The Shadow Project Page 13

  Lawrence pulled out his cell phone, then held it to his ear.

  My curiosity got the better of me. "Who are you calling?"

  "Someone who may know of a club with fangs." He gave me a sly grin. "I have famous friends."

  "No, wait, I don't believe you. You're not that much fun. Why would famous people like you?"

  He arched an eyebrow at me. Right, I should be nicer considering he stood on the cusp of doing me a favor.

  "I mean, how did you meet them?"

  He rolled his shoulders back. Could I be annoying him as much as he did me?

  "I went to school with the Steel brothers."

  "Which… Oh, the billionaire and—what does the other one do?"

  "He's a news anchor. And he has a favorite club."

  "Interesting." That could dull the monotony. And he was friends with a journalist. That added a new layer to my suspicion—had he been selling information?

  "That sounds fine. What time do we go?"

  He punched a couple of things on his screen. "Hey, Ted, it's Lawrence. So, I have a wager for you…" He walked into his room and closed the door. I thought about listening, but I didn't want to expend any unnecessary energy. Finally, he came back through, but only briefly.

  "I'll meet you here in an hour. Try not to get in trouble before then."

  "I'll do my best." But I wasn't making any promises. At the very least, I needed to come up with a strategy to turn up the charm and extract the information I needed from him.

  16

  When Lawrence picked me up, I made sure he had plenty to distract him from any probing questions I might ask. I wore an ice blue minidress with a faux fur wrap and my favorite blue diamond earrings, which had been given to me by an ice witch. They matched the necklace that her sister and rival had given me. I never told the other sister they'd managed to give me their mother's bridal jewelry. Instead, I hoarded the jewels and the drama for my own enjoyment…and other purposes. The earrings would draw attention to my eyes and the necklace to my décolletage, which honestly didn't need much help, at least from what I could tell.

  But when I saw Lawrence, I almost forgot my distract-and-extract campaign.

  He'd dressed in an electric blue shirt and a tailored set of pants that must have been cut and sewn to highlight his narrow hips and round ass. I knew men didn't want to describe their butts as perky, but I struggled to find a better word when he turned away from me to summon the elevator. He'd allowed his hair to dry in waves rather than the tight gelled helmet he typically wore it in, and his stubble had grown in. An elemental effect? Sometimes the men could change their beard style like women did with their hair. And his eyes, rather than being black chips, looked dark gray, and they widened when he saw me.

  "Are you ready?" he asked.

  "Definitely."

  He peered around me into the room. "What about the cat?"

  I patted my purse, which looked like a clutch, but which had the magical property of being able to hold whatever I put in it. "In here. He crawled right in. It'll be fine."

  I'd been surprised, but Sir Raleigh had hopped right in when I'd told him that was the only way he'd be able to come with me. Not that I could have stopped him. I hoped inviting him along would encourage him to behave. I didn't dare wear him on my shoulder, as usual, but after that afternoon, I didn't want to be without him, either. At least one of us could sense the soul-eater. As it grew stronger, it would be able to mimic other creatures' energy, making it difficult to detect.

  To my surprise, Lawrence didn't argue. Huh. Perhaps he knew about magical Fae purses? My curiosity about him grew. And, grudgingly, my respect. He seemed capable of playing the same level of game I did.

  "I've asked the valet to bring the car around," he said. "It should be downstairs at any moment. Shall we?"

  "Sure." I walked past him and felt his gaze linger over the curve of my waist and my own unapologetically perky ass. Or maybe I wished for him to check me out. By the time we reached the elevators, a slight flush had come to his cheeks and lips, and I smiled. Bingo.

  Another surprise waited for me when we walked out to the car. Rather than his sensible black vehicle, a sleek dark gray convertible sat sparkling under the lights. I didn't know many car names or kinds, but I recognized its low-slung body and curves as belonging to the expensive category. And, I'm not going to be ashamed to say, it was sexy as hell. But I wasn't going to let on I thought so.

  "Oh." I pouted. "I thought you said it was red."

