Chapter 6

"Why the reluctance? Your body chemistry suggests you're eager."

I scowled at her. Eleanor was smart and beautiful and wise in the ways of the world, but trying to explain to her why I didn't want to fuck the young man who'd fallen in love with me when he was still in middle school would be like trying to explain flying to a fish. At the end of the day she might look human but she hadn't been one in nearly two hundred years. And beating inside her chest was an ice cold heart that didn't take other peoples' feelings much into consideration.

Still, I tried to explain it. Because I'm an idiot.

"I've known him since he was a kid," I said. "Gods dammit he still is a kid! All of 20 years old, can't even legally drink yet! And what's worse? He's been in love with me ever since I rented my office from his dad eight... no, almost nine years ago. Like, truly in love. Not boyhood infatuation. Love!"

"Then he should be eager to fuck you," Eleanor smiled efficiently, twisting the knife.

I glared at her. "Fuck you."

She sighed. "Look, darling, he's a grown man. And only ten years younger than yourself. I'm centuries older than you but that didn't stop me from taking you into my bed earlier. As for love, what of it? A delicium has to love their mistress anyway."

"It's different," I said. "I just... he's going to think I love him the same way."

She blinked at me, uncomprehending.

"Eleanor, for fuck's sake! When he realizes I don't love him that way, that I'll never love him that way, it's going to break his heart!"

"You could pretend, if his feelings mean so much to you."

I shut my eyes tight. "You, of all people, know how I am." I looked at her. "How I can be. I won't be able to hide it from him. Five years ago..."

"Or you could try being exclusive to only one person," she said, stepping nearer to me. She reached out and stroked my cheek with the back of her hand. In a low voice she said, "It'll still hurt him, but mayhaps not so much. If he thinks you're... in love with another, it might spare his feelings. Better that than him knowing you'll fuck anything with a pulse and a bad attitude..."

"Fuck off!" I growled, slapping her hand away.

The vampire scowled. "What happened five years ago wasn't your fault. Is that what you need to hear? That your lover getting jealous and driving off in a huff, then deciding to get drunk and careless, none of that is your fault?"

"I cheated on him," I said miserably. "Can't you understand? I couldn't help myself. I truly did love him and I cheated on him anyway." I was on the verge of tears, something I did not want her to see. Turning away from her I tried to collect myself.

Truth was I didn't need to hear it wasn't my fault. I needed to believe it. I was smart enough to know that when the love of my life decided to get drunk and take a drive that was his decision. I was smart enough to know that it wasn't the first time he'd done that, either. He had a drinking problem and would have had at least three DUIs if he hadn't been friends with so many cops. But still, deep down I felt responsible. Deep down I still truly believed that if I'd only been able to keep my pants on that fateful day he'd still be alive.

How many hours of my life had I spent since that day imagining the what ifs? What if I hadn't gone out to see those cultists alone? What if I hadn't let their leader's sheer malice get my juices flowing? What if I hadn't, out of guilt, told my lover the truth soon after?

What if I'd used a spell to keep him from leaving? Or a spell to keep him sober? Because I had known he would be getting drunk. I had known he could do something stupid. It was, I felt in my core, all my fault. And the guilt was as thick in my veins today as it had been five years ago, exactly.

After the silence ebbed on for a good two minutes, Eleanor sighed. "This conversation is boring me," she said, stepping way. "Finish the pact with Allan or kill him, those are your only options now. Perhaps letting him go insane would have been a good compromise but that ship has sailed. Now go. You have work to do. Find me my thrall."

"To find him I need to find the werewolf!" I snapped at her. "He's our only lead, unless you want to escort me to Count Sterling's compound and ask him why his goons were here tonight."

"Marcus won't be truthful about that," Eleanor said, stating the obvious. "He'll likely deny they were here at all. But I do wish to know the truth. Make that part of your investigation. Get my answers, darling, and you'll get a nice bonus."

I rolled my eyes, though I did like the sound of a bonus. The way I was going through clothing I was going to need it.

