Kindling the Moon (Arcadia Bell #1)(64)

Lon stood and wiped both sides of his pocketknife several times on his jeans. We watched her, waiting. For a long moment she continued to lie there, but eventually she shook her head and sat up. Her gaze skittered around the room and fell on us. “Where am I?”

“You don’t know who I am?” I asked.

She squinted. “You look familiar … did we go to high school together?”

Lon glanced at me and shrugged. “That’ll work. Let’s go ahead with the second spell and get it over with.”

This time, when she freaked and struggled, she didn’t fight us as hard. Lon spoke to her calmly, repeating that she knew me from high school and could trust me. Meanwhile, I charged up the second sigil and recited the spell. When it was done, her eyes fluttered shut. Just when I thought we might’ve screwed up or taken it too far, she inhaled deeply and sobered up.

“Jane?” she asked.

“From high school,” I confirmed. Please let this work …

“God, I remember now,” she said, pushing herself up to sit on the couch. “You went to school in Rancho Bernardo! I haven’t seen you in, what? Three years? Where are we?” She rubbed her temples and cracked her neck. “I feel fuzzy.”

Lon nodded at me in confirmation; she wasn’t lying. Excellent. Finally, a good use for his stupid empathic ability.

“Don’t you remember? We, uh …” I tried to think up something.

“You came to visit Jane for the week,” Lon said quickly. “The two of you had a car accident. You have a minor concussion and the doctor said your memory might take a few days to adjust.”

Her face tightened. “Damn. That must be why my head’s killing me.”

“I’ll take care of you,” I said. “You’re going to stay here with me—”

“Your old buddy, Jane,” Lon repeated.

All right, already. Sheesh. I shot him a cross look. “And take it easy until you feel better. I’ve got some medicine to help with the headaches.”

Some really strong medicine. Successful memory spell or not, I was going to dose her ass to hell and back, just to make sure.

By all appearances, the Memory Twist spell had worked brilliantly. Even without my narcotic medicinal, Riley seemed pretty damn convinced that we were old friends. She asked a few questions about the fake wreck, then nodded off in front of the TV on the bed in my guest room upstairs. I had to admit, without her ruthless edge, she wasn’t so bad. Pleasant, even.

It took us over an hour, but Lon helped me lock up anything lying around that would give her a clue as to where she was, anything that might make her question our story. We added extra wards on the doors and windows to discourage her from leaving; even if someone knocked on the door, she wouldn’t answer it. I locked up the landline and told her that her cell had been lost in the accident—convinced her that she’d already spoken to her family and that she didn’t need to contact them again for the time being.

“Well, until I decide what to do about her, she’s clueless,” I said in my living room once we’d finished securing everything.

“And she’s not chained up. I think Father Carrow would be much happier with this arrangement.” He gave me a soft smile. “Right now I’ve got to get back and make dinner for Jupe.”

“Of course.”

I walked him to the front door. He paused as he reached for the handle. “Do you have anything nicer than jeans and T-shirts?”

I wondered if that was an insult. “Why?”

“I made some calls. Remember that club I was telling you about, the one where I met the man who bought the glass talon?”

“Yes?” I looked at him intently.

“They meet monthly. Their next meeting happens to be tomorrow night.”

For the last twenty-four hours, I’d convinced myself that I was going to have to use Riley Cooper for leverage at the Luxe council, and that any hope I’d ever had of finding the talon or the albino demon’s summoning name was forever lost.

Lon watched me, waiting patiently for his words to register. “You still want to get the talon, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “God, yeah.”

“Okay, then. This club is strictly for demons, and I was just going to go there and do this myself, but … I think I’m on a roll with you, being open about things.”

“I feel honored.”

“You should.” He grinned, tucking his hair behind one ear. “Anyway, I think even though you’re human, you’re novel enough to pique their curiosity. They’ll let you in, and your being there might help our cause.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Just what kind of club is this?”

“We-e-ell …” he drawled, “have you ever heard of a Hellfire Club?”

“Like in England, back in the eighteen hundreds?”

“Seventeen hundreds, but yes. Exclusive high-society clubs—”

“Where rich men went to whore around and drink?”

“Pretty much.”

In the midst of all the chaotic thoughts in my head, an unsettling pang jumped to the forefront. He laughed softly, identifying it before I even could. “Mmm … someone is jealous. Guess I’m not the only one.”

“I’m not jealous,” I protested. “The one in La Sirena is not strictly a men’s club,” he explained. “Women are members too. That’s not to say that there’s any lack of immoral behavior at these things. Depends on how easily you shock.”