Page 5 of Demon Queen
“At least now you won’t be beheaded by a door,” Lucy said with a slight smile. “You smell like cake.”
“And human,” Honey added with those weirdly glowing eyes.
I smiled at them but the way they were looking at me was weirdly intent, almost like I really was made out of cake that they could eat. “Thanks. Usually it’s candy, but we’re having a cake moment. I hope it’s not too off-brand. You guys are really into this role playing, huh? You really look like you’re about to go feral.”
They both looked at Gloria who shrugged and then Lucy pulled out her phone and started texting while Honey studied her nails. Such sharp nails. Maybe it was rude to call it role-playing because they took it so seriously. This must be what midlife crisis looked like. Not like I could talk. My life was a role-play. Also a crisis.
I focused on breathing and counting the weapons on the walls. So many weapons, and all of them weird, like a mace. Who has a mace in their van? You couldn’t even swing it properly. They all clearly got into whatever their role play was called, LARPing or whatever it was with supernatural characters. Apparently Lucy hadn’t gotten over her ninja stage, and Honey was the werewolf she’d have to fight.
We pulled up at a seemingly old abandoned warehouse, mist crawling between cars, many of them rusted boats interspersed here and there by something sleek and expensive. The cupcake van pulled up near metal stairs that led up to a platform with a rusted metal door at the top, fog curling around the rungs. There weren’t any people around, including bouncer, which made everything feel more ominous. It felt like a gritty paranormal fight club on the edge of industrial and train tracks. Whoever ran this place really nailed the atmosphere perfectly. Of course he’d hire someone with wings, even if they weren’t functional, just to add to the mystique.
I swallowed hard and then grabbed Catherine’s hand. “Are you ready?”
“That’s my question for you.” She seemed as calm and level-headed as she always did.
Was I ready to face my son? What if it wasn’t him? The odds were that he was gone and he’d never come back, but what if…
Honey grabbed my other hand and pulled me out the door. “Come on. I’ve got to get back before moonrise.”
I stumbled after her, my heart racing, my whole existence becoming a quivering ball of fear only slightly distracted by the scent of cinnamon. They had scented fog? Genius.
We climbed the stairs and when we walked into the fight club, the scent of alcohol and men’s cologne came back to me, like the old club I used to work at, but there were no dancers or poles here.
We stood on the metal balcony that ran around the perimeter of the large space. Below us were green tables for gambling all around an enormous cage where a woman was choking out another man, at least that’s what it looked like, but it seemed like her green dreadlocks were eating the guy’s face. Neither of them had wings, but they were certainly a shocking sight. They must spend hours on makeup and choreography.
“Look at that, it’s the Alpha’s mate,” a guy said, coming towards us where we stood on the long walkway overlooking the club. He had the weirdest beard I’d ever seen, almost like blue tentacles. Latex? How did he get it to move like that? Fancy animatronics.
I returned my focus below, searching for wings. A purple waitress carried a tray of drinks to the table closest to the cage, which was filled with men and women with cards and dice, but no wings. On the opposite side of the room, there were tables on the balconies so you could sit and get a good view of the cage fight wherever you were. It was a Friday night, so most of the tables were full, but as far as I could tell, no wings.
“We’re here for my friend’s bachelorette party. She’s getting married!” Gloria said, drawing my attention.
“No, I’m not…” A sharp screech caught my attention, and I looked across the room to see a figure fling himself off of the balcony, then his wings whipped out and he spiraled down to land right outside the cage, where another guy leaned, ignoring the dread-locked woman inside while they chatted.
Wings. Red like burnt sienna.
How tall was he? Not as tall as Drigo, but probably similar in build. I knew he was twelve, but this person seemed like a teenager, and the look he gave the pretty waitress, and the one she gave him made me want to do something embarrassing, like put a shirt on him and wrap a tablecloth around her. Her uniform showed much more skin than necessary, all purple, but this was an adult club. A weird adult club.
Why was my baby in an adult club? Not that it was really him. Was it? He’d made his wings work somehow. Odds were that they weren’t really attached to him, just crafted like hang gliders. It looked real, though. Really real, otherwise he’d be wearing a shirt to cover up the equipment.
Was it really him? How many young men had wings in this world? Not many, or people wouldn’t have asked and accused him of being a monster, without knowing who he was, how sweet, intelligent, and sensitive. This person, throwing his head back to laugh, revealing particularly sharp incisors, did not look sweet or sensitive. Dangerous. He looked dangerous.
A door at the end of our elevated walkway was thrown open and a figure crowded in the opening, nearly as tall as the doorway. His eyes glowed an orange-red that made me think of melted caramels. No. Not caramels. The scent of spicy sweet swirled around me as I looked from that silhouette in the doorway and then down at the winged creature too old to be my son.
Cinnamon bears. The fog smelled like cinnamon bears, the only kind of candy I didn’t carry in my store, because that’s how he’d always smelled.
The man stepped through the doorway and stretched out his wings as he took a step towards us, the light finally showing his face, the perfectly sculpted face that screamed masculinity and power.
Dorian. He was here. I had to hide. Run so far and fast he’d never find me, but…
I glanced over and the young kid with wings gestured at someone in a way that showed his sinewy arm and glittering claws. Was it him?
Dorian moved closer, slow footsteps clanking against the metal balcony like he wasn’t trying to be an unnoticeable shadow in the background. His eyes were so golden. Everyone had glowing eyes. It was starting to get to me. Him without any additional supernatural attachments was enough to stop my heart. The glowing eyes were overkill as they roved over our party with the same intent disinterest as he always gave patrons. It had to be him. No one else moved like that, saw people like that.
“Honey,” he said in a voice that was deeper than deep, but soft and silky as velvet. That voice rubbed the senses like whipped caramel ganache. “What brings you here? Our list is full tonight, and of course having a werewolf fight in my cage on the full moon opens up a new bag of worms.”
“Hey, Drigo. I’m not fighting tonight. We’re just here for Candy’s?—”
I shrank back, ducking down, but she moved so that Dorian could get a clear view of me.
