Blood for Blood (A Keira Blackwater Novel, #2) Read online

  “Okay, but if you guys need anything, just call. I’ll have my cell on me the whole time just in case.”

  I smiled. “You got it.” I dropped my hands from his shoulders, looped my arm through his, then leaned in conspiratorially. “So...tell me all the juicy bits. What’s she like? Is she nice?” I gave him my best serious face. “She better be nice or I’ll kick her ass.”

  Sam laughed and we walked arm-in-arm out the door as he filled me in on his hot date.

  Chapter 2

  Nite Vale was a little more upscale than the Blu Moon with its red Dupioni silk curtains, black velvet covered lounge chairs, and solid walnut dance floor, but I couldn’t really say that I liked it better. I didn’t know if it was because I’d come to love the Blu Moon and its simple decor, or because Nite Vale made me feel out of place. Either way, the excitement I normally felt when Sally and I went dancing just wasn’t quite there.

  We’d made our way to the bar after being ushered in by an unfriendly bouncer at the door, and now waited for our drinks. I turned to Sally.

  “Well, what do you think?” I asked. I understood why she wasn’t ready to go back to the Blu Moon yet, but I much preferred its ambiance and clientele. From what I’d seen so far, Nite Vale’s customers looked like Hollywood’s elite had been let loose and allowed to party. Not really my kind of vibe.

  Sally looked around for a moment before responding. “It’s no Blu Moon,” she admitted. “If you want, we can leave and go there. I know you came here just for me.” She looked away quickly, but not before I noticed a shimmer in her eyes as though she might cry, and I suddenly felt like the world’s worst friend.

  I placed my hand on her back, and murmured, “I’m sorry, Sally. We can stay here as long as you like. And we won’t go back to the Blu Moon until you’re ready.”

  She offered me a weak smile. “We’ll go next time, I promise. But I would like to stay here tonight. If I don’t start getting out of that apartment for more than just going to work, I’m going to turn into an old woman who never leaves home. It’s too depressing.”

  “You got it.” I could tolerate the place for one night.

  The bartender plopped our drinks on the bar, snatched my twenty off the top, and disappeared down the line. Definitely not the Blu Moon. Matt was way nicer.

  Sally looked at me and managed to grin. We both grabbed our drinks and tossed them back. She finished first and smacked the empty glass on the counter before I could. I finished mine a couple seconds later and said, “You win.”

  Sally smiled, one of the first real ones I’d seen in days. “You were close, though. You’re getting better.”

  I laughed. “I’m not really sure that’s a good thing.” I looked toward the dance floor, then faced Sally again. “You ready?”

  She nodded so we headed for the crowded floor.

  She and I had decided to stick close and dance together as a way to help discourage anyone from bumping her injured arm. She’d refused to wear the sling to the club, but she kept it tucked in close, and I danced with my body angled more on that side to help protect it. It didn’t exactly look sexy, but we made it work, and managed to have a little fun, too.

  ∞∞∞

  About an hour and a half and two phone numbers later (Sally was the recipient of those), we were beat. Sweat covered both our bodies, giving us a sheen in the overhead lights. We dove into a booth before anyone else could take it, and just breathed for several minutes. I was a decent dancer, and in good shape, but I’d barely been able to keep up with Sally. She’d danced harder than I’d ever seen her dance before, as though she was trying to escape from something.

  Maybe she was trying to dance away the nightmares of Tom’s death.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  She gently moved her injured arm back and forth as though it hurt. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s just stiff. I can’t wait for it to completely heal, and be back the way it was.”

  Neither one of us said what ran through the back of our minds. We both knew there was a chance it would never completely heal, but Sally refused to dwell on that, or even speak it. As far as she was concerned, it just needed time.

  A young man from the dance floor approached our booth. He was cute more than handsome with sandy blond hair and baby blue eyes that reminded me of a puppy. He seemed unsure of himself as he repeatedly smoothed his black T-shirt. His voice hitched a time or two as he said to Sally, “May I have the next dance?”

