Chapter 32

TOBIAS

A dimly lit sign flickers,spelling out the club"s name in gothic script. Sanctum. I didn"t recognise the name when discussing venues with Matt and Amelia, but I"ve hazy memories of places like this. Have I visited here before? Possibly. I spent time at a lot of underground clubs; they blur into one. A dread sneaks in when I fix my eyes on the black painted door ahead. These venues change their names all the time. I won"t know until I step inside.

I wrap an arm around Maeve"s shoulders, demonstrating from the start that she"s with me both physically and through my "back the fuck off" aura. Maeve dressed to suit the club as much as she could when choosing from her clothes—short purple and black plaid skirt over black leggings and a long-sleeve top to match. I"m relieved she isn"t showing a lot of skin, but without heavy make-up and with her hair in a single braid, she"s deceptively meek looking compared to those around.

If only the girls sneering at her in disdain knew what Maeve could do to them if they threatened her.

In order to keep a low profile, we could"ve snuck round the back but decided to queue along with the black-clothed men and women waiting. Sure, Maeve and I are known amongst Dominion, but she isn"t the only blonde witch out there and even though I often attract flirtatious attention, I"m not well-known enough amongst younger, newer Dominion.

But I am walking Maeve into a club filled with hemia vamps amongst the witches and humans, and Maeve"s blood is potent. Let"s hope we pick up some thoughts before people are drawn to her, and we avoid having to use some of our magic to get out.

The club only opened the doors ten minutes ago, so the queue winds along the street. At least eighty percent are supes, some leaning against a wall plastered with posters advertising upcoming bands or theme nights at this club and others. The sound of deep, bass-heavy music vibrates through the ground, a call to my memories of nights like these. The queue moves forwards and a faint scent of incense seeps through the open doors, nauseating me. Not the fragrance, but how I"m placing myself into my history.

History. Years ago. Everything"s changed.

The security doesn"t look much different to the patrons attracted to the place, somewhere between grunge and goth. The guy with long black hair touching his leather jacket knows a few regulars that he banters with, while a tattooed and pierced guy with spiked hair beside him picks out people banned and sends them away. He switches focus to one trio of humans who refuse to leave, and the long-haired guy waves us in, watching his friend, not us.

We walk through the heavy maroon velvet drape and pause, Maeve blinking through the heavy darkness as we get our bearings. The owners definitely embraced the gothic aesthetic, antique mirrors that reflect the dark interior, creating the illusion the club is larger, and gold chandeliers above the bar drip with mock black candles. The heavy incense scent fills the air enough that most vamps would struggle to quickly pick out who"s a witch, the ultraviolet strobe lights giving people an otherworldly look.

I grip Maeve"s hand as my pulse rate spikes. I have visited this place before.

How often? Maybe half a dozen, a long time ago, when on the hunt with a couple of friends. On the hunt. Not for humans, but witches. I moisten my dry lips. The owners—or new owners—redecorated since I last stood here over seven years ago, and there"re more humans in the place than the past, but this is unmistakably a club once called Black Dahlia. Whoever bought the place decided to ramp up the gothic feel and I"m disorientated by the humans playing supes, and the supes playing humans in one big pretence.

Their appearances meet in the middle, all with a similar look that reminds me of the one Andrei once cultivated to help him blend in when he"d hunt humans. Black. Chains. Heavy boots. Andrei doesn"t have visible tattoos or piercings, but he"d look at home here. My appearance was closer to this back then, and although I"ve dressed in black jeans and one of Andrei"s band t-shirts to fit in, I"m different.

You"re not him.

The majority here are vamps, although not all hemia, but I catch enough magic energy to relax. Maeve"s a beacon, but at least the other witches" magic, along with lamia, and pneuma auras will dampen her light.

"Everything alright?" Maeve whispers, her tightening fingers drawing me from my thoughts.

"Sure." I squeeze back and lead Maeve to the bar that stretches the length of the wall, dark wood and aged metal in the rear of the room we stepped into.

The shelves behind are a magical library of spirits, with bottles glowing under subtle backlighting, casting an array of colours against the walls, different to the clear or brown liquors I usually drink. Bartenders, dressed in theme, mix cocktails named after potions for those congregating.

I take a shaky breath. How did I not know where we decided to scout tonight?

Because I spent so many of those years lost in a haze of blood, drugs, and sex.

And death.

I swallow hard. I"m slowly accepting that man will never die, but with Maeve"s help I"m embracing that he"s a part of me and not who defines me. But memories. Fuck, I hope nobody from my past still hangs out here.

Unlikely. Too many unexplained injuries and deaths in the vicinity would be enough for my old friends to move on—or be moved on. No. This place is filled with younger, newer Dominion members.

Which is why I"m here. Snap the fuck out of this Tobias. Focus.

