Bowie leads us to a gated entrance in the city wall, unguarded and left open in times of peace. We walk straight through, unbothered.
I continue to sniff for Cecily’s telltale minty scent, but it’s not here. There’s a southern entrance as well, and I pin my hopes on that instead. I’ll check it first after we’ve slept.
“Do you know where we’re going?” I’m eager to sleep in a bed again after one too many days in dank, abandoned cellars. At least Bowie hasn’t had to resort to sleeping within the earth. I hope we can continue to avoid that.
“Yes. I’ve accompanied Bettina to The Twig in years prior.” We walk briskly past one stone building after another, all in varying shades of cream and red, their occupants just beginning to stir. “I fear you won’t like it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s run by incubi,” he says matter-of-factly as if I know what that means.
“Incubi?”
He catches my gaze, my raised brows, and obvious ignorance.
The more I see of the world on this quest, the more I realize how little I know. Werewolves keep to their own, isolated in communal packs, each guarding their territory with little knowledge of what lies beyond their borders. I’m beginning to understand how much more there is to learn and experience beyond the pack lands. My isolation has been thorough. I wonder what Ava would think of a big city. Of a vampire hostel? Of incubi…whatever they are.
Bowie’s sparkling gaze narrows. “You’re unfamiliar I take it?”
I nod. “I’m unfamiliar with a lot of things, aren’t I?” Admitting my lack of worldly knowledge would be difficult with anyone else. But I trust in Bowie, in his patience as much as his gentle way of teaching.
He takes my arm, a habit of his I secretly love. “You’re a fast learner, my dear, so it matters not what you don’t know. What matters is that you care to learn.”
He makes me feel all warm inside. My lips creep to a smile. “Teach me of incubi, then.”
“Where to begin?” he muses with laughter in his voice. “They’re a race of demons, but don’t let that scare you. Demons, like people, werewolves, and vampires, come in all types—good and bad, saintly and evil. Most are some mix of both, just like us. Well, me at least. I’m not convinced you have a bad bone at all in you, not even in your smallest toe.”
“Tell that to the beaver I ate.”
Bowie chortles and squeezes my arm. “All right, I’ll grant you the smallest bit of evil. Anyway, incubi are highly sexual creatures, demons who draw their energy and sustenance from the lust and pleasure of others. As such, they’re well adept at inspiring that lust and giving that pleasure. Even just one incubus can lure a slew of humans into an orgy on a whim.”
Inspiring how?I gape at him. “Will they try to feed from us?”
“Depends on what we get up to,” he teases, then grows serious. “But no, not overtly, and not when we’re only there to sleep. But you won’t be unaffected. There’s a certain enticing nature to the atmosphere, a tempting haze that’s difficult to ignore. It’s not ill-intentioned on their part. They simply can’t help it. And the inn we’re going to isn’t so much an inn exactly as it is a brothel. The demons cater mostly to humans who aren’t aware of their supernatural nature.”
Stunned, I let that sink in. So we’re headed straight for a den of sex demons who feed off the lust of their oblivious human customers. Right. Nothing to worry about then except for the small fact I spend every waking hour and at least half of the sleeping ones pining for my handsome, clever companion. Perfect. Not that Bowie doesn’t seem to be agreeable, just that we’re on a mission—an extremely time-sensitive mission—and we’ve had no opportunity for such diversions.
“You’ve tensed,” Bowie observes. “Please don’t worry. I’ll handle them. They can be perfectly reasonable when told no. Plus, we’ve all the coin we need to keep them happily away from us during our stay.”
That’s not really what I’m worried about, but I don’t say so.
The beginning of dawn’s golden light peeks from above the rise to the east. Bowie hisses and takes off at a trot, tugging me along with him.
“I really ought to pay better attention,” he says rather flippantly, given the circumstances.
“Are you all right? You can run ahead if you need to.”
“And leave you lost? Never. I’m fine. The light is still indirect. It just burns a little. We’re nearly there.”
We keep close to the darker shadows of buildings, hurrying down one side road, then a narrow street, and finally to an alley. If I expected a grand building with outward displays of the decadence within, I’d have been wrong. We fly through the entrance of a nondescript wooden dwelling, not much larger than an ordinary house, and descend immediately down a flight of stairs. Again.
Because, of course a den of demons would be underground.
I can smell sex from here. Musk and sweat mixed with frilly oiled perfumes in an odor that is as succulent as it is repellent. I can’t make up my mind which.
A man approaches as we flee the last traces of natural light into what looks like a wine cellar. Bottles are stacked on specially designed shelving from floor to ceiling, lit with oil lamps suspended from low timbers.
“Cutting it close, vampire,” scolds the stranger. He’s petite, slender, with a swagger like a wild cat, not the sort of brute I’d choose for a guard, but something tells me he can hold his own despite appearances. Under his straight brown hair, his face holds a distinct lack of expression I find chilling. Is this an incubus? Instead of passion, he inspires revulsion. I’m eager to get past him.