  She smiled up at him, then looked at me as if asking what she should do. We both knew he wasn’t her type, and she wasn’t ready.

  What do you think? I asked Rya. Her strong senses would pick up more than I could.

  As far as I can tell, he’s human, she said. And he reeks of sweat, and nervousness. Young pup has probably never asked a girl to dance before. She snuffled as though amused.

  That was endorsement enough for me. “My friend would love to,” I answered for her. She needed to start somewhere, and he seemed like a good, harmless candidate. “But watch her left shoulder. Protect it or there’s nowhere you can hide, little boy,” I threatened.

  His mouth rounded into an O and his cheeks turned red. “Yes, m...ma’am.” The ma’am proved just how young and immature he was, so I didn’t feel bad about Sally dancing with him. By all appearances, he was as dangerous as a fruit fly.

  Sally kneed me in the shin and her eyes rounded, but her manners kept her from saying anything while he stood close enough to hear.

  I tilted my head toward him just enough for her to see, then said, “You guys have fun. I’m going to the ladies’ room, but then I’ll be back to watch the show.”

  He extended his hand to Sally, making sure he offered it to her right hand, and Sally reluctantly took it. If the look she gave me as she stood and followed him to the dance floor was any indication, I’d hear about it later. Oh, well... She needed to have some fun, and start picking up the pieces Tom’s death had left behind.

  With Sally taken care of, I went in search of the ladies’ room. Humans and a few supernaturals littered the walls around the perimeter of the club, the supernaturals’ identifying charms glittering in the lights: wolf paws, infinity symbols, witches’ knots. The government had made those identifiers a stipulation when they announced their existence to the world, though not everyone wore them.

  I managed to elbow and excuse my way past the crowd to the hallway that led to the restrooms. Corridor might be a better word for it, considering it kept going past the restrooms, and wrapped around to the left to parts unknown. The restroom was empty, thank goodness, so I made quick use of it, but as I stepped back out into the hallway, Rya shifted on my right side and came to the forefront of my mind, bringing me to a halt.

  What’s wrong?

  People milled about on the club side of the hallway, but I didn’t see anyone or anything that looked threatening or made me think something was wrong.

  Do you smell that? she asked.

  I inhaled through my nose, trying to open my senses to whatever she had picked up on, but didn’t smell anything other than normal club smells: sweat, beer, a slight whiff of urine. I shook my head. No. What is it?

  She pulled herself even further to the forefront of my mind, which helped increase her senses, just shy of combining them with mine—she’d done that once and the sensory overload had been too much for me—and took another sniff. Blood. Lots of it.

  Blood? I looked both ways, but didn’t see anything that looked remotely like blood. The flooring was made of Travertine tile, so it couldn’t just be that she was picking up on old blood soaked into the carpet. Where?

  I need to be me so I can follow the smell. The familiar feeling of her magic suddenly surrounded me, and my right side where her tattoo had been for twenty-two years bunched and pulled as she released herself. A beautiful, tawny brown puma now stood beside me, head almost even with my midriff.

  Rya had the ability to make herself invisible to both humans and supernaturals, which
she quickly did as a half-drunken woman with pink hair stumbled past us to the ladies’ room.

  This way, Rya said. She brushed against me to let me know where she was, since I could feel her presence but couldn’t see her, and flicked her tail back and forth against my hand until I took it. She headed off toward the bend in the hallway I’d noticed earlier as silent as a ghost, pulling me along with her.

  It only took a moment for us to round the corner. A big man with spiky black hair wearing a gray suit and a frown guarded a metal door. He saw me and squared his shoulders. My steps faltered for half a second before I regained my composure, and strode toward him. I let go of Rya’s tail.

  Thinking quick on my feet, I said, “Hi” in my friendliest voice. “Is this another section of the club?” I tried to act like a club groupie, excited by the prospect of something new and exciting, giggling and glancing over his shoulder at the door. “How do I get in?”

