CHAPTER 2

 

 

 

 

 

“You gonna just stand there and mope all night?” the bartender said.

Pike ignored Ezollo’s irritating desire to slither his way into other people’s business. The reason Pike preferred this bar over others was the dim lights, comfortable leather seats, and a don’t ask, don’t tell policy. The place wasn’t ever too packed and he liked the solitude. But there was business to attend to, things to take care of, and none of it required an audience. Especially a nosy bartender like Ezollo.

Pike chose from one of several empty stools at the bar and slid his bum into the cracked seat. “I’m not moping,” he answered. “I’m thinking. There’s a difference, although I doubt you’d understand.”

Ezollo set a tall glass of something on a cocktail napkin in front of him. They were in the shifter bar known as Kraken Down. It sat sandwiched between a pharmacy and a deli-style sandwich place a block down from the Wicked Weed Brewing Pub in the heart of Asheville. Hiding in plain sight, the locals liked to say. The glamour was strong enough to have tourists passing by without noticing a thing and visible enough for any legitimate clientele—those of the paranormal persuasion—to waltz in effortlessly.

It was Pike’s regular hangout. He could be himself amidst the paneled walls and cigar smoke. There was no more need for pretense. Pretenses were exhausting.

So was bailing Lavinia out of her numerous scrapes, but he couldn’t blame her. Not when he needed her, too.

“Which one is it tonight?” Ezollo proceeded to ask, his accent straight out of one of Plato’s pages. Greeks. Smarmy buggers. Pike hadn’t met a single one he could trust.

He took a sip and hissed. Beer mixed with blood. It wasn’t his favorite drink but one of the nightly specials the bartender concocted out of his crazed imagination and subjected his customers to without thought. It would have to do.

“It’s Thursday,” he grunted. “You tell me.”

“The little blond with the overbite.”

Pike nodded. “Yes.”

“Damn, right on the money in round one.”

“Everyone gets lucky.”

“She’s a looker.” Ezollo waggled his eyebrows up and down until the motion blurred. “Not as pretty as the chick with the…you know…the legs up to her forehead. The one who comes dressed in her own shrink-wrap. She’s your Monday gal, am I right? Monday and Saturday.”

“Whatever. Look, I’m expected for dinner. At eight. Promptly.” Pike didn’t need to consult his calendar. He had the women’s schedules down to a science. He’d been tap-dancing his way through eternity since his conception in 1677. Since his mentor disappeared and he was forced to figure out the details of his existence on his own. “You know how Thursday gets when I’m late.”

“And you plan on being a little late,” Ezollo continued.

The Greek knew him too well. “It’s…fashionable.”

“Keeps them on their toes, you mean. I get it. You have to keep up your image. It’s all about image with you.”

“Image keeps me surviving into the next millennium.” Pike held his glass up for a toast, the sound of glass tinkling filling the space when Ezollo raised his own. The daemon also knew a thing or two about survival. How else would they have both ended up in modern-day America? “I’m sure we all want to be there to usher in the next epoch.”

“What does Lavinia say about your other girlfriends?”

Pike held up a finger, swallowing half of his beer before giving a response. “Lavinia is not my girlfriend, at least not yet.”

Lavinia was lovely. Lovely and fragile. Men looked at her when she walked by and wanted what they saw. It wasn’t just the natural allure she now possessed as a supernatural. It was something more. More than looks. More than genetics. More than magical happenstance.

Plump, rosebud-colored lips and large, haunting green eyes. It was part of the reason Pike was initially drawn to her. Not to mention the scent of her blood, which was heady and intoxicating. Then he’d noticed the heavy mane of black hair, the frayed jeans, and well-worn hiking boots.

She’d been perfect.

He’d approached when he sensed the time was right. The strobe lights flashed and bass from the stereo boomed. His hearing, better than the average paranormal male, was taking a beating with the sound. There was no way he could leave without a mark. A prospect for the future. Otherwise, he would cease to exist. He had a need that, if not met, would result in him departing the world and forfeiting his long, long life. He liked his life. He wanted to live.

His maker had turned him after a plague took the rest of his village. In his words—a smarmy Russian accent Pike had grown to hate—Pike was strong. Strong enough to withstand the vicious curse of immortality and learn to subside on a most unusual sustenance.

Then he’d seen Lavinia across the dance floor, felt a jolt of recognition, and knew she would be fulfilling. There was no other word to describe the strange feeling in his gut. Here she was again. The girl from the street. The one who’d been so flustered after first seeing him that she’d fallen and, oddly enough, couldn’t get up.

He’d been trying to figure out what she was ever since, what obscure magic was written in her blood, coursing through the cells of her body. She was more than a psychic. More than a gypsy fortune teller. She was nothing he’d ever seen before, and Pike had been alive for a long time.

The bartender huffed. “You are some kind of wonderful, you know that? Why the hell haven’t you snatched her up yet?” Ezollo phrased it less like a question and more like an accusation. A barbed reprimand on all the things Pike had done, and continued to do, wrong.

“Because she’s different. She would do anything for me. Anything.” Pike trailed his fingers along the rim of his glass. “The high I get from her is…intoxicating. There’s no other feeling like it. Not in the world. She’s special. I can’t rush it.”

“I don’t get it. Why not just zero in on the target and move in for the kill? So to speak.”

Pike scoffed. “Because my affliction isn’t like yours. We’ve had this discussion already. I need to plan.”

Ezollo saw Pike scanning the crowd. Searching for anyone who might cause a problem for them if they’d overheard the conversation. He raised his hands in front of him, scarred palms out. “Fine, you don’t need to tell me twice.”

