“I need to get into Samael’s party tonight.”
“You’re not on the list.”
“That’s kind of the point of this conversation.” I waved a hand between us and he instantly shook his head.
“Uh-uh. No way. You’re dreaming.”
I tilted my head, staring Steve down. “I need this. I’ll pay for it.”
“It’s too dangerous. For both of us.”
“Come on Steve, you know how it goes. I help you out, you help me out, everyone wins.”
“No.” He lifted his hand for another drink and I ran my finger along one of the deep scratches in the wooden bar while we waited. Mere was busy pouring whiskey for a group of werewolves, and one of them was watching her intently, his yellow eyes almost glowing. From the twitch of her lips, Mere was well aware of him checking her out.
Above the bar hung a sign that had once read “Tom’s Bar.” Sometime between now and when I’d been here last, the “Tom’s” had been crossed out and replaced by “Meredith’s”.
Tom disappeared a few years ago. And he hadn’t been missed. The old curmudgeon had been a bigot, ensuring paranormals felt so unwelcome that they chose to drink almost anywhere else.
Never mind the fact that his daughter was a witch.
Meredith had run the bar for months after he disappeared, finally throwing up her hands and advertising drink specials to lure in both humans and paranormals. Mere didn’t care who her clientele was, as long as they drank enough to pay her bills.
Meredith’s was now neutral territory– one of the few bars in Durham where paranormals could rub shoulders, mages could make deals, and witches could scheme without drawing attention. It was an unwritten rule, but starting a fight in Meredith’s would have every creature in the bar on your ass within moments.
Mere wore her long, black hair in a thick braid, hazel eyes dancing as she grinned at a gnome who stood up on a bar stool and slid a few bucks into her tip jar. She wiped her hands on her apron and nodded at him, glancing at the young fae bartender she’d recently hired. He waved his hand and the cap flew off a bottle of beer, which lifted into the air and poured a thimble-sized glass of beer for a pixie who was fluttering drunkenly across the bar.
The bartender said something to Mere and she moved toward us.
“Danica,” she greeted me, leaning against the bar. “What hell are you raising now?”
I couldn’t help the smile that curled my lips. Meredith was good people.
“The bad kind,” Steve said sourly as she slid another whiskey his way. “The demon kind.”
I sighed as Mere raised her eyebrow at me. “Why am I not surprised,” she said. Her gaze dropped to the dagger on my hip, obviously remembering the night I’d plied Ben with alcohol.
“It’ll be an easy in-and-out,” I promised Steve. “You get me in, I’ll talk to the guy, and then I’ll disappear. No one will even know I wasn’t on the list.”
Steve sighed, but I could tell I almost had him. “Why is it so important you talk to this demon?”
I told him about the lesser demon and the arrow. Steve raised a brow as he sipped at his whiskey. Behind us, a group of goblins burst into laughter, and Steve hunched his shoulders, shooting a look toward the crowd. He may work in the tower, but that didn’t mean Steve was fond of paranormals.
I followed his gaze. The goblins were leaning toward each other, their red eyes intent as they talked in hushed voices. One of them glanced our way and bared his pointed teeth, the malevolent expression on his green face warning us to mind our own business.
Steve shook his head morosely and twisted in his seat toward me. “So you think this guy knows something about who killed your mom?”
I nodded. “This is my best chance to question him before he flies to Europe.”
According to my research, Vercan had a security team who’d been working with him for decades. But he’d have to leave them at the door to get into Samael’s party.
Steve sighed. “In and out?”
“In and out,” I promised, and he closed his eyes briefly.
“Fine.”
I grinned at him. “You’re amazing.”
