Blood Slave: A Realm Walker Novel (7 page)

When the door cracked open, she found herself looking up to meet the bright green eyes of a large, red-headed bouncer. Black and gray tattoos covered both of his arms. The sunglasses she wore were charmed to keep her eyes hidden from view so she took the opportunity to flash on her gift and get a read out of curiosity. What she saw made her smile. The bouncer was a leprechaun. Irish shape shifters, the wide variety of forms they took on made them notoriously hard to catch. “Can I help you?” he asked, his voice booming as he eyed her suspiciously. He was obviously used to using his size and volume to intimidate people.

“I’m here about the job.” She did her best to sound slightly bored and completely disinterested. No one wanted to work as a waitress in a strip joint. The job didn’t pay as well as dancing did and the customers were usually handsy. The tips probably weren’t bad, though. Naked women and booze tended to loosen a man’s grip on his wallet.

The leprechaun looked her over. “You better come in and I’ll get ahold of the boss. He’ll want to take a look at you.” He opened the door wider and she stepped into the darkness. She gave her eyes a second to adjust before following him over to the bar.

His fingers flew over the screen on his cell phone. When he was finished he slid it into his pocket and gave her a small smile. He gestured to one of the bar stools with a jerk of his chin. “Have a seat. The boss will be here in a bit.” He moved around the bar. “Want something to drink?”

“Water would be great,” she told him. Crossing her legs at the ankle, she laced her fingers together and put her hands on the bar. She was never good at just waiting. The bouncer put a glass of water in front of her and she took it gratefully, if for no other reason than she now had something to do with her hands. She used the time to glance around at her surroundings. It looked different than she imagined a strip club would. Honestly, it wasn’t that different from the Den of Iniquity, the bar Thomas owned. Except the stage and the stripper pole, of course.

Twenty minutes later, the door to the back hallway opened and none other than Charles Morgan walked into the room. He was shorter than she imagined he would be. His dirty blond hair was neatly combed and he was clean shaven. Wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of gray slacks, he presented a very unimposing figure. In fact, as a whole, he was generally just less than she expected a man like Morgan to be. Maybe she’d grown too used to Thomas’s presence and now expected every master to be the same.

His dark blue eyes looked her over, narrowing briefly before showing only casual interest. He turned his attention to the other man. “What’s this about?”

“Says she’s here about the job.”

His eyes widened and he turned his attention back to her. “You want to be a waitress? Here?”

She frowned, not understanding why either of them was acting the way they were. It was almost as if they hadn’t expected anyone to actually apply for the job. “Is there a problem? I’m new in town. I need a job. I saw the sign.”

He hesitated then gave her a wide grin. “You just don’t look the type is all, darlin’. You ever waited tables before?”

“I’ve been known to do so once or twice, yes.” And that was the literal truth. She’d filled in at the Den exactly two times when they were short staffed. It was enough for her to know that the job wasn’t as easy as it looked. On the other hand, it was better than tromping through the snow hunting a troll.

“All right. This might be interesting. You can start tonight at eight. Shift ends at three. That work for you?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “Sure. Whatever.”

“If you got your ID on you, you can fill out the paperwork now.”

She fished the license out of her back pocket that the Agency had mocked up. It had her Agency ID photo on it, taken when her hair was all black—no sign of her current purple streaks in sight. It also identified her as Jennifer Young.

“Jennifer, huh?” He looked her over again. “You got a social security card?”

“Not on me. I can bring it tonight.”

“Good enough. Welcome aboard,” he said and handed her a stack of paperwork. “You can bring it back tonight or sit here and fill it out. Let me go make a copy of this.”

She watched him disappear through a door and then she flipped through the paperwork in her hand before deciding to make Nathaniel help her fill it out. They could work on it together to make sure all her lies were straight. Morgan came back and handed her the license and a grocery bag. She glanced inside and saw nothing but black. “What’s this?”

“Your uniform,” he said with a grin.

***

Thomas used his towel to wipe the sweat from his face and checked his phone again. Still no calls.

“It’s not much of a workout when you keep stopping every ten minutes.” Michael danced on the far side of the ring, sweat dripping from the ends of his dark hair in spite of his assertion he wasn’t getting any exercise. Juliana had yet to check in. And while logic said he should just call her, pure stubbornness kept him from doing so. She was the one that took off without being honest about where she was going. It would serve her right if she got into trouble when he wasn’t there to get her out of it.