“Apparently I do.”

After over three and a half centuries, Pike knew what to expect out of life: boredom, brief spasms of excitement, and the search for his next meal. There were dazzling highs where he was the toast of the town and heartbreaking lows where he knew what it felt like to starve. No matter what else happened, the cycle repeated. Always. Repetition was the one thing he could count on. Without any kind of salvation in sight, there was not much to live for. There were no risks to take. Nothing new under the sun. Therefore, he sat in the damn bar talking to a daemon bartender that wasn’t known for his discretion.

The tips of his fingers pressed into the beer glass, jaw aching from clenching too hard, too often. His stomach rumbled. It was time to eat. Past time, having gone too long between meals.

Pike sighed and tightened his control. He didn’t need any more attention coming his way, after the scene in the alley a couple of hours ago.

“Too bad you aren’t ready to give up your philandering ways and embrace monogamy,” Ezollo stated. His grin was the perfect parody of shit-eating. He grabbed a white towel from beneath the counter. Pretended to do his job and clean when really, he did little more than swirl drops of condensation around in a circle.

“No. I’m not.” Pike’s voice was hard and brooked no argument.

“I know the likes of you. I know what you are and what you do.”

“Sure you do. Daemons are notoriously bad for digging where they don’t belong. It’s what you’re known for.”

“I may dig, but at least I’m open about what I am.”

What he was was a soul-sucking Grecian monster who had been persisting on gossip for too long. “Bully for you.”

“Maybe I should make a move on Lavinia. She deserves more than the likes of you.”

Pike shook his head and frowned. “Don’t even think about it,” he growled.

Ezollo smiled and showed rows of pointed teeth like a shark. He settled an elbow on the bar. Settled in for a more in-depth and revealing conversation. “It would just be an experiment, mind you. To see if there’s anything there between us. You’re right about one thing. She is special. Her blood sings out to all creatures of light, dark, and in between. You wouldn’t mind, would you? You just said you have multiples on the hook. You can spare one, and she is a delightful young woman.”

“Too young for you.”

“Oh, never. I’d love to get a taste of whatever current runs through her blood.”

The daemon’s grin was infuriating. Pike straightened his back on his stool. “Try it and see what happens. I dare you.”

“Would it really be that bad to give up the girl? Why would it be such a bad thing?”

“You know why. You twat.” Pike glared at him.

“And you know you won’t starve if you part with her.”

“I said drop it.”

There was no way he could let Lavinia go. Not until he’d had his fill and was ready to move on. Besides, they got along well. Despite her rather unfortunate knack for getting into trouble, she was spunky. He’d yet to find an irritating thing about her beyond the normal idiosyncrasies. The woman was charming. A true friend.

The possibility of what that meant was unsettling.

Pike refused to look up and see the face of the bartender he knew just well enough to call a friend. “Don’t look at me like that,” he told the cocktail napkin.

Ezollo shrugged one shoulder. “Whatever you say. I’m sure it never gets tiring, hearing so many women singing your praises.”

“When it does I’ll let you know.” Pike raked a hand through his hair. “Truly.”

The daemon snorted. “With all the naked women hopping in and out of your bed, it’s a wonder you ever stop to eat more than the usual. Although truthfully, I’ve never seen you order anything beyond alcohol. Does your kind eat traditional food?”

“Souls? No, I leave them to you. They’ve always left a horrible aftertaste in my mouth.”

“You are no fun anymore. I wish you well tonight. This one is on the house.” Ezollo’s face was sullen, his voice artificially bright. He rapped his knuckles on the bar before moving on to his next patron. There were three lined up on stools like little old crows on a power line doing their best to remain unnoticed beyond the need for a drink.

The harried exhalation was real when Pike spared a glance down at his watch. He was skirting the line on fashionably-late and plain out-of-time. This wouldn’t do at all. There was protocol when it came to his dates. He’d survived this long by being organized and playing the game. Unfortunately, the game never changed. Women never changed.

He finished his pint then slapped a twenty down on the counter for good measure. On the house or not. His brow furrowed. He’d gotten good at the routine and knew the intricacies that came with dating multiple women. Dating—what a ridiculous word for courtship. There was a certain amount of effort that came with wooing a female. Considering their emotions and acting on their desires. It went beyond date.

Lavinia, for example. Saving her shapely rear was a pleasure, if he was being honest. But he knew the real way to her heart came through affirmation. A kind word here, a compliment there, and she was putty in his hands. With her, there was no set rulebook. She was unique.

It was in his nature to seduce. To wait and watch for the perfect woman, sifting through the masses almost unconsciously until he found her. More than that, Pike had the talent for finding his feasts. He succeeded where others failed. He could turn out subtle actions designed to please and be in and out with no one the wiser.

Too bad there was no chance of real commitment in his future. Pike enjoyed his alone time and was hesitant to give it up. That was only a small part of the whole picture. There was no putting aside the fact of what he was. What they both were. It was too much to ask for fate to throw him a bone.

There was too much at stake to change the status quo. Losing his life, or the life of any woman. No. It was one risk he wasn’t willing to take. He started toward the entrance then paused, looking over his shoulder. Ezollo was pointedly ignoring him. Later, when he remembered the night, he would wish he could have given Ezollo permission to proceed on Lavinia. Better yet, go back farther in time and choose someone else. Anyone else.

Pike brushed a bit of dust off his trousers and was heading toward the door when his phone chimed. Straightening, he retrieved it from his pocket. Glanced down. His face soured.

Time to put on a show.