Page 82 of Seph

Emily nodded after wrapping her palm around it. “Warmer, too. She’s gotta be upstairs in the penthouse or whatever else is up there.”

“I guess we’ll find out in a little bit. Let’s go do this thing.”

Three gorgeous women were singing something that reminded him of the girl groups of the forties and fifties, their voices blending in an oddly hypnotic way, their long, swaying gowns and flowing veil-like sleeves putting him in a trance as he stared. Emily seemed unphased, eyes hard and sharp. He could see that her hand was clasped on her skirt, which made sense since the little black dress she wore concealed a wide array of slender, deadly weapons strapped to her thigh.

“The loo, darling. Be back in a minute,” he whispered for the benefit of people still settling into their seats at the round tables scattered around the artificially dark room. Simeon walked out as the opening act’s first number ended and the strict woman they’d met last night by the elevator came on in an outfit reminiscent of Joan Rivers. Eighty pounds of sequins and twelvebottles of hair spray, he thought as she began to praise the “Dulcet, hypnotic tones of Circe, Empress of The Lotus Room.”

“I can’t wait to see her again!” a gushing senior in pin curls warbled to him as he passed. “I never miss a show!”

Poor old duck. He looked at her outfit and guessed that she’d been robbed of the better part of her life—but she seemed aware that she’d seen a lot of the shows. “Really?” he whispered, pausing to smile at her with his most charming, boyish smile. “How many have you seen?”

“I’ve been back atleastseven times!”

“Oh?”

“Mmhm. Every day this week!”

Simeon nodded, and his smile wavered a little.

Circe stepped on the raised stage in the intimate venue, arms outstretched. Her voice dripped like honey as she stood silhouetted in shadow.

“Forget all your troubles, lover.

Forget every little care.

Don’t worry about anything, sweetheart,

You know I’ll always be there...”

Maybe I’ll just listen for a minute... I can’t even see what she looks like yet. I should at least wait to see what she—

He snapped out of it with a hard twitch.Shit! Nope! That’ll be her trying to fog over your memory and turn you into a permanent guest—and since you’ll never die a natural death, that really would be permanent!

Simeon turned blindly, ran into a wall with a dazed shake of his head, and made straight for the kitchen and utility room. He noticed several porters, busboys, and chefs, all men, all in gray and white uniforms—and all wearing headphones or earpieces.

To block the sound, so they keep cooking the food and remember what the hell they’re doing. No one wants the chef to get halfway through a recipe and then forget what he’s doing!

With his speed, stealth, and the fortuitous earphones, Simeon found himself easily slipping into places unnoticed. The utility closet wasn’t even locked.

The glittering powder went in, sucked away so hard and fast by the large whirring blades of the running fans that he almost lost the bag in the bargain.

The effect was almost instantaneous. Before he’d even returned to the event area, he could hear confused voices in the halls. Elevators were dinging, and doors slammed in the stairwell.

Way to go, Fae team. Must’ve boosted whatever enchantments we have in place, Simeon thought, although he realized he didn't actually know how fast the powder would work.

While the halls around him filled with dazed-looking individuals shuffling for the exit, Simeon spotted the blonde waitress from the other night, just entering the lobby with her Grecian garb over her arm. “Oi! Miss!” he flagged her down, keeping away from the sunlight spilling in the front door.

Instead of answering, she cocked her head and froze in place.

“What’s going on?” she demanded of another waitress who was fleeing the building, sobbing loudly. “Wait, what’s happening?” she cried.

The words were echoing across the room, pouring from everyone’s lips.

“Do you worship the goddess Mnemosyne?” Simeon gambled, pulling the woman to his side, supernatural strength in play to keep her still as she tried to struggle away.

“How do you—”

“Shut up and listen to me, and I’ll let you go, tasty little morsel,” he glared, eyes turning red, fangs sliding down.

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