“Shit,” he said even as the thought crossed his mind. He frowned at Michael, ignoring his friend’s amused expression. “Give me a moment.” He turned his back on the ring and dialed Juliana’s number only to have it go straight to voicemail. He clenched his teeth and a muscle worked in his jaw. Damnable woman. She wasn’t due back to train with James until tomorrow.

“She’s not answering, is she?” The words mocked him, though Thomas knew Michael hadn’t intended them to do so. Thomas shook his head in answer.

“And your connection with her?”

“I know she’s alive and somewhere east of here. That’s it.”

Michael smirked. “Well, she’s got that locked down, doesn’t she? And she’s supposed to be where?”

“A conference.”

“You do realize that’s utter bullshit, don’t you?”

Thomas tossed the phone on top of the towel where he’d dropped it on the floor next to his chair. “And what would you have me do, Michael? Forbid her from going because I know she’s not telling me the truth? That should go over fantastically well.”

There was a long pause as Michael started unwrapping the tape on his hands. “You could push her to become a Warden. You could be her partner. Then she’d never go anywhere without you. And if she tried you could order her to stay since you’d outrank her.”

“Are you and Hamilton plotting against me now?” Thomas sometimes worked as a Warden of the High Order, a group that had been keeping peace among the Altered for several millennia before the Agency even existed. Now they were less like a police force and more like an elite task force. His boss, Hamilton Clayton, had worked with Juliana on her last case and had been hinting at her becoming a Warden ever since. Thomas cut a hand through the air in dismissal. “Absolutely not. I’m already a wreck with her as a Walker. I can only imagine what I would be like with her taking on the increased risks of a Warden. No thank you.”

Michael shrugged. “I wouldn’t dismiss it so quickly, my friend. The job may be more dangerous, but you’d be there to face the danger with her. And unless you’re better at keeping secrets than I thought you were, the Wardens don’t have conferences. Training or otherwise.”

Thomas flipped his second off. But he couldn’t dismiss his words so easily. There was an appeal to being able to keep tabs on Juliana all the time. He doubted she’d appreciate the change but his nerves certainly would. It was worth considering.

Chapter Seven

Juliana stepped out of the tiny bathroom in the loft and did her best not to fidget with the bottom of the halter top she wore. Nathaniel sat with his head bent over her paperwork double checking everything and hadn’t noticed her emerge. She’d made him do all the writing on the myriad of forms Morgan had given her, telling him it was the least he could do since she was the one actually doing the waitressing.

“Well?” she said finally to get his attention.

He glanced up and back down before doing a hasty double take. His eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed as he struggled for something to say, leaving him looking a bit like a wereguppy in need of water.

She wrapped her arms around her exposed midsection. “That bad?”

“Uh…I didn’t say that.” He got up from the couch and walked over to her. Crossing his arms over his chest, he put on his most serious looking face. “Turn.”

Dropping her hands to her side, she did as he commanded. As confident as Juliana was, it was a struggle to feel that way in these clothes. The ‘uniform’ consisted of a pair of black short shorts and a crop top with Lust emblazoned across it in shiny red script.

“Damn, woman. You look good.”

Relief coursed through her with the words.  Even though she found it hard to believe, she could tell he meant what he said. She just might make it through the night. “Thank the gods for my boots or I have no idea where I would have stashed a weapon.” Her boots were equipped with hidden sheaths on either side and she had filled them with four knives: one silver, one iron, one wood and one blessed. She was prepared for whatever she might run into.

Despite that, she’d still feel better if she had her sword. Or a gun. “So did we find out anything of interest on Morgan?”

“You mean other than what we already knew?”

She nodded. They did have quite a bit of information on the man but it was all easily obtained public intel. She didn’t know one politician that put his true self out there for the world to see. And that’s what Morgan was, a glorified politician. He might not hold an office, but he ran the city just the same and if he didn’t keep up appearances or he showed any weakness, he could find that all in jeopardy.

“Not much other than the city just rebuilt a bridge and named it after him. I don’t see how that matters for anything, though.”

