Читать книгу An American Witch In Paris - Michele Hauf - Страница 12
ОглавлениеAt the plain black metal doors to the club l’Enfer, they stopped before the bouncer with red eyes. A sign over his high left shoulder stated, in Latin, what basically translated as “no funny stuff” and “you take your own chances entering.” Tuesday boldly met the bouncer’s gaze and focused her intent toward him. The demon looked down, chastised by her audacity. Served him right. He was young and needed to learn to show respect for his elders.
Blowing him a kiss laced with pizza sauce and some kind of cheese that had not been mozzarella—the French really liked their weird cheeses—she then glided down the dark hallway. The music thudded in her heart and veins. Not worrying whether Ethan gained access, she picked up the beat and danced as she walked.
She sensed the brooding vampire was behind her, and felt his hand go to her hip, as if to guide her through the darkness, but he quickly removed it. Tuesday smiled. Had he forgotten himself for a moment? Thought of her as an actual desirable female he might get close to? She could work with that.
Much as she had developed a liking for clubbing over the last several decades, Tuesday preferred less crowded venues, and with more upbeat tunes. L’Enfer had not invested any expense in color. Everything was black, with hematite and silver metallic bits and trim here and there. The lighting was red, and flashed across the inhabitants and dancers, who also wore mostly black.
Tuesday was dressed for the part, right down to her matte black nail polish and eye shadow. Yet she felt naked without some lip gloss; a deep violet would be perfect for this Gothic milieu. As it was, she felt virtually exposed without any magical accoutrements to hand, and bound to a freaking vampire. Yet she wasn’t powerless. Her simple mastery over the bouncer had proven that. And she did have the alicorn stuck in her waistband. She felt it tremble. This was not a place for such a thing. The demon hadn’t wanted to possess innocence? Interesting.
She wouldn’t test the alicorn’s power here. The place was owned by the Devil Himself, and the sign on the door had clearly stated no funny stuff. The bouncer should have frisked her for weapons. Idiot.
On the other hand, a place like this probably thrived on the illicit use of weapons and how much damage could be done before a person was kicked out. If that would even happen. Again, the sign mentioned taking one’s own chances.
“You see him?” Ethan shouted next to her ear.
Tuesday leaned away from him. “I can hear well enough over the noise, vampire. And I just got here. Let me look around, will you? You want to dance?”
“I’m not a dancer. And I’m on a job.”
“Right, all work and no play. Should I call you Jack?”
“Just keep your mind on business.”
“Can I at least have a drink? We should try to blend in. Look like we’re here to party and not jack up some asshole demon, yeah?”
Ethan sighed then reluctantly nodded. “What do you want?”
“Anything that doesn’t contain a live entity. I suspect that’s on the menu here. And I prefer vodka.”
“Live entities,” he muttered. With a frown, he headed toward the long, black quartz bar that was edged with a cut-in of red crystals that seemed to glow like LEDs.
Tuesday allowed her body to inhale the beat. Despite the fact this club was owned by the rather dour Dark Prince, the music wasn’t too terribly dirge-like. The Goth singer with a string of spikes embedded down the sides of each bare arm sang about his friends being heathens and suggested she should take it slow. All righty, then.
Tuesday swayed to the beat as a crimson-haired faery with violet eyes matched her with a smile and a shimmy. If she was going to be forced to work for some rogue organization to capture a pompous, yet also vicious demon she had no wish to ever see again, at the very least, she could enjoy herself. Lifting her arms, she spun onto the dance floor.
Below her, the Plexiglas floor flashed red and black and then segued into flames. It was a realistic effect, and she almost fancied to feel the heat. A brush of fur tickled her right hand, and with a spin she eyed the tattooed back of a thin person who moved a little too jerkily not to be demon.
A guitar solo screamed and coaxed the crowd to pump their fists and jump in a pounding stomp of fraternity to whatever dark gods were the current rage. Tuesday preferred Loki. The one portrayed in the movies by the handsome dark-haired actor, most specifically. As she spun, arms swaying above her head and hips shifting, she spied Ethan standing at the edge of the dance floor, holding a red glowing drink. His grim look spoke much louder than the music.
“Spoilsport.” She wandered over and took the drink, then tilted back a healthy swallow. Instead of the expected burn, she felt a distinct icy grab at the back of her throat, which then melted into a blaze of heat down her esophagus. And it tasted of cinnamon and chocolate. “Whew! That is some good stuff.”
“I thought it would be the drink for you. It’s called The Devil’s Bitch.”
“Oh, Ethan, you can hate me all you need to.” She fluttered her lashes at him. “I’m not going to crack under all that loathing. You know your emotions only reflect back onto you? Also makes it easy for a witch to use against you. That is, if the witch could drop some magic on your vampire ass. Ditch the frowny face and let’s agree to disagree, and then get on with things, shall we?”
