CHAPTER SIX

 

 

IT WAS ALMOST two hours later when they finally came up for air, and just about time to leave for the city. After a quick shower, Presley whipped up something for dinner while Logan called Mav. When the other man didn’t answer, Logan left a message asking his friend to call him back.

Presley couldn’t help but notice the frown that creased his forehead as he put away his cell phone. “Everything okay?” she asked, setting the plates on the table.

“What?” he asked distractedly.

“Everything okay with Mav?”

“Oh. Yeah. Mav is a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

Then why did Logan look so worried? She wanted to ask what kind of supernatural monster Mav was off saving the world from but didn’t. Logan had enough to deal with right now. Like going to an underground club that catered to paranormal creatures who would probably as soon kill a hunter like Logan than look at him.

It took a little over an hour to get from Sleepy Hollow to New York City. Presley was a little surprised when Logan pulled up to a curb outside a small bodega in lower Manhattan.

“I thought we were going directly to the club,” she said.

“We are.”

Presley looked around, but all she saw besides the bodega was a video rental store, a dry cleaner, and a pizza place. She gave Logan a quizzical look, but he took her hand and headed for the bodega. Once inside, he led her down the snack food aisle to a door in the back marked “Private.” He opened it, then guided her down a set of dimly lit stairs. As they descended the steps, she could hear the faint sounds of music coming from below and realized the underground club really was underground. Considering it was a members-only kind of place, she didn’t expect it to have flashing lights or a neon sign out front, but she didn’t think it would be in the basement of a grocery store, either.

The steps took them to a long hallway, at the end of which was another door. There was a man standing outside this one, and he stepped in front of it as she and Logan approached. If the way he was blocking the door hadn’t told her the man was club security, the fact that he was built like the Hulk definitely did. His stern expression was kind of a giveaway, too. Though he was undoubtedly imposing, she’d expected the place to have bouncers who looked a little less human. Something with fangs and claws, maybe.

“Can I help you?” the man asked.

“Just going to the club,” Logan said.

The man studied them in silence, his eyes narrowing as he looked from Logan to her and back again. “This place is only for a select group of regulars. How did you two hear about it?”

“I’ve been here a few times before,” Logan told him.

The man folded his arms across his barrel of a chest. “I don’t recognize you and I know everyone who comes here.”

“It’s been a while,” Logan said.

“Is that so?” His gaze went from Logan to her again, then back. “Look, there are a lot of nice trendy clubs in midtown. Why don’t you try going there?”

Though the man’s tone was polite, Presley got the feeling he wasn’t going to move away from the door for anything. Logan must have picked up on that too, because she felt him bristle.

“Thanks for the recommendation, but this is exactly the club we’re looking for.” Logan took a step forward. “Now, if you don’t mind stepping aside…”

The man held up his hand, halting them. “Nice try, but I don’t think so. You’re not the right type for this place. The clubs in midtown are better suited to your kind.”

Their kind? Presley frowned. She hadn’t realized vampires, demons, and whatever the heck this guy was could recognize others like themselves.

“Our kind?” Logan lifted a brow. “That isn’t very PC. Maybe we have friends who come here and they invited us.”

The other man scowled. “Or maybe you heard a few rumors and wanted to come check the place out to see if they were right? Well, let me clarify this for you. Everything you heard about this place is bullshit, so you can run back to your nightclubs and espresso shops on the other side of the tracks.”

Presley threw Logan a worried look. He gave her a smile he probably thought was reassuring, but it only made her more nervous. Oh, hell. He was going to do something drastic.

The man barring the door must have thought so too, because he took a threatening step forward. It was then that Presley realized the club’s bouncer wasn’t simply some big, intimidating-looking guy. His eyes were glowing red around the irises and the smell of sulfur was coming off him. That couldn’t be good.

“You might not want to do that, Cruz,” a woman’s voice interrupted. “I think Logan might give you a little more trouble than you’re expecting.”

Cruz stepped away from the door to the club so the woman could pass. “Ma’am, do you know these two?”

