6
“I’m really nothappy about this,” Emma said over the mobile.
Jono dodged around a group of women wearing club dresses for a Saturday night out on the town, ignoring the interested glances thrown his way. Aside from them not being his type, he doubted they’d be at all interested if he took off his sunglasses and revealed his eyes.
“Not your place to decide, Em. Just keep everyone home tonight or working full shifts at the bar in case anything goes wrong. Alibis are good, yeah? I don’t want the god pack to accuse you of breaking any rules.”
Neither of them were supposed to be anywhere close to vampire territory in this manner. Passing through was fine—that was the only way to live in a major metropolitan city—but Jono didn’t want Emma to suffer the consequences of breaking a treaty when it was all on Jono.
“Everyone is where they should be except for Sage. Her mediation was today and it’s running late, but she’s with a senior partner of her firm. Estelle and Youssef won’t argue with the fae over her whereabouts.”
Jono snorted, ignoring the sounds of taxis honking to his left on Broadway. “Because they’d lose.”
“We’re safe,” Emma told him. “You’re the one in the crossfire.”
Jono kept his eyes on Patrick, watching as the mage sidestepped a couple of posh-looking blokes as they continued down the street. “I’ll be fine. We both will.”
“Keep an eye on Patrick. Don’t let him do anything stupid.”
“Ask for a miracle, why don’t you.”
Emma laughed in his ear, but there was little humor in her voice. “Call me when it’s over.”
“Can do. Ta, love.”
Jono ended the call and pocketed his mobile, lengthening his stride to catch up with Patrick. Despite the muggy heat that lingered over the city an hour past sunset, Patrick had a baseball cap on to cover his distinctive dark ginger hair, and he wore his leather jacket with the defensive charms set into the material.
“Everyone good?” Patrick asked.
Jono nodded. “Yeah.”
“Carmen texted. ETA five minutes.”
“Brilliant.”
Honestly, Jono could’ve thought up a dozen better ways to spend a Saturday night in SoHo than invading a master vampire’s territory. But he hadn’t been asked, so here they were.
The Crimson Diamond was one of those swanky luxury clubs Jono used to always feel out of place in as a young lad back in London. Located in an old industrial, cast-iron building, with an interior converted into something more modern, the Crimson Diamond could hold its own against all that the rest of Manhattan’s clubs had to offer. The windows had been sealed shut and darkened over time. Jono couldn’t see any signage save for red neon bent in the shape of a diamond above a single door.
A lone doorman stood outside in a dark suit, but there was no velvet rope to showcase the popularity of the club. No one loitered outside because the Crimson Diamond was an invite-only sort of place, where membership and the perks that came with it was tiered, but even the lowest level cost several hundred thousand dollars. No one could just walk in off the street and expect to be granted entrance—but that was exactly what they were going to do.
Patrick came to a stop a meter away from the entrance and ignored the doorman in favor of his mobile. Jono eyed the bruiser standing watch, discreetly taking in his scent with a quiet sniff. Human, but there was an underlying chemical note to the man’s scent that made Jono almost gag. When the man turned his head away after a long minute of staring, Jono’s keen eyesight caught a glimpse of the jagged scars half-hidden by the suit’s collar.
Bite marks.
Jono ran his tongue over the back of his teeth, tilting his head toward the building. He couldn’t hear a bloody thing coming through those walls, just a silence that spoke of secrets wanting to be kept. No one spent loads of money on a high-level silence ward without reason.
“Thirty seconds,” Patrick finally said, putting away his mobile.
Jono counted down the time in his head, and right when he hit zero, a black Escalade turned left at the corner of Grand Street. It braked to a stop in front of the club, two of the four doors opening before the wheels even stopped moving. Jono arched an eyebrow behind his sunglasses at the vampires and their chosen outfits.
He’d figured Lucien would’ve gone for the toff look, all designer suit and expensive accessories. Instead, the master vampire had opted for his usual attire of black jeans, studded motorcycle boots this time around, and a gray T-shirt beneath a battered leather jacket. The cigarette clamped between his lips was half-burned, the smell of nicotine making Jono’s lip curl.
Einar got out of the front passenger side, the tall, blond vampire dressed as casually as his master. Both vampires were that washed-out pale of the undead one couldn’t help but notice. Einar moved off to the side as Lucien helped Carmen out of the car. Feet clad in a pair of red stilettos slid into view; Jono winced at their absurd height.
The vibrant, red leather corset dress she wore barely covered her bum, the strapless sweetheart neckline molded to her breasts. A choker of diamonds and rubies fit snug around her throat, matching the earrings she wore. The small fortune was easy to see since her thick, curly black hair was tied back in a fishtail braid that cascaded down her back. Carmen looked human, and Jono wondered how long she would carry her glamour before shedding it.
Patrick cocked his head to the side, gaze raking up and down her body. “That’s an interesting place to hide a knife.”
