“What?” I pull away from Oliver’s grip. “We can’t leave yet.”
I reach out for the handle on the driver’s side door of the car, but I get nothing. There is no imprint on the handle. Lucky for me, the old, obnoxious car is unlocked. Guess the owner thinks his reputation will keep people from breaking in. Or maybe he just forgot to lock it. I mean, why would he need to? This is only Detroit. It’s only one of the top ten crime capitals of the country. Mr. Muscles did seem rather stupid, though.
I hold my breath as I open the car door. I’m pretty sure all the magic I feel is coming from the house, but there’s a slight possibility the car is warded, too, and I just can’t tell. When I pull the door open and nothing happens, I let all the air out of my lungs. So Muscle Guy is just stupid after all. Awesome for me.
As I slide in behind the wheel, I glance over my shoulder at my lookout. Oliver has called someone and is murmuring anxiously into the phone, glancing at the house over and over. Whatever. He can have his freak-out. I need to scope out this car.
As soon as I place my hands on the wheel, I’m pulled into an intense vision. It’s night, and the guy from the bar is gone, but the driver of the car who picked him up sits gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles. I’m sitting in the backseat of the car—Shandra is gone. It’s nighttime, and the house in front of us is hosting a raging kegger.
Muscle Head sees a guy in the crowd and nods for him to come get in the car. The new guy is a redhead. He’s tall and lean, but his shoulders bulge under his T-shirt and his arms show definition. Unlike Muscle Head, the new guy looks intelligent. He slips into the passenger seat with an irritated look on his face. “You were supposed to check in an hour ago. Why didn’t you call?”
Muscle Head twists his hands over the steering wheel again, shooting his companion a dark look. “I didn’t think we should have this conversation over the phone. You’re not going to believe what went down tonight.”
Red only cocks an eyebrow and waits for an explanation. Muscle Head sighs. “We have to take Noah.”
“Noah?” Red whines. “I hate that idiot. Why would you want him?”
“That idiot bagged us a troll tonight.”
Red flinches, his mouth falling wide open. “No shit. A troll? Is he crazy?”
“YES!” Muscle Head shouts. “He snagged her right from under the noses of two other trolls. I had to use up all the last of my powder to cover our tracks.”
Red breathes out a small sigh of relief. “You spelled the cameras, then?”
“The cameras, the alley. I cloaked the car. I drove around randomly for over an hour before I helped him take the ugly bitch to the sanctuary. Been looking over my shoulder for angry trolls ever since. I think the bastard got lucky. I think we got away with it.”
Red’s eyes gleam with excitement. “A troll. We’ve never had that kind of strength before.”
“Yeah, because trying to harness that kind of power is suicide.”
Red glares at Muscle Head. “Have I ever lost control? Ever?”
Muscle Head’s glare turns to a pout. “No, but it’s getting close, and you’re starting to lose your power.”
“You don’t think I’ve planned for that? The culling will take place before our life forces run out, and hell, I’m a damn mid-level sorcerer. We’ll be fine. We’ll have to let Noah in. He’s the only other option, and he scored a damn troll. Now if Xavier would just hurry his ass up, we’ll be all set.”
“Xavier! Didn’t you hear? That pussy didn’t pan out.”
“What?” Red yells. “What happened? He was my favorite initiate! He didn’t get his vamp? He said the guy was over four hundred years old. Do you know how powerful a vamp that age would be? He didn’t get himself killed, did he?”
“Almost. But not from any vamp attack. The idiot went to Underworld the other night, got his ass beat, and OD’d on something no one can identify. He ended up in the hospital, almost dead. He’s claiming he was drugged, but the cops are still on his ass about it. We can’t have him bringing that kind of shit to us.”
“DAMN IT!” Red smashes his fist into the dash in front of him. He rakes a hand through his hair and blows a puff of air out. “Who else is there?”
“No one, Elijah. Only Xavier.”
Red—Elijah—shakes his head. “We need Xavier, then. Tell him he has one last chance to bring us an underworlder, or he’s out. Let’s see if he can really get his 400-year-old vamp like he said he could.”
“And if he can’t? It doesn’t work without twelve,” Muscle Head says. “The Blood Moon is on Tuesday. We’re cutting it kind of close.”
Elijah glares at Muscle Head. “Tell Xavier he’s got new competition. That’ll motivate him. Tell him to bring his underworlder to the… I don’t know. We don’t want him to come to our place, just in case he does have problems with cops. Who’s having a party tomorrow night?”
“Umm, I think Alpha Gamma Delta’s holding a mixer tomorrow night.”
“Perfect.” Elijah opens his door to exit the car but turns back to Muscle Head with a grimace. “He’d better come through. You’re right that we need twelve. I was counting on Xavier.”
Muscle Head sighs. “Me too. I’m not crazy about the guy, but at least he has a brain, unlike Noah. I’m not sure how he got so messed up.”
“Let’s hope he’s telling the truth and he really just got drugged or something.” Elijah sighs and nods his head toward the lively house. “You coming?”
Muscle Head nods. “Hell yeah. I need a drink after tonight. Something strong.”
“How about a little elixir in your whiskey? I’ve got a little left saved for a rainy day, and I’d say you earned it tonight.”
The vision fades before I get Muscle Head’s reply, but I’m fairly certain he wasn’t going to turn down whatever that elixir was.
I slump back in the seat, groaning. My head is freaking pounding. Those long visions kill me. But at least this vision was informative and not just some quickie Mr. Muscles had in the car.
When I come to enough to take in my surroundings, I hear two voices calling my name. Nick Gorgeous is standing right behind Oliver, a worried expression on his face. “What are you doing here?” I mumble.
His face turns annoyed. “It’s my case.”
Oliver takes my hand as I turn to the side and set my feet on the ground. His look is rueful. “We can’t deal with dark magic by ourselves, Nora.”
“You shouldn’t be dealing with this at all.” Nick harrumphs from over Oliver’s shoulder.
I ignore him and hold out my hands to Oliver. “Help me out of here. I think I’m gonna hurl.”
Oliver jumps to action, helping me to my feet. Nick shuts the car door behind us, then steals me up into his arms. Damn, it’s like I’m weightless. If I didn’t feel so shitty, I’d enjoy the ride in the hot guy’s arms. I’d even enjoy the fact that Mr. Just Call Me Gorgeous is wearing an old school AC/DC shirt and a cowboy hat. But…like I said, I feel too awful to care. Without warning, my breakfast comes back up.
Cursing, Nick holds me out away from him as far as he can so that the splatter of my puke barely misses his nice, shiny cowboy boots. “Easy, woman. Watch the snakeskin!”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ll just defy the laws of na—” I’m cut off when my stomach heaves again, and I hurl round two. There’s a hiss behind me, and then Nick sets me down on the curb behind Terrance’s nice loaner. “I’ll just defy the laws of nature,” I say again once I can breathe, “in order to spare your obnoxious shoes.”
“Obnoxious?”
“Yeah. I mean, look at them.” I’ll never admit how badass I think they are.
“Please. These are sexy.”
They totally are. “If you say so.”
“I do. Now what the hell are you doing here? And why are you throwing up everywhere?”
While I’m rolling my eyes at Nick, Oliver digs up a water bottle from the bottom of his backpack and hands it to me. I moan with pleasure as I take it from him. “Oh, Ollie, you are my new best friend.”