Chapter 34

Chapter 34

JASPER

“ E xcuse me?”

Jasper glanced up, smiling brightly at the Witch who approached the bar. He had heard her walk up, even over the heavy bass of the music. But when he gave her that surprised smirk, as though she’d snuck up on him, she blushed so prettily.

They always did.

“What can I get you?” Jasper asked, setting down the glass he was polishing and leaning toward her, his palms flat on the bar.

There was a time before Fey, when having a Witch in the Last Drop was practically unheard of. Sure, they were close enough to the university to attract a few college kids, but most of their clientele come from the Fallen Factions. Witches had their own bars and their own clubs, where they didn’t have to rub shoulders with the riffraff in the lower city.

Fey had changed all of that. Hell, Fey had changed a lot of things.

Now the club’s clientele had a broader range. And it had been months since Jasper and Ferus had been forced to beat the shit out of anyone. He almost missed it some nights.

Almost.

The Witch gave him a flirtatious smile, batting her lashes at him. Behind her, the group of women she’d come in with watched their interaction and giggled.

“I heard you have a specialty drink? One you make for… for the Broken Blade?”

Jasper widened his smile just enough to flash his sharp incisors as he straightened. The Witch’s eyes went to his teeth immediately, and her breath hitched. Fear was a powerful aphrodisiac in small doses, and the Witches who had started coming here (always in groups, always giggling) enjoyed a bit of danger to spice up their evening.

And Jasper was happy to oblige them. Up to a point, of course.

“A Witch’s Temple,” he told her, grabbing bottles. “Of course. And for your… friends?” He glanced at the table, raising an eyebrow and smiling at the four Witches there.

“The same, for them,” the Witch answered breathlessly. Jasper gave her a wink and set to work making them.

“Is… is she here tonight?” the Witch asked, and Jasper glanced up to look at her. “The… the Broken Blade?”

“Fey?” he asked. “Nah, not tonight. Not yet, anyway. But later?” He shrugged, like she came in all the time. “Who knows? She might show up.”

And if she did, he’d be sure to give her a talking to about her aim. Sure, the scorch marks on the wall were barely visible in the dim light of the club, but they’d lost about half their top-shelf stock to her temper. Next time, maybe he could convince her to aim just a little lower.

Jasper lined the finished drinks up on the bar but shook his head when the Witch reached into her pocket for her coin.

“Oh no, darling, this round is on me,” he told her, dropping his voice to a husky whisper. Her blush was delicious.

Thanking him, she gathered the drinks and ran back to her table to tell her friends everything. Jasper grinned. That free round, and his little white lie implying Fey might come by that night, would be enough to keep that group around and drinking up a huge tab until closing time. They’d more than make up for the cost of the free drinks, and next week he’d bet his whole paycheck he’d see them, and even more Witches like them, after they told all their friends what a great time they’d had.

Whistling, Jasper went back to polishing glasses. It was a slow night, and for once, it seemed like they might be over-staffed. Sid was cleaning the stockroom, but Jasper had given him the task mainly to give him something to do. Well, that, and because after the last few weeks of use the stockroom probably needed a good deep clean. With bleach.

He had just put down a glass and picked up a new one when the club door opened and Alastair walked in.

The Witches whispering at their table went dead silent, jaws dropping as the Vampire moved across the dance floor. He had that effect on the patrons. Hell, if half of the Witches who came in tonight were hoping to see Fey, the other half was probably here to see Alastair. The Vampire Prince who was drop dead gorgeous enough to capture the heart of the Broken Blade? Now that was something people wanted to see.

Jasper reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle of Alastair’s favorite whiskey. Flipping one of the freshly polished glasses up, he grinned at Alastair, expecting him to stop for his usual.

“Hey boss,” Jasper called, uncorking the bottle.

But Alastair didn’t look up. Didn’t acknowledge him at all. He walked, head down, straight past the bar and up the stairs to the VIP section, heading toward his office.

Something tightened in Jasper’s chest. He corked the bottle as the smile slipped off his face. He stared down at the empty glass on the bar for a few long seconds before putting it back with the others.

Once upon a time, before he started working for Alastair, Jasper had tried his hand at being a thief. It was a common line of work for most Shifters when he was growing up, and Jasper figured if some of his friends could do it, so could he.

He was, without a doubt, a really shitty thief. Sure, he could blend into a crowd, and he could pick pockets with the best of them, but a good thief always knows when to cut and run.

And Jasper never ran from a fight.

After getting into one too many scraps after being caught in the act, and after drawing way too much attention to himself, Jasper had given up on picking pockets and managed to get a job as hired muscle.

All these years later, and he still didn’t know when to back down. Still never ran from a fight.

Grinding his teeth together, Jasper went to the stockroom to find Sid. He needed someone to cover the bar while he and Alastair had a chat.