“What’s happening at the gala?” Takoma asked his driver.
“The police are onsite. They’re interviewing witnesses,” she said as she pressed on the gas pedal. She reached without looking for the middle console and pulled out a small towel from the compartment there, handing it to Takoma to wipe the blood off his hands.
“How do you know that? I thought all your people had left?” Spencer asked.
“You weren’t the only human servant working undercover tonight,” Takoma said.
“I’m not your human servant.”
“The police report will say otherwise.”
Which was true, and also a headache he didn’t want to deal with. Spencer slouched in the leather seat, deciding the better part of valor right then was to move the conversation along. “Where are we going?”
“I need a drink.”
They drove down Second Avenue, away from the Seattle Museum of Coven History and toward the Pioneer Square neighborhood. Spencer always made it a habit to review maps of the cities he ran missions or cases in. Knowing locations, streets, and even public transit helped when he had to lose a tail or get the hell out of town discreetly.
Pioneer Square had a nightlife people looked like they were enjoying as they drove past some bars and clubs. Eventually, the car pulled up in front of a Romanesque building within Pioneer Square whose windows were blacked out in their brick arches, unlike the businesses next door. Not that it wasn’t doing badly in the way of patrons, judging by the line of well-dressed people standing behind the velvet rope. Definitely a vampire hangout, but Spencer doubted it was the heart of the Seattle Night Court.
Spencer unbuckled his seat belt and got out, squinting at the wooden sign hanging over the red-painted door guarded by two burly-looking security guards. The blocky image of an orca was carved into the wood that blended into the building’s aesthetics, the name Black Waters spelled out beneath it.
Takoma was already heading for the door one of the security guards had pushed open for him. Spencer hurried to follow the master vampire inside, glancing down curiously at the small squares of purple glass embedded in the sidewalk. The security guards didn’t try to stop him from entering the lounge-like bar, eyes adjusting to the low-lit interior.
The hostess stand was situated in front of a wooden wall filled with small cubby holes. The two women wearing dresses far too short for the weather were clearly human servants, judging by the bite marks scarred over the pulse points in their necks. A small sign indicated all patrons had to remove their holy items before going any farther.
“This way,” Takoma said.
Spencer stayed on Takoma’s heels, Fatima right beside him as they walked farther into a space that was a feeding ground for vampires. A quick slide of his vision showed him more dark voids than bright souls in the crowd. Blinking his vision back to normal, Spencer did his best to ignore the dozens of curious eyes following his every step as Takoma led him to the back of the main lounge.
Walking alone into a territory very clearly held by vampires wasn’t the brightest move he’d ever made, but Spencer didn’t think Takoma meant him harm. If the master vampire had, then their brief time together at the gala would’ve ended far differently. Spencer still kept his hands loose at his side, ready to conjure up a mageglobe if needed. He was curious, not stupid.
A staircase at the back led up to the next level of the lounge, guarded by a security guard dressed all in black. The man nodded respectfully at Takoma but never moved from his spot. Rather than go up, Takoma approached a door designed to blend in with the wood paneling covering the back wall. The iron knob was dark enough that Spencer didn’t immediately see it in the shadows.
The door swung outward, and cold air drifted into their immediate area from below. The hidden space revealed a set of wooden stairs and amber-glassed sconces bolted to the stone wall. The stairs led underground, and Fatima was the first one down them, not waiting for an invitation.
Takoma glanced at Spencer, a smirk playing on his lips. “Don’t trust me?”
Spencer shrugged. “She’s a good scout.”
Fatima popped back into existence on the landing moments later, ears flicking backward.No easy exit.
If he didn’t have that talk with Takoma now, he knew the master vampire wouldn’t quit until they did. Spencer chewed on the inside of his cheek. No easy exit didn’t mean no exit, after all. “After you.”
Fatima yowled her displeasure before loping down the stairs again. Takoma went next, taking the narrow stairs with the fluidity of habit. Spencer followed him down into an underground space that couldn’t hide its age.
The stone walls showed cracks here and there in the amber lighting, a series of brick arches separating out shadowed alcoves from the main section where a bar was set up. Wooden beams were interspersed throughout the length of the room, offering up extra support for the ceiling above. The cement floor bled cold through the soles of his shoes as he trailed after Takoma to the farthest alcove. When he looked up, Spencer could see purple glass squares embedded in the ceiling, the same ones he’d walked over on the street.
It was less crowded below, and the vampires outnumbered the mundane humans three to one. The people mingling beneath hungry gazes all looked happy to be there though. Spencer didn’t know if they were human servants or a meal for the night, but either way, he wasn’t going to stop them from having fun. Their business wasn’t his business, but apparently, he was every vampire’s business, judging by the eyes that followed his every step.
No one stopped him from joining Takoma in that last alcove. It was empty save for the vampire who had been guarding Takoma at the museum gala. Somehow, he’d reached the place first. Takoma flicked his fingers in the direction of the vampire. “Haitao is the teeth of my Night Court when I am not here. He stayed in Seattle when I went to New York City.”
Spencer translated that as Takoma’s right hand, who must be somewhat trustworthy if Takoma still had a Night Court to come back to. “Does he know what happened while you were there?”
“I know,” Haitao replied flatly, baring his fangs in an unfriendly smile. The antagonistic look disappeared when Fatima hopped onto the glass table situated before the curved leather couch, clearly making herself visible to the two vampires. Fatima sprawled on the table and casually started licking her front paw, claws on display.
Spencer snorted as he took a seat at the edge of the leather couch. Fatima ignored him while he wrote out a silence ward on the table she lounged on. Static washed through the alcove, white noise blocking everything out. “I know you wanted answers, but I don’t have the authority to spill government secrets.”
“Your colonist government is not mine,” Takoma said, one arm stretched out over the back of the leather couch.
