"I know, but I can handle myself, and I'll have Asher with me."
"Yeah, but you don't really know Asher that well," she pointed out. "Can he even fight?"
"He seemed to handle himself when we scuffled." I'd finally gotten both boots on, so I turned to look over at her. "Plus, he was a Vordr."
Her eyes widened. "Really?"
"I mean, I think so. He has a paracord bracelet with the Vordr insignia on it, and I just get this vibe from him. It would also explain how he was able to get some of the classified information he showed me."
Oona thought about it and nodded. "Well, you did describe him as battle-weary before. You'll probably be safe, then."
"I think we can manage it," I said, hoping that I sounded more convincing than I felt.
If Oona noticed my ambivalence, she didn't say anything, and thanks to the knock at the door, she didn't have time to.
I answered the door to discover Asher standing there, clean-shaven and more handsome than ever. He wore a perfectly tailored suit that hugged his broad shoulders and tapered to his narrow waist. It was black on black, and he'd left the top buttons of his shirt undone, revealing just a hint of his chest.
I hurried to pick my jaw up off the floor and managed a smile before teasing, "So you can knock after all?"
"Yeah." He smiled crookedly, and I felt his eyes going up and down over me, causing a warm flush to spread through my body. "You look ... you look great."
"Thanks. You clean up nice, too."
"I'm Oona Warren, by the way," she interjected, pushing herself between me and the doorframe to extend her hand toward Asher. "Marlow's best friend and roommate."
"Asher Varja." He smiled as he shook her hand.
"Take care of Malin, will you?" Oona asked, and I rolled my eyes.
"Of course." He stepped back and motioned to the hall. "Shall we?"
"Be safe, you two," Oona commanded as I grabbed my bag. "And don't stay out too late. The real trouble always starts after midnight."
TWENTY-FIVE
Somehow, the Aizsaule District always seemed darker than the rest of the city. Maybe there was a hex over it, one that sucked up all the light. Even the sky above looked darker, without a single star showing.
The Red Raven was built out of some kind of shiny black stone, with an animated neon red bird above the door, moving up and down as if picking at the patrons. Two red searchlights roamed on either side of the door, but it wasn't as if the place needed help attracting more customers. There was already a line down the block, with all sorts of humans and supernatural beings dressed in their most gothic haute attire.
Fortunately, Asher and I looked good enough that we didn't have to wait very long. We'd been queued up for a little over a half hour, which wouldn't have been so bad if it weren't for the two Aswangs standing right behind us.
The Aswangs were particularly horrifying-looking humanoid creatures. The bottom half of their head was all mouth, filled with many jagged teeth and a long, serpent-like tongue. They also smelled like sulfur and rotten meat, and the two behind us had a particular lack of understanding of personal space.
They kept creeping up toward us, almost pushing Asher and me forward. He put his arm around my waist and moved back a bit, putting himself between me and the Aswang duo. It wasn't necessary, since I didn't need him to protect me, but I still thought it was a nice gesture.
And I especially enjoyed the way his hand felt on the bare flesh of my skin, exposed by the cutaway in the dress.
Periodically, a doorman walked down the line, plucking out those he deemed worthy enough for the Red Raven. He came over and motioned for Asher and me to go on in, and the Aswangs behind us let out an annoyed shriek, so I smiled and flipped them off.
Inside, everything was dim and glowing red, reminding me of an old darkroom for developing camera film. The Red Raven had several rooms--some private and off-limits, others looking far too S&M for my tastes--so we decided to bypass them and head for the largest main room.
It was about half the size of a football stadium, with a large dance floor in the center. A long backlit bar took up one whole wall, while booths and tables were lined up against the far wall and in the balconies that wrapped around the length of the room.
A stage at the end of the room had a band playing. The lead singer was a beautiful siren, accompanied by thrashing guitar players, a drummer, a keyboardist, and a DJ. The music was pulsing techno, with her melodic voice carrying through it.
