“They get settled in?”

“Yeah.” Roz frowned. “They were in pretty sorry shape.”

“Well, we’ll have to worry about them later. Come on, we have to rumble.” I swung onto the ladder, followed by Shamas. “Let’s go take them out, guys.” And so we crept up the rungs, on our way to what I felt in my bones was going to be one of the toughest battles we’d faced yet.

Chapter 22

As we approached the landing leading into the back of the club, I began to get nervous. But Menolly was going first, so I couldn’t see if she was about to run into anybody. As she shimmied off the ladder, there was a shout and sounds of a scuffle. Crap—someone was up there.

I swung myself over the edge, pulling Lysanthra out as I did so, and saw Menolly wrestling with a Tregart. He appeared to be the only one, and as I hustled over to help her, she fastened on his neck and he stopped struggling. As she drained him of blood, he went limp in her arms.

As he fell to the floor, she turned and I saw a stake sticking out of her turtleneck. I started to scream but she motioned for me to keep quiet and pulled it out. Blood oozed slowly out of her side.

“Another four inches and he would have dusted me. But he missed my heart. This will heal.” She looked shaken—just in the slightest—and she tossed the stake over the edge of the landing. “Fucker was hiding in the shadows. By the looks of his weapons stash, he’s a clone of Roz—prepared for anything.”

I examined his body. “Hey, he has another one of those magical stun guns, and it looks fully charged. I handed it to Vanzir. “Here, you can use this.”

He took it, nodding. “Let’s get in there. Who knows if he had time to raise an alarm. What else he have?”

“Various daggers—be careful, they look like they might have poison on them. Smells goblin in origin. The usual chains these fuckers like to use, a second stake, and…hmmm…a ring of keys!” I held them up, then pocketed them. “Want to make a bet one of them opens those cells down below?”

Menolly examined the door he’d been guarding. “This door isn’t locked.” She yanked it open, almost pulling it off the hinges. As it went swinging back, she stormed in. Shamas and I followed, and then the rest.

We spilled into a back room. Music pounded from somewhere inside the club. Whoever was out in front wasn’t going to hear us until we started tossing furniture around. The room was obviously an employee lounge, with long tables, a counter with a microwave and coffee maker on it, a refrigerator, and a series of lockers. Camille stopped, pulling out her cell phone.

I stared at her. “Who the hell are you calling?”

“We promised Trytian a piece of the action. If we don’t stick to the bargain, we make another nasty enemy.” She paused, holding up one finger. “Trytian, get your ass down to the Energy Exchange. We’re infiltrating from the back. If you hurt any of us, I’ll take your butt down so hard you won’t be sitting for weeks. Got it?…You what?…Right…think again, hotshot. Okay, see you in the fray. We’re not waiting for you.”

She hung up and began yanking open the lockers, dumping the contents. I was about to ask what he’d said to her but, with one glance at Smoky, decided on discretion. Trytian was crude, and his manners over the phone weren’t any better than they were in person.

Camille tossed through the lockers. “Not much here, a few skimpy outfits, mostly lingerie. I’ll bet we find a few brothel rooms. This one’s locked. Smoky?”

Smoky broke the lock on it and Camille opened it.

“Hello…I think I found Van’s locker.” She motioned to Shamas. “You know what any of this crap is?”

He peeked inside. “Spell components. A couple firebombs. A bottle of…Wolf Briar. It’s labeled. Another bottle that’s got pixie dust in it. I’ll bet the pixies hate him.” Taking both bottles, he shoved them into his backpack. “We won’t leave these here for anybody else to find.”

Roz took the firebombs, and Camille grabbed a bottle of dishwashing soap off the counter by the sink and poured it liberally over the rest of the things in the locker.

“Spell components need to be untainted. This will ruin them for anybody’s use. Even if he rinses them, the chemicals in the detergent will have altered their energy and they’ll be useless.” She threw the bottle on top of the components, grinning. “Anything to screw him over.”

“Okay, are we ready? We head through that door, and this is it. We’re going to be walking into a den of vipers.” I glanced at them. “Remember, there’s a spirit seal out there—and we have no idea what Newkirk can do with it.”