"It just doesn't make sense," I mumbled. An alpha werewolf, likely a wild one, visiting Eleanor's not once, but twice in the same night. Powerful lieutenants of the Count's showing up just after I arrived. Why had they come? Why had the Alpha returned?

So many questions. And on top of all that there was the three dead guards, one missing thrall, and my driver nearly driven to madness. Gods what a complicated mess this was becoming.

"If you had followed that Alpha, we might have Julian back by now," I muttered, leaning against the wall. The air outside the bedroom was still thick, heavy with the lingering scent of my raw magics, the faint, sweet musk of our interrupted tryst, and Allan's fading stench of terror.

Eleanor didn't snap at me. She didn't even look annoyed. She merely stepped closer, a pale, slender fingers reaching out to trail across the old white scar I have that runs across my right eyebrow. "And leave you defenseless, darling?" she asked, her voice dropping into a low, smooth purr. "Even in their mangled state, Viktor and Jacob could have done you in. And they might not have been Marcus's only soldiers lurking about the estate tonight."

I blinked, a sudden, unfamiliar warmth blooming right in the center of my chest. I looked into her dark, bottomless eyes, searching for the usual mocking glint, but found only a cold, stark sincerity. She had stayed behind, letting a vital lead slip through her fingers, simply to ensure my survival. For a high-tier, ancient vampire like Eleanor, that kind of protective instinct was practically a declaration of love.

Could it be there was more humanity left in her than I'd supposed?

"I... well," I stammered, my cheeks flushing as I cleared my throat, desperately trying to regain my street-savvy composure. "Thank you."

"Don't look so shocked, Vivienne. You are far too valuable to lose," she murmured, sounding more like her usual self. A wicked, familiar little smirk returned to her flawless lips. She took a slow step back, her dark gaze dropping down to my waist, where my trench coat was still tightly belted over my completely naked skin. "Good investigators are hard to find. And I need you to investigate. But first, I suggest you remove your distraction. The clock is ticking, and it seems to me you have a far more pressing, visceral matter to attend to before your mind will be clear enough to focus on the task at hand."

My thighs throbbed in instant, aching agreement. The unfulfilled delicium mandate was a heavy weight, a ticking clock vibrating through my entire body. Gods but it was unfair to feel this way, to know I had to do something I didn't want to do, but knowing that in actuality I did want to do it! How confusing is that? Gods but the supernatural world is complicated.

"The werewolf is the key," I said, forcing my voice to remain steady as I gripped the silver skull handle of my cane. "We have to find him. He's the same beast who left those bleeding runes in your foyer, the same one who took Julian. But if the thrall was all he wanted then why the hell did he come back later just to ambush Marcus's lieutenants?"

"It surely is a mystery," she said airily. "So go solve it, detective. This is exactly what I'm paying you for. But do remember, Vivienne... the contract is written, but the binding isn't yet permanent. Your little driver won't officially be yours until you finish what you started and you only have twenty-four hours or else..."

"I know, I know!" I growled, turning on my heel and pushing open the bedroom door. "ALLAN!" I yelled, interrupting the sound of his snoring. "Get up! We have to go."

"Yes, wh... yes, ok," he mumbled, nearly falling out of the large four poster bed. "Wh-where are we going?"

I thought about that for a moment then realized I already knew the answer. I just wasn't happy about it.

"We're going to a stripclub, kid," I said.

***

The rain had finally let up by the time I climbed back into the passenger seat of the Crown Vic. Allan got behind the wheel, his face completely clear of the catatonic madness that had gripped him less than thirty minutes ago. He looked over at me, a soft, relieved smile breaking across his face. I tightened my coat around me, hiding my nudity beneath. He blushed, suddenly aware of my nudity. Eleanor had refused to loan me any clothes because, at the end of the day, she can be a real bitch.

"You okay, Vivienne?" he asked, looking away. He was entirely oblivious to the fact that his soul had been psychically bound to mine in the Nothing, or that the binding still had to be sealed or else he'd die. "I'm really sorry about back there. The wolf, that horn... I... I think my brain just completely short-circuited. It's not every day you see an honest to god werewolf, you know? I'm glad you snapped me out of it."

