers. The mortals could sense something was different about James, and they parted like the Red Sea. He noticed out of the corner of his eye a tall, blonde tart slinking over to him.
The inebriated young woman spoke with a whimsical voice. “Hi there. I’m Zoë. You wanna get me a drink?”
At that moment a stifling shriek pierced James’s ear, as if someone had placed a plastic megaphone to it and screamed.
His face contorted, and he looked—involuntarily—at Zoë as if she were the most atrocious thing he had ever seen.
“Fucker, if you didn’t want to hang out with me, you could’ve just said so,” she said, miffed and walking away in search of her next target.
Through blurry vision, James could see Henry rushing over
James interrupted her display of self-love and pushed her out of the house. He watched as she almost quantum leapt to the car. James was about to take a step off the porch, but something in the air caused him to hang back. He looked around, scanning the darkness for whatever was causing his ill feeling. He thought he heard a voice—a small whisper. Simultaneously the dull pain in his stomach became razor sharp.
“What’s wrong with you?” Addison asked, impatiently waiting for him to open the car door.
James listened closer to the night air, half expecting something to jump out at him. But he only heard a peculiar rustle bristling through the trees.
Club Entice was the hottest spot in Chesapeake. It was housed in a stand-alone building that was noticeably taller than the others on the street. The creepy exterior was made up of large, gray stones that were weatherworn and dirty. The muted sounds of death-industrial music thumped from inside, causing the ground to quake to its rhythm. Club Entice’s patrons clustered on the wrong side of the velvet rope in front of a Gothic arched, black door while two depraved gargoyles looked down at them in judgment, as if they were god himself.
James and Addison strolled past the pulsating crowd and showed the burly bouncer a gold VIP card. The bouncer unlatched the rope and let them pass, no questions asked. As the Bolingbrokes made their way into the club, the restless crowd hissed and threw an assortment of items they found on the street.
The ringleader of the rebellious crowd was a wanna-becool redneck taking out his blue-collar frustrations on the Bolingbrokes. “You fucking assholes,” the redneck said through his yellowing teeth. “You think you’re special or something? That you don’t have to stand in line? Fuck y’all!” The redneck threw, with all his might, an unopened forty-ounce bottle of beer, straight at James’s head.
From James’s perspective it appeared as if it were happening in slow motion. He calmly closed his eyes and used the slightest bit of magic to block the impending torpedo. The glass bottle fell to the sidewalk like it had hit an invisible wall. The crowd heckled the redneck; they were all too drunk and stupid to know they had just witnessed a nifty bit of witchery. The bouncer snapped his fingers, summoning his buddies. They picked up the redneck by all four of his limbs and tossed him into a trash container in the alley.
Addison took the whole thing in stride. “What an asshole,” she said, adjusting one of her stray hairs.
The door opened, releasing a pent-up barrier of sound. James and Addison followed the long hall of flying buttresses, lined with stained glass images of red devils and statues of demons. The hall led to a cavernous space in the center of the club complete with seizure-inducing lights and eardrum-piercing music.
James could see Addison resisting the urge to dance. “I’m going to go look for Adrian,” she shouted and then was quickly swallowed up by the crowd. James scoured the room as he made his way through the packed horde of wildly dancing clubbers. The mortals could sense something was different about James, and they parted like the Red Sea. He noticed out of the corner of his eye a tall, blonde tart slinking over to him.
The inebriated young woman spoke with a whimsical voice. “Hi there. I’m Zoë. You wanna get me a drink?”
At that moment a stifling shriek pierced James’s ear, as if someone had placed a plastic megaphone to it and screamed.
His face contorted, and he looked—involuntarily—at Zoë as if she were the most atrocious thing he had ever seen.
“Fucker, if you didn’t want to hang out with me, you could’ve just said so,” she said, miffed and walking away in search of her next target.
Through blurry vision, James could see Henry rushing over
Similar Books
