Firebug (7 page)

I probably weighed a good twenty pounds more than she did, most of it muscle. If only she knew that I would kill for a muffin top. She might be aiming for anorexic, but I desperately needed the reserve those few extra pounds of fat could give me. My metabolism becomes turbocharged when I light fires. It's not safe being a skeleton in those situations. There'd been some nights when my fat ass had
saved
my ass (
ba-dum-tsh
).

Ryan snagged my belt loop and pulled me into him as we walked through the chiming doors. “Wow, she really doesn't like you.”

“Remind me why you're friends with that rabid show poodle?”

Ryan grabbed a soda and some chips. “Our parents are friends. She's not that bad when you get to know her, really.”

“She's not too bad when
you
get to know her. When I get to know her, the hate grows exponentially.”

He laughed and went to pay for the gas while I grabbed some beef jerky and something to drink. I considered poisoning Brittany's water, but I was fresh out of arsenic.

And the evening had only just begun.

An hour later, as we closed in on Boston, my mantra had become,
At least we can't talk in the theater.
Wait a minute. I surveyed my fellow passengers as Ryan looked for parking. This was not a subtitle crowd, even if half-naked girls and gore were involved.

I tapped Ryan's shoulder. He turned the music down so he could hear me.

“We're not going to a movie, are we.”

Brittany made some noise between a scoff and a snort. It was a biological miracle. Human throats shouldn't be able to make that sound. She had to be an alien, or a genetic experiment that had gone horribly, terribly wrong.

“Does this look like a movie-theater outfit to you?” She opened her jacket to reveal a tiny skirt, heels, and what was either a sparkly handkerchief or a shirt. I honestly wasn't sure which one it was.

“Yes?” I crossed my arms and sank into my seat. As far as I could tell, Brittany dressed like that all the time. What, exactly, made this outfit a non-movie-theater outfit? The hoop earrings? The body glitter? Did she wear less or more to the movies? Was this her version of understated? It wasn't that warm yet. She was going to either get hypothermia or die of exposure. You kind of had to admire her commitment. I shrugged. “How should I know?”

She made that weird noise again and looked away from me, like I was dismissed from her presence. “Silly of me to ask as if you would.”

That seemed to be as close to an apology as Brittany ever got. I glared at Ryan's profile. “Then where are we going?”

“It's a surprise.”

Have I mentioned how much I love surprises? As Ryan backed into a spot, I really took in my surroundings. I have to admit I'd been too distracted to pay attention until then. Imagine my dismay when I recognized the streets around the Inferno, Venus's club I desperately hoped there were other restaurants in that section of town. Boston is a big city. He wouldn't pick the one place in the great state of Massachusetts that I wanted to avoid, would he? I crossed my fingers and prayed that we were going anywhere else.

My silent entreaties belly flopped as soon as we walked around a corner and saw the neon-red sign. I'd waltzed straight into Cade's as-yet-unforeseen third misfortune. Neither of us had thought Ryan would actually take me directly into the lion's den.

As it was Friday night, the line twisted around the corner of the building. Not that there wasn't a line every night. There were three levels in the Inferno. The top floor, or Heaven, was a dance club and bar. I was only seventeen, so no Heaven for me, which suited me just fine. At ground level, Purgatory, a maître d' is there to take your name and seat you, whether you're in a nice suit or ripped jeans. You could get surf 'n' turf or a fancy burger in a nice candlelit atmosphere. Most places can't pull it off, but the restaurant managed to be fairly high end without being snooty. If the place had belonged to anyone but Venus, I would have loved it.

Below, as you might have guessed, was Hell, and while Purgatory was open to the general public, Heaven and Hell were VIP. It's easiest to think of the Coterie as a mob family, except what mattered was that you weren't human. Whether you had joined up through coercion (like Lock, Ezra, and me) or by choice, the one unifying factor of the Coterie was that back in your bloodline, something grew fangs, talked to trees, or had the ability to start fires, and those genes bred true. If you were in a Coterie establishment and you were human, odds were you were someone's sack lunch. Or Venus's juice box.

