Читать книгу Death Sword - Pamela Turner - Страница 7

2

An angel. Karla looked up at Xariel as they stood in line with the throng of clubbers to enter Glasstopia, the tempered glass-and-steel nightclub. Her heart skipped a beat as pride surged through her. No other guy matched Xariel’s model-quality looks. Waist-length dark hair, blue-violet eyes and a lean, athletic body, all wrapped up in an expensive-looking suit.

Dual emotions of excitement and dread spiraled through her, making her slightly dizzy. While she thrilled at the thought of being seen with him and “being seen” was what clubbing was all about, she hadn’t forgotten the ferocity of his attack when he had killed her.

Was she dead? Karla traced the veins along the back of her hand. Surely blood still pumped through them. She pressed her index and middle fingers against her pale wrist. A pulse beat, slow and steady. That proved she was alive, didn’t it?

She drew her brows together in concentration. If she’d had a near-death experience, why hadn’t she seen a tunnel of light or heard voices of loved ones? She wanted to ask him, but his eyes were focused on the doorman and bouncer commandeering the entrance. He didn’t look like he wanted to be disturbed.

Not that he went unnoticed. Karla shot venomous glares at women whose seductive gazes toward the angel lasted longer than she liked. Even some men cast admiring looks his way. The doorman unclipped the velvet rope barricade, allowing them access. Karla swore he checked out Xariel’s ass on their way inside.

Xariel seemed oblivious to his charisma. Karla suspected he took it in stride, his confidence a magnet drawing people to him. Why else did he trigger feelings which made her skin flush, although she’d never admit it? She doubted she interested him. Too bad.

No, better to enjoy her birthday then sneak away at the first opportunity. She might upset Xariel, but surely he’d find another to deliver to Metatron. Why her? Did this Metatron even exist? As Karla and Xariel joined a group of people waiting for an elevator, she studied him, trying to reconcile the person who stood next to her with the black-winged angel of death in the alley. Whoever this Xariel was, she had no doubt he was the most complex being she’d ever met.

Elevator doors hissed open and they stepped into a glass car, squeezing next to clubbers who embraced styles from grunge to neo-New Wave. Two female candy ravers huddled together. Despite the cold weather, they wore cartoon-festooned t-shirts and day-glo skirts. Hair clips held pink and green hair extensions in place and plastic beaded bracelets covered their arms from wrists to halfway up their forearms.

Sucking on a lollipop, one of the ravers gave Karla a withering glance before turning an admiring gaze toward Xariel.

“So much for peace, love, understanding and respect,” Karla muttered under her breath, alluding to the candy ravers’ code. She looked back at the lollipop licker, who pressed against Xariel. Without giving her a glance, he stepped closer to Karla. The girl glared and turned away.

They reached the fourth and last floor. The elevator doors opened and the ravers surged ahead, jostling through the small crowd in the corridor. Karla and Xariel brought up the rear. She hadn’t lied when she told him it was her birthday. Today she turned twenty-one and she planned to celebrate by getting drunk. Perhaps it would be the only way she could make sense of the evening’s events. She’d have to wait to ask him if she were really dead, if she got the chance. Despite all indications otherwise, she remembered the sharp, excruciating pain as his dagger plunged into her stomach, slicing through sensitive flesh.

Reflexively, she touched her sweater, recalling how he’d healed her wound. A real killer wouldn’t have done that. He’d have left her to bleed out. And no ordinary person could have mended her just by passing his hand over her. Sure, she’d seen faith healers on TV, but she didn’t believe in them.

Either Xariel was a talented charlatan or he really was an angel.

Karla and Xariel disembarked from the elevator, joining the others in the corridor which circled the interior dance club. A second set of glass doors opened onto the club proper and they stepped into a world of pulsating beats and pounding tempos. Euro dance throbbed over the sound system. The DJ held headphones against his ear, bopping head and body to the music.

Karla looked around, spotting Miranda, Chad and Andi at a table in a secluded dark corner. Andi waved them over. Karla and Xariel made their way around the perimeter of the dance floor. Music pulsated through Karla’s body. She glanced at Xariel to see his reaction. His stoic expression told her nothing.