"Don't worry about it, kid," I muttered, staring at his pouty lips, then down at his lap. My treacherous mind immediately flashed back to the vivid image of the massive, heavy machinery hanging between his legs in the black void. A violent jolt of heat spiked right between my thighs, pooling warm and dripping wet against the car seat. My nipples rubbed agonizingly against the inside of my trench coat. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to look away before I lunged across the bench seat and tore his flannel shirt open. "Just drive. We're heading down to the lower east side. The Body Shop."

After a few minutes of riding in silence I pulled my flask out from the inner pocket of my coat, took a swig, then said, "How are you feeling now? About what you saw?"

I noticed his hands tighten their grip on the steering wheel, the beads of sweat forming on his brow. His voice cracked a little when he spoke. "I uh... still can't believe it. I mean, I do believe it. But a werewolf? And those other guys, vampires? I don't... it's a lot to process, I guess. I mean, there's a part of me that feels like it all makes sense. Like it explains a lot."

"Explains a lot?"

"Sure," he said. "Like, some nightmares. It explains a lot about... you, I guess. Like that time I drove you to Belle Isle and there were those glowing orbs in the sky, the lightening that travelled upwards, then back in your direction, remember? You said it was fireworks, and at the time I believed it. But a part of me, I guess, never did.

"They weren't fireworks, right?"

I smiled. The kid's mind was expanding, as it should, but he had a sharp intellect to remember that one detail so clearly and figure it out. "No, they weren't," I said. "I was trailing a wizard, got spotted. He... was not happy about that."

"Wait, so the cheating husband was an actual wizard?! With spells and all that?"

I nodded. "Yep. The client, his wife, is one too. A wizard. She suspected he was cheating on her with a fae. I got the proof, she paid me."

He was quiet for a moment. "Are... are you a wizard?"

I laughed, loudly and from the belly. My laughter continued far longer than it should have but I couldn't help myself. Part of it was the ridiculousness of the very notion. Part of it was the release of pent up stress. "Sorry, sorry!" I finally said, laughing still, "No, no, gods no! I'm not a wizard! Too impatient for that, kid. You know how a doctor has to do like 12 years of schooling? I could never do that, much less a century!"

"Wizards go to college for a century!?" he said.

"Wizards are long lived, kid," I said, my laughter finally ebbing. "Oh gods... no. I couldn't do that. I'm a witch. Much less studying involved. Some, of course, but mostly it's just... think of it like raw, natural talent and lots of practice. Practice, and guesswork, and experience."

Before he could ask anymore questions we arrived at the stripclub. "Ok," I said, putting my game face back on. "We'll talk more about this later. For now, sit tight. I won't be a minute."

***

The Body Shop wasn't an auto garage. It was the sleaziest, most rundown strip club in the entire city, nestled between an adult bookstore and a boarded-up industrial warehouse. Inside, the air was a toxic mix of stale beer, cheap gin, and decades of stagnant cigarette smoke. The heavy, distorted bass of this new-fangled, so called "grunge" music vibrated through the sticky floorboards, turning the dim red lighting into a pulsing, claustrophobic haze.

At this late hour the bar was closing up, but a few stragglers were still sitting around tables and at the main stage. There was one dancer, looking bored, on that stage, and two barmaids wiping down tables and flipping chairs onto them so they could sweep the rather gross looking floor.

I gripped a handful of crumpled twenty-dollar bills before heading toward the private VIP booths in the back. I kept my aura low-key and exuded boredom, so no one paid me any mind.

I was looking for Fortune.

She was a fae-spawn: that rare, tragic product of a male faerie and a human woman. With her ethereal, flawless beauty and hypnotic grace, she might have made an actual fortune, dancing in a high-class Vegas showroom. Instead, she was relegated to this absolute gutter of a dive bar because it was the only joint in Detroit that wouldn't fire her.

Fortune's fae blood gave her the Sight, but she couldn't control it. Whenever she gave a lapdance, the intense, tactile friction would trigger violent flashes of the past, present, or future. More often than not she would start whispering strange, terrifying, and deeply upsetting prophecies into the ears of her customers. Mundanes didn't take kindly to a stripper telling them exactly how and when their mothers were going to die.