“So you’ve decided to stop pouting and work with me?”
Yeah, she was being as much of a problem child as he was. And if she didn’t get to work now, she’d never be free of the man and his brooding grey eyes. And could his teeth be any whiter? She wanted to see his fangs. To touch them and feel them pierce her neck...but no. She would not bone up this task by falling all puppy-eyed over the vamp. She was better than that. Because she had no choice.
“We’re partners.” She held out a hand and he shook it, holding it for a few seconds longer than was proper. She could feel his heartbeats in that hold, and they were sure and confident. Powerful. And, yes, controlling. The man would not relent. “Good then. I’ll take a look around. You probably wouldn’t recognize the demon if he was choking you, so you just...”
His eyes took in their surroundings. He put off a very militant, I’m-ready vibe. “I’ll stay close to you.”
“Sure, keep close. I’ll protect the big bad vampire from a suggestive side glance or a dance-off. Ha!”
She strolled off into the clove-scented shadows that edged the dance floor, knowing the man would follow. It wasn’t as if she could get any farther away from him than fifty yards. Nothing like having a puppy dog on her tail. Of course, she liked puppies. Had once owned one, until the local troll had stolen it and—She tried never to imagine what had become of her sweet Nugget after that. Long time ago. Always avoid trolls, had been the lesson.
Noting every face she passed, Tuesday pulled on her Sherlock cloak. It was easy to tell the demons, as their eyes were generally red, although some demon-possessed humans’ eyes gave off a dull blue glow. Most natural demons who did not require a human meat suit could disguise their irises, but when out at the club they apparently let their freak flags fly. Red irises everywhere!
Thinking of freaks...
She strolled toward a tall sliver of a demon who looked like a walking skeleton, yet he wore thin, clear muscle over those bones. A wraith? They were usually dangerous and she was surprised one would put himself in a social situation. But when the creature turned to cast her a violet gaze she realized it was faery. And faeries could be even more vicious than demons.
Propping her palm over the alicorn at her waist, Tuesday detoured from her approach, wisely dismissing the oddity. With a flick of her fingers she could reduce them all to gibbering sycophants. But she would not because she didn’t want to call attention to herself.
Finishing off the drink, which still cooled then burned, she set the empty goblet on a table and eyed the flashing red-and-silver staircase leading up to the balcony. She skipped up the steps, edging past a couple who made out carefully, for the woman’s spiked bra looked quite deadly. Blood tinted the air. Hmm... Perhaps the bra served the exact purpose its wearer desired.
Tuesday glanced back to see Ethan following and noticed his expression when he neared the couple. He winced and shook his head. The man was discerning. Points for him.
Stepping up into the dark and smoky balcony, Tuesday was immediately surrounded by three tall men, all of them demons. The one before her flashed a silver-toothed grin, punctuated by curved fangs, and his nostrils flared and put out little wisps of black smoke. It wasn’t cigarettes or weed producing the smoke, but rather the thickness of demons here above the crowd. “A tasty witch has dared to broach our private balcony?”
“I wasn’t aware it was private.” She lifted her hand, prepared to repel the demon, when suddenly Ethan gripped her wrist and eased himself around to stand before her.
“She didn’t know, gentlemen,” he offered. “Demons only up here?”
“You got it, vampire. But if she wants to stay—” Silver Tooth let his gaze creep over Tuesday’s skin “—we want to play.”
“Oh, yeah?” Tuesday reached around Ethan with her free hand and he turned to clasp both her wrists. “Don’t restrain me before them,” she said. “I can stand up for myself.”
“Hear that, vampire? She can take care of herself. Why don’t you leave the tasty little witch to us?”
Now Tuesday did feel a shiver of caution, and the touch of someone’s fingers from behind, sliding across her ass, made her jump. Right against Ethan’s arm, which slid across her shoulder and directed her back toward the stairs.
“We’re leaving,” he said more to her than the randy demons. “But before we do...” He cocked a look over his shoulder at the silver-toothed leader. “Any of you familiar with Gazariel?”
“He means The Beautiful One,” Tuesday quickly amended. It was not cool to call demons by their names, especially around others.
“Get that witch out of here,” Silver Tooth said.
“But the demon I’m looking for—” Ethan began.
“No pretty demons in this club, vampire. And if you don’t take your pet witch and leave we’ll make sure no one ever calls her pretty, either.”
Ethan clasped Tuesday’s hand and led her down the stairs. The couple was still making out. Blood beaded in various spots on the man’s chest and neck. Ethan quickened their pace.
When they landed on the main floor, he directed her toward a wall, where a private moment could be found behind it, as it was set off from the frenzy of dancers.
