Page 21 of Beneath the Cursed Veil

I sighed. “Because I took a job I shouldn’t have.” I rubbed my shoulder, where I had slammed into the shelf earlier. Definitely going to leave a bruise.

“For?”

“Cash.”

Damon tsked. “I meant forwho?”

“Ah,” I hummed. “No idea.” I steadied myself, focusing on the boom of the bass coming from just outside. I grabbed the door handle, nudging Damon forward.

“You don’t know who you’re working for?”

“I work with the middleman. No idea who wants you. Got any enemies?”

Damon huffed. “I’m the crown fucking prince. What do you think?”

His sarcasm was unwarranted. As far as kidnappers went, I was a goddamn delight.

Sure, I compelled him to come with me after trapping him in magic-nullifying handcuffs. But it wasn’t like I drugged or assaulted him.

Instead I was quietly conversing with my bounty to keep both of us calm.

“Welcome to The Witching Hour.”

I opened the door, and thick fog poured in, swirling across the cheap linoleum floor. Glitter covered every surface of the bar, glinting like the herpes of the magical world. The flashing lights from center stage lit up the entire space and in the spotlight were a pair of twin pixies, their long green hair curled in ribbons down to their lower backs as they twirled around poles. The only thing covering their delicate bodies were black thongs and thigh-high boots with a stiletto heel that would put me in the emergency room if I attempted to walk in them.

I pushed my way through the busy crowd, making my way to the back bar as one of the pixies pulled off an aerial move that had wolf whistles and dollar bills following.

“Amelia!” A single woman ran the bar. Anyone else on a busy Friday night would need assistance, but not her. Waving her hands like the conductor of a symphony, bottles swooped toward patrons, filling their empty glasses. The witch moved with a flourish, crossing her wrists in the air as sparks of fire erupted from her hands in a small, contained firework show. Cheers erupted around the bar.

“Amelia!” I called again, raising my hand to get her attention. She turned, and her eyes lit up when she recognized me. She bounced over, lifting her long lacy dress and giving me a smile.

“Meera! Figured I’d see you tonight. Loulou’s in the back waiting for you.”

I rolled my eyes at the pet name, sighing. “Lou must’ve charmed you.”

“Who’s your cute friend?” Amelia purred, glancing Damon up and down. When she saw the cuffs, her smirk widened. “Guess it’s all work and no play tonight? Total shame. I’m kind of into the whole handcuff thing.”

She flicked her wrist again, and a curtain appeared on the wall that was previously empty, pulling open to reveal a back hallway to The Black Lounge, an exclusive and well-hidden place for those of us with dark secrets.

“Thanks,” I tossed over my shoulder, guiding Damon forward. He opened his mouth, probably to ask for help, but seemed to think twice. We passed through a few rooms, each one filled with elite guests talking over wine and enjoying their privacy. Some closed the veils, activating the silencing spell cast over each room, courtesy of Amelia. I ignored them all as we made our way through the dim corridor.

A wet suction noise beneath my leather boots made me pause. My nose scrunched in annoyance that I’d stepped in the remnants of someone’s spilled ice wine. The bottle was broken, and the sticky liquid clung to the floor—and now my shoes. “Watch your step,” I muttered.

“Thanks,” Damon huffed sarcastically. “Because some spilled wine is my biggest problem right now.”

“Fair point.”

There was a single door ajar at the very end of the hall. Lou’s way of saying he was waiting for me. My temper flared again at the sight of the leprechaun, and tensionbuilt in my chest.

“Ah, Meera the Mighty!” Lou laughed, flexing his arm as he leaned across the table. “I knew you could do it, lass. No problems, I presume?” He offered up his pipe with a grin, smoke curling from his lips.

I glared at him. “You are the worst leprechaun I’ve ever met.”

“Aye! I’m probably the only one you’ve met, love. Makes me the best too.”

“Consider this my resignation. I quit.” My frustration seeped through, but exhaustion was fighting to overtake it. I pushed Damon forward. He stumbled into a chair, sitting down at the table.

“Now, now, lass. Let’s not be hasty?—”

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