Chapter 22 Creatures Of The Night
NIKOLAI'S POV
Backstage always smelled like wet fur, but tonight the tension was so thick it crawled under my skin. The arena pulsed with distant screams as fans filled every corner. I walked through the narrow hallway toward the prep room, rolling my shoulders and mentally running through the set list, although I could have performed it in my sleep.
I pushed the door open and froze.
My bandmates stood in a tight circle with Connor, who was usually calm and cheerful but now looked like his wolf was pacing inside his skin. His jaw was clenched as he whispered urgently, and Ryder, Ripley, and Lorenzo had all gone completely still.
"What's going on?" I demanded, stepping toward them.
All four heads snapped toward me.
Connor swallowed hard, lowering his voice. "A few vampires were spotted near the parking lot."
I sighed. "Connor, I know we have vampire fans. Some come to every show."
"Yes," he said grimly, "but that's not the problem."
Ryder muttered, "Tell him."
Connor exhaled sharply. "Viktor was seen. And he attacked a human."
"Viktor?" I repeated, stunned. "Are you sure?"
Connor nodded. "Positive."
A chill ran through me so sharply I felt it in my bones. Viktor never left his den. The Vampire King ruled from the shadows and let his loyal monsters handle the dirty work. If Viktor himself stepped into a public place full of werewolves and witches and humans... then something had pushed him to desperation.
"Why would he come here?" I questioned. "And attack a human? He doesn't waste his time unless—"
"—unless the human did something unforgivable," Lorenzo finished quietly.
But I knew better. Viktor didn't react. He planned. If he was hunting tonight, the prey wasn't human.
It was me.
Before I could dwell on that chilling thought, the prep-room door swung open and Hermes strutted in like a peacock dipped in gold dust. His cape shimmered with embroidered runes that pulsed faintly, feeding on his energy like leeches. His grin was wide, greedy, and manic—one of those smiles that made mortals uncomfortable and immortals suspicious.
"Showtime, my beautiful beasts," Hermes announced, clapping his jeweled hands together. "Let us strengthen the spell, shall we?"
Behind him slithered Maggie his personal Witch.
Her appearance stole the breath from the room.
Her skin was grayish and cracked like dried earth, and her eyes were sunken, glowing faintly red. Her hair hung in long, uneven strings, wet-looking though she never touched water. Her nails were black and curved like tiny sickles, and when she smiled, her gums were the color of mold. A foul scent of mud, rot, and old curses poisoned the air around her.
Ripley actually stepped back. Ryder gagged. Lorenzo closed his eyes like he was praying to every romantic poet he'd ever read to keep himself calm.
Hermes gestured dramatically. "Maggie, my sweet nocturnal treasure, if you would?"
She raised her bony hands and began chanting in a rasping language. Black smoke coiled out from her fingertips and wrapped around Ripley's drumsticks. They trembled and glowed purple before settling.
She turned to Lorenzo's bass. A sickening crackle of power surged over the strings, making the lights flicker. Lorenzo gripped his necklace tightly.
Ryder held out his electric guitar with a grin that quivered at the edges, trying to mask his unease. Maggie caressed it like it was prey she might devour, and then she breathed a dark mist onto the frets until they pulsed an eerie blue.
Finally, she faced me.
She hovered her hand over my throat.
My wolf bristled instantly, fur standing up inside my skin, but I forced myself not to flinch. Her magic seeped into my voice, crawling into my lungs like icy venom, and then she touched each microphone with the same corruption.
When she finished, she hissed, "They will worship them. They will scream for them. They will bleed for them."
Hermes clapped gleefully. "Excellent! I do love watching human devotion twist into something beautifully unhinged." He turned to us and swept his hands wide. "Come, my servants. Let us give these mortals what they paid for, and then take even more."
His greed radiated off him like static electricity.
We followed him down the hallway toward the stage as the crowd roared above us. The floor vibrated with raw anticipation. The lights dimmed. The rumbling bass of the opening track began to throb through the stadium.
Hermes strutted out first, stepping into a single spotlight as fog curled at his feet. The arena erupted.
"GOOD EVENING, NEW YORK!" he roared. "ARE YOU READY... FOR A NIGHT YOU WILL NEVER FORGET?"
The screams shook the rafters.
He stretched his arms wide like a prophet in a leather jacket. "Tonight, I bring you the gods of rock and roll, the monsters you came to worship, the beautiful disasters you cannot live without!"
The stage exploded in flashing lights.
"First," he purred, "the gentleman of sin... the poet of seduction... the brooding lover who prefers his women soft-spoken and his music loud... LORENZO!"
Lorenzo shot up from beneath the stage in a burst of red sparks. The crowd screamed as he blew kisses, the spotlight catching the black leather of his outfit with its crimson accents. He bowed slightly like royalty acknowledging his subjects.
Hermes continued, "Next, the wild child! The one who will rock your world, steal your sanity, and leave you begging for more... RYYYYDER!"
Ryder burst upward in a column of blue flame, sticking his tongue out and flashing the rock sign with both hands. The arena went feral.
"And now," Hermes crooned, "the princess of drums... the woman whose eyes can bring any man to his knees... LADY LOVEEEE—RIPLEYYY!"
Ripley popped up already seated at her drums, slamming a thunderous beat as she winked at the crowd. Purple light bathed her leather outfit, and the audience lost their collective minds.
Hermes lifted his mic dramatically. "And last, but never least, the face... the voice that can make angels sin and devils pray... the pretty boy with the wicked smile... the bad boy of your dreams... the HEARTBREAKER of the century... your lead singer—NIKOLAI!"
The platform under my feet shot upward.
I rose into a blinding storm of white light, sparks raining around me like falling stars. The crowd detonated into chaos—screams, shouts, crying, fainting, security fought to keep them behind the barriers as fans held banners that read TAKE ME KING NIKOLAI and RUIN MY BUSSY.
I stood there in my dark glasses and my leather jacket, letting the roars wash over me.
I didn't even move.
I just smirked.
The crowd's reaction doubled, a tidal wave of hysteria that rattled the floor. Hermes howled the final line into the mic as he exited the stage:
"Give it up for THE CREATURES OF THE NIIIIIIIIIGHT!"
I inhaled deeply and wrapped my fingers around the microphone.
Then I scanned the VVIP section, and there she was in the front row, dead center.
Shelby.
Her eyes locked onto me. When I smiled directly at her, her entire body froze like she had stopped breathing.
My wolf grinned inside me.
The night had finally begun.