"Um. Thanks, but you never asked what I wanted," says Maeve, frowning at the tumbler glass I place in front of her. She picks up her drink and sniffs. "Vodka and…?"

"Oh." I look at my whiskey soda. Am I that lost in myself that I ordered drinks without registering where I am? "Vodka and cranberry."

"Okay, but I only want the one," she tells me. "You should avoid drinking too."

The guy behind the bar, spiked green hair and a generous number of piercings across his face and ears, holds out a card reader, but I dig into my pocket for cash. We don"t leave footprints from things like card transactions. Jamie"s taught me that.

Jamie, who I"m on the verge of calling to join us in case I lose concentration all together, waiting for the proverbial skeletons to jump from the shadows.

"Have you sensed something?" Maeve asks quietly. "You"re really distracted."

"I"m sure you can detect there"s a lot of... conflicting energies around."

"Right, and yes." She sips, looking at me over the glass, big blue eyes brim-full of concern. "That"ll make things quicker and easier, right?"

I hope so. "Yes."

"What"s wrong?" Maeve sets the drink down. "Is there someone here we should worry about?"

I shake my head, I hope not.

"Let"s find some weak-minded kids and get this done as soon as we can," I say, and she frowns at my sharp tone. "So that the others don"t worry too much."

"This isn"t my type of place. People will tell I"m uncomfortable."

I glance at Maeve. I"ve tried bloody hard not to touch her bare skin, and I run a finger along her soft cheek. "Believe me, I don"t want to hang around."

The bar crowds with people ordering drinks as their first port of call, and I wind an arm around Maeve to draw her closer as a girl bumps into her. She"s human and oblivious. I"d suggest we find a quiet corner to scout from, but none exists in this place.

Witches and vamps. Younger looking ones. Locate thoughts and leave.

Hand firmly in Maeve"s again, I pull her away from the bar and towards the steps to a mezzanine. A wrought iron staircase, twisted and ornate, spirals up and they clang as we climb them and reach the balcony overlooking the group below.

I lean on the balustrade to watch the people in the dance of lights and shadows; we"re partially hidden in the dim, observers of the spectacle but a world away from these people.

"Can you read minds from this far away?" asks Maeve.

"No. But I can spot someone worth approaching more easily. Slightly quieter up here, too."

And I can scout in case I recognise anybody I need to avoid.

Plush, velvet seating lines the elevated area, where people talk in the quieter space. A handful of other clubgoers lean on the wrought balcony railing, drinking from bottles as they chatter and look down. I subtly reach out with my mind—a couple of them are witches, but when I delve deeper the words Dominion or Gabriella don"t exist in their thoughts.

I continue to study those below. We could move onto the dance floor and mingle to find minds to read that way, but there"s too much risk somebody will recognise Maeve. The dancers pack tightly, stomping and spinning to the aggressive beats of industrial tracks, their raw and unbridled energy interfering with my detecting thoughts.

We chose to arrive early in the evening expecting less people, but the packed club makes our task harder. I wanted enough bodies to hide amongst, but not so many that individual thoughts become impossible to pick apart.

Instead, a forgotten familiarity of witch and vampire scents mingles with alcohol and perspiration, a humming with desire for sex palpable. The place attracted a lot of humans and I watch as vamps target them.

My heart speeds as the memories slide in again. The way I targeted witches.

"We could try standing in the hallway by the bathrooms?" suggests Maeve. "People will pass us?"

No. We"ll be in a well-lit place.

I take a shaky breath. I"m paranoid. Nobody from seven years ago would still come here. They might not even be alive still. "Alright," I say. "Let"s go."

Maeve reaches out to stop me as I turn back to the steps. "What"s the matter, Tobias?"

"Just worried about spending too much time away from the others. We never know when the First might appear."

Maeve gazes at me steadily. "No. More than that. You"re not focused."

"I"m not used to places like this anymore." I smile and turn away, this time reaching the top of the stairs.

We need to get this done and get out. Quickly.

Maeve"s hand barely left mine all evening, and back in the main room, I weave through the annoyingly large throng, edging the dance floor as we head towards the hallway that leads to the bathrooms. Maeve doesn"t ask how I know the way, and her face pulls into confusion as I position her against the wall at the edge, ensuring I have my back to any passers-by.

"There"s a queue for the bathrooms round there." Maeve indicates two doors inside the brighter hallway where people mill around outside them, some sitting on the floor with their drinks, and others chatting and flirting.

I"m not standing in the light.

"You could join the queue?" I suggest. "I"ll watch who passes."

"You should come with me, Tobias." Her shaky voice snaps me out of my self-preservation. I look after Maeve, not myself.

"Sorry. Right."

I follow Maeve into the hall with the red painted, chipped walls where smaller posters for bands hang, some half-torn. The door to each of the bathrooms is painted black, a gold frame attached with artfully stencilled pictures of a man and woman on each.

