Four days had passed, and Moira hadn’t said shit. The morning after she saw me with Rysten, I had woken up to her continuing on like everything was normal. Except it wasn’t. In the time since, not once had she bitched about the Horsemen. Hadn’t engaged in her usual antics with Rysten. She was acting normal…but that wasn’t ‘normal Moira,’ and it was driving me fucking nuts. At least our plans were still on for tonight. I closed shop early in the hopes of trying to talk with her without the Horsemen showing up, but she was particularly good at avoiding me when she wanted to.
Standing in the shower, I glowered into the plume of steam that wrapped around me. The water was turned up as hot as I could get it, and it still wasn’t hot enough. Flipping the nozzle off, I used the other hand to wring my hair out. Strands of wet, dark hair clung to my fingers, reflecting indigo in the light.
The bathroom door thudded twice as Moira called out, “We need to leave in half an hour if we’re going to make it there before the switch.”
The switch? I frowned, wrapping the purple towel around me. She made it sound like we were going to a prison. I crossed the cold tile floors, slick with condensation. The door knob was slippery in my grasp as I turned the handle and asked, “What do you mean ‘make it there before the switch’?”
Moira smiled, and I saw a little bit of the stunning banshee underneath the glittering pale eyeshadow. “You’ll just have to see, now won’t you?” she said, turning on her heel. The black baby doll dress she wore swished just past her ass, her legs barely protected by black floral tights. Her mint colored skin practically glowed beneath the sheer fabric. It’s such a shame the humans couldn’t see her in her full glory. She would be wearing a glamor tonight, just as she always did, and that beautiful green would disappear.
At least we weren’t prison crashing. Not even Moira would get all dressed up for that. Looks like we were going partying at an unknown indoor location, given that it wasn’t even thirty degrees outside and she liked the cold about as much as I did.
I closed the bathroom door and got to work on my hair, blow drying it into soft billowing waves that really showed off the stunning blues. I applied only the bare essentials in makeup and moved on to my outfit when Moira came back in.
“Why are you still wearing a bathrobe?” She swung open my closet door without waiting for a reply. It took less than a minute before she was ripping things off the hangers and tossing them at me. “Put these on. We gotta go.”
I disrobed and dressed in the skinny jeans and the crop top she gave me, making a mental note to grab a jacket before we left. Moira grabbed my shoulders and turned me towards the metal framed mirror. A branch of iron thorns surrounded my scantily clad body. Moira had chosen well; the crop showed off my curves while still flattering my tall frame.
“I think you should—”
I zoned out as something caught my eye. The number of dots seated on my sternum had increased. Previously, there were two sitting across from each other. There was now a third that sat an inch lower on the right side.
“Ruby, are you even listening to me?” she snapped, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I said, rubbing my chest where the dots were.
“Excellent,” she said gleefully, smacking her nude lips together, a pair of spiked black heels in her hand. I took one look at the shoes and groaned. “What are you waiting for? Hurry up!”
I could do little more than comply. At least she was acting like herself.
Within the next two minutes, we were out the door and on our way, hooker heels and all. Bandit kept grabbing at my leg wanting to come with, but I knew he wouldn’t be welcome in whatever public shindig Moira planned on taking us to. In the end, all it took was can of sardines and he was content to let me go.
Fifteen minutes later, and almost two car accidents, thanks to Moira’s driving, we pulled up outside Pandora’s Box, the hottest and most exclusive nightclub in town. I’d only ever heard rumors about what went on inside, usually from my clients. How Moira was going to pull this one off was beyond me.
Outside, the club was sleek and void of any windows or doors, apart from the front entrance that currently had a line wrapped around the block. Moira pulled up to the curb, and the valet that approached us gave her a questioning purse of his lips.
She hopped out of the car and handed him the keys, ignoring his mutterings about how he wasn’t sure if we were in the right place. I couldn’t blame him. Her ten-year old Camry didn’t really fit the bill with one taillight out and a dent on the front bumper. True to form, Moira didn’t give two shits. She passed him a fifty and said, “Keep the change.”
The valet, pleased with his tip, changed his attitude as I clambered out of the car. With the damn heels, I was well over six feet tall. Moira was wearing some impressive shoes as well, and that made our height difference almost minimal. I glanced between her and the line, because I didn’t know about her feet, but mine were not going to put up with standing in line for three hours just to be turned away at the door.
As if she’d read my mind, Moira linked our arms and leaned in. “Relax. I have connections,” she muttered as she led us up to the front of the line. A bouncer took one look at us, and just when I thought he was going to turn us away, his face lit up in a warm smile.
“Hey, Moira, this the friend you were telling me about?”
Moira nodded demurely, but even in the low light coming from the sign above, I could see a faint blush creep across her cheeks. Bouncer boy flashed his dimples again and unclipped the rope, ushering us through.
We hadn’t even crossed the threshold when I leaned in to ask, “So, what did you have to do to pull this off?”
Moira’s smile only increased as we took our first steps into the dazzling lights that were Pandora’s Box. “You don’t want to know,” she said and smirked at me. She’s right; I didn’t.
Still linked arm in arm, we walked toward the bar. Purple and blue lights danced across the crowd of bodies on a dance floor that was packed so tight, I didn’t think even Moira could slip between them. Rhythmic dance music pulsed through the air, the vibrations thrumming against my skin, luring me with its hypnotic melody.
The bartender turned towards us, his gold bow-tie shimmering in the light. Moira flashed him a come-hither look as she crooked her finger and beckoned him closer. I rolled my eyes as he asked, “What can I get for you ladies?”
“Dirty martini,” Moira rattled off, looking over at me expectantly.
An odd feeling crept through my veins. I couldn’t place what caused it, but I didn’t like it.
“Ruby! What drink?”
“I’m not sure…” I muttered. I took a quick glance around the room, but there wasn’t a demon in sight. We’d been out drinking hundreds of times, and nothing ever happened. So why was I feeling paranoid suddenly? Because drugs and an imp with grabby hands in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere…
“It’s your birthday,” she said crossly. “I did not suck tha—”
“Birthday girl, eh?” the bartender said, cutting her off mid-rant. He gave me a lopsided smile and said, “I’ve got something for you. On the house.”
“Alright,” I agreed. Moira and I settled in at the bar and I took another sweeping glance of the club. There was just so much to look at: the dancers, the lounge, the winding staircase that led up to darkened hallways with unmarked doors, hiding secrets of their own. All bathed in shifting violet light.
“What do you think’s up there?” I asked her.