Now that the smaller Hispanic nymph was closer, Cole couldn’t tell if she might actually have a Middle Eastern background. The more he looked at her, the more he wanted to learn. Being an expert in every sort of worshipping stare, she took his hand, shook it and said, “I’m Marissa. I know you’re probably a little dizzy right now, so just keep your eyes on me and we’ll take you to somewhere you can think straight.”
Since his eyes were already glued to Marissa’s swaying hips, Waggoner said, “That ain’t a problem, sweet thing.” Three of the nymphs pretended to think that was funny, as the tallest of the group cut a path through the crowd. When Waggoner was distracted from where he was walking, the younger blond nymph placed a hand on his back and kept him from walking straight into a group of businessmen. “What should I call you, honey?” he asked.
“Alyssa,” the blonde said with a smile.
The Hub was massive. Even more impressive was the amount of business it was doing. As far as Cole could tell, nearly all of the seats were filled, every stage was working to capacity, and there was plenty going on in the VIP lounges alongside the main room. The place was even big enough to have more than one climate. As he and the others were led toward the back, the air became cooler and the thumping bass lines of the music gave way to softer jazz tracks played from speakers embedded in the walls and ceiling of an insulated room.
“This is one of our private suites,” the taller Hispanic nymph said as she turned around and extended both hands to encompass the space around her. Generous curves tested the limits of her flimsy outfit and a wide smile put the Skinners at ease. The room felt like a plush cave that was insulated well enough to keep all but the lowest bass lines from seeping in. Dark red velvet lined the walls, and tastefully subdued carpeting muffled all footsteps into soft, whispering impacts. There was barely enough space for the Skinners to stand without crowding each other or bumping their shins against low, sumptuously overstuffed couches along both sides of the room. Another door, outlined in dimly glowing green neon, was at the opposite wall.
“I’m Lexi,” the tall Hispanic beauty said. “If there’s anything you need, just ask for me.”
“What we need is to get to Hungary,” Paige said.
“It’s being arranged,” Lexi replied. “Wait here and make yourselves comfortable.”
“I thought the arrangements were already made. We’re on a schedule here.”
“You’re also on our ground, Skinner,” Lexi said. “Mind your manners or we’ll mind them for you.”
Temporarily stunned by the tone in her voice, Cole moved toward the group of nymphs. He was immediately cut short by armed men who’d swarmed into the room from behind the other three girls. Although dressed in windbreakers bearing the Hub’s logo, they carried assault rifles rivaling the ordnance carried by the IRD.
“What the hell?” Paige said. “When did this shit start?”
The other blonde moved forward to directly challenge Paige. A gold one-piece swimsuit wrapped around her as if painted on by a narrow roller that had been placed on one shoulder then moved across her large breasts and over her stomach to barely cover her below the waist. Despite the lack of clothing, her eyes gleamed even brighter than the necklace that spelled the word STARR in gold letters. “It started when you took advantage of our gratitude by corrupting one of our most beloved sisters!”
“You must have us mixed up with someone else,” Cole said.
“No,” said a woman who eased past the armed men as if they were just another pair of slack-jawed customers. “They know exactly who you are, but their anger may be somewhat misdirected.”
Then Tristan, one of the leading members of the Dryad sisterhood, stepped into the room. She moved gracefully on high heels and wore her flowing chestnut hair loose over both shoulders. A flawless body sculpted from skin that begged to be caressed was wrapped in a relatively modest purple dress that gleamed like water hugging her breasts and hips to flow freely across her torso and legs. Something about her wasn’t the same, however. Her usual shine was diminished and her presence didn’t radiate the same effortless exuberance. Cole was drawn immediately to her eyes, and when she moved closer, he could tell they were now the color of moss that had never been touched by daylight.
“What happened was my choice,” Tristan announced. Since the other nymphs weren’t backing down, she approached Lexi and placed a hand on her smooth shoulder. “A choice that couldn’t have been forced upon me no matter who was asking me to make it.”
“The Skinners never stop asking,” Lexi said. “They’re never satisfied with what they’re given, and now we’ve all been corrupted.”
Waggoner shook his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “In case you haven’t looked outside lately, there’s a whole lot of corruption going on. From where we stand, it seems you ladies are doing better than most.”
Cole hadn’t taken his eyes off of Tristan, which had nothing to do with the beauty that still made every other beautiful thing in the world pale by comparison. She was one of the first supernatural beings Cole had met who hadn’t tried to kill him. He didn’t exactly swap greeting cards with the Dryad, but there was a connection between them similar to the one between a boy and the experienced older woman who’d lovingly given him one hell of a first time. “What’s the matter?” he asked her earnestly.
His tone, more than the words themselves, had an effect on Tristan. Her exterior crumbled just enough for him to see how much work was required to keep it in place. “Everyone,” she said with supreme authority, “leave us.”
“Who stays?” one of the armed guards asked.
“Cole and Paige,” Tristan told him. “Everyone else can move into the next room. There’s food there,” she said to Waggoner in a less severe tone. “Help yourself. If you’re going as far as you say you are, you’ll need all the nutrition you can get.”
After several affirming nods were passed between those concerned, the nymphs escorted Waggoner through a door at the opposite side of the room.
“The one with the beard seems new to the game,” Tristan mused as they left.
“That’s Waggoner,” Paige said. “He’s still wet behind the ears but stood up for me and a whole lot of people when things went to hell in Atoka.” She waited for the other two to sit down before making herself comfortable next to Cole on one of the couches.
“I heard about your home in Chicago burning down,” Tristan said. “That’s terrible.”
“What were those other girls talking about when they said you were corrupted?” Cole asked. “That is, if they were talking about you.”
“They were,” Tristan said with a single nod. “I was glad to help you in Atoka when the Breaking Moon rose, but I told you there would be a cost. I had to tap into darker energies, such as fear, hate, and rage.” When she said those words, her eyes took on an accusatory glint that was aimed at both Skinners. “There’s a reason we don’t use those energies. They change us.”
“But you’ll get better, right?” Cole asked. “I mean, you can’t have been the first Dryad to do something like that.”
“Definitely not. The only problem is that this sort of corruption makes us into something that isn’t Dryad. Human legends are filled with my kind as well as theirs. We are known as muses, mermaids, and sprites, while those others are commonly known as hags, cannibals, and . . .”
“Witches,” Paige said.
Tristan nodded and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. The sight of her purposely dimming her own light made Cole feel ashamed for asking her to go through the ordeal. It had been necessary, but that didn’t take anything away from the burden he now felt.