Free The Lost Saint by Bree Despain Page B

This doesn’t look like a club entrance. I mean, shouldn’t there be bouncers or something?” April’s earlier courage seemed to have washed right out of her. The pale look on her face made it seem like she’d been half anticipating/half hoping we wouldn’t be ableto get into the club without fake IDs. A consideration I hadn’t even thought of until now.
    I tried the handle, but a bolt in the door stopped it from opening. Then I noticed a keypad next to the doorway with a small red light. “I think all we need to get into the club is the keycard.” I pulled the card out of my pocket—a harder feat than it sounds when your pants are made out of vinyl—and swiped it through what looked like a credit card reader. The light on the keypad turned green, followed by a loud clicking noise as the bolt in the door unlocked.
    I pulled on the handle. The door slid open, and a wave of pulsing music flooded the alley. “You ready?” I asked April.
    “I guess so.…” She straightened her miniskirt. “I mean, yes,” she said with only a hint of a tremble in her voice. “Let’s do this.”
    Just inside the doorway was a long staircase. I grabbed on to the railing and prayed I wouldn’t slip in my high heels as I navigated my way down the cement steps. At the bottom we went through an open doorway and entered the club. It buzzed like a hive with gyrating people, flashing lights, pulsing music, wafting fog from a dance floor in the middle of the room, and flickering plasma TVs as big as cars extended from cables attached to the ceiling. Groups of guys, mostly in their early twenties or younger, crowded around the TVs. They cheered and shouted while playing videogames that mostly involved shooting, speeding cars, and almost-naked women. The gaming crowd was dotted with a few girls—dressed just as scantily as the ones on the screens. But mostly the only females in the place crowded around the bar on the far end of the club, or partied on the dance floor in corsets and leather getups that put my attempt at a tough-girl outfit to shame.
    The guys who filled the expansive room were a weird mix of hipsters and Goths. I’d never seen so much nasty facial hair, so many tight pants, piercings, and tattoos in one place. I couldn’t help thinking of the party I’d happened upon at Daniel’s old apartment on Markham Street—the one that had sent me running scared into the night—only this was twenty times worse. This was definitely the kind of place I always imagined the adults in Rose Crest were trying to keep us away from when they told us stories about the Markham Street Monster.
    “There’s the Wi-Fi station,” April said. Her voice still shook a bit. “That’s gotta be where Jude contacted me from.” She started toward a group of narrow metal tables with rows of bolted-down laptops on the far left-hand side of the club, slightly removed from all the commotion.
    “What are you doing? I thought the plan was to stick to the shadows?”
    “
You’re
supposed to stick to the shadows. Keep an eye out for your brother, maybe ask around. I’m the bait.” She fluffed her curls and plumped her pink lips.“If Jude’s here, then I want him to see me. We’ll lure him out into the open.”
    “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.” Even from our spot in a dark corner, I could tell we were drawing more attention than I cared for. I knew April had been going for sexy with her choice of outfit, but her denim jacket and pink-sequined tank stood out like a neon HELLO, I’M CLUELESS AND VULNERABLE! sign in this sea of black leather and piercings.
    And vinyl pants or no vinyl pants, I’m sure I looked just as poseresque as she did.
    “If Jude’s here, then the person he’s most likely to approach is me. Just stick to the shadows and keep an eye out.” April sauntered over to the Wi-Fi station. With a flourish, she swept her blond curls over her shoulder and sat at the computer. I cringed at how innocent she looked,