Maeve chose the right place to stand. There"s more room to not only breathe but also pick up thoughts. I rest against the wall, Maeve facing me this time, and I smile at her.

"Did I tell you how distracting you look this evening?" I rub a thumb across her bottom lip.

"Focus, Tobias," she says and gives a mock stern look. "Is that what"s distracting you? Me?"

I slide my eyes away from her as an image hits. Shit. Maeve catches it because she takes a sharp breath and says nothing. Too late because this time I don"t block the thoughts. In the bathrooms. Me and Maeve. Her over the sink, skirts pulled up and one hand on her perfect ass as I use my fingers on her. More. Watching her face in the mirror.

"Tobias…" But I don't miss the hitch in her breath.

I tip my mouth into an apologetic smile, pulling myself away from what I"m pretending is teasing but is a need desperate enough I"d drag Maeve to a quiet corner if we weren"t working.

"We've barely touched recently," I say, pulling her bottom lip down with my thumb. "My mind goes places when I'm with you."

"Apparently so."

I draw Maeve to me, and our eyes meet, a shared desire guaranteed to take away our concentration on anything but each other. Our lips meet, briefly, and I tug her lip into my mouth, holding back on falling into a kiss. Maeve doesn't help when she slides a hand to the back of my neck, her warm breath still stroking my lips.

"Now who's losing focus?" I say quietly, our mouths touching as I speak.

With a small sigh, Maeve nods and draws away. "I haven't deliberately kept away from you, Tobias. Everything's…exhausting."

"I know." I stroke her hair. "I love you, Maeve. Don't ever forget."

She frowns. "What's happened? That sounded intense. You look intense."

"Nothing."

Maeve's brow remains pinched. "I don't doubt that you love me, Tobias. And I love you too, so don't you ever forget either."

A conversation and thought drifts into my mind from further along the hallway.

Gabriella. Invite.

I place a finger over my lips and incline my head. Maeve subtly looks over. A group of four vamps, two guys and two girls, resting against the wall. They"re all dressed to blend in, the guys in black, and grungy in distressed jeans, heavy boots, and piercings. One wears his dark hair spiked with green tips, the other pulled from his face. The girls dressed in short black dresses and torn leggings, knee-length laced boots, and wear make-up heavy enough to disguise their faces. Perfect camouflage?

"We won"t need to mind read if people are dumb enough to talk about the Dominion in public," says Maeve quietly.

"The smaller guy already told one of the girls to shut up," I reply. "I hope they haven"t drunk too much and dulled their minds."

"They may not all know. One of them could be recruiting?" suggests Maeve.

I"m frustrated at first, concerned there may be a block, but the spiked-haired guy"s mind matches one of someone who"s taken Lix. At least that lessens the chance he"ll notice my invasion. Ironically, he"s having the same thoughts about the slender girl opposite as I was about Maeve, although with more blood play involved. I quickly snatch myself away from thoughts of that—which he seems to enjoy a lot—and poke around for the information I need.

There.

He is Dominion. Karl. A recent hemia recruit. The girl with the sharp, purple bob, Natalie, persuaded him to join, and she"s newer too. He"s filled with thoughts of power, and the influence he could have over others, raw hatred for Confederacy. He passed tests. Killed a witch. Fuck. But the guy"s happy because now he gets the blood.

The blood. Gabriella is creating an army.

A resistance grows in his mind, and I snatch back my mental fingers and switch to the vamp guy he"s persuading to join the ranks. Dom. Perfect name. His thoughts are foggier, as if he"s concentrating on filtering them. Odd. Although one thing"s clear—this guy"s ecstatic at Karl trusting and inviting him.

Exactly how much blood does Gabriella have?

I creep back from my mind-reading and glance at Maeve, who"s still focused, her eyes faraway as she concentrates on the girl recruiting the others. Crossing my arms, I rest back against the wall again and run through what I"ve seen. Yes, I"ve an idea how far this recruitment spreads but not where any meetings happen.

Hopefully Maeve can pick up more, and at least these kids sit far enough down Gabriella"s food chain that they"ve no idea who"s watching them.

A man exits the bathrooms, running a silver ring-covered hand across the top of his spiked platinum blond hair as he does.

The world freezes. I freeze. I"ve spent enough time with this vamp in the past to recognise him straightaway. Silas hasn"t changed, hair the same colour and style, the watery blue eyes framed with unusually long lashes that add more allure to his hemia face.

Nothing"s different in the way he dresses, the black that never goes away in this human subculture, including his fingernails. If I need any more confirmation, a black and red snake tattoo spreads from his shoulder to neck.

Maeve remains focused on her mind-reading, and I take a few paces forwards, away from her, in case the guy stops and speaks to me. I don"t turn my back quick enough because he double takes. Recognition fills his eyes, too.

"Whitlock?"