Into the Fire Page 11


Finally, Ian sauntered up to what I assumed was a bar only since I couldn’t imagine any other industry surviving in this area. I didn’t catch the name because only one letter in the neon sign remained. From the repeated crunching under our feet as we crossed the bar’s threshold, I wondered if the broken glass from those other letters had ever been swept up.

The interior wasn’t any nicer. Empty tables with rickety chairs took up half the space, and a bar that had the distinct scent of urine emanating from it occupied the other half. The bartender looked up from his conversation with the business’s only two customers, and from the baleful looks the three of them gave us, they weren’t happy to have new company.

Then the barkeep’s face really darkened as Ian vaulted over the bar. He went over to a large, ancient-looking freezer that was shoved against the bar’s far corner. Ian opened the freezer door, and as expected, it was empty except for layers of dust.

Ian pulled on something I couldn’t see, and the back of the industrial-sized freezer fell away, revealing a small, spotless room. Ian ducked into that room, ignoring the bartender’s continued protestations, then poked his head out.

“Are you coming or not?” he asked us.

Vlad jumped over the counter, one single glare causing the bartender to shut up and back away. I followed suit, and soon the three of us were all jostling for space in the small room. When Ian pressed a button and we abruptly began to descend, I realized it wasn’t a room at all. It was an elevator.

After going down about thirty feet, it came to a halt. The elevator had no doors, so our new accommodations were immediately revealed to us, and I looked around in amazement.

Cigar smoke and incense caused a faint haze over an area that was as luxurious as the bar had been derelict. Velvet couches and chairs were arranged around gaming tables, a tuxedoed band played jazz, and from what I could see behind its many occupants, the sprawling bar looked to be made entirely of huge, different-colored prisms of crystal.

But that wasn’t what made me stare. The voluptuous blackjack dealer with the deck of cards floating well over her head had been the first thing to catch my eyes, quickly eclipsed by the bottles behind the crystal bar. There was no bartender, and bottles came off the shelves by themselves, either pouring their contents directly into patrons’ glasses or blending them with juices, sodas, and other mixers first.

As I watched, a champagne bottle uncorked itself, expertly avoiding the usual bubbly runoff. Then it poured its gold-colored contents into a floating glass that, once full, whisked itself over to a gorgeous woman who took it without once glancing up from her companion.

“Welcome to Selenites,” Ian said, with a cynical smirk. “London’s premier location for magically inclined elites.”

“Is all that magic, or is some of it telekinesis?” I whispered. Mencheres could do everything I was witnessing. Maybe Selenites had another vampire with telekinesis here.

Ian grunted. “Magic. Doubtless we’re the only vampires here. Most would rather not be executed by the Law Guardians, and they would be, if word got out they were dabbling in magic.”

“But you used to come here,” I said. “Why?” Vlad and I certainly wouldn’t be here if we didn’t have to. Why would Ian willingly risk a death sentence just to hang out in this place?

Ian clucked his tongue at me. “None of that, poppet. Sharing my secrets isn’t part of our agreement.”

Vlad didn’t seem to care why Ian had been a regular here, nor did he share my appreciation for the magical displays around us. His gaze swept the room in a calculated manner.

“Enough talk. We’re here to speak with a true sorcerer, not waste time with pretenders playing tricks with floating cards and bottles.”

He hadn’t lowered his voice, so this caused more than a few heads to turn in our direction. Ian elbowed Vlad, hissing, “You can’t bully your way into results here. Follow my lead, and for pity’s sake, don’t kill anyone.”

Vlad stared at the elbow that was still prodding him in the ribs. Then he flashed a grin at Ian that alarmed me into throwing my arms around Vlad.

“Priorities, remember?” I whispered close to his ear.

I could feel it when his sudden spike of power drew down to nondangerous levels, and when Vlad pressed a kiss to my cheek, I knew that Ian was out of the woods. For now.

“Yes, priorities,” Vlad agreed in a light tone. Then to Ian, he said, “Touch me again, and I’ll feed your limbs to a pack of wolves.”

Ian shook his head. “Can’t even pretend to be marginally sane, can you? Fine, have it your way. Gents and gentlewomen,” he said in a louder tone. “My friends and I seek the finest, most skilled entertainment tonight. If you’re interested and can meet our expectations, we promise you an evening that you and your bank account will never forget.”

If we’d piqued some people’s interest before, we had all of theirs now. Years of performing on the carnival circuit had me smiling as if I was completely comfortable at suddenly being the center of attention. To be honest, it felt more unsettling not to have people instinctively wince when they first looked at me. Most days, I forgot that I no longer had a jagged scar running from my temple all the way to my right hand.

After several moments, a couple stepped out from the onlookers. The woman appeared to be in her forties, and her air of jaded sensuality hinted that she’d done it all twice and was looking for someone to tempt her into round three. Add that to striking features, curly brown hair, a dancer’s build, and you had a woman who was used to being admired.

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