Red-Headed Stepchild (Sabina Kane #1)

Red-Headed Stepchild (Sabina Kane #1) Page 8

He nodded curtly. “Yes, and vampires are not welcome in this shop.” He turned to go, but stopped short. He turned his head and sniffed the air. “Wait a second. What the hell are you?”

“I’m mixed-blood,” I said.

His eyes widened. “Impossible.”

I crossed my arms. “Actually, it’s quite possible.”

He seemed to consider it and let it slide for a moment. “What do you want?”

“I have a demon issue.” Oh boy, did I. In spades.

“What sort?”

“Well,” I fidgeted with a statue of Isis. His eyes shot to my hand disapprovingly. I set it down and cleared my throat. “Someone summoned a demon to kill me. I survived and now I’m stuck with him.”

“You said you’re half-mage, right?”

I looked away. “Yeah, but I’ve never had any training.”

“Do you know who summoned the demon?”

“No.”

“Sorry, lady, you’re screwed.” He started to walk away again, but I held out a hand.

“Wait! What do you mean?”

He turned slowly, obviously annoyed. “Only the summoner or the target can return the demon.” He shrugged his bony shoulders. “Good night!” He moved to go again, as if he couldn’t stand to be in the same room as me.

“Hold on.” My temples began to throb. “You’re telling me there’s no way to send this demon back to Irkalla?”

He crossed his arms. “Did I stutter?”

My heart sank. I looked around at the shelves full of dusty, leather-bound books, as if one of the spines would offer an answer.

“Look, you want my advice? Get used to having that demon around. Because without the summoner you’re up shit creek.”

I slumped against the counter. Giguhl was going to freak when I told him I couldn’t get him home. “Can’t you tell me how to send him back?

The mage snorted. “The art of summoning demons takes years to learn.”

“Isn’t there a Demon Summoning for Dummies book or something?”

He frowned at me, obviously insulted. “Goodnight.”

I turned to go, but something shiny caught my eye from a shelf behind the counter.

“Wait. What’s that?” I pointed at an amulet.

He trudged over to the counter with a deep sigh. When he saw where I was pointing, his eyes widened. “You can see that?”

I looked at him as if he was one can short of a six pack. “Uh, yeah. What is it?”

His mouth dropped open, his shock evident. “You’re not supposed to be able to see it.”

“Obviously I can.”

He stared at me for a moment, a new expression in his eyes. Intrigue? “That,” he said, taking it down, “is the Lilith amulet.”

The item in question was made from solid gold. It shone in the dim light as if lit from inside. The metal was formed into the shape of an eight-pointed star—a symbol I knew very well.

“The Lilith amulet?”

He cleared his throat and looked around nervously. I looked around, too, wondering about his sanity since we were completely alone in the store. He waved his hand for me to lean in closer.

“The Lilith amulet,” he whispered, “is worn by members of the Caste of Nod.” He said this last with a dramatic flair. When I merely blinked back at him, he continued. “The Caste is a secret society rumored to be the protectors of the Preascarium Lilitu.”

I snorted, remembering melodramatic stories about the Caste traded among the fledglings in school. “That’s a myth.”

He raised a challenging eyebrow. “Oh, I assure you, it’s very real.” He raised the amulet so it spun over a lit candle on the desk. “This came to me from a faery whose mother was a member of the Caste.”

“How much do you want for it?” I had no idea why I wanted it. Maybe I felt it might give me some clue about the birthmark on my back. Maybe I just thought it was pretty. All I knew was that I felt oddly compelled to own it.

He jerked the amulet back. “Not for sale. That’s why I placed a cloaking ward on it.” His eyes narrowed. “Which brings me back to the question, how did you see it?”

I shrugged. “Maybe your ward was bogus.”

He frowned. “My wards never fail. Are you sure you’re not a member of the Caste?”

I laughed. “If they exist, do you honestly think they’d choose a mixed-blood to be a member?”

“You have a point,” he said. “Still, it’s odd.”

“Whatever,” I said, feeling uncomfortable with his scrutiny. “Are you sure you won’t sell it to me?”

He put the amulet in the pocket of his jacket. “Yes.”

I briefly considered stealing the amulet from him, but I didn’t want to tangle with his magic. “Well, thanks for nothing.”

“Bye now. And listen, don’t tell anyone about the amulet. I can’t have every vamp, faery, and mage coming in here asking about it.”

