Free Haven by Celia Breslin Page A

thus for you.” She gave Mark and Ren a hungry look. “If not more.”
    Mark and Ren scowled at the pet reference.
    “Now, come, Tranquilli Child, we must make reparation for our transgression.”
    Great. Back to the dagger. I chose my words with care. “Your pet is dead. I think we’re even.”
    She shook her head. “Blow for blow. Blood for blood. You owe me. I cannot return to my Mistress unharmed.”
    “Why not?”
    Stella gave me somber eyes. “Her punishment would be most unfortunate.”
    Mark translated. “She’s saying if you don’t kick her ass, her boss will do it for you. Anything she does will be far worse than anything you can dish out.”
    “I don’t want to accidentally kill you,” I stalled.
    Stella’s lips quirked. “Carbon steel. A mere trinket. No permanent damage. Come now, let us be done with this.”
    My eyes flicked to Mark. He holstered his gun, flipped his grip on the knife and drove the blade fast and hard into Stella’s shoulder, pinning her against the wall. Speedy, violent attack, clearly payback for the park. Mark was no one’s puppet.
    He stepped back with a satisfied grunt. Stella remained against the wall, a low growl trickling from her throat.
    I locked eyes with her. “We good?”
    “The wrong is now right. My mistress will be pleased with your forgiveness.”
    I nodded for lack of anything to say and motioned for my friends to follow me the last few steps to Haven’s back door. My legs shook and my heart pounded, but I made it there without mishap. I took a deep, calming breath, smacked my hand on the ID pad and punched in my personal code. The door unlocked with a small schlock and we stepped into the awaiting darkness, Stella and her pets trailing behind.

Five
     
    Haven was very un-Haven-like tonight.
    First, refrigerator cold air hit me in a gust as we entered. Second, no sign of security lurked in the back hall. Third, instead of the usual continual thump of dance music, faint whispers of jazz greeted us. Lastly, the clincher of weird for me, frankincense and myrrh perfumed the air. My nose burned and my eyes watered. Images flashed through my mind.
    A massive white church, white altar, red carpet, towering gold cross, a bald priest in white and red robes. A smoking incense holder on a thick gold chain swinging back and forth over a gleaming, black coffin.
    I stumbled at the memory invasion and the room spun for a second. Mark steadied me with a hand around my elbow. “You okay?”
    I massaged my temples. “I think so.”
    My phone buzzed with a text from Adrian. where r u?
    backstage. u ?
    heaven .
    k. c u soon. I’d told him to stay in our office, yet he hung out in the VIP lounge. I’d bet my stake in the club Thomas was up there, too.
    I pocketed my cell. “Adrian’s in Heaven. Let’s go.”
    The three vampires left us, disappearing faster than my eyes could track.
    The rest of us strolled onto center stage. The jazz rose from the baby grand piano at stage right, played by Alexander. My stomach flip-flopped in excitement and I bit my lower lip to suppress a giddy grin. I took a few eager steps in his direction, but halted when Mark and Ren swore and drew their guns. I followed their aim and my happiness deflated.
    The dance floor played host to a Black and White Ball gone wrong. Most of the crowd wore black bondage gear and Goth finery—cat suits, strips of leather and chains, black leather mini-dresses, tight black leather pants, corsets, waistcoats, ornate black dresses and skirts—while some sported white evening gowns and tuxedos. The clothes weren’t the problem, however. Alive or undead, fashion was just fashion.
    The people formed the problem, the living ones, anyway. For every one or two vampires, I counted one human offering up a body part. A wrist here. A neck there. Thighs, too. My attention locked onto one blonde woman in a white leather mini-dress, one shapely leg draped over the shoulder of a kneeling vampire. He suckled her thigh while