“I had no idea that was a demons-only area,” she said. “But you don’t score points for rescuing me. I was fine.”
“I know that. But no funny stuff, remember? And I like to take care of my assets. Make sure they survive the length of the job.”
“I’m an asset to you? I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. I’m guessing not especially good.”
“You are valuable. What’s so bad about that?”
“My value, as determined by what I can do for you, is a very bad thing. Any man who tries to put a—” she made air quotes “—‘value’ on a woman is not a man at all.”
Feminism was her right, and she would never stop to point out the patriarchy’s misguided beliefs and lacking empathy for those who were their equals. She strode off toward the front hallway, where they had entered. “He’s not here. Let’s blow this joint.”
Once outside on the street, she walked swiftly away from the nondescript doors, but abruptly hit an invisible wall and couldn’t press onward. Curse that vampire! She cast a glance over her shoulder. Ethan stood a good distance away, unmoving, giving her a sly wave.
“Such a Richard,” she muttered. “Well? What are you waiting for?”
“I’m going this way.” He pointed over his shoulder, then turned and walked off.
And the pull of the binding dragged Tuesday along after him.
* * *
“It was a stupid thing to do anyway,” Tuesday muttered as she followed Ethan down the quiet, dark Parisian street toward wherever he was headed. She hadn’t a choice in the matter. “Going to that club? Why would The Beautiful One hang out at that depressing place? Do you even know who you’re after? That demon likes to shine. To see and be seen. He’s vain and all about pleasure and self-gratification. He thrives on attention. Adoration. Love. He’s not for darkness and murk. That’s why he pawned off his curse on me.”
Ethan cast a glance over his shoulder at her, then resumed his pace.
“What kind of sorry adventuring detective vampire are you?” she called. “Don’t you know how to do this stuff? I mean, let’s go to the least likely place the dude is going to be and feed the witch to the demons, why don’t we?”
She smirked to think about getting hit on by those nasty demons. The one with the silver teeth had to have doused himself in body spray for the young and bepimpled. Ugh. And then Ethan had felt the need to intervene. Like some kind of rescuing hero? She could have taken care of herself. But how often did a man step in to try and help her? So rarely, she couldn’t think back that far.
“I’m hungry!” she announced in frustration. “That pizza was terrible. Who sells pizza slices out of a freezer? That’s like 7-Eleven stuff. So wrong. I thought Paris was classier? Let’s get something to eat. Do you have to walk so fast? It’s not as if we’re going to find the demon now. I’d guess he’s more of a day kind of demon. All the better to allow others to admire his beaming gorgeousness. Are you even listening to me, Pierce? Bueller?”
With that, the vampire swung round, marched up to her, bracketed her face with his hands and...
...kissed her.
For no reason. And with no grace. He planted a firm, seconds-long kiss on her mouth. And for those few seconds Tuesday’s heart thundered and a tickle-thrill shimmied up the back of her neck. She didn’t mind the kiss. In fact, it proved a scintillating connection. The vibrations between them shivered haphazardly, but then quickly started to harmonize. To actually blend—as if they were meant to come together. How weird was that?
But the kiss ended as quickly as it had landed on her mouth. And she hadn’t time to determine why it had felt so right.
Ethan stepped back, hands splaying outward. With a sexy wink, he then said, “I knew that would work.”
Tuesday touched her lips, stunned that he’d taken her by surprise, but even more stunned that she wasn’t upset about the attack kiss.
“I figured a kiss would get you to shut up,” he said. Turning, he marched onward.
Really? He’d employed the kiss to make her stop talking? Of all the nerve! She was not one of his victims he could subdue with persuasion or a plunge of fang into vein. And so what if she had been talking? It wasn’t as if he’d shown an eagerness to converse with her. She was alone in a strange, foreign city, being led around by a bossy vampire who held her captive with a magical bond. Damn right she was going to chatter away nervously when the mood struck!
On the other hand, she wasn’t about to let some cocky vampire feel he had gotten the upper hand with her.
Tuesday raced up behind Ethan. “You want to use kisses as weapons?” She shoved him and he spun to face her with a questioning gape. “One thing you need to know about me—I’m always cocked and loaded.”
Grabbing his coat lapel, she pulled him in and planted a kiss on his mouth. This one was as unwarranted and desperately seeking as his had been. The man stumbled backward and his shoulders hit a brick wall, and it gave her the opportunity to move in and deepen the kiss.
His hand caught at the base of her spine under her coat, and he pressed her closer to his hard abs and hugged hip-to-hip. And Tuesday forgot that she was angry and let the lust and want rise and play out.
