At least she told me where the secret vampire club meeting place is. I can continue telling myself it's worth keeping her around.
The blue restaurant sign zooms by on my right. I slow and do another pass before parking in an alley. Jordy couldn't give me an exact address, but no worries. I can sniff out the rest on foot.
It takes me less than five blocks before I smell it. The cold, earthy smell of vampires underneath another meaty scent.
I break into the building with a crowbar and a heavy shove from my shoulder.
It's an old dance hall of some sort, complete with a stage. I head up there. Good for an auction.
And in the basement: bingo. This would be where they keep the cages.
Blood, sweat, tears. Smells like a shifter auction site to me.
I've got one more errand and then I'll get back to Jordy. Hope she's faring okay with the three Stooges, as she calls them. Fates, but she's cute.
I do one more lap of the building, checking out all the nooks and crannies. Creepy place, but nothing too sinister, not until I go in to the room behind the stage. The green room it's called by theater types. There's furniture back here, old fashioned velvety chairs and chaise lounges, perfect for a diva. It smells like vampires. But that's not what has the hair on the back of my neck prickling.
In the center of the room, there's a large brown stain on the floor. I crouch down but don't need to smell or touch to know what sank into the wooden floorboards so deeply.
Blood. Lots and lots of blood.
Jordy
THE THREE STOOGES stand around the Camaro, stuffing their faces with burgers. It's barely 11 a. m. The grey-haired guy, Parker, waited with me while the other two lined up at the door until an employee let them in. They returned with enough bags to feed an entire pack.
The dark-haired one, Declan, turns to me and says something with his mouth full.
"Pardon?" I ask.
"He asked if you wanted a burger," Parker says between bites of his own sandwich.
I decline, still hugging the coloring book to my chest. I can't help keeping an eye on the road, hoping Grizz will come motoring back on his bike.
Declan swallows a bite. "I know what ya are."
I turn back to him and blink at his pointed finger.
"Wee, sleekit, cowran, tim'rous beastie."
"Declan," Parker sighs.
"That's a poem," says the third shifter, a tall and skinny man who smells of feathers.
"I know it's a poem," Parker says. "It's by the Bard."
"Not the Bard, ya idjit," Declan scowls. "That's Shakespeare."
"Whatever," Parker waves a hand, balls up his wrapper and tosses it into the trash can. "All dead white poets sound alike to me."
"But it's in brogue," the feather-scented man protests quietly as Declan and Parker start arguing loudly. I blink at them. Whatever I was expecting from the guys Grizz left me with, it wasn't a discussion about poetry. By the end, Declan has stolen Laurie's hat, and he and Parker have almost come to blows. They wad up their burger wrappers and pelt each other with them.
Once they settle down, I step closer to them, hiding a smile behind my book.
"That's it, come sit a spell," Declan grins at me and scoots over to make room on the hood of the Camaro. I sit carefully, tugging down my dress.
"So, wee beastie, tell us what you're doin' w' a bear like Grizz."
"I'm helping him," I answer firmly.
"Are ya now?" The Irishman raises a brow. "'Cause ya know what he needs most of all-"
"Declan," Parker says in a warning tone, but it phases the Irish wolf not at all.
"-is to get laid."
Parker swats Declan hard enough for the black-haired man to rock in his boots, but he continues with a wink at me. "He needs it, bad."
"Oh, that's what I'm helping him with," I blurt, before I can stop myself.
"Ya sure? He's a great big grizzly bear, and you're a wee little thing. Aren't ya afraid of him?" Declan says it in his jaunty manner, but his dark eyes search my face carefully.
"No. I'm not afraid of Grizz. He's big and scary, but not to me. Never to me."
"Declan, shut up." Parker pulls Declan's hat over his eyes and turns to me. "I apologize for his rudeness." He's so formal I can't help but smile at him through my blushing.
"It's okay. I'm okay with it." I wave a hand in the air.
"See, she likes it," Declan tugs up the hat and swats Parker back. "Obviously has the right stuff, if she's taking Grizz on."
"Don't tell him, though," I bluster on. My face is probably cherry Kool-aid red. "It's a surprise."
"A surprise?" Declan's thick brows creep up into his cap, then he flashes a white-toothed smile and pats me on the back so hard I stagger forward. "I luv it. You've got more guts than I gave ya credit for, but I like your spunk and no mistake."
"Ok. Thank you."
"Glad this is all settled," Parker rolls his eyes. "Didn't realize you were so concerned with the sex lives of bears."
"Not just any bear. Our prize fighter."
"P-prize fighter?" the tall, thin man asks with a stammer. When I look at him he doesn't meet my eyes, so he's even more submissive than I am. A weak shifter-probably a bird. That would explain the feather smell.
"Yep," Declan declares cheerfully.
"Oh bother," Parker grunts, grabbing Declan's hat and setting it on his head at a rakish angle. "Not another big bet on a crazy fighter."
"That's right. We're all in. We just gotta keep the Tucson pack from killing our investment."
I stiffen. "They want to kill him?"
"Oh yes. Ever since he sided with the vampires."