Duncan had once told me that some cities have a Council, a ruling body that kept this kind of thing from happening. Boston had one a long time ago, but not anymore. Maybe Venus ate them. So, personal reasons aside, I didn't exactly want to bring Venus three boxes of human takeout. Okay, fine, she could have Brittany and her paramour, but I wasn't handing over Ryan.

I couldn't think of a way to derail this train, though. Fake vomit? They'd probably just go in without me. That was even worse. Ryan grabbed my hand and tugged me to his side. Since he was unsure as to whether the line was for the dance club or just to get in, Ryan led us to the front of the building.

I had to try something. “You know, I don't feel well, and this place looks really busy. I bet it's not up to code. Didn't I read somewhere that they were shut down for rats? And cockroaches. And cockroaches riding rats, like a rodeo. It's a bad scene.”

“I'm sure if we slip them a twenty or something, Ava, they'll overlook you.” Brittany examined me as she wrapped her boyfriend around her like a stole. “Maybe a fifty.”

Ryan dropped my hand and made his way to one of the bouncers, but the bouncer didn't look like he was listening. His eyes tracked the crowd as Ryan talked, and he gave no indication that he was hearing any of it. The bouncer raised up his hands in an “I can't help you” gesture, and my heart did the there's-hope dance. Then the bouncer looked over, and realization hit as he saw my face. I gave him a minute head shake, hoping he'd understand that I didn't want to be recognized. Amazingly, he got it, because without a twitch in my direction, he suddenly lifted the rope and motioned us in. What I really wanted to do was seize Ryan and his ridiculous friends and shove them down the sidewalk. I needed to take them somewhere safe—like a shark tank or a hungry-bear sanctuary. But they were already inside, and there was no way I could make them leave. If I didn't go in, they'd have no one to protect them. Defeated, I mouthed “thanks” to the bouncer as I passed him, even though I wished he'd thrown us out on our asses.

My luck held through the maître d', and all the way until we were seated. Or, at least, everyone was seated except me. I was about to climb into the booth next to Ryan when Ezra pounced. I suddenly felt myself lifted off my feet as Ezra gave a yip of joy, and if he hadn't yelled “Ava, my saucy dumpling! My curvy cherry blossom! The delectable damsel of my loins, how
are
you?” while he did it, I might have been able to play it off as a case of mistaken identity.

When I found my feet again, I was blushing and Ryan looked ready to hit something, probably Ezra.

“Hey, Ez,” I said with a sigh. “I'm fine.”

He noticed Ryan's glower and snuggled in closer to me, kissing my cheek as he did. “We're not working tonight, are we?” His voice was a soft whisper in my ear, and though I couldn't see his face, I knew what it looked like. Mischievous smile, eyes glinting, and warmth in his cheeks from the game. Foxes like to raid other people's henhouses. The phrase “Gentlemen, lock up your ladies” is a good one to use when Ez is around. (“Ladies, lock up your gentlemen” might also be useful. Ezra loves attention. He isn't about to let a little thing like gender get in his way.)

“What are you doing here? I didn't know you'd be in town tonight,” Ezra said. He hadn't quite let me out of his grasp, something Ryan had definitely noticed, and when Ezra observed Ryan's rising blood pressure, he of course had to rub it in. He squeezed me closer. At least it wasn't Lock, I thought. That would have been way worse. Which was of course when Ezra said, “Hey, Lock, look who tumbled in.”

Lock ambled over, a serving tray under his arm. His bleached-blond hair was spiked and reflected the candlelight as he approached. Lock is stockier than Ezra, and not a classic beauty like our foxy friend, but I knew for a fact that he went home with just as many numbers. Lock is a charmer, and unlike Ezra he won't steal your wallet.

He didn't look charming now. He was hiding it well, but I could tell by the expression on his face as he scanned the people I was with that he was unhappy with my current life choices. His expression held both annoyance and hurt, if you knew how to read him right, and I knew how to read Lock. I felt instantly guilty.

“Paws off, Ezra,” he said, leaning in to give me a chaste kiss on the temple, which for some reason I found more embarrassing than Ezra's manhandling. I felt my cheeks get hot. He slipped an arm around my waist, tugging me out of Ezra's grasp and tucking me in close. “So this is the elusive Ryan,” he whispered into my ear. “I thought you'd skip the bad-boy phase.”