“Keep digging. I need to get going or I’m going to be late.”

“Sure thing,” he said then grinned. “Have fun at work, Jennifer.”

***

River Market had an entirely different vibe after dark. The streets teemed with people. Among them she could pick out discretely clothed police officers, trying to keep the peace and the drug problem under control. Prostitutes walked the streets, openly displaying their wares. Of course, some of them had on more than Juliana did. It was November in the Midwest after all. Thankfully she’d remembered to bring her duster and had it wrapped around her. She’d taken a cab to the club as Nathaniel intended to drive down later and scope out the scene as a patron. He’d hang around and give her a ride at the end of her shift.

As she got out in front of the club, she glanced up and down the street. Outnumbering the prostitutes, the johns, the dealers and the cops were the blood slaves. She still couldn’t get over how easy they were to spot here. Every time she’d encountered them previously, they were discrete and shuttled in and out of side doors and alleys. Or they were companions to a single vampire. Here they were on display, showing their bites as if they were expensive pieces of jewelry. They were as busy trying to snag a vamp to snack on them as the prostitutes were trying to pick up a trick. Thomas would flip if he saw this in his territory and it instantly made her think less of Morgan for allowing it to go on here.

The leprechaun was back on door duty and he held it open for her, dipping his head in greeting as she walked by. The club was packed. Music thrummed through the building and a winged light fae gyrated against a pole while wearing nothing but six inch heels. Juliana blinked as the woman made a move that she previously wouldn’t have thought possible. That had to be painful, but the dancer didn’t miss a step or let her smile slip for an instant.

“Like what you see?” The voice came from right beside her, making her jump. Morgan. She hadn’t even seen him approach. Granted, she’d been mildly distracted by the fae stripper, but she didn’t like that he’d been able to surprise her. Didn’t like it at all.

Plastering on a smile, she turned to face him. “She’s very…flexible.” She gestured to the room around them. “It’s much busier than I expected.”

“Come with me. I’ll show you where to stow your stuff.”

She followed him through the crowd. Either he had a knack for moving through it, or they all instinctively got out of his way. He showed her to a locker and she hung her duster inside. There were a couple of strippers at the tables at the back of the room, but after an initial glance in their direction, the women ignored her and Morgan. He gave a low whistle as she turned around and he tilted his head in appreciation. “Nice. You turned out better than I thought you would. You looked too lean in what you were wearing today. I like the girls to have curves, but you’ll do.”

“Um…thanks. I think.”

He flashed his teeth at her, showing her that his fangs were out.

She widened her eyes in feigned surprise and took a step back.

He frowned and then understanding dawned. He pointed at his mouth. “Those?” He retracted his fangs. “Sorry. The tourists expect it. Don’t want to disappoint.”

“I didn’t realize you were a vampire.” She hoped the quaver in her voice was convincing enough.

His frown deepened. “You have a problem with vampires, love, you’re in the wrong job. Hell, the wrong city for that matter.”

“Not a problem. I was just surprised as all.”

He blinked at her. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”

“You mean other than my boss?”

“I’m Charles Morgan.” That was all he said as if he expected everyone to know who he was. And honestly, most of them probably did. She was pushing it by playing ignorant.

“You mean the guy they named the bridge after?”

His lips twitched in a smile. “Yeah, the guy they named the bridge after.”

Thankfully she didn’t have to keep up the pretense too much longer as he ushered her back out on the floor.

Every table was equipped with a touch screen with a card reader attached. Morgan wanted the cash going to the girls on the stage. He wanted the patrons to use plastic for their drinks. The screen showed them their options and took their money but that was it. The waitresses took the orders, picked them up from the bar and delivered them to the tables. Sometimes the customers would flirt with the waitress briefly, and then they’d turn their attention back to the stage. That’s how it worked in an ideal scenario. However, if she knew nothing else, Juliana knew that things rarely went according to the ideal.

In reality, there was always the guy that didn’t believe in credit cards, or the one that felt the need to grab a little ass as you walked by. Morgan had a strict hands off policy when it came to his girls. Any of them. Even though the patrons could order lap dances on those handy touch screens, there was no option that allowed them to touch the merchandise. Juliana wondered if that was purely protection for the employees. Some glamours and spells shattered under human touch. It could very well be one or more of the dancers were not what they appeared to be. She’d have to check them out with her gift later.