"So how do we want to do this?" Asher asked, his voice in my ear and his hand around my waist, pulling me close to avoid us getting trampled at the edge of the dance floor.
"Let's go to the bar and start asking around," I suggested.
The bartender immediately came over--a chubby woman with blue streaks in her jet-black hair. She leaned over on the counter, letting her large chest spill onto the bar from her skintight top. Something in the way she moved, the sultry turn of her lips, and the lure of her pheromones let me know instantly that she was a succubus.
"What can I get you?" she asked through her byzantine lipstick.
"What do you recommend?" I asked, trying not to be enchanted by the look in her eyes. As with the venom of the Jorogumo, I wasn't entirely immune to the charms of the succubus, but I did have a stronger resistance than the average human.
She pointed to a smoky red drink that another patron was drinking. "The Diablo's Dream is the special tonight."
"Two of those," I said.
She smiled wider, and I wanted to melt into a puddle of goo. "You got it."
"We shouldn't get drunk," Asher murmured, and the sound of his voice pulled me from the minor spell that the bartender had put me under.
"Drink slowly, then," I replied.
When the bartender returned, she set the drinks on the bar, and before she could even tell us how much it was, he set a fifty-dollar bill in front of her.
"Thank you." She smiled as she put the money in her bra.
"We were supposed to be meeting someone here." Asher leaned over the bar so she could hear him better. "He's supposed to be a regular. Maybe you know him?"
She shrugged. "I know some people. What's his name?"
"Bram Madichonnen," Asher said, while I tried my drink. It was all cherries and spice, but there was something else in it. Something thicker, warming my skin.
Her smile instantly fell, and the enchantment disappeared from her eyes. "Never heard of him," she replied blankly. She tapped the bar once, then started walking away. "You two have a good night, now."
"That was weird," Asher commented after she'd gone.
He left his drink at the bar, while I continued slowly sipping mine as we wandered around the room. We tried to seem casual, like we were just two people here celebrating the holiday, and we got a few demons and cravens to talk to us.
But as soon as we dropped Bram's name, the conversation would grind to a halt. No matter how much either Asher or I tried to flirt and play it off, it always ended the same.
"This isn't working," Asher commented.
"Maybe we should try loosening up more," I suggested.
I'd just finished my drink and left the empty glass discarded on a nearby table. Between the alcohol and the music thumping through the room, I felt fiery and free. A carnal heat rushed through me, setting my skin ablaze, and desire swelled in the pit of my stomach.
Asher leaned against the bar beside me, and even in the darkly lit room I couldn't help but notice how sexy and strong he looked. His suit fit him to perfection, hugging his muscular frame.
I'd been standing beside him at the bar, but leaned into him now, letting my lips brush against his earlobe as I whispered, "We could dance."
"We could," he murmured, and that was all the encouragement I needed.
I swayed my hips as I danced closer to him, subtly rubbing against him, and I put my hands on the lapels of his jacket. His hand was on my hip again, cool against my warm flesh, and I pressed against him as I dan
ced. He pulled me closer, so close my lips were almost touching his, and I wondered what his full lips would feel like against mine.
Before I could find out, I stepped back from him. The air felt thick and electric, and I needed to put distance between us so I could think clearly again, because thoughts of Asher and what I wanted to do to him were clouding my mind.
Still dancing suggestively, I backed away from him, and he leaned against the bar, watching me with a mixture of bemused desire darkening his eyes.
He mouthed the words Watch out, but it was too late. I bumped into someone, their body firm and unyielding behind me, and I turned around to see Arawn--a demon powerful and famous enough that I recognized him immediately.
TWENTY-SIX
Under the red light of the club, his long white-blond hair glowed a dull crimson. He wore a suit made of pure white, clashing with the color scheme of nearly everyone else here. He was handsome, the way many demons were, but his smile managed to freeze the heat inside of me.
"Are you having a good time?" Arawn asked in a voice like satin.
"I am," I said, pushing down the chill inside me and managing a flirtatious laugh. "How about you?"