The woman laughed, the sound deep and husky. “Oh, I do indeed know Logan Malone. I can’t say I’m acquainted with his little friend, though.”

The woman turned her gaze on Presley, a mix of condescension and curiosity in her dark eyes. She was tall and thin with long, black hair and alabaster skin that looked even more pale next to the material of the floor-length black gown she wore. A gown that showed way too much cleavage and way too much leg thanks to the low-cut neck and high side-slit. She looked like an Elvira wannabe in the get-up, right down to the pouty, red lips. Presley wondered if the woman might actually be a vampire. Whatever she was, Presley immediately decided she didn’t like her.

“Though I daresay if she’s with him, she must be another one of his damsels in distress,” the woman added.

Oh yeah, Presley really didn’t like her now.

“Was I wrong to stop them?” Cruz asked. “I didn’t think people like them belonged here.”

The woman turned her big, dark eyes on Logan. Presley might have grudgingly admitted she was attractive if it wasn’t for the predatory way she was looking at Logan. Like she wanted to take him to bed and devour him. Or maybe just skip the bed and devour him right on the spot.

“No, hunters like Logan Malone don’t belong here,” the woman drawled. “But when has that ever stopped you before, Logan?”

Cruz’s eyes flashed, his irises blazing red. “He’s a hunter?”

The bouncer spat the word as if it were a curse and surged forward, but the woman caught his arm before he could take more than a few steps.

“That’s enough, Cruz. Even though he’s a hunter, Logan is welcome here any time.” Her lips curved into a smile. “He’s a special friend of mine.”

Presley felt a stab of jealousy at the familiar way the other woman looked at Logan.

Beside her, Logan was regarding the woman with an almost amused expression. “That’s very gracious of you, Ramona.”

“It’s my pleasure.” She looked at Presley. “Who is this you’ve brought with you?”

“I’m his girlfriend,” Presley said, taking a step closer to Logan.

Presley knew she should have waited for Logan to make the introductions, but for some ridiculous reason she had an almost overwhelming urge to stake her claim on him. She’d be damned if this woman thought she was going to pick up with Logan wherever the two of them had left off the last time he’d been there. Of course, in her desire to set Ramona straight, she hadn’t given any thought to what Logan’s reaction would be to her announcement that she was his girlfriend. She shouldn’t be presumptive simply because they were sleeping together. She gave him a sidelong glance and was relieved to see a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Ramona, this is my girlfriend Presley,” he said, going along with her story. “Presley, this is Ramona. She’s the owner of the club.”

Presley smiled and held out her hand to the woman. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Ramona murmured something indistinct, her fingers brushing Presley’s in a poor imitation of a handshake before she turned her attention back to Logan.

“I’m assuming if you came here with your girlfriend that you didn’t come here to see me,” Ramona said, her husky voice a few degrees cooler than it had been before. “Why did you come?”

“I need to talk to a few of your regulars about a case I’m working on,” Logan said. “See if anyone can help me out.”

Ramona frowned. “You know I don’t like anyone mixing business with pleasure in my club.”

“Believe me, if I could get the information anywhere else, I wouldn’t be here.”

The bouncer, Cruz, stepped forward again. “I can get rid of them if you want, boss.”

Though his eyes weren’t glowing nearly as much as before, the sulfur smell was stronger. The part of the hallway they were standing in felt as if it was getting hotter, too. Presley shifted nervously. What the heck type of paranormal creature was this guy?

“You could try, but I wouldn’t if I were you,” Logan said conversationally to Cruz. “You’re a third-level Pyreal fire demon, right? That would make you deathly afraid of any relics related to Saint Florian. Well, it so happens that I have something of his right here.”

Logan reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather cord with a small glass vial attached to the end of it. Presley couldn’t see what was in the vial because it was so dirty, but whatever it was scared the hell out of Cruz. The big man turned three shades of pale and jumped back as if Logan had struck him, the heat and sulfur smell that had been coming off him immediately disappearing. He looked so terrified Presley thought he might actually turn and flee into the club.