“I see you found a date,” Andi yelled, hands cupped around her mouth to focus her voice. “Introduce us.”

Karla frowned. Andi’s request seemed innocuous, but she knew her friend’s ulterior motive.

“Salvatore. Nice to meet you.” Xariel brushed his lips against the back of Andi’s hand. She stared into his face, mouth opened in an “O.”

“I-I’m Andi,” she stuttered. She waved a vague hand at the couple engaged in a round of tonsil hockey. “The love birds are Chad and Miranda.” Miranda lifted her hand in acknowledgment. Chad gave them thumbs up. Turning back to Karla, Andi poked her in the chest. “Bitch, keeping him away from me.”

“We just met.” Karla pulled up an available barstool.

“What are you ladies drinking?” Xariel asked.

Karla thought a moment. “Long Island iced tea.”

“Are you buying?” Andi leaned over, breasts straining to escape their tight corset prison. Her pleather skirt rode up, revealing a red thong.

Karla sighed. Subtlety wasn’t in Andi’s vocabulary. She looked to see if Xariel noticed, but he seemed oblivious to the peep show.

“This round?” Xariel smiled. “Sure.”

“A Cosmopolitan.”

Karla turned to Chad and Miranda, now feeling each other up and barely keeping within the realms of decency. “You guys want anything?” Chad waved her off.

Miranda pushed Chad toward Xariel. “Go with him, ’kay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Chad muttered.

“Thanks, dear!” Miranda blew him a kiss and grabbed her purse. “Be right back, ladies.”

“We don’t exist.” Andi watched Xariel head toward the bar. “I’m a third wheel again.” She pouted, giving Karla a reproachful look.

Karla didn’t bother reminding Andi she wouldn’t be if she stopped chasing the wrong men. Andi drew married men or players wanting one-night stands, but never seemed to experience a serious relationship.

Karla suspected Andi’s low self-esteem screamed “I’m an easy lay” to the opposite sex. More than once Karla suggested Andi ditch the Frederick’s of Hollywood garb and be herself. Each time Andi responded with a blank stare, the same one she used when angry wives and girlfriends called, text messaged or confronted her in person.

Karla didn’t blame Chad and Miranda for acting like conjoined twins. Given a chance, Andi would be rolling in the sheets with Chad. She only hoped Andi’s indiscretions didn’t end in disaster.

Andi jerked her thumb toward the bar. “You guys an item?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Yeah, right. You’re saying you haven’t screwed him yet, which means he’s up for grabs.”

Karla shrugged.

Xariel and Chad returned a few minutes later with their drinks. Karla looked at Chad and he shook his head. That meant Xariel hadn’t slipped her or Andi a date rape drug. Xariel picked up his glass. Ice clinked as he toasted them. “To two lovely young ladies.”

“What about Miranda?” Karla nodded toward her friend, who weaved her way through the crowd back to their table.

Miranda came up to Chad and hugged him from behind. “Everything okay, babe?”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks, hon.” She drew her boyfriend into a kiss and the amorous couple resumed where they’d left off.

Xariel grinned. “I don’t think we need worry about them.”

“To us.” Andi winked at Xariel. She gave Karla a sly, sidelong glance. Game on, it read.

“To us.” Karla inclined her head toward Andi. Challenge accepted.

If Xariel noticed the tension between them, he ignored it. “Known each other long?”

“Since high school.” Andi’s index finger stroked the delicate stem of her glass. She gave Xariel a provocative look from under long false eyelashes. “Where’d you guys meet?”

“Gallery Hop.” Xariel took a seat on the other side of Karla. A flash of annoyance crossed Andi’s face. Before she could protest, Miranda and Chad disentangled themselves.

“We’re gone.” Miranda gave Karla a quick hug. “Happy twenty-first birthday, legal girl. Sorry to drink and run, but you know how it is.”

Chad patted Karla’s shoulder. “Now you can ditch your fake ID.”

Karla stuck out her tongue at his retreating back.

“Have fun,” Andi yelled, her voice laced with bitterness. She took her drink and moved to Chad’s seat on the other side of Xariel.