“You knew?” I didn't whisper. It's rude.

Lock continued being rude. “When you didn't spill, we asked Cade. He was a little surprised that you hadn't told your
friends
. Besides, I saw your phone yesterday when you tried to burn down the shack.” Ah, the photo Brittany had sent. Another thing to thank her for. Guess who's getting a box of angry vipers for her birthday.

Ezra patted my head in a way that managed to be both affectionate and condescending. “Please. Like you could hide things from us.” He grinned. “We discussed it and decided that you were a big girl and we'd only step in if he broke your cold black heart.”

“How thoughtful,” I said through gritted teeth.

Ez looked Ryan up and down. “Lock, pay up.”

Lock kept his arm around me while fishing money out of his apron. “I was sure he'd be taller.” He shoved a ten into Ezra's open palm. It was bad enough having one guy manhandle me in front of my date, but to have Lock come in and steal me away with nothing more than a bit of possessive dialogue while money changed hands was worse. Ryan was frowning so hard, I thought his face might shatter. Brittany looked like she was going to combust with sheer glee. Her boyfriend just needed some popcorn for the free show. I leaned away, but Lock squeezed me back in.

“Seriously,” Ezra said, chirpy as usual. He was lapping up all the attention like a cat. “You almost never come to Boston. We always have to visit you.”

Except that Ryan thought I went to Boston all the time, because that was the lie I'd told him to cover all my Coterie business. Crap.

Lock at least remebered my cover story and jumped in to save me. “Ez, you know when she comes to town it's all about visiting her sick grandma. She always puts loved ones first.” I wasn't sure if that was a dig at me keeping Ryan to myself or not.

Lock eyed Ryan, aiming the next line at him. “She's big on charity, but I bet you knew that already.” He grinned, and I shoved his arm off me with a glare.

Ryan bristled at the insult, his jaw taking on a firm set, but he didn't say anything.

Ezra's raised brow was the only indication that anything was off. “Of course,” he said, “I didn't mean to imply that Ava is anything other than a saint. A curvy, delicious, foul-mouthed saint.”

Between the back and forth, the staring from the table, and all the affection, I was officially beet red all the way to my roots. I should have pretended to barf when I had the chance. In fact, I actually did feel like barfing. I smacked Lock's arm as it moved to snake back around me, but that didn't take the smug look off his face as he stared at Ryan.

“By the way, if you're looking for your black jeans, they're at my place,” Lock stage-whispered at me. “I put them with your spares and your toothbrush.”

I glowered at my best friend. The bastard. On the occasions when I had to work close to the city and I was too tired or too weak after a job, I crashed at Lock's apartment, rather than take a room in one of the Coterie-owned hotels. Can you imagine their mini bar? Candy bars, vials of blood, raw meat, brains, maybe some bottled water … ew. I had a bag full of spare clothes and supplies at Lock's place, and he had just used that information to take Ryan's jealousy to code red. It looked like he was ready to shoot flames out of his ears. Which I did once, by the way, just to see if I could. It took months for my hair to grow back properly.

“Ava,” Brittany drawled, her eyes now fixed onto the snug way Lock's T-shirt fit. I didn't care for the way she was examining him, like she was eyeing a choice steak at a butcher shop. Unlike Ryan, her boyfriend didn't seem to care much about what his date was up to. He was actually trying to read the menu. The menu didn't have pictures, so someone would have to help him. “Why don't you introduce us to your friends?” Brittany emphasized the word
friends
like she didn't believe that was all they were. Ryan didn't miss the implication either. She smirked, knowing full well she was throwing nitroglycerin onto the flames.

There was really nothing else I could do. “Everybody, this is Ezra and Lock. Guys, this is everybody.”

Most people would have left it at that, but not the unstoppable blonde from the black lagoon. “Ava, I swear, you have the comportment of a farm animal.” She leaned over the table, oh-so-subtly displaying her bountiful (and probably stuffed) cleavage as she did so. “Hi, boys. I'm Brittany.”

I should have given her a blistering retort, but honestly, I was just impressed that she knew the word
comportment
.

“This is Jeff and—of course—Ryan.” The little blond she-devil grinned savagely as she introduced him.