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Authors: Juliette Cross
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heavy beat even though the crowd was thin. No attention whores danced in the cages up on platforms on either side of the dance floor tonight. Just a few black-clad regulars milling about and a group of frat boys at the bar knocking back shots to the cheers of a gaggle of plastic blondes.
We sat on the end of the bar with the best view of the club, scanning the place for demons. I reached out with my VS, sensing nothing.
“You don’t have your sword, do you?” asked Kat.
Most Flamma, strong ones like Kat and me, could see through casts of illusion when we concentrated. Right now, she was staring at my back like it was about to catch fire.
“There’s nothing to see. No. I didn’t bring it, but no worries. I’m armed.” I patted the boot I propped on the middle rung of her barstool.
“Do you even need it?”
“I don’t know. But the steel helps me channel the power. I—”
Both our heads snapped to the dance floor. The sudden presence of demons seemed to signal us at the same time.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” I murmured.
Among a throng of dancers grinding to some death-metal tune was Bleed and one of the guys from his band, Gallow’s End. Bleed. What an asinine name. Perfectly fit the owner. Last time Kat and I had seen him in that demon club on Bayou Sauvage, his long, sleek hair was dyed midnight blue. He’d changed it to deep purple. Two stumbling-drunk girls were clinging to him and the tall, lanky guy I recognized as his drummer. Their eyes shimmered red in the smoky dark of the club.
That was one thing lower demons didn’t have to worry about in New Orleans. With so many freaks in the city joining artificial vampire covens, there was no need to disguise red eyes or sharpened fangs. Both of which were the distinct outward features of a lower demon inhabiting a human.
The young brunette who looked barely eighteen hung on to Bleed’s arm. He made a signal to Drummer Boy, who escorted another girl wearing a miniskirt so short I could see her ass cheek. They veered toward a back entrance, taking their fully intoxicated dates with them. Knowing Bleed was into kink and violence and certainly not above forcing his will on the weak and vulnerable, I nudged Kat.
Without a word, we were off the stools and following the four through the storage room, which indeed had a back entrance for deliveries. The door to the alley creaked closed. Bleed said something, obviously witty and wonderful because the girls giggled in unison. I reached into my boot and pulled out my sharpened stiletto. Kat pulled out a similar but thicker blade, sheathed on a vest harness covered by her jacket.
Kat cracked the door, peering outside. We heard the distant shuffling as the four moved farther off.
“Hurry,” I whispered.
We slipped through the exit and stalked after them. They rounded the corner of a darkened building. Although we were walking in the open, this part of the business district was deserted after hours. In the French Quarter, you could find crowds on every street well into the wee hours of the morning. But this area was only busy during the daytime. Perfect place to commit some heinous crime on unsuspecting, underage and intoxicated girls.
By the time we reached the next block, Bleed and Drummer Boy had lured the girls down a dark alley. Talk about cliché.
“Where issit?” slurred the brunette. The other girl’s giggle echoed off the alley walls.
“Right over here,” said Bleed. “I’m going to show you.”
I could hear the sneer in his voice. I grabbed Kat’s arm, and she looked back at me as we edged closer to the corner of the alley. Sift , I mouthed. She nodded.
Holding up my left hand, I put up one finger, then two, then three.
We sifted into the alley a yard away from them. There was no telling what Bleed had in mind, because we interrupted whatever it was he had planned. Somehow, he didn’t look surprised to see us, which put me on edge. My VS zinged to life, igniting my underlight
We sat on the end of the bar with the best view of the club, scanning the place for demons. I reached out with my VS, sensing nothing.
“You don’t have your sword, do you?” asked Kat.
Most Flamma, strong ones like Kat and me, could see through casts of illusion when we concentrated. Right now, she was staring at my back like it was about to catch fire.
“There’s nothing to see. No. I didn’t bring it, but no worries. I’m armed.” I patted the boot I propped on the middle rung of her barstool.
“Do you even need it?”
“I don’t know. But the steel helps me channel the power. I—”
Both our heads snapped to the dance floor. The sudden presence of demons seemed to signal us at the same time.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” I murmured.
Among a throng of dancers grinding to some death-metal tune was Bleed and one of the guys from his band, Gallow’s End. Bleed. What an asinine name. Perfectly fit the owner. Last time Kat and I had seen him in that demon club on Bayou Sauvage, his long, sleek hair was dyed midnight blue. He’d changed it to deep purple. Two stumbling-drunk girls were clinging to him and the tall, lanky guy I recognized as his drummer. Their eyes shimmered red in the smoky dark of the club.
That was one thing lower demons didn’t have to worry about in New Orleans. With so many freaks in the city joining artificial vampire covens, there was no need to disguise red eyes or sharpened fangs. Both of which were the distinct outward features of a lower demon inhabiting a human.
The young brunette who looked barely eighteen hung on to Bleed’s arm. He made a signal to Drummer Boy, who escorted another girl wearing a miniskirt so short I could see her ass cheek. They veered toward a back entrance, taking their fully intoxicated dates with them. Knowing Bleed was into kink and violence and certainly not above forcing his will on the weak and vulnerable, I nudged Kat.
Without a word, we were off the stools and following the four through the storage room, which indeed had a back entrance for deliveries. The door to the alley creaked closed. Bleed said something, obviously witty and wonderful because the girls giggled in unison. I reached into my boot and pulled out my sharpened stiletto. Kat pulled out a similar but thicker blade, sheathed on a vest harness covered by her jacket.
Kat cracked the door, peering outside. We heard the distant shuffling as the four moved farther off.
“Hurry,” I whispered.
We slipped through the exit and stalked after them. They rounded the corner of a darkened building. Although we were walking in the open, this part of the business district was deserted after hours. In the French Quarter, you could find crowds on every street well into the wee hours of the morning. But this area was only busy during the daytime. Perfect place to commit some heinous crime on unsuspecting, underage and intoxicated girls.
By the time we reached the next block, Bleed and Drummer Boy had lured the girls down a dark alley. Talk about cliché.
“Where issit?” slurred the brunette. The other girl’s giggle echoed off the alley walls.
“Right over here,” said Bleed. “I’m going to show you.”
I could hear the sneer in his voice. I grabbed Kat’s arm, and she looked back at me as we edged closer to the corner of the alley. Sift , I mouthed. She nodded.
Holding up my left hand, I put up one finger, then two, then three.
We sifted into the alley a yard away from them. There was no telling what Bleed had in mind, because we interrupted whatever it was he had planned. Somehow, he didn’t look surprised to see us, which put me on edge. My VS zinged to life, igniting my underlight
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