“What the–” Xariel reached down and rubbed his leg. Andi leaned in closer and ran her fingers up his arm.

“Why don’t you ditch the birthday girl? I know this private club we could go to.”

“I’m right here.” Karla shook her head in disbelief. Didn’t Andi ever give up?

Xariel lifted Andi’s hand. “Thank you, but I came with Karla, and I’m leaving with her.”

If she didn’t go now, she might lose her only chance. Karla slid off the bar stool and reached for her purse. “Excuse me. Be right back.” She turned to Andi. “Watch my drink?”

“Sure. Happy fucking birthday.”

Karla ignored her. As she walked across the dance floor, she sensed Xariel and Andi watching her. She bit her lower lip, debating whether to go back. Part of her bristled at Andi’s sexual audacity and the thought of Xariel leaving with her, despite what he’d said. Of course, he couldn’t know she didn’t plan to return. A twinge of regret stabbed at her heart as she weaved her way past gyrating dancers. Too bad it hadn’t worked out. She would have loved to present Xariel to her ex-boyfriend, the one who called her a “skank” and teased her about being too ugly to find a boyfriend after they broke up.

The current song ended, replaced by Lady GaGa’s Bad Romance. Andi’s theme song. How appropriate. Hers too, she recalled with a touch of bitterness. Despite Andi’s complaint about being a third wheel, she usually left with a different man each night while Karla returned home alone.

Hell, she hadn’t even gotten drunk tonight. The entire evening had been a dismal flop. Not that she couldn’t find another club and finish her birthday celebration alone.

“Happy birthday to me.” Karla stifled a derisive laugh, ignoring the stares from passersby. She leaned against the wall next to the ladies’ room and waited. No way Xariel and Andi could see her now. Too many people separated them. All she had to do was wait for a gang of women to leave the bathroom and she’d blend in with them on her way to the exit. Not a foolproof plan, but one that would do for her purposes.

Why did she even care if Xariel and Andi slept together? Hadn’t she wanted to leave? She hadn’t planned on going anywhere with Xariel. Good-looking didn’t equal trustworthy. Karla had read about Ted Bundy and Xariel had killed her.

A twinge of guilt gripped her conscience. Should she call Andi’s cell and warn her? What would she say? “Oh, by the way, Xariel’s an angel of death?” How stupid would she sound? Andi might only laugh and hang up, after calling her jealous and claiming that’s why she never had dates.

Hell, Andi was probably right. Xariel was her first “date” in a long time, and even that was debatable. Sure, he’d bought her a drink, but he’d also bought Andi one. No, not really a date then.

Too bad it hadn’t worked out. He seemed nice, once she got past his saturnine personality and the fact he’d killed her. Maybe angels of death had to remain emotionally detached to do their jobs, much like emergency medical technicians or police officers had to rein in their emotions when responding to an accident or murder scene.

Was Xariel really an angel of death? He seemed to have the wings and supernatural abilities to prove it. True, the wings could have been black feathers on a wire frame, triggered to spring forth when a concealed button was pushed. But how had he managed to heal her wound and repair her sweater without touching her?

And why had he let her come to the nightclub if he were so concerned with bringing her to Metatron? She doubted it was because he cared about her birthday or wanted to meet her friends. Nor did she believe he was so naive to think she’d go somewhere unknown with him. No, if she went with him to Metatron it would be by force. And wasn’t that kidnapping?

So many questions that might never be answered.

Why did Metatron want her? Her life, until this night, had verged on the normal, even boring, alternating around her job as a barista at a local coffee shop, her apartment and downtown nightclubs.

Perhaps he’d made a mistake. A group of women emerged from the bathroom. She slipped into their midst, muttering, “Excuse me,” and continued toward the exit.

Only a few feet between her and freedom.

A strong hand clamped down on her shoulder.

Karla jumped, stifling a yelp.

Xariel glared at her. “Nice try. Now let’s go.” He pushed her toward the exit.

“What about Andi?”

“I gave her cab fare. She’ll be fine.”

Karla sighed. Her attempt to escape had failed, and she didn’t know if she’d get a second chance. Did she want another one?