  "No reason to give the cops too many excuses to pull me over," he told me and opened the door on the passenger side. I got in, but carefully, both to make sure my dress hiked up just the right amount and to give him ample opportunity to check out my long legs, which I knew looked particularly good in the silver pumps. I watched him from under my lashes and couldn't complain about where his gaze lingered.

  The hook was set. I hoped. He hadn't pulled his phone out to make notes about me, although I didn't know what he'd say—Fae princess looks like sexy Elsa.

  He got in and asked, "Do you want me to close the top? It's chilly this evening."

  "No, it won't bother me."

  In spite of the pollution that always fouled the air around cities, I found the atmosphere to be bracing. I imagined squaring off against him, preparing for a battle of wits with the prize being information. I only wished I knew what to ask without giving away that I'd snooped. Vague words in notes didn't help much, but he must be involved.

  He drove us through a wooded area, which became residential, and soon we turned on to a large road that took us into town. The buildings grew just as the trees must have beforehand, and the whispers of the large oak, hickory, and pines turned into the whimpers of small decorative trees and the sullen silence of glass, steel, and concrete. I avoided cities as a rule. They felt loud both in the noises of their engines and machinery and in the absence of the familiar murmurs of nature, no matter how many trees they had. And to give it credit, Atlanta had its share of trees, which did greet me, although not with the full chorus of forests.

  "Where are we going?" There, start with an easy one.

  "To an eighties club. Ted and I like to hang out there and remember our misspent youth." He smiled, and I barely caught the words, "Well, his at least."

  Again, I wondered how old Lawrence Gordon was. With elementals, unless they were very old or very young, it was impossible to tell. Could he and I have more in common than I thought? I'd lived for several centuries both before and after my exile, and yet I looked like a young human woman, probably in her thirties, although my white hair made me look older to some.

  "Which eighties?" I asked. "Eighteen-eighties? I imagine the music may be a bit bombastic. Seventeen-eighties? I do love me some Beethoven. Or sixteen-eighties? Baby Bach?"

  He laughed. "Right. Did you know all those composers?"

  "Not all of them. Chopin was surprisingly shy, in spite of his reputation." And I think he might have been dead by then. I could never keep my composer dates straight. "What about you? What's been your favorite period in history?"

  He shrugged. "Each has its own merits. I try not to get stuck in the past."

  Ouch. I was not stuck in the past. I appreciated it. I learned from it. I knew from my experiences that I shouldn't do certain things, like trust gargoyles.

  "Sometimes the past can be useful," I said, attempting to lighten the heaviness our conversation had taken on. "Besides, I like the perspective it gives me. Kingdoms come and go, but certain things like music live on. It gives me hope for humanity and the world." Where in Hades had that come from?

  Lawrence laughed, and the sound made me want to join in. Could Doctor Uptightpants be loosening up?

  "So, you're an optimist? I figured all Fae were pragmatists."

  "I'm most definitely an optimist." Well, maybe opportunist would be a better term, but I wouldn't admit to it. "By the way, how did you become such an expert on us?" I again tried to keep my tone teasing, but ei
ther he didn't want to answer, or my timing sucked because he turned into a Valet line. Two young men rushed up to the car once it stopped. One of them opened my door and didn't try to hide the fact he checked out my legs. The other one opened the door for Lawrence and took the keys.

  "Please be careful with it," Lawrence admonished, all business again. I attempted not to roll my eyes.

  "Of course, Sir. It will be my pleasure."

  He held out his arm, and I took it. "Ready?" he asked.

  For what, I didn't know, but I nodded. "Ready."

  Lawrence guided me with a hand on the small of my back through a hallway and into a spacious club. Mirrored light fixtures hung from the ceiling, and the walls were painted an iridescent blue. The black lights made the off-white and black furniture glow in dizzying patterns. I felt not so much that I entered a space as that it absorbed me and transformed me into another element.

