Dancing With Raven (The Young Shakespeareans Series) (23 page)

When Raven left his room, he was wearing a pair of low-slung black-denim jeans, boots, a black t-shirt, and his usual leather jacket. Felicia had made him add a silver-studded belt to the jeans, but otherwise had left him alone. Fletcher stepped into the hallway and Raven’s eyebrows rose.

“Shut it,” Fletcher said.

“I didn’t say a word.”

Rarely did Raven ever feel sorry for Fletcher about anything, but Felicia had really worked him over. She’d bought a home bleaching kit at the drugstore to paint his blond hair with white streaks, had lined his lower lid with a brown pencil, and made him don several bracelets and chain necklaces. In addition, he was revealing a great deal of skin in a scanty white tank shirt. Raven privately thought the whole getup was ghastly, and it was all he could do not to laugh as they headed downstairs.

Felicia was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs. She’d donned black stretch pants, stiletto heels, a tiny blouse resembling a beaded cobweb, and a new blue leather jacket. She nodded her head in approval at their appearance.

“Your outfit is great, Raven. Fletcher, you’re rocking that eyeliner.”

“I look like Billy freaking Idol!”

“The vamps will love it.”

“I don’t
want
the vamps to love it.”

“Tough. It’s a better look than your usual fairytale prince persona, and far more approachable. You don’t want the whole club to think you’re some kind of undercover cop, do you?”

Fletcher made a sound of protest which was halfway between a grunt and a growl. The three of them left Blackfriars on their motorbikes, their headlights parting the darkness like prows on a ship. After they arrived at Tori’s house, Raven went to ring the doorbell with a pleasant feeling of anticipation. Yes, the evening’s excursion was to glean critical information from the mysterious Stormchaser, but that didn’t preclude him from enjoying Tori’s company at the same time. As he waited for someone to answer the doorbell, Felicia joined him. When her brother failed to materialize, Raven glanced over his shoulder. Fletcher remained seated on his cycle with his helmet still in place.

“What’s with him?”

“He’s embarrassed.” Felicia sighed. “Honestly, I thought he was made of sterner stuff.”

“If I looked like him, I’d keep my helmet on too.”

The door opened just as Felicia landed a sharp punch on Raven’s upper arm. He was so busy staring at Tori, his brain didn’t even register the pain.

“I, uh…wow.” He gulped.

“You look
amazing
, Tori,” Felicia said.

Tori’s smile made Raven’s heart sing. “Superlative, actually,” he said.

“Really? I wasn’t sure,” she said. “You two look great. Where’s Fletcher?”

“He’s waiting outside. Are you ready?” Raven asked.

“Hang on.”

When she turned to grab a purse to sling across her body, his eyes traveled down her taut curves and back again.

Felicia snorted. “Your tongue is hanging out, Raven.”

Although her assessment was accurate, it occurred to him he probably shouldn’t rub her nose in his preference for Tori.

“You two ladies could loosen anyone’s tongue.”

“Ever the gallant.” Felicia turned on her heel.

After she’d locked the front door, Tori accompanied Raven to his motorcycle. Fletcher removed his helmet as she approached, visibly gaping at her beauty. She peered at him, as if in disbelief. “Fletcher?”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Don’t say a word. I’m undercover.”

“Actually, the look suits you.” Tori glanced at Felicia. “Did you do his makeover? I’m impressed.”

“Thanks. I’ve always had a flare for costumes.”

The address Cody had given Felicia was for a former movie props and costume warehouse in Hollywood. The large brick edifice had a For Rent sign posted and a pair of enormous demons were patrolling the walkway out front. As Tori dismounted Raven’s motorcycle, her eyes widened at the size of the seven-foot-tall creatures.

“What are those?” she whispered. “Trolls?”

“Security goblins,” Raven said. “You don’t want to mess with security goblins. They’re much harder to kill than other sorts of demons.”

Felicia pulled a small spray bottle out of her pocket. “Lift your hair so I can spray this on your neck, Tori.”

“Is that perfume?”

“Colloidal silver. Discourages vamps from taking a nibble.”

A pang of fear shot through Tori, along with a surge of adrenaline. “Would they really do that?”

“It’s considered bad manners for anyone to eat, maim, or kill one another at these sorts of parties, but accidents have been known to happen. Better safe than sorry.”

Felicia sprayed Tori, Raven, her brother, and herself with the clear, odorless liquid, and then they crossed the dark street toward the warehouse. One of the security goblins pointed them to the side entrance of an adjacent soundstage, which was guarded by another pair of goblins dressed up as ancient Egyptian pharaohs. Inside the door, a woman clad in a gold toga sat behind a replica of an Egyptian coffin.

Tori leaned closer to Raven. “I’m sensing a theme.”

The toga-clad woman peered at them through her heavy black eyeliner. “Who invited you?”

“Cody Mime,” Felicia said.

The woman’s severe expression softened. “That goat’s a charmer.” Her shiny black hair rippled, and Tori realized it was actually a mass of asps. “All right, boys and girls. No weapons past this point. No fighting with anyone. No photographs or video. Trash talk is strictly prohibited. What happens at the party stays at the party. Do you agree to abide by these rules?”

Tori nodded along with the others.

