Ghostly Justice (Seven Deadly Sins, #2.5)(15)

Moira stopped a few feet from the entrance and closed her eyes.

“What do you feel?” Rafe asked quietly. She felt his hand on her back and through it his worries and protectiveness toward her. When he dropped it she breathed easier. His anxiety made it hard for her to feel anything but him.

Carter looked back at them. “You coming?”

“One minute,” Moira said.

Carter shrugged and said, “I’ll talk to the bouncer.” He approached the metal door and knocked.

The drizzle was turning to rain, but Moira stayed rooted to her spot. Rafe slipped off his trench coat to put over her shoulders, but Moira shook her head. “I’m okay. I realized something. I feel the magic with my skin, swirling supernatural energy, like a touch of smoke. I always thought I sensed magic with my mind, and that’s part of it, but touch dominates.” This newfound knowledge excited Moira. It was as if she were in more control, even though the magic was surrounding her. Knowing how she understood it gave her hope.

“Can you take a step back?” she asked Rafe. His emotions crowded in, and it was clouding her ability to decipher the spell.

His reluctance radiated from him, but he took two steps back and then the feeling of smoke increased. “It’s not a spell,” she whispered.

“Residual energy?” Rafe asked.

“I don’t know—it’s not an active spell, but it doesn’t feel stale, either.” She glanced back at him. “I think we’ll be okay, but be alert.”

“Always.”

Carter was watching her from the doorway, along with the bouncer. She didn’t know how long they’d been staring at her, but she smiled at the two men as she sauntered over, stepping into her role with each footfall. “Hello, laddie,” she said to the bouncer, letting her Irish accent she usually tamed come out strong. “Are we okay?” She winked, tilting her chin up, looking from the bouncer to Carter and back again.

“All good. I took care of the cover charge. You can pay me back later.” Carter winked and made the comment sound sexual.

Moira played along, not knowing what exactly to expect inside and not wanting to blow Carter’s cover. “Whatever you want, sugar.”

Carter slipped the bouncer cash and they stepped inside. Small red lights like from a Christmas tree lined the floor on one side of the long, dark hall. Edgy, alternative instrumental music, neither too loud nor too heavy, wrapped around them. The dark energy she’d felt outside was stronger in here, but like before, it was unfocused, just floating around. Moira didn’t know what to make of it, but kept her senses open so if it changed or turned into an attack, she’d know it instantly.

They were almost to the end of the hall when Moira sensed a hidden door to the right. It was painted black, like the walls, but there was a slight change in pressure. She pressed her fingers against a seam.

“Door,” she said. “Just in case we need it.”

They turned the corner and walked into the main room. It wasn’t what Moira had expected. It looked more like an elegant, turn-of-the-century hotel lobby. Groupings of ornate, red Victorian couches and chairs; tables for two; a beer and wine bar down the middle. The walls were covered in black material—possibly velvet, but she didn’t want to touch—and several large paintings that were both beautiful and horrific hung in strategic places, all with bloody themes. Burgundy and black silk sheets hung loosely from the ceiling, giving the large, square warehouse an intimate, gothic appearance. It was Friday night, and the place was full but not uncomfortably crowded. She estimated maybe a hundred people, some dressed even more elaborately than she was, some dressed very basic. Clothing came primarily in leather, rubber or lace, while black and red dominated the color scheme with hints of purple and ivory.

A tall, pale man with long, golden blond hair approached. He differed from everyone else because he wore a tuxedo. Not only was the suit black, but the shirt and tie as well.

When he spoke, Moira noticed he had small fangs. Most likely filed down, not implants.

“Hello,” he said with a slight bow. “First visit?”

“Yes,” Moira said. She gestured to the lush seating areas. “Very nice.”

She almost did a double take when she saw a man suck on a woman’s neck while they sat on a small couch.

“I thought you’d like it,” Carter said as he ran his hand down her bare arm. “Let’s get a drink.”

Goldilocks looked from Carter to Rafe, then smiled at Moira. He didn’t need to say a word, Moira knew exactly where gutter his mind had gone, but she didn’t correct him. Part of the act, she reminded herself.

“That would be lovely,” she said. “Rafe knows what I like.” She waved her hand to dismiss both of them. There was something about Goldilocks that she needed to figure out, and Rafe’s protective vibes were completely distracting her.

Rafe walked between her and Mr. Tux Guy. It was obvious he wasn’t comfortable with either Carter or leaving her alone with the stranger. She tilted her head up, revealing her long milky white neck for Rafe. Something primitive flashed in his eyes and he grabbed her and kissed her on the sensitive hollow of her neck with an open mouth. A jolt of lust she wasn’t expecting coursed through her, then he held her gaze for a long second, making her flush, before following Carter to the bar.

She covered her surprise by licking her lips. She looked up at Goldilocks. “He tries to be possessive.”