  I felt like a total idiot, but it was the best I could come up with on short notice, and I wanted to know where the blood Rya smelled was coming from. Someone might be hurt, and even though it wasn’t my job to help everyone, people had helped me recently when things went south—things that I wouldn’t have survived on my own—and I felt compelled to return that favor, even if it was to a total stranger.

  He looked me over with trained detachment, then said in a rough voice, “You need a pass.” He went back to staring straight ahead, effectively dismissing me, since I obviously didn’t have this pass he referred to. I racked my brain for something smart to say that would get me through the door, but I came up with a big ole fat goose egg.

  I turned to leave, not necessarily defeated per se, but knowing I had to come up with a plan, when a classy redhead rounded the corner in a skintight black dress, lips painted crimson, and strode past me. She looked like money. I recognized her shoes from a Neiman Marcus catalog I once browsed through, and if her dress wasn’t from some expensive designer I’d eat my shirt. I watched as she approached the guard and handed him something, but I couldn’t see what it was. He inspected it thoroughly before giving it back to her and letting her in.

  I’m going in. I’ll find a way out; don’t wait for me, Rya said. Then, before I had a chance to ask what she had planned, I felt her brush past me as she darted through the door when it opened. My stomach dropped to my knees and stayed there.

  I stared at the man blocking the door for several seconds, wondering if I could somehow get past him, but decided against it when he frowned and fingered the billy club strapped to his hip. I knew Rya could take care of herself, plus she was currently invisible, but that didn’t keep me from worrying as I turned and headed back toward the club to wait for her.

  ∞∞∞

  Twenty minutes and two drinks at the bar passed before she brushed against my leg and said, I’m here. I barely managed not to scream and jump out of my skin. The guy beside me looked over and scowled when my knee hit the bar hard enough to make his drink wobble.

  I smiled and mouthed “Sorry.” He grumbled something that probably wasn’t complimentary before going back to his drinking and generally ignoring me. I turned away from him.

  Crap, Rya, you scared the hell out of me. Are you okay? With the club noise and the alcohol coursing through my veins, I hadn’t felt her approach.

  I’m fine, she said, her voice strained, but we need to leave.

  Suddenly on alert, I looked around, trying to find the threat that had her smelling blood and anxious to leave. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but I trusted Rya with my life, so I eased to my feet anyway.

  What is it? I asked as I made my way through the crowd in search of Sally. The young man that asked her to dance turned out to be a real gentleman and a pretty good dancer, both of which Sally needed, so I’d left her on the dance floor with him while I waited for Rya.

  I’ll tell you once we’re outside. She didn’t offer any further explanation, and I didn’t waste time asking for any. I spotted Sally and what’s-his-name halfway across the floor, and made a beeline straight for them.

  My heart lifted a little when she laughed at something the young man said, a sound I’d missed recently, but Rya’s words rang in my ears, pushing me to cut into their conversation. “Rya says we need to leave,” I whispered in her ear.

  Her smile faded, replaced by worry lines, but she too didn’t question Rya. She thanked the young man for dancing, accepted his phone number scribbled on a napkin he’d obviously been trying to decide when to give to her, and we pushed our way to the front of the club.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  “I don’t know exactly. Rya smelled blood when I came out of the ladies’ room, and went to investigate. When she came back, she said we needed to leave. That’s all I know.”

  We reached the front door, stepped through with a small cluster of ladies who’d had a little too much to drink, and headed for the car.

  Rya dropped her magic cloak and dove into the back seat as I held the door open. I glanced around to make sure no one saw her, but it was early by club standards, so we were alone in our corner of the parking lot. As soon as the door shut I spun in my seat and looked at Rya. “Okay, spill,” I said aloud so Sally could hear.

  Fighting, she said. The club has a fighting arena under it. That’s where the blood I smelled came from, and why you need a pass to get in. It’s very high class—and high dollar. Only members get in.

  “What’s she saying?” Sally had leaned closer to me as I listened to Rya, almost as though she thought getting closer would allow her to hear the conversation.

