Chapter Seven
Rafe stood at the edge of the dance floor as Moira and Rex disappeared on the far side. Voices clamored for attention in his head, and he repelled them. He started to look for Moira, then in his peripheral vision he saw the woman in the leather lure Carter into a dark corner. He trusted Moira—she had the fortitude of any of the demon hunters trained at Olivet, and cunning instincts. Carter was a cop unversed in supernatural danger. He didn’t want to leave Moira for even a minute, but he had to get Carter out of here.
He strode over to the cop and said, “We’re leaving.”
Carter grimaced. “You’d kill me if I touched your woman, so let me have my own fun.”
The brunette grinned, her long red fingernails running up and down Carter’s neck. She leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth. Rafe would have left Carter to his own fate, except that the cop wouldn’t have been here if it weren’t for Rafe and Moira.
An overwhelming knowledge of immediate danger to Moira swelled within him. He couldn’t explain it, didn’t want to think about where it came from, but he trusted his instincts. He said to Carter, “Drink nothing,” then he turned and ran back to the dance floor.
At first he couldn’t see her. The lights were almost completely out, but then the spotlight flashed on something in the far corner. He pushed his way through the crowd.
Moira was struggling. One of her hands was raised as if she were holding a dagger turned to reflect magic back to her attacker, but there was nothing in her hand. If someone was attacking Moira with battle magic, she was unprotected.
The blonde from the stage had a grip on her and for a moment Rafe saw fear cross Moira’s face before defiance.
He twisted the blonde’s arm until she let go of Moira’s wrist, then he put himself between them. “She said she was leaving.”
Rafe wrapped his arm tight around Moira’s waist, holding her up. She was shaking and trying to regain her strength.
“I never want to see you here again,” the woman told them both.
Without another word, Rafe walked out with Moira.
Rain poured on them as they exited the building. Rafe took off his trench coat and put it around Moira. “I’m fine,” she said, breathless.
“Like hell.” He waved his arm toward where Grant watched from the corner.
Grant’s car squealed down the street.
“It was her.” Moira took a deep breath and began to regain her strength. “She was the source of all the darkness. It surrounds her, like a cloak. Radiating from her. She has a black soul, empty. It’s already been sold.”
Grant slammed on the brakes and Rafe put Moira in the backseat. “I’m going back for Carter.”
“What happened?” Grant demanded of Moira as Rafe ran back inside the club. Rafe couldn’t hear her answer.
Rafe had his knife in hand by the time he faced the bouncer at the Defiance entrance. Was this supposed criminal informant of Carter’s one of the blonde’s coven? Had he tipped off the witch that they were here?
“I’m getting my friend out,” Rafe said, holding the knife to the bouncer’s throat.
The guy nodded and didn’t try to stop him. Rafe ran down the long hall, fearing that the seven minutes he’d left Carter alone with the dark-haired woman was seven minutes too long. They’d attacked their weakest link, the person who didn’t understand what they truly faced.
Rafe didn’t see Rex or the blonde who had attacked Moira. And at first, he didn’t see Carter. All eyes were on Rafe, but he was focused and pushed past the crowd. They parted. Some were magicians, but most were harmless.
Baphomet is coming.
A chant started in his head. A voice he almost recognized, but couldn’t place.
Hurry, get out, Baphomet is coming!
Carter wasn’t at the table where Rafe had left him. He scanned the dance floor, didn’t see the cop, then quickly searched the room.
Carter was on a small couch on the far side of the room, Leather Girl all over him. Rafe ran over and pulled her off with more strength than he intended. He saw blood on her mouth and blood on Carter’s neck. His eyes were closed, a dumb grin on his face.
“You’re too late,” the girl said. She licked her lips and looked at the table.
Two empty shot glasses coated in red. Rafe picked one up and smelled. Blood.
“What did you do to him?” he asked taking a step toward her.
“Fuck you.” She spat at him, but Rafe averted his face. Her blood-tinged saliva hit his cheek. He rubbed it up with his sleeve and yanked Carter up.
“Hey, Rafe. Isn’t she hot?” He had a dopey smile on his face. He was not only under a spell, but he’d been poisoned.
Rafe didn’t argue, but dragged Carter out of the club. No one tried to stop him. Which told him that Carter was as good as dead.
#
Nearly an hour later, Grant stepped out of the hospital’s emergency room to where Rafe and Moira waited outside, under an awning to keep dry. Rafe had given Moira his trench coat, and now she needed it. But she wasn’t going to leave before they knew if Carter was going to be all right.
Moira said, “How is he?”
“They don’t know,” Grant said. “It would help if we knew what he was poisoned with.”
“No one will believe magic,” Moira said.
“If they pumped his stomach, he should be okay,” Rafe said. “It was either foxglove or bloodroot. Possibly belladonna, but either way, getting it out of his system and monitoring him should do it.”
“I told the doctor food poisoning, and they’re going to shut down the club until they can get the health department in, but dammit! This wasn’t supposed to happen!” Grant glared at them. “What happened? I want the truth.”
“The owner of the club is Rex,” Moira said. “I don’t know his last name. His girlfriend or whoever she was, is in the photograph from the camp. Where is it?”
Grant reached into a thin file and pulled it out.
Moira picked her out immediately. “Her.”
“Tessa Standler? She’s seventeen.”
“No. She’s at least ten years older.”
“Maybe she’s her sister.”
“It was her. I’m certain.”
Grant was skeptical, but said, “I need physical proof.” He turned to Rafe. “You promised this wouldn’t happen—you were supposed to watch out for Carter.”
“I was, but Moira was in trouble.”
Moira didn’t know what exactly had happened. “It was a draw,” she said. “I couldn’t get away, she couldn’t get at me.”
Rafe disagreed. “She was draining you, Moira, and you didn’t see it. She’s a psychic vampire. She doesn’t need your blood, she feeds on your energy.”
Maybe Rafe was right. Whatever had happened, Moira hadn’t experienced it before.
“What now?” she asked.
“I’m taking you both back to your hotel. Do not leave until you hear from me.”