I nodded and walked toward the door, confused. I’d come in wanting to know how to get rid of my demon problem, and left with more questions. The mage’s talk about the Caste made me uneasy. I’d heard of it, of course. Vampire fledglings were warned about the Caste by their parents. They were like the dark race version of the Boogeyman. Break the Sacred Laws and the Caste would punish you. But the mage in the shop had seemed convinced of their existence. I thought about the mark on my back and a shiver passed down my spine. Could the birthmark have some connection to the fact I could see the amulet despite the cloaking ward?

There was only one place to go with these questions, but I had to put off meeting with my grandmother until I’d made contact with Clovis’ people. For that to happen, I could only hope Ewan was busy working his own brand of magic.

6

A couple of nights later, I pulled into the parking lot of Phantasmagoria, a club located in a renovated theater off Wilshire. I’d left Giguhl on the couch at home watching TV. His most recent purchases were a Kitchen Ninja knife set and something called Venus Cream, which he explained would transform my sex life. As much as I appreciated his concern for the quality of my orgasms, I really needed to get rid of him before he maxed out my credit cards. In the meantime, I let him be, hoping his shopping would keep him out of trouble.

As I walked past the line toward the entrance of the club, a movement on the neon marquee caught my eye. A white owl seemed to be watching me with unblinking red eyes. I stopped and looked at it. What were the chances of seeing two white owls in the same week? Something told me they were pretty slim. As I watched, the owl spread its wings and swooped away from the building. It flew over me and disappeared into the night.

I shook my head, wondering what I’d done to deserve the complication that was my life. Over the last two nights, I’d hit several vamp bars in the greater Los Angeles area. In each, I’d had two goals. First, I needed to confirm the rumors that I’d planted with Ewan. Second, I tried to gather information on Clovis and make contact with his people. Thus far Ewan had come through, but the second goal was a complete wash. If I didn’t make contact with Clovis soon, I’d have to come up with another plan. Lilith only knew what that would be.

What I’d gotten instead was a lot of grief. Apparently, as the news got out about my suspension, every vamp with something to prove had decided I needed to be taken down a peg. It was a pain in the ass.

As I approached the front doors, I thought about how my to-do list was growing and I wasn’t making much progress. The bouncer waved me in, much to the dismay of the people who stood behind metal barriers. All I’d wanted to do was my job, and instead I ended up killing two more vamps and injuring a few others. In addition, I’d gotten myself banned from at least two clubs because the owners were worried the Dominae might punish them for allowing me entrance.

And now I had some freaking red-eyed owl following me around—not to mention a demon roommate sent by some weirdo mage stalker. In other words, I had a plate full of crap to worry about.

I continued into what used to be the lobby of the theater. Now it served as the main bar area. The art deco design of the old building had been preserved. The walls were the color of dried blood with amber glass sconces scattered to give the room a warm glow. The lobby reverberated with the bass coming from the ballroom. Several patrons loitered in the lobby, taking a break from dancing, their sweat-soaked bodies lazing on settees along the walls.

Instead of going into the ballroom, I opted for the elevator leading directly to the VIP lounge. Another bouncer sat on a stool in front of the elevator doors.

“Name?” he asked without looking up from his magazine.

“Sabina Kane.”

His head snapped up and his eyes squinted in the dim light. He was obviously a vamp, since the VIP area was reserved for our kind.

“Password?” he clipped, still eyeing me.

“Rasputin,” I said. It was common for these vamp clubs to use the names of historic vampires as passwords. Since most humans didn’t know these famous figures were vamps it was unlikely they’d guess the word.

The bouncer nodded and pushed a button on the wall. The doors opened immediately. I started to enter the elevator, but he stalled me with a calloused hand on my arm.

“You’ll have to check your weapons.”

I eyed him with my best “make me” expression, but he didn’t seem impressed. Finally, with a sigh, I retrieved the gun from my waistband, where it had been hidden by my leather vest. Handing over my weapon made me feel naked, but I still had a stake in my boot.

He took it and handed me a ticket stub, so I could get it when I left. The bouncer picked up his magazine and dismissed me with a wave of his hand.

When the doors reopened, the deep bass of techno music buffeted my body. The occasional red laser punctuated the darkness and a cloud hovered from the overworked smoke machines. The VIP area was a large balcony overlooking the dance floor. Below, a mass of writhing bodies danced under two massive chandeliers.