"Always." His smiled widened, looking hungry, and he looped an arm around me, pulling me out to the dance floor with him.
He moved gracefully across the floor, somehow making me a more elegant dancer along with him. I wasn't exactly clumsy, but my movements had never felt so fluid as with his arm around me, guiding me through the steps.
With a hand on my back, he pressed my pelvis against his, then dipped me low. I relaxed against his arm, allowing my hair to drag on the floor, as he supported me and pulled me against him.
"You're a good dancer," Arawn mused, his lips mere inches from mine.
"Thank you," I breathed.
"What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?" he asked.
"I'm not so nice," I replied with a coy laugh. "But I was hoping to meet someone here tonight."
He gave me a predatory smile. "Well, you found me."
"Maybe if you play your cards right," I teased, keeping my voice as sultry as possible. "I was actually looking for Bram Madichonnen."
Arawn waited a beat before replying, "Haven't heard of him." His arm was still around me, but his eyes darted behind me. "Your boyfriend is getting jealous. You should probably head back to him."
I glanced back over my shoulder to see Asher standing at the bar watching us. His eyes were dark, and his lips were pressed into a grim line, but I read the expression for what it actually was--not jealous, but cautious and diligent.
"He's not my boyfriend," I said, and when I turned back to Arawn his smile had vanished.
He let go of me and stepped back before commanding, "You should head back to him anyway."
The crowd had parted a bit to make room for us to dance. Arawn was the kind of guy who demanded space. But when he walked away, he left me standing alone in a small circle on the dance floor, with leering eyes surrounding me.
I tried to play it off and walk as calmly as I could to join Asher at the bar.
"Who was that? He looked important," Asher asked when I reached him.
"He is." I ran my hand through my hair and exhaled. "He's a bigwig at the Kurnugia Society."
It had been named for the ancient word for the underworld Kurnugia, and it existed as a counterbalance to the Evig Riksdag. The impious believed that the Riks tended to land on the side of "good" more often than not, and they didn't want the divine inheriting the world.
The Kurnugia Society was basically a demonic version of the FBI, with a strong emphasis on making sure the impious and craven were treated "fairly."
"Did he know anything?" Asher asked.
"Oh, yeah, he definitely knows something," I said. "But he's not talking. As soon as I mentioned Bram, he shut it down."
Across the dance floor, Arawn had settled into a private booth, and he waved over a scruffy bouncer-looking guy. He leaned over as Arawn whispered into his ear, and then he turned toward us--his red eyes scanning the crowd before landing on me.
"They're on to us," Asher said.
"Maybe." I grabbed Asher's hand. "Let's dance and act normal, and then get out of here the second they stop looking."
We tried to get lost in the crowd, moving closer to the stage where the music was louder and the bodies were crammed closer together. There wasn't much room to move, so I pressed my body against Asher's and wrapped my arms around his neck.
His arm was around my waist, but this wasn't like before when we'd been dancing--this was protective and fierce. I'd never been around anyone who tried to protect me, other than Oona's motherly suggestions, but that didn't feel like this. My whole life, I'd always counted on my own strength to get me through anything, and so far, it had.
But for the moment, with Asher's strength enveloping me, it felt ... nice. A new warmth grew inside me, softer and deeper, making me feel dreamy and romantic. I didn't need Asher's protection, but that's what made it all the more gallant. He knew how strong and capable I was, and he still cared enough to shield me.
He kept looking around, his eyes conspicuously darting, so I put my hand on his face, forcing him to look at me.
"Keep your eyes on me," I told him. "We're trying to look natural."
"Right." He nodded, and his eyes met mine.
I let my hand linger, caressing the scruff of his face, and his expression softened from fear to something else, something like when he'd been watching me while I danced. We swayed together, an island in a sea of people. Alcohol and adrenaline buzzed inside me, but that wasn't why I felt so wonderfully light-headed in his arms.
I imagined him kissing me then. The scruff of his chin scraping against my face and neck as his arms tightened around me. I wanted nothing more than to take him to a dark booth and give in to every urge that had taken hold inside me.
