Magic Forged (Hall of Blood and Mercy #1)(58)

I cast one last look outside before following him in.

A little light made it through hazy windows at the top of the wall, so I could see the warehouse was completely empty, except for a rusted-out car and a headless broom. Killian followed the wall to the far side of the warehouse, then pressed a red button.

Part of the wall slid open, revealing an elevator car with a velvet carpeted floor, spotless mirrors, and wood paneling. I followed Killian inside a little less reluctantly and tapped my clutch against my thigh.

“Are you ready?” Killian asked once the doors closed behind us.

“Yeah. It’s close enough to the truth it won’t be a stretch,” I said.

After a lot of deliberation, Killian decided we should act like I was a prized pet he was showing off. It would fit his image and most recent actions, and it was sort of true—my importance was just being highly exaggerated to make it seem like Killian would actually care if I kicked the bucket.

I glanced at my reflection and was pleased to see the braid was holding. “I think the biggest danger is that you go too overboard. No one will believe that you care for me as a person.”

“They won’t?” Killian smirked and tilted his head back.

I’d realized my mistake and scrambled to fix it as the elevator beeped. “It’s not a reflection on your acting skills, but how things are!”

The doors slid open, and Killian’s smirk deepened as he offered me his arm.

I gulped, but took it. My only choice was to join Killian in leaving the elevator and hope that catching the murderer was such a priority he’d play nice rather than risk blowing our act.

I raised my chin and prepped myself to put on my ‘smitten wizard’ act, but the air of the club caught me completely off guard.

I don’t know exactly what I had expected—maybe a stereotypical club with loud music that pulsated with overly-obnoxious lights, expensive drinks, and the pervasive smell of BO and perfume.

But this place was an entirely different sort of club.

Settled on top of the warehouse roof, and divided off with glass walls and windows that I bet were heavily warded, Club Luminary was a blend of European decadence and modern convenience. It appeared that the club was built like a wheel to allow the best views of the city and countryside, and the center hub was where the kitchens, the granite-topped bar, and restrooms were located. The ceiling was tiled with stretches of skylights and stained-glass windows that paid homage to the various races. The most beautiful, in my opinion, was the stained-glass forest that showed wolves peeking out from behind glowing trees.

“Your Eminence.” A woman dressed in black bowed to Killian. “If I may show you to your table; right this way.”

Killian and I followed the hostess to a table which was, naturally, set under the stained-glass skylight dedicated to vampires. (There was a castle on it, a silver orb that was probably the moon, and—of course—red-eyed men and women dressed in the height of Renaissance fashion.)

We passed a few tables of werewolves and three wizards seated in their own section. Beyond our table was a cluster of fae, and they, the werewolves, and the wizards watched with obvious attention as Killian pulled my chair out for me, then seated himself.

“Your server will be with you promptly. Enjoy your evening.” The woman curtsied this time, then glided off.

“She’s human,” I realized.

“Club Luminary management staffs the place with humans—so politics aren’t swirled into service and no one is…tempted,” Killian said. “A fae and vampire own the place—we do get along with the fae outside the Night Court,” he said when I raised my eyebrows.

I wasn’t sure I believed him, but pushing it wouldn’t further our act. So I tried to sneakily peer at everyone while smiling adoringly at Killian. I didn’t know anyone present, but I recognized them as the movers and shakers of the Midwest. Heck, these people were far above my parents, and they had been highly respected!

When I got around to inspecting the fae, I realized they were clustered around a single male with white hair and a long mustache. “The Paragon is here.”

“Yes.” Killian idly inspected the cutlery—probably trying to decide which would be most useful to stab someone. “Even he isn’t wily enough to avoid the Courts forever.”

Our waiter—a human male—swept up to take our orders. Killian ordered a specific blood type for himself, and a five-course dinner for me.

It was a good thing my only real job was to smile adoringly at Killian—like a besotted idiot—because I couldn’t have done much else when I saw the string of numbers that my dinner cost. I dearly, dearly hoped this dinner, the cost of my dress, my suit—and heck, my workout clothes—weren’t all being recorded for me to pay back at a later date, or I was in big trouble.

“Something wrong, Pet?” Killian inquired in a dangerously dark and smooth tone.

“Nothing at all,” I squeaked.

Killian’s look of indifference settled into a slight smirk, and he leaned forward, just before the Paragon pulled up a chair to our table and plopped down.

“Am I glad to see the two of you,” the Paragon said. “I’ve been stuck here an hour already—and they made me change out of my panda slippers before they dragged me here!”

“Good evening, Paragon.” Killian accepted the wine flute of blood our waiter delivered. “It seems the representatives from the various Courts have finally caught up with you?”