Kissed by Darkness(7)

The minute he walked in, all eyes were on Inigo, even fish tank girl. Not that I blamed them. He was seriously hot in a dark suit and silver shirt. His shoulder length hair gleamed gold and honey in the dim light of the club and his eyes were such a luminous blue they practically glowed. I was pretty sure that wasn’t just an effect of the lighting. I had my suspicion that somewhere in Inigo’s genetic background was a little bit of fey blood or something. It would account for a lot of things.

Like the way every woman in the bar had stopped dancing and was frozen in place with her tongue hanging out. Most of the men too, if truth be told, which was a good thing for me. No one would remember I was there, even if I did have hair practically the color of a fire truck.

I slid up to the bar and caught the bartender’s attention after about the third try. He was good looking, if a bit on the slender side, but no match for Inigo. He swallowed hard, dragging his eyes away from Inigo. “How can I help you, my lady?”

My lady. How quaint.

“I’m looking for someone. Cordelia Nightwing. You know her?”

He pointed toward an alcove on the other side of the dance floor. The silky blue curtains had been drawn to ensure privacy. “She’s doing a reading, but she should be done soon.”

I threw him my best smile and a ten-dollar bill. “Thanks.” He didn’t respond. His eyes had already returned to Inigo, who had strutted to the middle of the now still dance floor and started grinding his hips. I rolled my eyes. Inigo could be a real peacock sometimes.

I strolled casually along the edge of the dance floor toward the curtained alcove, scanning the crowd. No one paid me any attention, which was fine by me, at least for tonight. When I was on my own, I sort of drew attention. Blood red hair, porcelain skin, and moss green eyes sort of leave an impression. The skin and eyes I couldn’t lay claim to. Genetics, you know. But the hair was completely deliberate. Besides, it didn’t matter if anyone noticed me out slaying. It sometimes even helped.

Tonight was different. All eyes were on Inigo. I’d always thought it might have something to do with his clairvoyant gifts, maybe some kind of special aura mojo or something. In any case, when he wanted to he could sure draw a crowd.

I waited by the shimmering curtain for Cordelia’s client to come out. The club had returned to what appeared to be its usual manic writhing. I was pretty sure the couple in the corner was having sex with their clothes on. Either that or he was a doctor inspecting her tonsils. I was sort of guessing it was the former.

A dark haired man hurried from behind the curtain and disappeared into the crowd. I figured it was the client so I slipped into the alcove. Cordelia Nightwing wasn’t exactly what I expected. Or maybe she was. She sat at a small round table draped with midnight blue velvet, a crystal ball sitting in front of her. It was so cliche, I nearly burst out laughing.

A pair of bright blue eyes laughed up at me from behind a fringe of dark brown hair. She was easily in her late forties, but the sparkle of energy surrounding her and the smile pulling at her lips belied her age. She was beautiful, no doubt about it. But it was the kind of true beauty that only came with age, wisdom, and honestly knowing oneself. I warmed to her instantly.

Her smile widened. “It’s for the clients.” Her hand waved over the crystal ball. “Makes them feel like they’re getting their money’s worth. I tried it without the ball and I swear I had a guy nearly in tears over it.” Her laugh spilled out, light and bright. It reminded me of Christmas, for some odd reason.

“I take it you don’t need the ball to do … whatever it is you do?”

She shook her head, dark hair spilling about her shoulders. She was wearing a silk kimono, for gods’ sakes. “Goodness, no. You ought to know our gifts don’t need gimmicks.”

I’d no idea how she knew I had “gifts.” I shook my head. “No we don’t. How did you…”

“Know?” She shrugged. “I guess the same way you know I’m not a charlatan and that your friend out there isn’t faking it. We just … know.”

She was right. I did always know whether what she called “gifts” were real or faked. It’s not like I could feel anything, like I did when I sensed vampires, but I just knew it was real, if a person were genuinely gifted or not. It wasn’t something I tried to explain because it just was.

“So, how can I help you?” One dark eyebrow cocked up. She so reminded me of Kabita. The two of them would probably get on like a house afire.

“Someone gave me your name. Said you might be able to help. Brent Darroch.”