  As for Lawrence almost touching me, his hand radiated warmth, an anchor in the cold environment. Cool lights. Cool colors. Cool backlit bar with a bartender dressed all in white with white-framed mirrored sunglasses. The color—or lack thereof—of his attire seemed a strange choice—what if he spilled something? But his deft movements showed me a mess would be highly unlikely. It's possible he got paid more than some day job professionals.

  "Would you like a drink?" Lawrence asked.

  I nodded. "Wh— Red wine, please. Whatever hasn't been open for too long."

  "You drink red wine?" His raised eyebrows gave him a comically surprised expression.

  "Sometimes." When I needed to drink something I didn't like too much so enjoyment of the beverage wouldn't distract me. Something about the place felt off. Subtle magic ebbed and flowed with the music. A powerful wizard had been here, and, I suspected, hung around somewhere. I shouldn't care, but I disliked not knowing who I was dealing with.

  Or what I was dealing with. When I turned my head to watch Lawrence walk to the bar, I caught a whiff of something dead. Or undead, as the case may be. The sun had just set, so it would be time for the dark creatures to come out and play. Surely "allying with the fangs" wouldn't be so easy.

  "Is everything all right, Miss?" A tall man had materialized to my right. He was dressed the same as the bartender, except his glasses had clear lenses. His all-white suit hugged his frame tightly. Where did the supernaturals in this town get their clothing tailored? Probably by someone with their own preternatural talent.

  "Everything is fine, thanks." I waved my hand. "This place is…unusual. Or is it?"

  The man barely moved his lips when he spoke, but I understood every word.

  "We attend to every detail. It confuses the humans and inferior beings such that they don't notice there is royalty among them." He inclined his head toward me.

  "Royalty?" I asked and looked around.

  "You don't have to pretend here, Princess," he said. "My boss is honored for your presence and would like to request a word with you and your date. He said he will meet you in the VIP area at your earliest convenience."

  He bowed and melted away, or at least seemed to before I could correct him about Lawrence being my date.

  My gargoyle non-date returned with my glass of wine and an amber-colored cocktail for himself. An old-fashioned? That would be funny.

  "Got a text from Ted," he said. "He's running late. Are you all right hanging out for a bit?"

  I accepted the wine and took a sip. Nothing like the vintages we drank in Faerie, but it would do, and the bitterness of the tannins would keep me grounded.

  "That's fine," I said. "We've been invited to the VIP area. Maybe we can see what's there."

  Lawrence's eyebrows again slid up his forehead, two dark curves of surprise. "How? No one gets into VIP here—not even Ted, and his brother is a partner."

  "Ted's brother has interesting taste in friends. Shall we go?"

  "May as well." But he didn't smile.

  He pulled me to my feet and placed a hand on my elbow. Unnecessarily, I might add. I didn't have any trouble keeping my balance in my heels. We walked toward a blue velvet curtain, which parted just wide enough for us to walk through. Back there, the thump-thump-thump of the club muted into a heartbeat rather than an ear assault, and candles in sconces lit the way up a black marble staircase. I didn't see who had lifted the curtain, probably a machine or something. Humans did like their effects.

  I preceded Lawrence up the stairs, which were steep enough that his face was at eye-level to my ass most of the way. Another likely intentional touch for rich men to have the opportunity to ogle their dates. By the time we reached the top, neither of us were out of breath, but I had developed a dislike for whoever we were to meet. I imagined him to be large, thick, and intimidating-looking with rings on his graceless hands.

  Instead, a woman awaited us in a space lined with black and red velvet couches and maroon damask wallpaper. The entire room had a Victorian vampire vibe, but she did not. She wore a blue and white striped dress that clung in all the right spots between the floor-skimming hem and the halter neckline. Her hair, the same color as mine, hung straight, and her large blue eyes were so light as to be almost white. She smiled with red lips.

  "Ah, Princess Reine," she said. "I thought it might be you. Who's your handsome friend?"

  "I'm sorry," I said and tilted my head. "Do I know you?"

