Night Witch (Book 1) ✔️

20 - The Scent of Death

I shake myself out of his grasp and shrug. "You already knew I was related to some powerful people. Why are you surprised that I use it to get more than a job?"

Truth was, I never used family connections, and getting us in hadn't been strictly because of my Grandmother. The top thirteen graduates from each class at both Ravenswood and Starcrest each received a very special tattoo - a glowing star - on their wrist. I'd worked hard and even as a kid I'd been powerful, but since I was a social pariah, my possession of the Easton Star wasn't something I'd ever advertised. It basically told people I could kill them and get away with it. It represented the first coven of thirteen witches who had banded together to call down a star and set about opening the rift between our world and the high realms. Or at least that's what the stories said.

But Luke doesn't know me and he doesn't know that, so he just scoffs and frowns. There's something in his eyes though. Something that makes me think I wasn't as glib as I hoped to sound. "Listen, stay close to me and don't do anything. Clubs like this aren't known for being terribly orderly. We'll head for the bartender first."

I nod and he takes the lead as we exit the hallway into a large space tinted blue. There must be UV lights over the extensive dance floor because the short dresses and tight shirts are glowing neon. Even the drinks glow blue, and I try to peer at one as a girl walks by but she moves too quickly for me to figure out what might be in it.

Luke points and I dutifully follow his lead and slip between two unoccupied seats while he stands on the other side. He flags the bartender, a sleek boy who's half fae if I don't miss my guess, and flashes him a picture of Angela. A frown flits across his face and the boy waves Luke to the end of the bar where a second bartender is working, but Luke gives me a pointed look that clearly says 'stay put'. I frown but nod and turn to look at the extensive shelves of alcohol on the wall.

A man saunters up and sets his empty lowball glass on the bar next to my left elbow. I take him in out of the corner of my eye before a different man moves in on my right.

"How'd they let a gorgeous thing like you in here dressed in a catastrophe like that?" The man on my right's accent is smooth and oozes against my skin like sticky oil. I barely suppress a shudder.

I flash him my badge and he looks taken aback.

"They let women on the force now?"

Before I can respond the man on my left laughs and the hair on my arms rises. I turn to face the husky sound and come face to face with a man who's eyes are burnished gold. But he's not man at all, instead, a shifter. What the hell is he doing in an Upper Mystica club?

He takes in a deep breath and his eyes seem to burn. "How could they let someone like you into a job like that?"

He pushes away from the bar and moves to step in front of me, caging me in between the bar stools.

"I'm fairly sure being a man isn't a requirement for a badge."

"No," He waves a hand dismissively. "Who cares what your gender is? You, killer, you smell of death. The coldness radiates from your skin and pushes at everyone around you. It took me a moment to recognize, but I know what you are."

I freeze at the certainty in his eyes. Half of the bar has stopped to stare at him as he flashes a bit of fang.

"Murderer," He breathes the word and my anxiety vanishes so fast the laugh actually escapes my lips.

His eyes narrow and I get the feeling he isn't used to being laughed at. I risk a glance towards Luke, but he's just standing at the end of the bar watching me with unreadable eyes. I'd guess that he, like a lot of other people in the club, have hearing spells pointed squarely at me and my fanged friend.