Magick Marked (The DarqRealm Series) (7 page)

She’d promised Frederick she’d feed and she intended to keep that promise, but there were a few extra items on her agenda this evening. Like doing a little research to find out where her Kamen had disappeared to and how exactly someone had managed to sneak into her coven undetected.

No doubt Frederick would be pissed if he knew her alternative plans for the evening, most especially her decision to go at it alone. Sure, the king had made it clear that she was supposed to be meeting up with a team, but this was personal. If she didn’t get this Kamen back, she would forfeit her life. And she was
not
going to trust anyone else to ensure that didn’t happen.

She shook her head. Tonight she’d get some answers. Someone in the DarqRealm had to know who had taken that Kamen, and she suspected it was someone who knew a thing or two about magick. Maybe even more than Eldon, and he was supposedly one of the strongest movers in the south.

Yet for some reason, she knew instinctively that he didn’t do it. His disbelief had been sincere when she’d told him they’d gone missing. But who else could break into a cavern full of vampires undetected?

The situation defied all logic. The caverns were heavily guarded. She’d secured the rock with multiple forms of magickal and mechanical protection to keep it safely hidden. And yet, someone had still managed to take it right out from under her nose.

If Eldon was as great a magick mover as the Council had rumored him to be, then his magick should’ve been strong. Certainly strong enough to keep a weaker mover from breaking any spells. Unless… old magick was involved. She’d heard that old magick held more power than the newer spells. Maybe she could find someone who knew a thing or two about the ancient craft?

Pain shot through her stomach, distracting her from her thoughts as it churned in discontent. How long had it been since she’d eaten?

Checking in with her mental calendar, she reviewed the past week. Three days. She hadn’t eaten for three days, which was definitely at the higher end of her tolerance. Older vampires could live for weeks without feeding, but three days was damn good for a two-year-old. No wonder she was so hungry.

She glanced down at the clock on the dash. Just past eleven. Plenty of time to snag a little dinner after her research.

Slowing down to peruse the rapidly filling pay-to-park areas, she pulled into the lot closest to the drag. An old man waddled to her car, and she rolled down the window. His breath hit her, a combination of vodka and cigarettes marching into her sinuses and taking a seat. The stink filled her car as he moved closer, and she tried not to wrinkle her nose in disgust.

“That’ll be ten dollars, ma’am.” The parking attendant looked at her expectantly. Ten dollars? For a freaking parking space? Ridiculous.

She dangled a crisp ten dollar bill out the window. As he took a step toward her, she met his eyes. “Come here, sweetheart.”

He obeyed, lowering his head into the window. She lifted a finger to stroke his cheek then touched the center of his forehead.

A familiar tint of red flooded her vision. The man was weak, cracking under the weight of her mind control. His glazed expression tattled his condition. He was enthralled.

“I’m going to park right under that light. You are going to watch my car until I return and make sure nothing bad happens to her.” Her Porsche had been flawlessly maintained, and she wasn’t about to let some drunken asshole ding the door panels.

He pointed to the spot, and she slid right in. Depressing the button on the side of the seat, she floated back as far as it would take her and kicked off her shoes, replacing them with gold, sparkly pumps. To get into bars for free on Sixth Street, she’d need to dress like a slut bunny.

And she refused to pay cover charge on principle.

Unzipping her sweater, she shrugged it off and threw it on the passenger seat. The black halter revealed exactly what Victoria was keeping secret. Breasts lifted and shifted, tats in full view, she glanced down at the colorful sleeves woven into her flesh.

Sixth Street liberated her. Austin thrived on music and hippies and artists. No one gawked or judged her here when they saw the tats. The human mantra ‘keep Austin weird’ made a girl like her feel right at home. Vampire and all.

She stepped out of the car. The chirping of the alarm told her the car was locked, and she glanced at her reflection in the car window to fix her hair. Cold wind swirled around her, settling into her bones but offering no adverse effects to her nervous system. Being undead had its perks.

Click. Click. Click.
Her four-inch spiked heels struck the concrete, announcing her presence with each step. A whistle pierced the air and she turned toward the source of the noise. A bouncer shot her a wide smile. She offered him a polite wink before continuing down the street. Not her flavor.

Hunger protested in her stomach, curdling in displeasure at her discriminating taste. Her inner predator was begging to come out and play, but she shoved the urge aside.

Not yet. Still too early. She had work to do first.

Rho studied the crowds of people on the street. Bar employees stood outside, luring people into their establishments with promises of drink specials and beautiful people. Music blared in the streets, streaming out from the open doors of the clubs. A grossly inebriated bachelorette party stumbled along the sidewalk. She dodged them, smiling politely before turning into the poorly lit bar.

The overgrown bouncer held open a massive black door, surveying Rho’s body with his level stare. His eyes were flecked with green, his skin shimmering ever so slightly against the soft glow of a streetlamp. No doubt he was an elf. She lifted a brow and he gave her a slight nod. Access granted.

As a human, she’d always found Night Storm a bit intimidating, the pierced and tattooed crowd daunting by its sheer size alone. But since she’d already died once, there wasn’t much left to fear. Now this was her bar of choice.

The scent of Dwellers hung thick in the air, intermingled with the tempting aroma of humans. She strode up to the bar and perched on the edge of an empty barstool. Someone in this place knew about the missing Kamen. Or at least knew of someone powerful enough to gain access to it.

She surveyed the crowded room. One very drunk human girl speaking entirely too loud. Four human men standing in a circle, sipping fresh beers. Two more men, not human, leaning on the bar and trying to get the bartender’s attention. One beautiful dark-haired female with a pixie cut, also not human, flanked by two very interested men.