  She laughed. "I'm sorry," she said in a tone that almost mocked me. "Of course you don't. I'm Ashlee Wyatt, the club's owner. Well, one of them."

  Her energy stayed fairly contained, which made her difficult to categorize, but she had that same close-lipped smile as the man downstairs.

  "I didn't think vampires existed outside of the Collective Unconscious," Lawrence said, almost making me jump. I'd all but forgotten he was there as I attempted to piece together what vampires were doing in Atlanta and if we were in any danger. I would have kept my sunlight power at hand if I knew I could access it. The thought popped into my brain that perhaps allying with fangs could put us in more danger.

  Sir Raleigh appeared on my shoulder, and I had to catch him so he wouldn't slip off and take my wrap with him.

  "Bad timing, Little One," I told him, although he looked so cute in my wrap I couldn't be mad he'd potentially ruined my intimidation factor.

  "Is that…a cat?" Ashlee asked. She drew back, her left upper lip curled in disgust, which revealed one of her fangs.

  "Of a sort," I said. I got Sir Raleigh situated on my shoulder. Thankfully the wrap's thickness protected my skin from his needle claws. He vibrated, although not with an audible sound, so I couldn't tell if he purred or growled. Or both.

  "Animals are not allowed in my club," she said sharply, then took a breath. "I mean, for anyone except for you, Princess."

  "Thank you," I said and scratched Sir Raleigh under the chin. "You wouldn't be able to keep him out if you tried."

  "No, I see how he's not an ordinary cat. Nor are you an ordinary Fae." She crossed her arms, then uncrossed them and folded her hands in front of her. "May I ask why you're here in my territory, I mean, club?"

  That hadn't been a slip. I almost scoffed at the thought that she would be threatened by me. Not because I couldn't take her down, but because I had no interest in vampire politics. In fact, by revealing herself and her colleague, she'd put herself in more danger. The TS, as Corey called them, didn't like nightmare creatures to establish themselves in the waking world.

  "I'm here for drinks with friends," I said and raised my glass. "Good choice, by the way. Cheap and drinkable. That's a tough combination to achieve well."

  She inclined her head at my left-handed compliment.

  "Thank you, Princess. Can I count on your discretion? You will find you can count on mine as well. There are many who would be interested in knowing you're on this side of the Atlantic."

  "I promise I won't tell."

  "Gargoyle?" she asked.

  "I won't say anything," he promised. "In fact, if I could ask you a few—"


  I elbowed him. Seriously, had he really been asking if he could study her? I couldn't take him anywhere.

  "Right," he said with a cough.

  "By the way," I said, "do you know of any dark Fae creatures that have come through here lately?"

  Fear flickered across her face so quickly that anyone with normal human vision would have missed the slight widening of her eyes, twitch of her eyebrows, and tensing of her lips.

  "Why, are you missing some?"

  Her question threw me off. "Why would I be missing any? I'm not a dark Fae."

  "Oh, right," she said. "You don't—I mean, you're absolutely right. And no, I don't know of any."

  What in the world did she think she knew about me that I didn't?

  "Are you sure?" I asked.

  "Oh, absolutely." She smiled, showing her fangs, and I knew she lied through all her teeth, pointy or not.

  "Please let me know if you do find out about any."

  "How do I reach you?" she asked.

  That was a good question. I didn't want to give her my phone number. Lawrence gave her his, and I appreciated his cooperation in playing secretary. I assumed I could trust him with at least that.

  I wished I had thought to ask more follow-up questions to Troubadour's advice. I didn't want to give away our mission, but I couldn't figure out how she could help us. Then Sir Raleigh disappeared from my shoulder and reappeared by one of the couches, which he promptly disappeared under.

  "Dammit," I said. "Raleigh, get back here."

  As undignified as it was, I went to the couch, knelt beside it, and shone a light underneath it. Raleigh had disappeared, but a cream-colored rectangle caught my attention way in the back. I reached for it and pulled out a business card.

  "What is it?" Lawrence asked.

  "A business card, from one of your patrons, I presume, Miss Wyatt?"