“Jennifer, this is Candy. Candy, Jenn. Show her the ropes, huh?” Morgan introduced her to a curvaceous woman with bright pink hair done up in a set of pigtails coming off the top of her head.

“Hi, sweetheart. Stick with me, I’ll take care of you.” Candy popped a wad of gum as she talked. “Come on.”

Juliana fell into step behind the woman as she wove her way expertly through the tables, avoiding furniture and roaming hands alike. “Most of the guys here are great. They’re our regulars. You’ll get used to them.” She thought about asking what sort of person became a regular at a strip club but figured she’d find out soon enough. Candy stopped next to a table and put a glass of beer down in front of a guy with dark shaggy hair, dark eyes and a scar dissecting his left eyebrow. He was also about three days overdue for a shave. “This is Bobby. He’s a sweetheart. Aren’t you, Bobby?”

The man in question grinned up at Candy. “That’s me. As sweet as they come. Who’s this?” He indicated Juliana with a tilt of his head.

“This is Jennifer. She’s new. Be nice.”

He laughed. “I’m always nice.”

“Yeah, well, you tell everyone else to be nice, too.” She patted Bobby on the shoulder and headed back to the bar, Juliana trailing after her. When they got there, Candy leaned on one elbow and looked Juliana over thoroughly. “I know Charlie told you, but I’m going to repeat it because this is important. This is a strictly hands off establishment. One of the customers harasses you, you get Cullen, and he’ll take care of it. Cullen’s almost always here, when he’s not, Jerry is. If you can’t find either of them, get the bartender.”

Juliana nodded. “I understand.”

“If you take a fancy to one of the boys, take it elsewhere. Charlie will have your job if you don’t. Boyfriends aren’t allowed.”

She was surprised but nodded again. If Morgan was so strict with his hands off policy, surely he noticed someone paying more attention to one of his girls than he should have been. Of course that was assuming their killer was stupid enough to be seen in public with his victims.

It wasn’t long before Candy decided Juliana could handle it on her own and gave her a couple of tables to take care of, Bobby’s being one of them. She did well until just after midnight. That was when the asshole at the table next to Bobby’s went into full idiot mode.

“Hey, sweet cheeks, over here,” he slurred.

Juliana rolled her eyes at Bobby and turned to look at him. “Yes, sir?”

“Another beer, and make it pronto.”

Bobby leaned around her to look at the drunk. “Hey. Take it easy, huh? How about a little respect?”

The man laughed. “Respect? She wants respect she needs to find another line of work.”

Bobby started to stand and she put a hand on his shoulder to push him back down into his chair. “It’s okay,” she told him and headed off to the bar.

And it was. Some drunk asshole’s opinion didn’t mean shit to her. Besides she was busy imagining several different scenarios in which she taught him the meaning of respect. She was fairly certain pulling one of her knives would be grounds for instant dismissal however. Though there were several ways to inflict serious damage without using a weapon at all.

“Everything okay?” Morgan asked from behind her, making her jump. She hated that he’d snuck up on her again. Her survival depended on people not being able to take her by surprise and this was the second time he’d done it in one night.

She turned to face him with a smile on her face. “Just fine.”

“The guy at table three have a problem?”

“Other than the fact he has to live every day with the fact that he’s an asshole? I don’t think so.”

Morgan narrowed his eyes and studied her. “All right, get back to work then. When we shut down, let the other girls clean up and come to my office. I want to talk to you.”

She nodded to let him know she heard and headed back to deliver the beer to the idiot. After placing the mug on the table in front of him she turned to check on another customer and, felt a hand on the back of her thigh, sliding up toward the bottom of her shorts. Her hands gripped the tray as she prepared to smack it over the offender’s head. Before she had a chance, Cullen the leprechaun was there yanking the man from his seat and hauling him toward the front door.

Her hands ached and she relaxed her hold on the tray. A couple of deep breaths had her feeling more centered. It was unusual that she didn’t have to fight once she’d gotten in the mode to do so. Adrenaline pumped through her and she reminded herself that she was just a waitress. Waitresses didn’t beat the shit out of their customers. Not usually anyway. Someone called her name and she eased back into work mode.