Legions of Bone: Dragon Rider Book 3

Chapter 50: Nightclub Vibes

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Quinnlyn

 Quinnlyn stepped over the puddle of blood to stand in front of the bathroom mirror. She grit her teeth, seething, as she wiped the blood splatter from her black heels. Scars mangled her fingers. Most of her hand had healed, but her fingers were nothing more than shriveled pieces of skin and bone.

It had been months since the mortal whore took her nails and they still hadn't come back.

Quinnlyn didn't think her nails would ever return.

Her precious, glorious nails.

Gone.

Quinnlyn washed her hands until the red was gone. She rummaged through her purse, plucking her lipstick from a pocket. It was a deep, indigo color which was beautiful on Quinnlyn's fair skin and lemonade-pink hair. But her fingers were shaky and stiff like she were half frozen. It took far too long and too much concentration to keep the lipstick within her lip liner.

She smacked her lips. The color was a shade darker than her corset. A strap ran down her stomach, holding up her vinyl skirt that stopped mid-thigh. Gold chains that created pockets that didn't fit anything in them, ran diagonally like slash marks. She threw on a shimmering pink jacket, her iridescent tales around her thighs. The diamond-shaped blades at the end tucked nicely against her heels like charms. She fluffed her hair, stuffed some earbuds in her ears, and undid the lock to the bathroom.

She peered over her shoulder, taking in the massacre one last time.

Six bodies. The drunken women had been partying inside, touching up their makeup or fixing their hair when Quinnlyn had come in. They were gossiping about a mortal who made a god bleed. Had talked about their admiration for her.

No one had heard their screaming over the music.

The music swallowed her as strongly as the reek of sweat and alcohol did as she slipped back onto the dance floor. The beat melted into Quinnlyn's blood, melding with her bones until she was dancing her way through the crowd.

Clubs and raves always made her feel at home. The dark colors and rainbow of strobing lights made her blend in, yet stand out at the same time.

Quinnlyn tended to pick places similar to the one she were currently in. Dark, spacious buildings with bars and lounges. A bit more upscale than the typical underground or back alley clubs but equally as fun. It allowed Quinnlyn to show more of herself off without drawing too many questions.

The people here--at least in the lounge areas--had deeper pockets as well. And Quinnlyn was beautiful. Irresistible.

Sometimes, if she wanted to be lazy, she'd sip a drink and let them come to her.

Eons ago people had called her a siren. Before those wretched fish people stole the term.

The glow of her eyes drew them in first--started the conversation. She'd say they were spelled contacts and that her nails were inspired by some character from a movie or show. Then it was back to their place where she savored their last breath and bank account.

People danced, brushing their sweat and mortalness against her. Sometimes Quinnlyn caught the sourness of drugs as she passed them. She couldn't help but cringe.

Quinnlyn made her way up to the second floor. The bouncer already knew her and let her through the velvet rope.

She found a spot at the bar. It was against the wall, facing the V.I.P stairs. It gave Quinnlyn the opportunity to see everyone and for them to see her, but there was enough distance to keep her from smelling them.