“I don’t know. Can angels function without a head?”
I swung again, and he easily caught the blade. It sliced into his palm. I tried to jerk it away, but he held tight. The force of his anger thrummed through the blade, down the handle into my arm. It seared through me, scorching every nerve as it climbed to my shoulder.
“You underestimate me, Alexa. One day, that’s going to stop.”
“You keep singing that song, and it’s getting old. Let go of my dagger you fence riding piece of shit.”
“Oh, is that what you think?” Falon released the dagger with a push of power that forced a shriek from me. “You think fallen angels are simply undecided? I promise you we know exactly where we stand. Your precious Willow included.”
“What does Willow have to do with this?” I held my arm with teeth clenched, willing the pain to fade.
Falon studied me. Whatever he saw, it shut him up. In a fast, fluid motion, he stripped off the jacket and tossed it. “Never mind. You have places to be. Clock’s ticking.”
The smarmy ass knew he had piqued my curiosity, and I couldn’t do a damned thing about it. He was right. I had to go. I quickly rigged the dagger’s scabbard around my waist, hiding it with Falon’s jacket, which was long enough to fall almost to my ankles. Without another word or a backward glance, I darted into the hall and followed the signs to the elevator.
Paris Las Vegas was a nice hotel. There was much to look at. If circumstances had been different, I’d have loved to browse around. As it was, I ran through the lobby to the street beyond.
My body was sore from the violent shift to wolf and back. It didn’t usually hurt like this. I ran through the streets, dodging tourists, until I made it back to Caesars where I ditched the huge men’s clothing for my own lightweight yoga pants and another bra and tank top. I swapped my boots for runners and chugged back a bottle of water.
At this rate, I was going to be out of clothes in no time. I was in and out of the suite in three minutes flat, running with Falon’s coattails flapping behind me. I had no starting point for finding Jez. My only guess was that Roscoe still had her. So I was going to The Wicked Kiss.
The street outside the club was empty. An eerie quiet hovered around the building. Knowing the rooftop access would likely have locked behind us when we left, I crept around to the back.
Two vampires wearing staff t-shirts stood watch at the back door. I stepped out of the shadows, careful to keep the dagger concealed. They stiffened at my approach, exchanging a look with one another. I held my hands up and moved slowly.
“I’m Arys Knight’s wolf. I’m here to find him.”
“You won’t find him here,” said the taller of the two. He frowned down at me, sniffing openly in my direction. “Linden and his guys dragged Arys and Jenner out of here over an hour ago. They took the blond wolf too.”
Panic seized my heart. Moving them to another location could only mean bad things. Linden and his blood ring were going to kill them.
“What about Sloane?”
“She’s here. Recovering.”
“Can I see her?” My question was received with skepticism and raised eyebrows. “I’m no threat to her. If you want Jenner back here in one piece, you have to let me speak to Sloane.”
They exchanged another look. The silent one shrugged. The tall guy nodded and stepped aside to let me through. I half expected them to follow me, but they remained at their post.
I entered into the back of the club behind the stage, fully anticipating a scene of horror and destruction. Instead, I found the place partying as if the earlier intrusion had never happened. Most of the damage had been cleaned up. Music pounded out of the speakers. People filled the dance floor, and vampire showgirls worked the room. The sheer normalcy was all kinds of f**ked up.
The elevator was off limits and besides I had no key card to access it. Slipping into the fire exit stairwell, I made my way down.
The lower level was in much worse shape than upstairs. Evidence of the attack remained in the theatre. Even as I walked through the dust and debris, staff members were hard at work cleaning up. A few of them looked up as I entered. I rushed into the backstage dressing room where I’d left my bag. It was still there, much to my relief. But so was Sloane, and she looked like death. I clutched my bag to me, grateful to find my phone and wallet still inside. I didn’t dare take my eyes off Sloane.
“Alexa?” She looked up from the neck of the man she was draining. Her eyes were dull and unfocused.
Someone had done a number on her. She had been stripped of her power, sucked so dry she was little more than a skeletal figure. Her skin clung to her bones, creating sharp angles in her face. Dirty and tattered, her dress barely fit her bony frame. I couldn’t recall ever seeing a vampire so drained.