“Crown, rocks, with a splash.” She paused and looked behind her as if the man standing there was with them. “And a vodka tonic, neat.”
“That was mean,” Eavan whispered. “I hate vodka.”
Muriel sighed. “Vodka’s mine, sweets. You can have my whiskey.”
With a grateful smile, Eavan took the two glasses of whiskey when the bartender returned. She upended the triple and left the glass behind. It was a start. The whiskey was a comforting narcotic, numbing her senses enough to help block the cravings a little.
For the next two hours, they pushed through the crowd, pausing at each of the bars rather than running a tab, so as not to alarm any of the bartenders with how much she was consuming. Not enough for a glaistig, but far more than a real mortal could drink safely. Even still, Eavan was one pulsing nerve after pressing too close to mortals, all but stoned on the pheromones in the club.
Another hour passed. Daniel was nowhere to be found. She could feel him nearby several times, close enough to set her body on edge, but when she turned he was not near enough to find.
What game is he playing?
“Daniel’s not here.” Muriel yelled the words. They’d just made another circuit of the main dance floor.
He was, but the only way for Eavan to know that was through some creepy affinity that Eavan wasn’t about to admit to Muriel. It was stronger now, a compulsion to seek him. Is this how the zombie girls feel? She was sure she hadn’t ingested any of his drugs, but she felt called to him. It didn’t make sense.
She slammed the rest of her latest glass of whiskey, and then took Muriel’s out of her hand and downed it, too.
Muriel led the way to the stairs. “Top bar,” she mouthed.
Eavan nodded and followed. At the top, Muriel pushed open the heavy door. They went into the lavish room, and the door fell closed with a thud, sealing out most of the noise. It wasn’t silent, but the top floor bar was designed to make conversation possible.
“Oh shit,” Eavan whispered. Cillian was standing at the bar, looking far from happy.
Muriel put her back to him. “Give me rules, Evvie. Are you okay?”
“I am.” Eavan was able to look away from him. “I’ve had a half a fifth already. Everything is sleeping now.”
Muriel smiled at Cillian as he came up beside her. “How’s the head?”
“I’m fine.” Cillian scowled, but to his credit he didn’t do anything else.
Muriel gave him a quick once-over. “I know.”
His scowl deepened, so Eavan stepped closer and told Muriel.
“Should I stay?” Muriel asked.
Eavan shook her head. “I’m good…because of you. Again.”
With a wicked grin, Muriel brushed a quick kiss over Eavan’s lips. “Be safe, Ev.”
Once she was gone, Eavan turned to face Cillian. “Are you okay? Really?”
He closed his eyes like he was trying to control the temper that was playing in the edges of his expression. “About the blueballs? Yes. About your girlfriend knocking me out? I guess. About you running out so I can’t do my fucking job? No, not so much.”
“I’m sorry,” she told him yet again.
“For which part?”
“Everything but the running out,” she admitted with a small smile. In the space between words, she paused. Her skin was crawling: Daniel was near. Perhaps he’d stayed away only because Muriel was in the bar.
Cillian took Eavan’s elbow and led her to a table toward the back of the room. “Are you on something, Eavan?”
“Like drugs? Me?” She felt her mouth curving into a smile at the thought.
If he knew the truth, what would he think?
The cocktail waitress, thankfully, chose that moment to stop at the table. Cillian waited while Eavan ordered another drink. Through a tinted window they could see the main dance floor. In the middle of the floor, surrounded by guards, Daniel stood. He stared up as if he could see her through the darkened glass.
Eavan stood and stepped closer to the window.
In the crowd below, Daniel waited. Cuddled into his arms was a very malleable young woman. Daniel kept her upright. He kissed her forehead and then looked up at Eavan and mouthed, “I’ll let her go if”—he stopped a group of women, gave the girl over to their care, and then looked back up at Eavan—“you come see me soon, Eve.”
Cillian came to stand beside her; he peered into the crowd below. “Are you looking for someone? A dealer? Brennan again? If your family is trying to protect you because you’re mixed up in something…”
She walked away from the window. Daniel was gone. It wasn’t a trap, but a negotiation. What do I do now? She couldn’t chase after him; the idea of seeing him in this state was sheer foolishness. She couldn’t take Cillian, either…or leave him behind. Rage started to build inside her. She was a glaistig, not some child to be toyed with and broken. Daniel had no clue who he was taunting.
Eavan watched the mortals of the dance floor. It looked so normal. That’s the sort of life she’d used to dream of having; it was the life she thought she could have one day. Nyx had seemed to be giving her a little more freedom. Everything seemed to be going well—until Nyx hired Cillian. Until Daniel.
She’s been watching me the whole time.
There was no normal, only degrees of beautiful lies.
Eavan knew the answer, but she asked all the same: “Did my cousin hire you because of Daniel?”
Cillian didn’t reply or flinch, but his silence was answer enough for her.
Eavan held down “1” on her mobile and said, “Grandmother.”
Nyx didn’t bother with greetings at this hour. “Are you injured?”
“No.” Eavan watched Cillian as she spoke. “How long have you known?”
“Long enough to see that you were too far gone,” Nyx said. “I don’t like Brennan. Not for you or for anyone. Especially not as your first.”
“You know what he’s doing?” Eavan asked, still watching Cillian.
“Of course I do.” Nyx sighed. “That’s not your business though, Evvie. Brennan is trouble. The powder he uses…it’s really not good for our kind. It works on some of us, too.”
Eavan looked away then. She’d been a fool to think she could hide anything from her matriarch, and in that instant, she had to wonder if she truly could do anything beyond Nyx’s control. “This doesn’t change the other thing. I’m done with Daniel because I’m not able to—”
“Ask your Cillian what his real job is,” Nyx interrupted.
Eavan looked up and caught Cillian’s gaze. “What do you do for real?”
“I’m your bodyguard.”
On the other end of the phone, Nyx made a rude sound. “Tell him to tell you the rest.”
“Nyx wants me to know,” she told him. “She said…”
Cillian held out his hand for the phone. Silently, she released it.
He held it up to his ear, listened for a moment, and then scowled and hung up. Quietly, he said, “Let’s take a walk.”
9
Cillian wasn’t sure what he hated more, the fact that he had to tell Eavan that he was with the C.D.A. or the fact that he seemed to have picked up a second supervisor. He wanted to tell Nyx to piss off, but his superiors would be anything but pleased if he lost his “anonymous” source so soon—plus that whole threat business of Nyx’s echoed in his mind.
Eavan was silent by his side as they walked down the street toward a tiny park that was reasonably well-lit. He stopped at a small cluster of unoccupied benches. It was late enough that they had a bit of privacy.
“I’m here investigating him,” Cillian told her. “Your cousin offered me a wealth of information on his activities, among other things, in exchange for protecting you.”
Eavan laughed, a bitter sound that made him want to comfort her. She sat down beside him. “Threats, sex, or money?”