He’s dressed in an obnoxiously loud golden jacket with a gold bowtie that washes out his already pale skin and accentuates the dark rings under his eyes.
Farther along the wall, I make out the figure of another vampire with a gorgeous woman on his arm. Unlike the bloodsucker nearest to me, this vampire is smartly dressed in an expensive-looking black suit and has glittering red eyes. His date is slender with striking red hair. They have an air of danger about them and I turn away quickly, glad that I didn’t accidentally zap them. I don’t need to make enemies before I’ve even stepped into the room.
Although there are beanbags and couches lining this side of the room, the majority of the floor space is taken up by the large dance floor, where couples already groove to the thumping beat, their feet kicking up the misty haze of smoke that floats across the ground.
A thundercloud of neon lights fills the ceiling, obscuring everything farther up. I make out an overhanging loft that lines the perimeter on the second level and looks down on the dance floor where I stand.
My heart thumps in time to the music.
I fight my fear of new places, of being in an environment I don’t control. After Mom’s death, I rarely left Saber Lane. Even going to the library was a trip I planned well ahead of time.
Now I’m in a completely uncontrolled, unfamiliar environment.
The last thing I need is for my instinctive magic to rear its head in an ugly way. The first time it burst out of me, I created a storm that blew a small army aside. I don’t think the partygoers in this room would take kindly to that sort of treatment. Not least because they’re all magical, all monsters like me.
I situate myself against the nearest wall, away from the vampires, to get a sense of my surroundings. I was hoping I’d be able to identify Mother Kadris right away, but the lighting makes it nearly impossible to recognize auras in this place.
I’ll have to search each level. Starting with the dance floor.
An ironic smile spreads across my lips. Here I am, pressed up against the wall in a dress covered in nature.
I always was a wallflower.
Well, no more.
CHAPTER SIX
Skirting the room, I head to the bar on the right-hand side at the front. I could use something to steady my nerves and moving through the room allows me to surveil it.
I take my time, assessing everyone I pass. Mother Kadris’s power will be immense. Her presence should hit me like a sledgehammer, but so far… nothing.
Two bars line the front of the room, each with cement tops patterned with glowing crystals that pulse in time to the music. Behind the bars, glowing shelves makes bottles of liquid glitter—more liquids than I can identify, the most obvious ones being blood, soda, alcohol, and—to my surprise—simple water.
Squinting to identify the magical nature of each of the four bartenders, I quickly assess my options.
One of the bartenders at the bar on the right is a witch. I can just make out her aura around her head of long, pink hair. It’s unlikely that Mother Kadris would work here, but I need to get closer to the pink-haired witch to be sure.
I take a seat in front of the other bartender at the same bar. He has piercing blue eyes, long dreads, and the aura of a shifter, but I’m not sure which kind. Freckles across the bridge of hisnose dust his golden skin. He gives me a warm glance, leaning forward to speak above the thumping music.
“Alone tonight?” a deep African voice asks.
I don’t detect an insult in his words, but I bristle anyway. “I’m always alone.”
“Aren’t we all?” he muses, a philosophical light entering his eyes.
I only sat in front of him so I could check out the witch, but up close, I’m suddenly fascinated by the freckles on the shifter’s nose.
I squint. “Are you a… lion?”
I’ve never met a lion shifter before. Wolves, jaguars, and bears even, but lions are rare in my experience.
He gives me a nod and a smile that makes my heart skip a beat.A very good-looking lion.
“What can I get you to drink?” he asks.
I falter. My reclusive life on Saber Lane involved hot chocolates from Dean’s Diner more frequently than alcohol. I may be twenty-three years old, but my knowledge of alcohol is sorely lacking. I certainly don’t know the names of any of the drinks.
I press my lips together before I make a fool of myself and ask for water.