The man’s mouth was incredible. His lips were warm and firm, and when their tongues danced she couldn’t imagine doing such a tango with anyone else. And she had tangoed with many in her lifetime. Cinnamon mingled with his clean taste, brewing a cocktail more heady than any weird concoction served in a demonic dance club.
But she was kissing him to make a point. And she’d hate to let him think she actually wanted this kiss. She did not. Mostly. Yes, she did!
But that was not how she intended to play her hand.
Shoving away from him, Tuesday swept her hair over her shoulder and assumed a cocky stance. “I won that one, vampire.”
If a smirk could get any sexier, she didn’t know. A few fine wrinkles creased the corners of his eyes, and she even noticed glints of gray strands silvering the hair at his temples. So sexy. Urm, in a completely uninteresting way, of course.
“Sounds fine by me,” Ethan said. “You can have the win, partner.”
“Right. Partner.” She wrinkled her nose at that one. She had suggested they could be partners, hadn’t she? “About that food?”
“Just up the street, there’s a cheesy little bar that might still be open. It’s owned by a couple of expats. They serve American food.”
Intrigued beyond what she wanted to convey, Tuesday muttered, “Lead the way.”
An hour later, Tuesday was full from pulled-pork tacos with pickled jalapeños, and a fruity drink that had a lot of alcohol and even more sugar in it. She would not even require magic to fly now. And Ethan had watched her gobble the food with little more than that constant smirk and a gleam in his eyes.
They were pretty gray eyes, and added a touch of niceness to his usual dour expression. While he was a handsome man, she could tell he dared not show too much. He had been honed and hardened over the centuries. Much as she had been. And she well knew it was never wise to let life play out on her face for others to interpret and use to their advantage.
“How long have you been walking this seriously whacked planet?” she asked as she noisily sucked the last bits of the red slushy drink through the straw. She wasn’t drunk, but she was feeling fine.
“Conversation now?”
“Yes. I’m finished stuffing my face. I’m feeling relaxed for the first time since my captivity—” She caught his scoff. “I was in a freakin’ cage.”
“Fine. I’m sorry, okay? It had to be done. But now you’re out, so get over it.”
It took a snap of the rubber band not to flip him off.
“What did you ask?” he said. “How old am I?” He lifted his feet and propped them on a nearby wicker chair, leaning back against the wall in the stuffy bar that had announced last call ten minutes after they’d arrived. “I was born in...the 1500s.”
“Can’t remember the exact year?”
He shrugged. “Early part of the century. We weren’t known for marking our birth dates back then.”
“Yeah. I was born in the 1640s, give or take a few years. Or decades. I remember at the time it was the great Puritan migration. They sailed to the New World by boatloads from England. All kinds of religious rabble, preaching and condemning. Fur traders and fishers, too. I dated a fisherman once. He smelled. So! That makes you the old man and me the sexy young thang.”
“Which should grant me wisdom and you...?”
Tuesday shimmied confidently on the chair. “A chick with a whole lot of experience on every single thing you can imagine.”
“It is interesting walking through the ages, isn’t it?”
“It is.” She teased a finger around the rim of her glass. “You ever get tired of it?”
“Not yet. Immortality suits me.”
“Save for the part about drinking all that blood?”
“Coming from a witch who must have consumed how many vampire hearts to keep her immortality over the centuries?”
“Five,” she said proudly. In order to maintain immortality, a witch had to consume a beating vampire heart once a century. Split the rib cage. Reach in. Feast. And try not to wretch. “Each one of those bastards deserved to die, too.”
“And what qualifies as deserving in your book?”
“Assholes. Murderers. And general idiots.”
Ethan quirked an eyebrow. “I shall endeavor not to be an asshole or an idiot. At least, not too often.”
Tuesday yawned. “You’ve had a pitiful showing in the trying department. But I won’t hold that against you.”
“I thought you intended to hold everything that made you uncomfortable against me?”
“Pretty much. But you’re lucky I’m tired now. I only got about two winks on your couch. Can we go back to your place? I need to seriously crash and recharge. If I can get some good sleep then I’ll be able to think clearly and maybe even stir up a demon-tracking spell.”
“Then here’s to a well-rested witch.”
* * *
The witch nodded off within five minutes. Ethan had offered her his bed. It was around the corner in the loft. None of the rooms had separating walls, save bathroom, and he could see the end of the bed from the kitchen. The city lights beamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows that lined the bedroom area. He’d bought this place for those windows. The view was incredible. He’d wanted to point out Sacré Coeur to her, but she had literally dropped onto the bed and rolled into a snore.
Now, he wondered what their next move should be. And if more kisses would be required to make her comply with his wishes. She hadn’t needed provoking to kiss him back after he’d initially kissed her. A retaliatory kiss? Bring them on.
And in his next thought, he frowned. He’d kissed a witch. And...he’d liked it.