“Word to the wise; the Zombie cocktails are killers.” She lifted a red-tinged concoction in a tall glass and took a sip through a straw. As she smacked her lips afterward, a wisp of smoke curled toward the ceiling and her asps hissed with satisfaction.

Raven took Tori’s hand and they joined Fletcher and Felicia underneath a plaster archway decorated with the Eye of Ra. A barrage of sights and sounds assaulted their senses. A myriad of colorful lighting effects illuminated a large dance floor, upon which mortals, demons, vampires, and other more unusual creatures were gyrating with one another. The vampires were easy to spot—Tori discovered—due to their pale or ashen skin color, and the sheer beauty of their faces and bodies.

Half the soundstage was set aside for dancing, but the other half was teeming with activity as well. Various sofas and chairs had been arranged as semi-private conversation and passion pits, separated by gauzy curtains, stringed beads, or clusters of fake palm trees. A demon and a half-naked vampire were making out behind a see-through screen in plain view. Embarrassed, Tori averted her eyes.

A gentle white mist covered the ground, swirling to and fro as passersby walked through. The disc jockey—who resembled a human/octopus hybrid—was spinning records from a catwalk suspended overhead. Dance music was thumping from clusters of speakers positioned around the floor. A twenty-foot-long bar had been set up on one side, over which several neon martini glass, arrow, and beer signs were suspended.

Fletcher cleared his throat. “Anyone fancy a drink?”

“No,” Tori, Raven, and Felicia answered at the same time.

As she stood there, Tori felt invisible. No one so much as glanced in her direction or showed the slightest interest in her presence whatsoever.
That’s a problem if we want to ask for information.
“Everyone’s ignoring us. We should dance.”

“We’re not here for fun,” Felicia retorted. “We have to find Stormchaser.”

“Nobody will tell us anything until we act like we belong here. The best way to do that is to show them what we’ve got.” Tori peeled off her trench coat and draped it over the arm of a life-sized tomb guard statue to her left.

“Not a bad idea,” Felicia acknowledged. “When in Rome and all that.”

“Or Egypt, as the case may be,” Fletcher said.

Felicia, Raven, and Fletcher piled their jackets on top of Tori’s.

Tori flashed a grin. “Let’s dazzle the denizens.”

With strobe lights flashing, she led the way toward the dance floor, striding confidently past creatures that would have made her recoil in the recent past. Perhaps Raven, Felicia, and Fletcher had done and seen things she’d never dreamed of, but
this
was her milieu.

It’s showtime.

Drawing attention to himself in the midst of Demon Disco Central didn’t increase Raven’s comfort level, but he couldn’t come up with a better plan. The catwalks were patrolled by teams of costumed security trolls capable of quelling any attack. Even so, his senses were on full alert. He followed Tori to the center of the floor just as the music changed from a slow ballad to a rock anthem. No longer the pristine ballerina, Tori seemed to explode with energy as she channeled the rhythm in a hypnotic head-turning fashion. The vampires in particular were mesmerized by Tori’s jazz pirouettes and funky urban moves. When a circle formed around the four Nephilim, Fletcher added to the excitement by throwing in a few aerials, backflips, and splits.
Bloody showoff!
Although Raven tried not to embarrass himself, the focus was clearly on Tori and Fletcher. Felicia’s brand of sensuous dancing captivated onlookers as well.

When the tempo slowed three songs later, he drew Tori into his arms. “I think you definitely got their attention.”

“Let’s head toward the bar and see if we can chat up some of the guests.”

Raven caught Fletcher’s eye and beckoned him off the floor. In turn, Fletcher tried to flag down his sister, who was dancing with a handsome, elegant vampire.

Fletcher said, “Excuse me,” to the undead man and wrapped his fingers around Felicia’s wrist. “Come along.”

The vampire reacted by clamping his hand on Fletcher’s shoulder. “Leave us.”

“Let go of me before I break your elbow.”

As the two men stood in a hostile tableau, the security goblins came at a run. Raven was impressed with the unflinching way Fletcher held the vampire’s gaze.
I can say many things about Fletcher, but the fellow is not afraid of a fight.

Although the vampire loosened his grip, he flashed the tips of his fangs. “You’re either Nephilim or incredibly foolish. But I repeat myself.”

Anger traveled down Raven’s spine and his fists tightened. “What did you say?” He took a step forward, but before he could intercede, a tall Asian man brushed past.

“I’m sure you don’t mean to be insulting Nephilim, Oliver.” The newcomer spoke English with an almost imperceptible Japanese accent. “Besides which, the lady is with me.” His bare, well-muscled arm snaked around Felicia’s waist.

“My apologies.” The vampire’s tone reeked of sarcasm. “All you Nephilim stick together.”

The Asian’s sweeping black eyebrows rose. “And vampires don’t?” He chuckled. “The night is young. Let’s just walk away from this one.” He glanced down at Felicia. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, sweetheart.”

She gave him a besotted smile. “Here I am.”

When the vampire strode off toward the bar, the security goblins relaxed. Fletcher, Tori, and Raven followed as the Asian man escorted Felicia off the floor and toward one of the more isolated conversation areas situated at the outer edge of the party. He yanked a screen across to shield them from prying eyes and his indulgent smile disappeared. As Raven studied the man’s features, recognition dawned.
I know this fellow!