The girl’s pale blue eyes met hers, locking on as she surveyed Rho from head to toe. They narrowed as her brows furrowed into a deep scowl.

A heavy knock on the countertop stole Rho’s attention.

“Anything I can get you, miss?” the man behind the bar asked. His pale skin and missing pulse gave away his condition as one of her kind.

“What’s that girl’s problem?” Rho muttered. She glanced over at the girl again, but she’d turned her back to the bar.

He glanced across the bar before a small smile crossed his lips. “Don’t mind her. She’s not the friendliest Dweller you’ll meet.” He lifted his chin. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Whiskey and coke.”

“You got it. Anything for a member of the Guard.”

Rho’s gaze shot up. “Excuse me?” No one ever spoke about her position outside of the caverns. Vamps were private people. Their business wasn’t discussed outside of the coven, not in front of other Dwellers and especially not within earshot of dozens of humans.

“Relax. No one here cares about politics.” He flipped the whiskey bottle upside down into the glass. “My name’s John, by the way.”

“Rho.” She offered him a short nod. “But I guess you already knew that.”

With a thumb, he pressed the soda button on the nozzle in his hand. “Have I seen you here before?”

Possibly. It had been a while since she’d hit the night scene this far from home. “I’m not a fan of bars.”

He chuckled. “Not enough fresh blood in here for you?”

She shook her head. “Too much noise.”

“I thought vampire lore said we loved places like this.”

“I didn’t read the manual.”

He smiled. “One whiskey and coke, just for you.” With one hand, he pushed the drink toward her from across the bar top. “You always did seem like a rebel.”

She arched a brow. “Always? You keep tabs on me or something?” This vampire sure seemed to know an awful lot about her, considering they’d never met. Or at least she didn’t think they had.

He shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t be so surprised. The executioner is a public figure. Job’s designed that way, I imagine.”

“Great.” Irritated at the idea of random strangers knowing her business, she turned her attention to the crowd scattered around the room. Time to squash the small talk. Someone in here had to know something helpful. And if anyone in a bar knew where to go for information… “Can I ask you a question?”

With a sweeping motion, John wiped the granite surface in front of her with a white rag. “Shoot.”

“In your line of work, how well do you get to know people?”

Another shrug. “Better than they’d like. Alcohol has a way of making people talk.”

“Anyone in here ever talk about old magick?”

His hand froze mid-swipe. “You shouldn’t dabble in magick.”

Rho gave him a half smile. “Don’t worry about me.” She plucked the drink off the bar and took a sip, staring at the bartender as the cold drink hit her stomach like a rock.

A long moment passed before the man sighed and pointed discreetly to a table across the room. “Those two over there. They’re fae.”

“So is your door guy.”

“Who, Frank? He’s got nothing on those two.”

“How so?” She’d bet cash money that the door man’s real name wasn’t actually Frank. The fae loved to use names from their native languages.

John tilted his head toward the two old men. “Those two are way older than any other fae I’ve ever seen here. If anyone would know about old magick, I’d guess it would be them.”

She smiled sweetly as she eyed her new targets and rose to her feet. “Thanks, John. You’ve been most helpful.”

“Any time.” Although judging by the tone in his voice, he didn’t mean that.

Rho’s stomach turned as she glanced across the room at the two fae men. Vampires had always made a point of staying away from magick. Those with the ability to manipulate it could render a vamp’s physical strength irrelevant, so it wasn’t anything to mess with. Not unless a Dweller really knew what they were doing—and she didn’t.

The one thing she did know was that Eldon had protected those rocks with old magick. He’d said so himself. She wasn’t certain what that meant or why it was important, but she intended to find out.

Butterflies flittered from her stomach to her throat as she took a long draw on her drink. The icy twang of whiskey settled like a rock in her gut, replacing the nerves and bringing her goal back into focus. They might be powerful fae men, but this was a public establishment with human occupants. No way could they pull any funny business without watchful eyes playing witness.

With a gulp, she made her way across the room. As if they’d sensed her approach, the two men set down their beverages and rotated in their chairs to face her.

“What do you want, vampire?” the man on the right asked. He was tall and frail, his thinning white hair combed over to hide his bald scalp. The iridescence to his skin was lackluster but obvious to the trained eye. Tell-tale sign of the fae.

The shorter, rounder gentleman to his left grunted.

Rho lifted her glass, as if to invite a friendly conversation. “I have a few questions and I was hoping you may be able to help me.”

“Why would we help you?” The pudgy man ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair before clasping the glass on the table in front of him. “We don’t help your kind.”

“It’s about magick.” Rho lowered her voice. “Old magick.”

The gray-haired man narrowed his eyes. “And just what do you know about that?”

“It’s not what I know. It’s what I need to know.” Rho set her glass down on the table, then leaned an elbow on the bar-top table.

“You know we can’t speak of this here,” pudgy said, glancing up at gray-hair.

Gray-hair nodded and surveyed the room. “It’s prohibited in this place. Too many humans. We can go to a private room.”

Unease came in a rush, settling into Rho’s bones. Being alone with two old, powerful fae didn’t sound like her brightest idea.

“We can speak in that corner over there,” Rho said, pointing to a dark, empty corner of the room.

“No.” Pudgy shook his head. “I like this bar and I’m not getting banned. We speak in private or we don’t speak at all. Your choice.”

Damn. Those weren’t the best options, but they were her only options. These men clearly knew something about magick. They could be her only lead to finding any information about the Kamens.

After a moment of silent deliberation, Rho sighed. “Fine. I’ll be right back.”

The men nodded, and she swiveled around to head back toward the bar. She might be trained in combat and skilled with a blade, but she wasn’t stupid. A soldier never went in without reporting her location.