I went first, with Menolly and Shamas right behind me. As I opened the door a crack, I could see a hall to the right and the left. Directly ahead was a beaded curtain leading to what I assumed was the main club. There was laughter coming from down the hall, and moans, blending into the throbbing music from out front. Van probably wasn’t with the whores, but there was no telling whether they were here voluntarily. For all we knew, Clarah Rollings was destined for this joint. If the prostitutes were prisoners, then their customers might not think twice about cutting the girls’ throats if they thought they were being raided.

I motioned for Vanzir and Shade to check out the rooms, and then, with a wave to the others, I burst through the main curtains.

The Energy Exchange was packed. The dim green light gave an eerie neon glow to the room. A deep heavy beat throbbed beneath the wailing music; the reverberation had to be some form of magic. The bar was lined with patrons, drinking everything from beer to tall glasses foaming with steam that spiraled up, sending a pungent smell into the air.

Dancers writhed on the floor, and the booths were filled. Camille and I scanned the room for Van. Camille pointed to a table near the bar. Van was sitting there with the bald-headed man—Newkirk. They looked like they were waiting for someone.

As we waded through the dancers, I wondered how the hell we were going to get away without hurting anybody not involved in this mess. Van wouldn’t hesitate to put innocent people at risk—and the minute he saw us, he was going to come up swinging.

“Over to the bar. Now. Everyone.” Camille whispered loud enough for all of us to hear, then—as we moved to obey—she and Morio pulled back, and they linked arms. They were staring out over the crowd. Fuck, they were up to something and it felt big.

As they murmured softly, drowned out by the music and crowd, a shadow began to emanate from their hands, and it grew larger, then billowed up, a cloud of smoke that rolled over the dance floor. People began to scream as the cloud took the form of a large winged creature. Whatever it was scared the hell out of me, but I managed to stand steady.

Several dancers looked confused but not frightened, and they held their ground, but a stampede toward the door started as the shadow dove into the crowed, screeching over the music. I glanced over at Van to see him jump up, looking around wildly. Newkirk sat still beside him, unmoving, staring straight at Camille and Morio. Crap. We’d been made.

As the crowd pushed through the door, leaving ten dancers behind—all looking suspiciously like Tregarts—an older man huddled in a booth in the corner. He had grizzled hair and a scruffy five o’clock shadow. Shade and Vanzir popped through the curtains right about then and gave me a nod.

“Van, I just punked your stash in the back.” Camille stepped forward.

“Bitch. I’m going to gut you.” He motioned toward Newkirk. “The three girls are mine. The rest—you deal with.”

I glanced at the older man in the booth, but he just sat, watching, a smile playing over his face. And then, I knew who it was. Telazhar. Fuck, he was going to play cat and mouse with us—and probably with Van. I fell back to where Smoky and Shade were standing. “That’s Telazhar—”

But I’d barely gotten the words out when he slowly stood and flexed his fingers, then pointed at me and I screamed as a burning blast caught me on the arm. Slammed back against the floor, I rolled over to staunch the flames that were blazing brightly.

Van whirled, staring at Telazhar. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Shut up.” The necromancer held up his other hand and a ghostly host appeared in back of him. Five etheric figures, all terrifying and mist-shrouded, headed our way.

“I think we have company!” I pulled out my dagger.

At that point, Morio yanked out a miniature coffin, opened it, and tossed Rodney onto the floor. “Grow, fight them, and keep your mouth shut.” Rodney grew to full size, a terrifying sight considering he was a skeleton with an attitude, and he headed directly toward Telazhar.

I felt something brush by my side. Arial was here—I could sense her. She raced past me, headed for Telazhar.

The Tregarts on the dance floor were converging, along with the ghosts. This wasn’t going to end well. Shade vanished into the shadows. I didn’t bother looking to find him—I didn’t have time to waste seeing what he was going to do.

Smoky took on the Tregarts. He rushed in, talons sharp, a blur of white against their somber black. A whir of chains flashed through the air at him, ending in garbled cries as he took down two of the demons, bashing their heads together with a tremendous crack. Blood poured from fractured skulls as he tossed them to the side, grinning wide.

