I smirked at him.
Jace sighed. “No, he hasn’t told me anything. Colonel Fireswift is not big on sharing.”
“Just like an angel,” I commented, rolling back my shoulders as I stood. “Ok, I think I’ve procrastinated long enough.”
I cut around the dance floor, keeping some distance between me and the hot scent of sweaty armpits and raging hormones. Sometimes possessing the heightened senses of a vampire was more of a burden than a boon. I strutted straight for the witch king’s stage, my eyes raised with confidence, my heels clicking hard against the floor. Attitude was everything, a little tip I’d learned in my bounty hunter years.
I’d made it to the wall of hired muscle. The witch king waved his bodyguards aside. Obviously, he was impressed by my attitude. Either that or my red minidress.
“Come here,” he purred richly, patting the empty seat to his right. The spot to his left was already occupied by a raven-haired witch covered in a tiny piece of lacy black lingerie masquerading as a dress.
“I think I’ll stand. I have the perfect view of your lovely companion’s panties from here.”
Silence filled the space between the witch king and me. The seconds dripped by. Then, suddenly, he threw back his head and laughed.
“Fantastic.” He pulled out an embroidered handkerchief and wiped the tears of mirth from his eyes, careful not to smear his eyeliner. “You are perfect. Too perfect. Did Constantine send you?”
“Constantine Wildman?” I asked. He was the only witch named Constantine I’d ever met.
“Yes. He’s always sending his minions to try to recruit me into his coven. After the last one, I told him that his next messenger had better be a pretty girl, or I wasn’t listening.”
“I’m not one of his minions.”
He braided his fingers together. “Then to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
“You sound like a man with a spectacular singing voice.”
His smile grew wider. “Go on, you silver-tongued siren.”
“I was hoping you’d honor us all with a song tonight.” I reached for the threads of his mind. “Something emotional. Something deep.”
“What did you have in mind?”
This was the moment of truth. How much of the siren’s magic was already in me? “In the Moonlight.”
His smile soured. Anger flashing in his eyes, he jumped up. Chants—or were they curses?—spilled out of his mouth. He snatched a vial from his belt and threw it at my feet. An invisible weight pressed down on my shoulders. I felt like I was caught inside an airtight bottle, slowly suffocating on my own breath. Something hard slammed into me, and the witch’s spell hurled me off the platform. My back hit the dance floor with a dry crack. I rolled over, gasping for breath, pushing myself up on my shaking arms.
One of the big bodyguards was waiting for me. His fist slammed down like a hammer. I slid out of the way—barely—and his hand broke through the floorboards. He shook off the splintered wood fragments and tried again. I rolled away, bouncing back to my feet. The bodyguard grabbed the closest table and pulled up so hard that the screws bolting the legs to the floor popped out. Then the friendly fellow hurled it at me.
I ducked. “That’s not nice,” I told him.
There was a strange, subtle glow to his body, some kind of spell. A strength-enhancing spell, I realized. He’d sprinkled the glittery gold powder all over himself. I ducked a second flying table. One of my witchcraft books had mentioned how to counter this spell. How did it go again?
I reached into my pouches, mixing together Wildflower and Unicorn Dust. Then I tossed the resulting pink-white powder at him. He froze, suspended in time. It wasn’t the spell I was looking for, but it would do for now. I was about to go find a chair to finish the job when a cloud of sparkling midnight blue powder hit him in the back. His mouth puckered up into a surprised O, and he hit the ground, revealing Jace behind him.
“I thought you could use a hand,” he said, looking down at the unconscious witch.
“I was doing all right.”
He looked around the club pointedly. It was open warfare season. The shifters and witches were fighting, and the vampires had taken chase, hunting down the fleeing fairies.
“Ok, so maybe it could have gone better,” I said.
A thunderous boom shook the building. Everyone stopped. The boom repeated. The staircase shuddered. Pictures tumbled off the walls, the glass front shattering against the quaking ground. What was going on?
“Uh-oh,” Jace said, his voice low.
“What is it? A monster? A demon?”
He shook his head. “No, an angel.”
The door to the club flung open, and golden streams of sunlight poured inside the dark room, lighting up a winged silhouette in a halo. He stepped inside, flaming cinders sprinkling off of him like burning rain.
“You’re in trouble now,” Jace whispered.
I met the green fire burning in the angel’s eyes, a fire that threatened to consume me. It was like time had stopped. I couldn’t help but stare at the angel moving toward me—or appreciate the muscled physique crafted over centuries of hard training. He moved like satin over steel.
His skin seemed to shine from within with the gods’ light. And those wings! He’d spread them wide, showcasing the darkly beautiful tapestry of black, blue, and green feathers. He’d obviously done it to get our attention. Well, he had it, one hundred percent. I couldn’t have looked away if I’d wanted to—and I definitely didn’t want to. I wet my mouth, my tongue sliding slowly across my lips. His gaze dipped to my mouth, and something dangerous sparked in his eyes.