chapter Fourteen
THE CALL OF THE RAVEN
STELLA played Rock, Paper, Scissors with Saxon and wondered when this night was going to end. She wanted to go back to bed and sleep for two days. She wanted to wake up next to Wyatt, tucked in warm and cozy under his arm.
That thought made her push up off the beer tub and stand up straight. She did?
“One, two, three.” Saxon threw out paper.
She did rock.
“Ha-ha!” he said.
But she was barely paying attention. She was wondering if her feelings for Wyatt were confused by Johnny’s death. Maybe she just wanted comfort, companionship. It wouldn’t be fair to Wyatt to lead him on if that was the case. But how was she supposed to know for sure? It wasn’t like she had any real experience with relationships. She’d never been in love. She’d been in lust. She’d had crushes. But true, deep, soul mate kind of love, that she’d never experienced. Which was kind of pathetic, now that she thought about it. How had she gotten to be more than a hundred years old and never fallen in love? Or had a man fall in love with her?
Stella suddenly felt like she was going to cry. She swiped at her face. “Saxon, I have something in my eye.”
“Yeah, your finger.”
Oh, geez. She glared at him. “I’m going to the restroom to flush it out.” To cry in private in a stall. “I’ll be right back.”
She never made it to the restroom. When she got to the entrance, arms around her waist yanked her up the stairs and into the back room.
“What the hell?” Stella kicked and elbowed whoever had grabbed her. It had to be a vampire because he didn’t let go. A mortal would have been doubled over from the impact and would have dropped her.
“Calm down.”
She whirled around and found herself face-to-face with Raven. “What are you doing?” Shoving at him, she said, “Get your hands off of me.”
He did let her go, but he blocked her entrance back into the bar. “Just give me a minute. I don’t want to hurt you, Stella.”
“You punched Saxon,” she said dryly, arms loose and at her sides. She hadn’t been in a lot of altercations but she did know how to defend herself if necessary.
“He owes me money.”
“Hitting Saxon is like kicking a kitten.”
“He borrowed five hundred bucks last night and blew it at the casino. When I asked him when he could pay me back he told me money is the root of all evil. It got worse from there. Having a conversation with him is like talking to a stoned twelve-year-old.”
Well, Raven did have a point. “Five hundred bucks is a lot of money,” she said begrudgingly. “And I’ll talk to him about paying you back. But please refrain from punching those less mentally fortunate than yourself.”
“Okay, sorry. He just irritated me.”
Stella sighed. Saxon was irritating, she couldn’t deny it. “Was there something else you wanted?” Raven didn’t look like he was quite done with the conversation, but frankly, she was. She wanted to find Wyatt and go home. With Wyatt. There, she’d admitted it.
She wanted to cuddle with him. Feel his strong arms around her supporting her while she relaxed and slept off the remnants of this wicked hangover.
“I wanted to ask you out.”
“What?” Stella just stared at him. She’d known Raven for at least twenty years and he’d never once expressed any interest in her. Not that she had noticed. Why did that always happen? You went years without any male interest and then suddenly they were crawling out of the woodwork. It was like they could smell competition and it roused them into action.
“You know, with Johnny’s death and everything, it just made me think that this isn’t forever, you know? That we need to live each night to the fullest.”
She’d never thought of Raven as a deep guy and he looked uncomfortable with the words coming out of his own mouth. She wasn’t sure what to make of the whole thing. Raven was a hedonist. Having him interested in her was just hard to believe. “I can definitely appreciate what you’re saying. But now isn’t a good time.”
“It’s Axelrod, isn’t it? You’re seeing him.”
“I wouldn’t say that precisely.” She wasn’t sure what she and Wyatt were doing.
“Shit, I knew it. I guess I shouldn’t have dragged my feet. Same with the washboard player. I’m striking out all over the place.”
Raven had been eyeing Katie, too? That was flattering to think that she was just one of a number of women on his list. Charming guy, that Raven. “Sorry. Hey, do you know Bambi, the girl my brother was dating?” It seemed likely that Raven would know a stripper and Saxon had mentioned something about Raven shooting Bambi.
“Sure.”
“Do you know where she is tonight?”
“She was at Erin Rose fifteen minutes ago.” Raven glanced back into the bar. “I have to go back onstage.”
Stella nodded. “You ever want to shoot her?”
Raven started. “What? Why the hell would I do that? Are you okay, Stella?”
Not really.
She couldn’t decide if Raven was the type to drug them or not. He certainly wasn’t acting sinister, just more like a douche bag. She decided to see if she could get a reaction from him. “Johnny’s blood vial is missing. Have you seen it?”
Raven gave her a long look. “No. I would hunt that down if I were you. Not a good thing to lose track of.”
Stella wasn’t sure what that meant but before she could question him further Raven was gone, taking the steps two at a time onto the stage and picking up his guitar.
Had he seriously just cornered her in the storage room because he wanted to ask her out? It seemed suspect. But she didn’t really have any choice but to take him at face value.
She figured she could stop at the local bar across the street and see if she could find Bambi and ask her some questions. What, she wasn’t exactly sure. Pausing on the edge of the dance floor, she glanced around. No Wyatt. No Saxon. Seriously?
She went out the front door. Still no sign of either of them. Wyatt was the one who had told her so pointedly not to go anywhere and then he disappeared. Typical man. Couldn’t make up his mind.