But I couldn't. Not then. Not with demons and monsters lurking around, waiting to pounce.
"Is he still watching?" I asked Asher, trying to break through the fog of my own lust.
"What?" He blinked at me, then looked around. "Oh. No. I don't know where he went."
Then I felt a hand on my shoulder, burning hot through the thin fabric of my dress, and I looked back to see the bouncer Arawn had been talking to. He looked even bigger up close and personal, with veins bulging through his dark skin, and his eyes were blood-red.
He was a Pishacha--a flesh-eating demon--and right now his carnivorous gaze was fixed on me and Asher.
"Mind if I cut in?" he asked.
"Yes, actually. I do," I said firmly.
"Maybe you haven't heard of me. I'm Cormac Kaur," he informed us, grinning like a wolf. "I'm the head of security around here. So why don't we go have a little chat?"
"What's this about?" Asher asked, trying to remain calm.
"It's easier if you just come with me," Cormac commanded, and, based on the look in his eyes, I knew there was no arguing with him.
TWENTY-SEVEN
The back room was lit by a solitary bulb dangling from the ceiling, and the concrete floors were covered in rust-colored stains that looked suspiciously of blood. It even smelled of it in here--metallic and earthy.
The room was the size of an average walk-in freezer, and the steel door looked like it had once belonged to one. The walls were exposed brick, and there was nothing in it except for a single chair.
Cormac had led us off the dance floor, gripping me by the wrist so tightly it would've snapped if my bones hadn't been supernaturally strong from my Valkyrie blood. Asher followed at his heels, demanding to know what this was all about, but Cormac said nothing as he led us through the dark winding halls until finally shoving us into this back room.
"What do you want?" Asher demanded again, his fists balled up at his sides.
Based on everything I knew of Asher--his Valkyrie mother, his muscular physique, his possible experience as a Vordr, his profession tracking down his mo
ther's killer--he was a formidable opponent in his own right. But Cormac was a huge dude, with demonic strength flowing through him, and he was used to dealing with the unruliest patrons at the Red Raven.
There would be no way that Asher could win a fight against him.
"You've been annoying our clientele," Cormac informed us, and he began circling us the way sharks circle their prey.
"How so?" Asher asked, feigning naivete.
"You've been interrogating them about one of our patrons," Cormac said.
"So Bram Madichonnen is a patron?" I asked.
Cormac's self-assured smile faltered. "We don't discuss private business here. We like to keep to ourselves. And you'd know that if you were from around here."
"We're just looking for an old family friend," Asher said, trying futilely to maintain our innocence.
Cormac ignored Asher and closed in on me. His red eyes bulged out from his skull, and his lips were pulled back into a snarl, revealing multitudes of pointed teeth. The scent of raw meat radiated from his breath, and I had to swallow back my urge to vomit.
"At first I thought you two were just curious humans, but you're not. You're something else." Cormac tilted his head. "What are you?"
"Look, we don't want trouble. We only want to find a friend." Asher was at my side, but he moved, trying to wedge himself between me and Cormac.
Annoyed, Cormac glared at Asher, and without warning, he struck. He punched Asher, knocking him to the floor, and then I lunged at the Pishacha. I hit him in the face, and a stunned Cormac stumbled back, his fingers at the blood forming on his lip.
He growled, then charged at me. I dodged his punch, and kicked him in the stomach. This time he fell back, and I kicked him in the side again, just to make sure he was really down. Then I walked over and stomped my boot on his neck, pinning him there. My stiletto heel dug into the tender flesh of his throat, and he gulped as he looked up at me.
"Shit. You're a damn Valkyrie," he realized.
"I am," I admitted. "And now you know that I can kill you if you piss me off. Why don't you tell me where Bram Madichonnen is?"
Cormac laughed. "You're not allowed to kill me."
"Try me," I said, pressing my boot harder against his throat.
"Okay, okay," he croaked, and I let up a bit so he could talk more easily. "It's not like I have his home address."