The Inferno enjoyed a turbulent past. At the turn of the century, it was the site of illegal boxing and gambling, and during Prohibition it became a speakeasy. The name of the club’s owner changed from time to time, but it was always the same immortal Scotsman. Colin McIntosh had been kicked out of Scotland in the seventeenth century for reasons never madeclear. There were rumors he’d killed someone or slept with the wrong woman. Probably both.
During the day, The Inferno was a typical Seattle seafood restaurant. After midnight, it took on another persona. The light green haze had nothing to do with tinted smoke, and the pinpoints of white light weren’t the result of electricity. The anomaly was supernatural and pulsated off the club’s inhabitants.
This was one of only a few places around the area considered neutral territory for the magical community. The only restriction was the use of black magic. Wizard, Vampire, Werewolf, Fairy, Troll and Half-Blood could all co-exist without fear of attack. Colin dealt with violators personally and no one asked what he did with the bodies.
The curl of cigarette smoke blew toward Rowan. Standing near an exit, a short distance from his booth, was a slender woman. She was six-foot-three-inches tall and dressed like a fashion model in thigh-high boots, a gold sheath dress, and raven-black waist-length hair. Her smile was seductive and all too familiar.
Without waiting for an invitation, his ex-girlfriend joined him, taking the seat opposite him in the booth. “Hello, darling. Long time.”
His first impulse was to respond that it wasn’t long enough, but she didn’t deserve the snide comment. Their split was mutual. “Hello, Sorsha.” It always surprised him that her looks never changed. He figured it was part of being a vampire. She’d never embraced the Goth look or had the chalk-white skin common with others of her kind. She looked more like one of those porcelain-faced Glenda the Good Witch dolls in toy stores. Lovely to look at in their own way, until she bared her fangs…or you got to know her.
“You’re looking well,” Rowan added. “Must be your new diet. I hear you went vegan.” Vegan in a vampire’s world meant that they drank only synthetic blood, like Lyons’ foster mother had.
Her thick eyelashes fluttered over dark ebony eyes. “Not quite, but I only drink the blood of a vegan, darling, much better for the complexion. Does that count?”
“You know it doesn’t.”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I’m a work in progress. Anyway, you, on the other hand, look as though you haven’t slept in days, but that’s to be expected. I’d heard you were attending Bealtaine.” She leaned closer and blew another ring of smoke in his direction. “If you were horny, all you had to do was scream.”
And there it was; his history with her. A destructive time in his past when he’d believed the best way to forget one woman was to take up with another. “Haven’t you heard; smoking cigarettes will kill you?”
“Promise? What are you doing here instead of on the island?”
“Someone is killing Wizards. I’m trying to find out why and stop them.”
She took another puff of smoke. “You’re back to being the hero. How boring.” She took another puff on her cigarette, then ground it out in the amber ashtray on the table. “It’s all over the street,” she continued. “The talk is that someone found a way to murder Wizards and make it look like a bad acid trip. I can see why they would target my kind, but Wizards are the beloved.” She said the last as though the words left a bad taste in her mouth.
“Hunting vampires might change if you all agreed to stop sucking blood out of humans as well as some in the magical community,” Rowan said in a flat tone.
“Addictions like smoking and drinking are hard habits to break.”
“The comparison is not even close, and you know it.”
She pressed her lips together and looked toward the center of the restaurant where tables were being cleared to welcome more customers. When she turned back, she had plastered a smile on her face, if you could describe a thin line across a plastic-looking face as a smile. “I don’t want to argue. I’m here to tell you what I know about the murders. There’s talk on the streets that the Talons and the Grey Council are behind the attacks. But I don’t have a name, and I don’t give the rumor much weight. After all, darling, Wizards help the Talons and the Grey Council save humanity from themselves. You’re their foot soldiers, their knights in rusty armor. It makes no sense that the Talons and the Grey Council would want to eliminate you all.”
“Well, someone wants us dead. I’m guessing a power play. Just not sure of the end game. Can you ask around?”
She glanced in the direction of a group of partygoers entering the club. She looked distracted, or maybe she was contemplating her next meal. Time oozed by as he waited for her response. A drawback with talking with a vampire. Time meant nothing to them. But she was an important member of her community. The next in line to take over and the first potential Queen in over three hundred years. If she agreed to help him, he might be able to discover not only who was behind the murders but a few other things.
Her red lips curled up in a mischievous grin. “If I agree to help you solve this mystery, you need to give me something I can bring to my people.”
“That’s fair. But if someone is really making a power play in the magical community, do you think they will stop at murdering Wizards? My guess is they’ll eliminate anyone who opposes them. You can take that to the blood bank. Coincidentally, three female Wizards died the first night of Bealtaine.”
She snapped her head around. “You should have led with that news flash, Wizard boy. No way was that a coincidence. We’ve had a longstanding truce with female Wizards. We watch out for each other. If whoever is behind this is also targeting them, we’re in.”
“Didn’t know about the truce.”
She slid out of the booth. “And for good reason. “I’ll investigate. Call it a freebie for old time’s sake. Looks like your informant is here.” And she was gone.
Sure enough, Walter Billowry was seated in a back corner of the restaurant, eating a meal large enough to feed an army. Rowan had given up wondering how Sorsha knew the things she knew. She had her finger on the pulse of Seattle, and he trusted her to do her best to keep the other vamps in check. At the end of the day, she walked a fine line. He knew her kind’s secret wish was to watch as Wizards destroyed themselves, leaving control of Seattle to whoever was still standing. Except, it seemed, when it came to female Wizards. Now, that was a new wrinkle he wasn’t certain was a good thing. The deeper into this puzzle he dove, the more pieces kept appearing.
Rowan glanced at the time on his cell. Morgan hadn’t planned on meeting him for another thirty minutes or so. Time to have a chat with his informant. He paid his tab and moved toward Walter’s booth.
According to rumor, Walter Billowry’s ancestors were descended from the giants that roamed Ireland before they were defeated. Walter bragged that he also had a touch of Wizard blood in his DNA. Linebacker large but without the athletic ability, he felt more comfortable around other magical creatures than in the human world.
Walter was busy devouring a meal of steak and potatoes smothered in thick white gravy when Rowan approached.
“Hello, Walter.”
