as a result of your testimony.” Sasha paused, allowing the potential consequences of what might be happening to sink into Ethan’s brain.
“Maybe this has nothing to do with the Phoenixes and more to do with who employed them-you?” Hunter glanced at Sasha and then turned his steady, intense gaze on Ethan.
“Perish the thought,” Margaret whispered, drawing closer to her husband.
Sasha ruffled her hair up off the nape of her neck again in frustration. They’d hit a brick wall and she was temporarily out of answers until she could get to anyone who might talk at the Blood Oasis, or maybe somebody over at Chaya-the teahouse where Penelope had also worked.
Coming closer to Ethan, Sasha looked at him hard. “Okay… you mentioned that, quote, ‘even the Vampires liked her,’ when speaking of Desidera. What was that about?”
Margaret hugged Ethan and hid her face in the cleft of his shoulder. “I knew we should have stayed out of all of this. We have children!”
“No, no, don’t fret,” Ethan said, petting his wife’s back. “We will take this new information to Sir Rodney and he will hear our petition for protective custody.”
“That’s practically living like we’re banished. Our children will have to be pulled out of their schools here and we’ll have to live at Seelie Court!” A panic-stricken sob cut off Margaret’s argument.
“Maybe just for a little while,” Sasha said quietly, going over to also hug the small, distraught Elf. This broke her heart; Margaret was a gem, as was Ethan. “We’ll do everything we can to protect your family and see that you can return to your normal lives as soon as possible… but one thing I know for sure, Sir Rodney will have your backs.”
“You never answered the question about Desidera’s relationship to the Vampires,” Hunter said, waiting.
Ethan lowered his gaze. “Phoenixes are rare… and are an exotic temptation-before the dispute, Desidera and Penelope were regularly welcomed at their blood clubs.”
“And after?” Hunter folded his arms over his chest.
“They may have gone there a few times, on their own, to earn money or personal favors… I cannot know for sure,” Ethan admitted quietly.
Digging into her pocket, Sasha showed the couple the photo that had been in the small, oval, silver frame on Penelope’s nightstand. “Do you know this Pixie? Is she an employee of yours?”
“No,” Ethan said, his tone confused and earnest. “Maybe she’s an employee at Chaya?”
Sasha put the photo back in her pocket and gave Hunter a look as she pulled away from the distraught couple. She then found the small pad in her back pocket and held it out for Ethan to see.
“Ethan, Margaret, I need to ask you something… When a Phoenix takes his or her last flame, does this show up on the belly?”
Margaret gasped and turned away as Ethan hugged her.
“Destroy it, cover it up!” Ethan shouted, making Sasha hurriedly comply. She thrust the pad into the back pocket of her jeans and looked at Ethan and Margaret as though they’d lost their minds.
“Okay, that got a reaction,” Hunter said, walking closer to the couple. “What was it?”
Sasha joined the huddle as Ethan waved his hands about as though to signal for them to say nothing.
“Tell me this wasn’t in my cellar?” Ethan gasped.
“It was on Desidera’s body, hard to see because the ash had started to fall in on itself by the time we got there, I suppose… but the one we just saw on Penelope was fresher.” Sasha glanced at Hunter from the corner of her eye.
“That wasn’t there when Sir Rodney and I found her body-we would have immediately noticed something so horrific.” Ethan gathered his wife tighter in his hold, pressing his face against her hair. “Or… maybe it could have been there-frankly, when I saw her dead I didn’t stoop over her to observe. It was just too terrible.”
“
“It was a sigil,” Ethan whispered, sweating profusely.
Sasha and Hunter gave each other another look.
“It is a sign of pure evil,” Ethan croaked. “That is as much as I know.”
Sasha looked at her watch and then at Hunter. “We’ve got a few hours before daylight. You thinking what I’m thinking?”
Hunter nodded. “We ride.”
“The little guy was thoroughly shaken,” Hunter said as he maneuvered the jeep into the parking lot of the Blood Oasis.
“You think?” Sasha said, not waiting for him to come to a complete stop before hopping out of the vehicle.
Hunter turned off the ignition and quickly caught up to her, grabbing her arm to stop her. “What’s with the sudden attitude?”
She shrugged out of his hold. “I don’t have an attitude. What’s your problem?”
“My problem is we’re about to go into a blood club, asking questions, putting ourselves in mortal danger, and we aren’t a team.”
For a moment Sasha just stared at him, trying to get the adrenaline rush that gripped her to slowly ebb. Eventually she nodded. He was right. It didn’t make sense to go barging into a Vampire entertainment den filled with very hungry Vamps and their loyal human donors unless they were a united front.
Sasha eased the tension out of her neck. “We’ve been off since we were in Ethan’s cellar.”
“We didn’t arrive in New Orleans battling,” he said quietly, staring at her.
“No, we didn’t.” Sasha glanced around the parking lot, aware that the lack of bodyguards didn’t mean they weren’t being watched. Vampires always had lookouts. There were always bodyguards for the elite who might be passing through and to keep lower-level vamps that might be semi-blood crazed in line. With the high tensions between the wolves and the recent war, there should have been more obvious security. Then again, Vampires didn’t do obvious.
“Do you wanna go through the bouncers, or simply show up at the bar?” Hunter reached out and pushed a stray wisp of her hair behind her ear.
“Let’s just do the in-and-out thing,” she murmured.
Hunter nodded and pulled her into a nearby shadow.
“Johnny Walker Black, straight up,” Sasha told the startled bartender as she stepped out of a shadow in the corner. She slid onto an open seat and Hunter took the one beside her.
Pulsing techno-fusion music thrummed, the steady rhythm reminiscent of a rapid heartbeat. The sound vibrated through the floor, through the black marble bar, and through the chair she sat on. Sasha gazed around the black and red light-washed area, watching exotic Serpentine dancers cling to the poles, baring fangs, while a mobbed dance floor pulsed with eager Goth-clad bodies.
“We don’t serve your kind in here anymore,” the bartender said, presenting full fangs.
“Oh, my bad,” Sasha said with a hard smile. “Then I guess I’ll have to take my complaint up with the owner.”
Hunter spun and swung as a burly bouncer materialized out of thin air, dropping him to the floor. Sasha whipped out her semiautomatic from her shoulder holster, leveling the weapon point-blank at the bartender’s forehead.
“Don’t be foolish,” she said in a near snarl. “You can smell the silver. We just want a civil conversation with Geoff.”
The slightly dazed bouncer spit out blood on the floor and picked up his chipped fang, hissing at Hunter while patrons gawked and other bouncers moved in slowly.
“A civil conversation is always welcomed,” Baron Montague said in an even tone, parting the crowd. “What brings you to my establishment under such foolishly hostile circumstances?”
He held Sasha’s gaze for a moment, a pair of hardened blue eyes slowly turning black as he studied her. Geoff tossed a long spill of dark brown hair over his shoulder with a nod as Sasha’s gaze narrowed on his aristocratic features. He wore a midnight blue velvet jacket and his white ruffled shirt was slightly askew at the neck and stained by the slightest hint of blood. It was clear that he’d been enjoying some feeding companions when he’d been interrupted. Screw him. A hard smile found its way to Sasha’s lips.
