Entr’acte
Glynn insisted that everyone walk Junior home that night. He implied it was for safety against rogues, but actually it was so he wasn’t alone with her, couldn’t touch her and smell her and love her. Emerson eyed him, but wisely said nothing. If the other male had made the twitting comment Glynn could just see on his lips, he’d have turned him into bloody mincemeat.
Or tried. Emerson was a thousand years plus. He’d probably put up a bit of a fight.
Glynn’s fangs started to throb at the thought of Emerson putting up a fight. As tense as Glynn was, he might have enjoyed it.
But Emerson said nothing. And when they rounded the corner onto Fourth and met the annoying flying tube with the grinning mad head and Glynn slashed it to pieces with his bare claws, Emerson said nothing again. Good thing, because the flying tube had only whetted Glynn’s vampire urge to destroy.
He half expected Junior to shriek in protest when he shredded the tube, but she only choked back a laugh. It made him smile. He found himself doing that far too often around her. She smiled at him in return.
Their smiles died, and they stared for an awkward moment at each other. Her scent became pungent with arousal and he hardened in response. He did that far too often around her, too.
He had to remember they had no future. She wanted it that way. And he had his own dreams.
So he motioned Emerson to walk her to her door while he stood at the mouth of the narrow, dim walkway, scowling when she fumbled her key into the lock. Before he left Meiers Corners, he was damned well putting in a better light.
Mishela glided up next to him. “You want to tell Mr. Elias about tonight or should I?”
Glynn turned his scowl on her. “I don’t want to tell him. But better me than you. You get overly dramatic.” Then he realized Mishela was supposed to be guarding Emerson’s wee tornado of a wife. “Where’s Nixie?” He kept his voice low.
Mishela’s was equally low. “She wanted to scope out Camille’s club.”
“Cock. That’s incredibly dangerous.” Glynn glanced at Junior. She’d finally gotten the key to work. Emerson waited stoically at her side, but the lawyer’s jaw clamped with a male’s imperative to be with his lover and a vampire’s need to protect his vulnerable human.
Still, he’d stay with Junior until she was safe inside. Glynn strode across the street, Mishela trailing. He muttered, “If anything happens to Emerson’s wife—”
“Relax, Glynn. Nixie’s the logical choice. If anyone can do goth, it’s her. And Camille’s not going to risk starting all-out war in her own club.”
“The Coterie risked war trying to kidnap you.”
“Using a masked man, so we couldn’t prove it. This is different. They won’t want any fingers pointing.”
“I hope you’re right.”
At Fangs To You’s mirrored doors, two males in identical tough-guy black blocked Glynn’s way. The Tweedledum and Tweedledee of bouncers. One smelled human, the other vampire, but it mattered little. Glynn bared his fangs with a snarl and the men fell back. It gave Glynn the instant he needed to slip them a hypnotic suggestion. His simmering irritation made it a bit harsh—one male cupped his crotch and the other bent over puking as Glynn strode through the doors.
Inside was dim, crowded and loud. People mobbed a long lacquered bar to the left. More ringed a corner bar, hazed in smoke. Not cigarette. Glynn tested the air, scented smoke cloyingly sweet. Illegal, but Camille always enjoyed pushing the boundaries. She’d have a battalion of lawyers standing by to get her out of any real trouble.
Red light played over a full dance floor where youngsters, human and vampire, thronged, hopping like a bunch of demented chickens. Glynn wondered if it was modern dance or they were having some sort of fit. Probably dance, though he’d stopped learning popular steps before the waltz. Nixie wobbled in their midst.
She saw him and immediately started over. Good thing or he’d have waded in to drag her out. Emerson would be livid. The small tornado should have known that, having been married to her vampire for several months now. Yet she’d chosen to enter this den anyway. Glynn hoped it was worth it.
Sure enough, Emerson stormed in, eyes blood-red and fangs barely restrained. “If anything the fuck has happened to my wife—”
“Yell later,” Nixie shouted over the music as she bustled up.
Emerson turned his snarl on her. “I leave you alone for one moment and—”
“Yell later, Julian,” she repeated, motioning them out. “This is bigger. Camille’s smarter than the average Lestat. We may be in real trouble.”
“What?” As they hit fresh air, Emerson’s eyes cooled to a blue Glynn recognized as pissed but in control. “What did you find?”
“Buddy kicked us out of Nieman’s at two,” she said. “Bar time. Fangs To You should have closed too.”
“There’s no law requiring it,” Emerson said. “Only to cease serving alcoholic drinks—” He stopped mid-stride. “Correction. Only to cease selling alcohol.”
Nixie nodded as she kept going, looking as grim as Glynn had ever seen her. “Which is why Camille was giving the drinks away free. Open bar for everyone who came early and stayed late. In other words, for everyone who missed our show.” She held out her hand. The stamp of a stylized black vampire was on the back. “If I’d come before eight, this would be red. And I’d be drinking my weight for free.”
Mishela made a disgusted noise. “That’s why our audience didn’t come back.”
Emerson’s long strides caught him up. He picked up his wee wife and they all set off at a more comfortable pace. “The Ancient One isn’t going to like this. Who’s going to tell him?”
All three looked at Glynn with a mixture of pity and relief.
Glynn sighed. “I suppose. After which I will escape immediately to Wales.”
“If it helps any, Mr. Elias probably already knows,” Mishela said.
Nixie nodded. “He’s an eerie ancient fucker that way.”
“He doesn’t know,” Glynn said. “But the way his mind works, I’m sure he’s thought of the possibility.”
They traversed the nine blocks in just over a minute and headed in through Emersons’ driveway entrance. A door led from the underground parking directly into the basement hallway. Inside, Emerson set his wife on her feet.
Glynn said, “I don’t suppose you’d care to wait with me while I make the call? In case Elias really can shoot lightning through the phone?”
“Um, love to. But, um…” Nixie gestured at the first door. “I’ve got a thing.” She disappeared inside.
“Me too.” Mishela edged toward the second door. “Got a thing, that is.” She slid into her room and slammed the door shut. The lock clicked home.
“I would, but I’ve got to ride herd on my wife. Good luck, old sap.” Emerson cuffed him on the arm. “I mean, old chap.”
With a grin, he dropped into mist and ran under the first door.
Glynn sighed and pulled out his phone.
