Venom (Page 10)

The dwarf stared at me, but her eyes had taken on a milky white, faraway look that told me that she wasn’t really seeing me but peering into the future. In addition to using their magic to heal people, most Air elementals had a bit of precognition as well. Folks like Jo-Jo could sense, listen to, and interpret the emotions, feelings, and actions that permeated the air and wind. Just like I could hear the emotions, feelings, and actions that had sunk into any stone that I was near-brick buildings, granite furnishings, even the gravel underfoot. My Stone magic whispered of things that had occurred in the past. In Jo-Jo’s case, her Air elemental magic often gave her flashes of what might happen in the future. At least enough of them to make me listen to her.

I rubbed my head. "I don’t know what to do about Bria right now. I just don’t know."

Jo-Jo reached over and squeezed my hand. "Whatever you decide, we’ll support you-and welcome Bria with open arms if that’s what you want."

Sophia nodded. "Welcome her," the Goth dwarf rasped in her low, broken voice.

"Oh, yeah," Finn grinned. "In fact, I volunteer to be the very first one to welcome Bria to Ashland."

I raised an eyebrow. "With what? Your suave good looks? Or perhaps you were going to whip out that smooth charm you claim to possess, along with your dick?"

Finn’s grin widened. "Whatever works, Gin," he drawled. "Whatever works."

Chapter Four

"I can’t believe you dragged me down here tonight," I muttered. "We have things to do, remember? Long-lost sisters to investigate, Mab Monroe assassination plans to make, her pesky minions to dispatch. Or have you forgotten about all that?"

Finn pulled his bright green gaze away from a busty blond hooker long enough to glance at me. "Did you say something, Gin?"

I rolled my eyes. "Nothing important, apparently."

"Good." Finn’s gaze zoomed back over to the hooker, who was gyrating along with several other women on the edge of the dance floor.

I sighed. Two days had passed since I’d been attacked at the community college by Elliot Slater and his giants. Finn had come by the Pork Pit earlier today and announced that he was treating me to a night out. I’d hoped for a nice quiet dinner somewhere, maybe that new Mexican place that served the spicy-hot fajitas over on St. Charles Avenue.

Instead, he’d taken me to Northern Aggression.

Located in Northtown, the rich, highfalutin part of the city, Northern Aggression was Ashland’s most renowned nightclub. Not because it was the epitome of class and sophistication, but because you could get anything you desired here-blood, drugs, sex, smokes, alcohol. The club offered all that and more-for the right price. Not surprising, given the fact the club was managed by Roslyn Phillips, a vampire hooker who’d spent years turning tricks on the rough Southtown streets before she’d put enough cash together to open up her own gin joint.

Just before midnight, yuppies packed the place. Men in suits, women in as little as was legal. Everybody with a drink or ciggie in one hand and someone’s ass in the other. All of the yuppies were being egged on by the nightclub’s staff of scantily clad, impossibly buff men and women. Most of the staff members were vampires, and all of them were hookers. They were easy to identify since each one wore a necklace with a rune hanging off the end-a heart with an arrow through it. The symbol for Northern Aggression.

The hookers roamed through the club, offering guests trays of free champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries and hinting at the other delights that could be found on the premises. Especially in the private rooms upstairs that were rented out by the half hour-or less.

Of course, some folks weren’t too particular about their privacy. Couples of two and three and sometimes four or more huddled close together in the club’s booths. Kissing, caressing, licking, moaning. Several of the tables twitched and shook, not from the raucous music but from the people f**king on the floor underneath.

Finn and I sat in a booth a few feet away from the dance floor, where folks bumped and ground their way through a rocking song by The Killers. Despite my ambivalence toward Northern Aggression and the heavy, sweaty smell of sex that permeated the air, even I had to admit the nightclub had an unabashed, decadent style to it. Crushed red velvet drapes covered the walls, and the floor was a soft, springy bamboo that cushioned your feet as you walked across it.

But to me, the most impressive thing was the bar that ran down one wall-an elaborate sheet made entirely of elemental Ice. Intricate runes had been carved into the surface of the bar, mostly suns and stars-symbolizing life and joy. Both of which could be found in abundance here tonight if you had enough cash or plastic to pay to play.

Behind the counter, a man mixed drinks. His eyes glowed blue-white in the semidarkness. The Ice elemental responsible for tending bar and making sure his cold creation stayed in one piece until the end of the evening. Besides the giant bouncers, he was the only staff member who wasn’t wearing the heart-and-arrow rune necklace. The Ice elemental couldn’t take time away from mixing drinks to f**k someone behind the bar. There’d be a riot if the booze didn’t keep coming.

"Tell me again why we’re here?" I asked.

Finn’s eyes never left the blond hooker. "To have a good time, of course. Because you got the shit beat out of you, and you deserve a night out on the town."

Under the table, I kicked his shin. "And why don’t I believe you?"

"Because you’re cynical that way."

I kicked him again, harder this time.

"All right, all right," Finn said, leaning down to rub his leg. "If you must know, I was planning on talking to Xavier about something."

I raised an eyebrow. "And you dragged me along because…"

A shadow passed over Finn’s face, and his green eyes darkened. "You’ll see."

He didn’t volunteer any more information, and for once I wasn’t in the mood to be curious and pry. I took a sip of my gin and grimaced. For some reason, the cold liquor tasted bitter tonight. Or maybe that was because I was still brooding about Bria.

Finn had kept his promise to dig into my long-lost sister. Yesterday he’d given me a fat folder of information on Bria and told me that another was on its way as soon as he heard from the rest of his contacts in Savannah. But I hadn’t opened the folder yet. It had remained closed and untouched on the coffee table in Fletcher Lane’s den.

For once, I wasn’t sure that I wanted to learn someone else’s deepest, darkest secrets by scanning a piece of paper. Part of me-a big part of me-preferred to think of Bria the way that I’d always remembered her. As my sweet little sister. The innocent girl I’d played hide-and-seek with and made countless mugs of hot chocolate for. I didn’t know that I wanted to read about everything Bria had been through, growing up as an orphan. My childhood had been traumatic enough living on the Ashland streets. I hoped Bria hadn’t suffered as much as I had over the years. Either way, I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out. Because the answers could be… ugly.