But to a private investigator in the supernatural underworld, those unhinged lapdances were pure gold. If properly guided, of course. Then again, even with all the guidance in the world you could end up learning nothing of relevance. It was a crapshoot, but I was low on ideas and desperate to do something, anything other than think about my looming sacrament with Allan.

I found her leaning against a velvet curtain, her skin glowing with a faint, iridescent shimmer under the cheap red neon. Fortune is slender with long golden hair, a petite frame but with large breasts and a perfectly heart-shaped ass. Presently she was wearing a shimmering camisole top, a g-string, stiletto heels that brought her up to 5'8" in height, and nothing else. When she saw me, her wide, glassy eyes narrowed in recognition.

"You," she said. It sounded like an accusation.

"Hiya, Fortune," I said.

"We're closed," she said, turning away from me. "I'm going home."

"Wait!" I said. "What's the matter? Did I do something?"

She turned back to me. Even angry she was quite beautiful. "You made me think you were giving me $200 last time you were here! You flashed those twenties and used your, whatever powers you have, and made me think they were all twenties, and distracted me! After you left I found two twenties and eight ones. $48! For three dances and a prophecy!"

I cringed. I had completely forgotten about that. I'd been on the trail of a jewelry thief and had hit a dead end, sort of like the dead end I was at now. Only that time I didn't have much in the way of cash so I might have... well, I did sort of swindle her. Then again her prophecy hadn't been any help that time so I sort of got what I paid for. Pointing that out probably wouldn't calm her down so I said, "Look, I didn't use any powers, and I never said it was $200..."

"Bullshit, bullshit!" she squeaked, her little hands balled up into tiny fists.

"Fine, look, I'll... pay you $300 this time! To make up for the... confusion." I pulled out the wad of twenties from my pocket and slowly counted them out in front of her, stopping at $300.

"Two more," she said. "$340."

Gods but this was putting a dent into my retainer. "Fine!" I said. I added two more twenties then handed the bills to her.

Now she smiled triumphantly as the bills literally disappeared from her hand. "Come on then," she said.

The heavy curtain swung shut behind us, cutting off the worst of the club's noise. Fortune didn't waste any time. She pushed me down into the armless chair, grinning at me. The music outside shifted into a slow, grinding industrial beat, and she stepped into the space between my knees, her slender hands dropping onto my shoulders as she straddled me.

"You smell like old blood and fresh magic, witch," Fortune whispered, her hands working at the knot holding my coat together. When she got it open she didn't seem surprised to find me naked. Her voice was airy and slightly detached as she said, "You smell like sex, past and present, and future..."

She began to sway, her hips grinding a slow, rhythmic circle against mine. Fortune turned a bit, slid a knee between my legs...

"I need a reading, Fortune," I gasped out, my breath hitching as the direct, friction-heavy heat of her right knee pressing against my aching, hyper-stimulated pussy sent shivers through me. I was already on an absolute wire, and the sensation of her supple body moving against mine was sweet, exquisite torture. She rolled in place, her ass now between my spread thighs, and ground back on me.

Gods but I couldn't help myself. I reached around her, gently grabbed her large D-cups. On her petite frame they seemed gargantuan yet attractive, not obscene. They were the most perfect breasts I'd ever seen, and though it was technically against the club rules, Fortune didn't mind as I kneaded them gently in my hands.

After a moment of this she rolled again, pushed my knees back together. She ran her hands through my long red hair, and breathed, "A reading?" as her tits hung directly in front of my eyes.

Throat dry, I reached into my trench coat, pulling out the folded piece of paper containing my sketches of the werewolf runes, and held them up. "I need to know who this wolf is. Where he is. And I need to know why he's here..."

She leaned back, studied the paper, then studied me, all the while her hips ground against me. "To see, I must feel," she murmured, her unblinking eyes locking onto mine.