  I glanced at her. “There’s a fighting arena under the club. That’s where the blood smell came from.”

  I turned back to Rya, about to ask her why that caused us to leave, but Sally beat me to the question. “Okay, that sounds reasonable. If there’s fighting, there’s got to be blood occasionally from a cut or busted lip. Why is that cause for us to leave the club?” We both stared at Rya expectantly.

  Because it isn’t just fighting, she said. It’s supernatural fighting. Some of the fighters are in chains, and they’re being forced to fight to the death. Werewolves, vampires, witches...I even saw a troll chained in one of the cells awaiting his turn.

  I sucked in a startled breath. A supernatural fight club? Who would do such a thing? And why—what had these guys done to end up here? Sally elbowed me in the arm when I didn’t tell her what Rya said right away. I relayed the information to her, and she sucked in her breath just as I had.

  There’s more, Rya added. I shushed Sally when she started to ask questions. I recognized one of the fighters. He was in half-were form, so it was hard to tell at first, but when I got closer to the arena, I recognized his scent.

  A cold shiver ran down my spine, and goose bumps suddenly covered my arms. Who was it? I asked.

  Rya looked at me with sadness in her eyes.

  George.

  Chapter 3

  My heart stopped beating for several seconds, then it pounded so painfully in my chest I worried it might burst a blood vessel. George was a bouncer at the Blu Moon, and a member of the local werewolf pack. The same pack who now wanted revenge on me for what happened to their pack-mates back when this all started and Leo and I killed several of them in self-defense.

  He’d spoken to me when I asked him for information, even though the new Alpha had given orders to kill me on sight, because he’d always liked me and Sally, and because we’d had a kind of friendship starting. We thought he’d left town and joined another pack to escape punishment, but obviously not if Rya saw him here fighting.

  I broke out into a cold sweat. Are you sure? I asked her.

  Yes. I know his smell from all the times at the Blu Moon. It was definitely him.

  “I’m going to smack you if you don’t tell me what she said.” Sally looked like she was ready to do just that when I glanced over at her. To be honest, I’d forgotten she was there.

  “Rya says she reco
gnized George as one of the wolves being forced to fight to the death.”

  She jerked back and her eyes rounded.

  “What? Is she certain?”

  I nodded.

  “What are we going to do?”

  Her words echoed my own thoughts; I just hadn’t gotten that far yet.

  “I don’t know,” I said as I turned around in the seat and buckled up. “But we’ll think of something. We have to.” Because if my hunch was right, George was here as a result of him helping me against the pack’s orders. I couldn’t allow him to remain chained in that place, forced to fight to the death over and over again until one day he didn’t come out of the arena. Not if there was anything I could do about it.

  I looked at Sally. “Take me home. I have a rescue to plan.”

  ∞∞∞

  Two hours later, we sat at my kitchen table—laptop, orange soda, two notebooks and pens scattered before us. We were no closer to devising a plan to rescue George than we had been when we left the club. I sat back in the chair, and blew out a breath of frustration.

  The brand of soda I’d grabbed was a little too sweet for my tastes, but I sipped it anyway, hoping the cool liquid would soothe my nerves and bring some clarity to my muddled brain. It was late, and I was tired, but there was no way I could go to sleep. Not yet.

  On the drive home, Rya had explained why she insisted on telling me about George in the car instead of in the club. She said she was afraid if she told me as soon as she saw me at the bar, I would’ve stormed off half-cocked and tried to rescue him right then and there, consequences be damned. I hated to admit it, but she had a point. If I’d known I was that close to him, I just might have. But we didn’t have a pass, and even if we did, we couldn’t just go barging in and demand they release him. We needed a plan.

  Sally yawned. “I know you want to figure this out right now, but I’m beat, and I have to work an earlier shift tomorrow.” She stood to leave and gave me a hug. “George has survived this long, I’m sure he’ll be okay another day or two,” she said, trying to reassure me.