Ramona let out a throaty chuckle. “Oh Logan, you are so mean, frightening poor Cruz.” She reached out to put a comforting hand on Cruz’s arm. “Logan wouldn’t harm you without reason. It’s not his style. Besides, he would never want to hurt my feelings, would you, Logan?”

Logan smiled and put the glass vial back in his pocket.

Ramona sighed. “Oh, all right then. Come in and ask your questions, Logan. But be polite. I have a reputation to uphold.”

The woman turned and walked into the club, motioning with her hand for Presley and Logan to follow. As they passed Cruz, the man eased back against the wall, giving them as wide a berth as possible. Knowing firsthand what it was like to be as terrified of someone as he was of Logan and the relic he had in his pocket, Presley almost felt bad for Cruz. Until she imagined what a third-level Pyreal fire demon like him could have done to them. If the heat in the hallway had been any indication, it probably wouldn’t have been much fun.

Whereas the clubs Presley usually frequented were filled with loud dance music and colorful strobe lights, this one had soft music and muted lighting that gave it a more intimate feel. There was a long bar along one wall and a raised platform where a small band was playing against the opposite wall. In between, there was a dance floor and dozens of tables and chairs, most of which were occupied. The club’s patrons seemed entranced by the musicians and as Presley listened to their music, she could understand why. Two men and a woman, they played odd-looking string instruments that created stirring, emotional sounds reminiscent of whales singing. The resulting music was strange and yet beautiful at the same time and Presley was annoyed when Ramona’s husky voice interrupted it.

“Try not to disturb my patrons, Logan. They enjoy their privacy. It’s part of why they come here.” She glanced briefly at Presley, then turned her attention back to him. “If you get bored with your little girlfriend, you know where my office is. Come see me.”

Giving him a smile, she turned and sauntered away, hips swaying provocatively.

“Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her,” Presley said.

He chuckled. “Jealous?”

“Of that Elvira knock-off? Definitely not. But if you did, I’d have to question both your taste and your sanity.”

“Then you’ll be happy to know that both my good taste and my sanity are still intact because I’ve never slept with her,” he said. “I’ve worked a few cases she was involved with in a peripheral way and she thought I was interested in her. I wasn’t.”

That was a relief. “Let me guess. She’s some kind of demon-possessed creature from the seventh pit of hell or something, right?”

“Nope. Just your run-of-the-mill witch with a good business sense. She specializes in potions and spells, mostly of the dark variety. She’s dangerous for sure, but not demon possessed.”

Damn. “Maybe I should have been nicer to her then.”

Logan shook his head. “Nah. With someone like Ramona, it’s better for her to know you’re a strong-willed, territorial woman like her rather than a shrinking violet. Besides, she knows if she tried to do anything to you, she’d have to deal with me.”

While that was reassuring to know, Presley decided she needed to be more careful with what she said while they were there. She didn’t want Logan getting into it with any of the club’s patrons because she insulted them.

She looked around the club again, concentrating on the people in it instead of the decor and music this time, and was surprised to see they looked as human as she and Logan did. When he’d first told her about the place, she had envisioned everything from vampires flashing their fangs to demonic sacrifices at stone altars. She wouldn’t give most of these people a second glance if she passed them on the street. The club’s patrons on the other hand, male and female alike, were eyeing her as if she was the last hors d’oeuvre at a dinner party. She supposed she should take it as a compliment, but for some reason, she didn’t think they were looking at her because they thought she was attractive. They were looking at her for another reason and it was making her very uncomfortable.

Logan must have noticed the attention she was getting, because he said, “Don’t worry about them. They’re looking at us because they sense we’re human and wonder what we’re doing here, that’s all.”

Maybe, Presley thought. But they didn’t seem interested in Logan—just her. “Now that we’re actually here, who do we talk to first?”

Logan jerked his head toward the other side of the club. “The guy tending bar. If we’re lucky, he might be able to point us in the right direction.”