Menolly and Roz joined Smoky on the dance floor, while Vanzir raced by, catching up to Rodney, and they were a blur of demon and bones on their way to face the necromancer. Fuck—Vanzir didn’t have his demonic powers anymore! He could get himself killed. I didn’t give a damn if Rodney got toasted, though he was helpful when he kept his mouth shut, but I kind of liked Vanzir and wanted to see him come out of this alive.

Just then, I turned to see Newkirk focusing on Camille and Morio while Van was homing in on me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as he let loose with a blast. Before I could move, the energy bolt hit me and knocked me off my feet, slamming me a good ten feet back. I landed on my butt, skidding even farther back till I hit the wall.

Shaking my head to clear the ringing in my ears, I jumped up and—not wanting to wait for his next attack—raced forward, Lysanthra poised to stab through whatever flesh I could find. For such a pale, bland man, Van was incredibly powerful. Looks could lie, and lie big.

He was ready for me, laughing as he held up his other hand and a wave of flame emerged. I managed to duck to the left, away from the blast, and as I did so, I spun around and lunged toward him. Lysanthra sang as she clipped Van in the side, ripping his jacket and slicing the skin below.

Van narrowed his eyes, his nose pinched and turning white.

“Cunt.” He let loose with another spell, and this time it hit me square in the chest, knocking me back again. And this time, it was fire and I was suddenly aflame again. I screamed as a shower of ice pellets and mist hit me, putting out the flames. Smoky was there. He yanked me to my feet, gave me a quick once-over, and, seeing that I was still in one piece, whirled around to face Van, his talons long and glistening sharp.

I pushed myself off the floor. My shirt was charred and I was mildly burned, but the flames hadn’t had time to do any real damage. Thank the gods I’d kept my hair short.

A shout to the left, over near the table where Van and Newkirk had been sitting, caught my attention. The bald-headed man was playing with the spirit seal and Morio was on the ground, thrashing. Camille was screaming, holding her head as she slowly sank to her knees. I started in their direction, but the next moment, Shade appeared and backhanded the man with such force that it knocked him over the table. As he scrambled to his feet, Shade was on him, pummeling his face. Whatever spell he was playing with broke, but Camille and Morio stayed down. Smoky glanced at Camille and panic set in his eyes, but he forced his focus back to Van and grabbed the sorcerer around the throat with both hands.

At that moment, there was a commotion from the front of the dance floor and a rough laugh burst out in the room. Trytian entered, followed by two lesser daemons—horns on the head and all. They engaged the Tregarts alongside Roz and Menolly.

There was a loud shout and a flash lit up the room over by the booths along the wall where Telazhar had been sitting. He was on his feet, and he was trying to do something to Vanzir and Rodney, but whatever it was didn’t seem to be working. In fact, Vanzir was standing there, head thrown back, soaking in the energy. Good gods, had he regained his ability to feed off life force?

Before I could figure out what was happening, Telazhar broke off his attack and stood back, gesturing with his hands. Magic flowed between them, and then another flash and there was a spinning vortex in the room, and something was coming out of it. Oh fuck, what the hell was going down now?

Everyone stopped to turn and stare, including Newkirk and Shade. Smoky kept his hands tightly clenched around Van’s neck, and I heard a snap as something in the demon’s throat broke. His head lolled to the side and he slumped. Smoky tossed his body aside.

I hurried over to Camille and Morio, who were slowly struggling to their feet. I grabbed Camille’s arm and helped her up, then turned to see what the hell we were facing now. The portal was spinning, and runes lit up the sides, hanging in midair like eye catchers.

Camille gasped and moved forward, staring at Telazhar. “No—you can’t! You’re fucking insane!” As she started to run forward, Newkirk lunged and grabbed her around the waist. He slammed her over the table, against the wall, and then Smoky was on him, ripping his face with one long sweep of his talons. Morio managed to shake out of the stupor as I ran toward Camille. Menolly took the opportunity to break the neck of a nearby Tregart, and now she and Trytian were attacking yet another.