Page 53 of Blood Bound

Unknown number.

“What is it?” Poppy asks, scampering closer.

I read the message aloud: “Info on Mia. Nocturne Lounge. 9 pm. I will find you there.”

My heart races. “It’s got to be a trap,” I mutter.

“Don’t even think about it,” Poppy squeaks, her tiny paws on her hips. “You know how dangerous that place is. Remember what happened last time?”

I wince. How could I forget? “This is different,” I argue, more to myself than Poppy. “This is a direct link to Mia.”

“Exactly why it’s probably a trap!” Poppy retorts. “Some creepy vampire trying to lure you in.”

She’s right. I know she’s right. But…

“What if it’s real?” I whisper. “What if someone actually has information? We’ve been sitting on our hands for ages, Poppy. Mia’s out there, suffering, and we’re just…waiting.”

I stare at the phone, my mind racing. The smart thing would be to tell Gran or even Kara. But I already know what they’d say. It’s too dangerous. We need to be patient. Let the Conclave handle it.

But the Conclave isn’t handling it. Not fast enough.

“I have to go,” I say finally, meeting Poppy’s worried gaze. “I know it’s risky, but I can’t just ignore this. Not if there’s even a chance it could lead to Mia.”

Poppy sighs, her tiny shoulders slumping. “I know that look. You’re going no matter what I say, aren’t you?”

I nod, already moving to my closet to find something suitable for a vampire club.

“I’m going with,” she says, leaping onto my shoulder. “Someone’s got to keep you from doing anything too stupid.”

“Don’t be nuts, Poppy. It’s a nightclub.”

“So? I can practice my moves.” She shakes her little tush, tail swishing. I shake my head, grateful for the moment of lightness. Because God knows, there’s nothing lighthearted about what I’m about to do.

This is insane, Rowan!

But how can I just ignore it? If I’d been stronger, we might have been able to save Mia by now. I owe it to her to at least try to find her. At least pick up some kind of clue.

As I dress, my mind races with possibilities. Who sent the message? What information could they have? And most importantly, how am I going to handle whatever I find at the Nocturne Lounge?

I gnaw on my lip as I think on this. “Come on,” I tell myself. “It’s a crowded venue. I’ll use the wards to keep me safe. I’ll see what they have to say, and then I’ll get out of there quickly.” Even saying the words out loud doesn’t make them sound like a good idea. But this is the closest we’ve come to a solid lead since this nightmare began.

As I finish dressing, I stand in front of my mirror. Gone are my usual comfy jeans and oversized sweaters. Instead, I’m poured into a skin-tight black miniskirt that leaves little to the imagination. My top isn’t much better – a deep V-neck in black satin that plunges dangerously low, revealing more cleavage than I’m used to showing. I’ve swapped my practical flats for a pair of ankle boots with heels so high I’m not entirely sure how I’ll walk in them.

I’ll fit right in.

My hands shake slightly as I apply a final coat of deep red lipstick. The smoky eye shadow makes my eyes look huge and mysterious. My hair is slicked back into a sleek ponytail, not a strand out of place. It’s a far cry from my usual tumble of curls.

I reach for my glasses out of habit, then pause. Lately, they’ve been giving me trouble, blurring my vision instead of sharpening it. I make a mental note to get my prescription checked, then decide to forgo them entirely tonight. I need to blend in, after all.

I freeze as I hear a knock at the door. “Rowan? Are you in there, sweetie?”

My heart races.

Mom. Crap.

“Just a second!” I call out, frantically looking around. I grab my fluffy robe from the back of the door and throw it on, cinching it tightly around my waist to hide my club outfit. A quick glance in the mirror shows my face still done up. I snatch a towel and wrap it around my head, hoping it’ll hide my styled hair.

Taking a deep breath, I crack open the door. “Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

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