I closed my eyes and gathered my thoughts, forcibly projecting the raw, high-adrenaline auric memories of my encounter with the nine-foot-tall Alpha werewolf at Eleanor's estate. I let her feel the sheer, crushing terror of his presence and the primal fury radiating off his blood-soaked fur.

The moment the psychic feedback loop connected, Fortune gasped. Her entire body went rigid against mine, her fingers clawing into the leather of my trench coat as her head snapped back, her eyes rolling into the back of her head until only the whites were showing.

But she didn't stop dancing. If anything, her movements became heavier, more erratic, her pelvis grinding violently, desperately against mine as the raw psychic energy flooded her system. She rolled this way, then that, using her knees, using my thighs, straddling me again. The sudden, intense and ever-changing frictions sent massive waves of electricity straight to my clitoris. I shuddered violently, my hands gripping her slim waist as I fought back a loud, breathless scream. I was so close... so agonizingly close to a climax. The skin of my thighs tingling as I hung over the absolute precipice of release, my brain a flood of endorphins and more...

Fortune leaned down, her lips brushing directly against my earlobe. Her voice was like a long breath, hot and ragged as she spoke, her words echoing in my mind as they absorbed her prophecy:

"Within the ebony tower rests an old and primal power,

"Gilded felines guard what he did steal, for his people to finally heal

"hear this now, covenless witch:

"to gain his trust you must be his bitch;

"wanton slut with no romance;

"So's the way with Vivinne Vance".

The moment the last line left her lips, Fortune's body bucked violently against mine, a sharp, breathless gasp tearing from her throat as the vision snapped. Her eyes blinked rapidly, returning to normal, and she collapsed heavily against my chest, both of us panting, drenched in sweat, and utterly breathless in the dim red light of the booth.

"The tower... which tower?" I whispered, my mind racing as I struggled to decrypt the riddle. Within the ebony tower... gilded felines...

Then it hit me: Karanja Industries. Their building downtown was one of Detroit's tallest, just shy of the RenCen in height, sporting sheer black windows. There were two golden lion statues just outside the building, too. And unbeknownst to the mundane public, Karanja Industries was controlled by none other than the second most powerful vampire in the city: Jasiri Karanja.

All of this hit me in an instant and then was pushed back into the recesses of my mind. I couldn't think about that. Couldn't think about the case. Couldn't think about anything except the desperate needs of my body. I pushed Fortune gently off my lap and stood up, my legs trembling so violently from unfulfilled arousal that I had to lean heavily on my silver skull cane just to stay upright. My trench coat felt heavy, soaked through, and every single step I took rubbed against my swollen, dripping core in a way that made my vision blur.

I walked out of the VIP lounge, bypassed the bar, and marched straight out of the club into the cool, Detroit night.

I tore the passenger door of the Crown Vic open and climbed inside, slamming it shut behind me. The windows instantly began to fog up from the heat. Allan turned to look at me, his brown eyes full of confusion as well as that gentle, completely submissive devotion.

"Did you find what you were looking for, Vivienne?" he asked. He was averting his eyes, embarrassed to look at me even with the trenchcoat hiding my nudity.

I stared at him, at his broad shoulders, his pouty lips, and the magnificent, formidable silhouette of the tool shifting beneath his denim jeans as he adjusted his position. We still had close to twenty-two hours before we had to seal the pact, but the countdown in my blood had reached zero. The heat between my thighs was a roaring, demanding furnace, and I knew I couldn't drive a single block farther without sealing his soul to mine. All worries and concerns about what it would mean, what it would do to him, melted. All questions about the ethics of it all, forgotten. All of everything flittered away as I breathed heavily, staring at him like a hungry lioness.

But I made a decision: we couldn't do it here. I wouldn't do it in a car.

"Drive," I croaked.

The raw intensity of my voice must have startled him. He blinked at me, his fingers tightening on the steering wheel. "Uh... where to, Vivienne?"

"My office. Just drive." It was nearly impossible to keep the desperate, feral edge out of my voice.

"Okay," he said, shifting the Crown Vic into gear. "Why the sudden rush?"

I leaned slightly toward him, my breath hot against the cool air of the car.

"Because there's a bed up there, kid."

End of Chapter Six