If he thought she was going to stand around looking abandoned, he was crazy. A woman alone in a bar was a target for more stupidity than she was prepared to deal with tonight. Or any more stupidity than she was prepared to deal with.
Erin Rose was a hole in the wall. It always smelled like fried food and something else that she’d never quite been able to identify. The counters were sticky and the air stale, but the bartenders were awesome and it was a quiet place for locals who worked the street to sneak away from the raucous tourist places. Stella hadn’t been there in a while, but she waved to the bartender in the back. “Hey, what’s up, Peter?”
“Not much. How you been? Sorry to hear about Johnny.” The bartender was tall with dark hair and a slew of tattoos racing up and down his arms. He wiped the counter down with a rag as he gave her a look of sympathy.
“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Would this tightness in her chest ever go away?
She glanced around the bar. There was only one other woman in the room and a couple of guys. Taking a drink from Peter, who remembered that she preferred red wine, she changed stools, aligning herself next to the blonde, who glanced at her and gave a sharp smile.
“Hey, I know you,” she said. “You’re Johnny’s sister.”
“Yes, I am. Are you Bambi?”
That was greeted with a snort. “No, I am not that tramp. I’m Karen. I bartend at the Door. Day shift.”
That would explain why Stella didn’t know her. But how did she know Stella? “I guess you knew my brother?”
Karen waved her hand, an unlit cigarette between two fingers. “Just casually. He was a big flirt. Happy guy though. Never thought he would kill himself. That’s really sucky.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.” Stella shifted on her stool, studying the vibrant blue eyeliner Karen had penciled in uneven lines above each of her eyes. “So Bambi is a tramp?”
“Totally. I kinda had a thing for Johnny but then I realized that he wasn’t my type because he always went for chicks like Bambi. Double-D disasters. Not my scene, you know?”
Oh, yeah. She wasn’t into that scene. As her less than buxom chest proved. She puffed it out to show Karen. “I prefer the natural look myself. Even if there isn’t much to look at.”
Karen laughed. “Me, too, girl.” Twisting in her chair, she shoved her chest to Stella. “A cup.”
Stella smiled, in harmony. Then almost fell off her stool as she focused on the necklace dangling just above Karen’s breasts.
It was Johnny’s blood vial.
What the hell.
“Where did you get that?” she asked shrilly, pointing to the necklace. Maybe she should proceed with caution, but she was too emotional to hold back.
“Huh? Get what?” Karen looked startled, and eased back on her stool away from Stella.
“That necklace.” Stella supposed it was technically possible that more than one person could have a skull pendant wrapping around a vial containing red liquid. Blood. It was possible. But not very freaking likely.
“Oh. Wyatt Axelrod gave it to me last night. Do you know him? He plays bass with Cort.”
Did she know him? Oh, she knew him. She knew every sorry inch of him. The scum-sucking, sexy, lying rat-bastard asshole. “That’s my brother’s necklace,” she told Karen, well aware that her voice sounded tight and venomous.
The other woman got a little defensive, which was probably natural under the circumstances. “Well, why would Wyatt have it? And why would he give it to me?”
That was the million-flipping-dollar question. “I want it back.” She held her hand out, all pretense of politeness gone. She was a vampire on the edge.
How could Wyatt play her like that? Pretending to be so concerned? Why had he lied about the necklace when he knew how much it meant to her? What did he really know about Johnny’s death and last night, and how could she possibly trust him?
“No way, you crazy bitch.” Karen picked up her bottle of beer and moved three stools over.
Stella followed her, anger driving blood into her face and making her temple pulse. She knew she needed to calm down, that Karen was an innocent bystander, mortal to boot, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself. “How do you know Wyatt? Have you had sex with him?”
She couldn’t even believe she’d just said that. Never in her entire long life had she uttered such confrontational and irrational words. If Wyatt had slept with Karen what business was it really of hers?
Peter had moved over to them. “Stella. You need to take it down a notch.”
Now she was being reprimanded by the bartender, which only served to piss her off further. “I’ll take it down when she answers the question. Actually, when she gives me Johnny’s necklace back.”
“I know your brother just died, but calm down, sweetie. Maybe you shouldn’t be out drinking tonight. You want me to call you a cab?”
Peter was being sweet and rational but Stella didn’t want to be rational. The world had ceased to be rational the second Johnny had purposely thrown open his curtains and barbequed himself. “No, I do not want a cab. I want that necklace.”
“It was given to me, fair and square. I’m not giving it back.”
“Bitch,” Stella accused. If someone wanted their dead brother’s necklace back, you should give it to them. It was just the decent thing to do.
“You’re the bitch. How do I know you’re even telling the truth?”
“Here’s the truth—I’m taking it.” Stella had spent her entire life being polite, doing the right thing, taking care of others. Being in control. She lost her control in one fell swoop when she reached over and yanked at the necklace, breaking the chain. Gripping it in her fist, she pulled it away from Karen, even as the woman screamed and grabbed for it.
“Stella, you need to leave,” Peter told her. “Or I’m calling the cops.”
“Fine. I’m leaving.” Now that she had the necklace. She pushed back off her stool and stuffed the necklace in the front pocket of her jeans.
What she didn’t anticipate was that not every woman spent her life restraining herself. Not every woman overthought things the way Stella did. Some women just reacted.
Like Karen.
Who jumped on Stella’s back and knocked her to the floor.