Moonlight Burns: (Urban Fantasy) (Daughters of Hecate Book 2) Page 4

  “Hey!” she shouted, trying to jump for the piece of paper clutched in his beefy hand.

  “I’ll be holding on to this until the doors open. You line up, and you come back with a decent apology, and I’ll consider letting you in.” He grabbed her elbow again and turned her towards the exit, pointing up the stairs with a thick finger. “Now, beat it!”

  The girl straightened her shoulders and marched up the stairs, but not before turning around to give Church a double-barreled middle finger salute and a haughty glare as she stomped away.

  Church stood on the stairs, his shoulders heaving, and I swear I could see steam rising off his bald head. I couldn’t help it, I laughed... louder than I had intended and Church turned to glare at me before stuffing the girl’s ticket into his pocket and stomping up the stairs after her to make sure she’d gone.

  I took another drink of my beer turned back to watch the band. Mutually Assured Destruction had some interesting groupies, but this one... she seemed different. My headache had faded a bit, and that weird tugging I had felt on my spine had disappeared... something wasn’t right, but then again, it wasn’t entirely wrong either.

  Chapter 4 ~ Maia

  It had been easier than I’d expected to get my ass out of Seattle. My social worker seemed more than happy to have me taken off her books, and even after the fire I was able to access my bank accounts and a small amount of cash that my mom had set aside for me before she died. It wasn’t much, but it was enough.

  Becca helped me throw together some clothes and essentials to fill the duffel bag I’d picked up from an army surplus store near Pike Place Market. I’d never needed much, and the fire had really brought that into sharp focus.

  “I can’t believe you’re going to New York, Maia,” Becca had been heartbroken. She wasn’t desperate for a roommate, but I knew that she was lonely, and we’d had some good times together at Jet, but it was definitely time for me to move on, at least for a little while.

  “You never know, Bex, I might be back,” I said, but I wasn’t sure how convincing I was. Becca smiled sadly and held out a notebook I’d stashed at her place after my latest foster care assignment. I took it gratefully. Six months ago, I’d taken one look at my prospective foster brother and decided that the last thing I wanted was that creep looking through my shit.

  My paranoia was justified, and I’d caught him sifting through my belongings on a regular basis, and while I could deal with the thought of him pawing through my drawers and stealing my spare change, I didn’t want him handling anything that actually meant anything to me.

  That notebook held everything that mattered. Photos of my mother and I together, me as a baby splashing in a plastic pool in a grassy backyard that I didn’t remember, the last house we’d lived in together... these were all things that I desperately wanted to remember, and things that I desperately wanted to keep private.

  Growing up in foster care I came to the realization very quickly that nothing about my life could ever truly be private. My social workers changed, but each one of them knew my file intimately... every altercation at school, every argument with a foster parent, every complaint against a guardian, every complaint against me... even my doctor visits and checkups. It was all there in black and white for everyone to see. Teachers, prospective caretakers, principals, supervisors... anyone who wanted to look. Anyone who wanted to judge. But I was more than that officially watermarked paper, those aloof analyses and fancy designations. I was neat looping handwriting with ink splattering on the pages… but they didn’t need to know that.

  I hugged Becca tightly, wrapping my arms around her slender shoulders and pulling her close. We’d only been friends for about a year, but she was the closest I’d ever come to having a best friend, and right now, she was my only friend. Becca pulled away and wiped her face with her sleeve. We were standing at the Northgate train station, and my ride was due any minute. I could feel the folded paper that held the scan code for my bus ticket in my pocket. It was sharp and creased, my ticket to the future. My ticket to something better than here.

  “I got you something,” Becca sniffed, handing me an envelope. I looked at her skeptically, I didn’t like crying. I didn’t cry in public, and if Becca thought she was going to make me change my mind ̶

  The high-pitched squeal of the train slowing down to a stop behind me interrupted my thoughts and I hugged Becca quickly before diving into the train. I stayed in the doorway to wave, my feet straddling the duffel bag I’d dropped to the car floor.

  “Open it, you asshole!” Becca shouted.

  Right, manners. “I fumbled with the envelope, as the pre-recorded announcement chimed before getting frustrated and tearing it open.

  MUTUALY ASSURED DESTRUCTION

  ONE NIGHT ONLY

  SPIRAL

  BROOKLYN

  Becca had got me a ticket to the only show I ever wanted to see in my entire life. The last time I’d checked online, the show had been sold out, standing room only. I’d planned to skulk around the club and see if I could sneak in; because there was no way in hell I was missing this show. And now I wouldn’t have to.

  I stared at her wide eyed as the train door slid shut before shrieking with joy and jumping around like a crazy person. The train pulled away, and Becca’s broad smile was everything. Maybe she was my best friend after all.

  I’d never ridden a bus for so many hours in my life… but life was about experience, right? Three days, seven hours, and hundreds of miles of the most boring useless countryside ever. Those flyover states… I never thought I’d ever see a man carrying an assault rifle like a handbag while ordering a grande non-fat, no foam hazelnut latte, but that’s Wyoming for you, I guess. Yikes.

  But New York? New York was everything I’d ever wanted it to be. It was everything and nothing like the sitcoms and movies I’d obsessed over. Identical and unrecognizable at the same time.

  It was pure fucking magic.

  The streets were wet with spring rain, and the trees in Central Park were just starting to burst with new life. I loved everything about spring. It didn’t matter where I was; there was just something about this time of year that energized me. I wondered if everyone felt this way in their birth month, as if they were one of those magnolia buds ready to burst.

  Or maybe it was just me.

  I’d made very few plans beyond buying my bus ticket, but Becca had forced me to book two nights at a nicer hotel than I would have paid for on my own. When she saw the look on my face when I read the price per night, she insisted that I let her handle it and let her put the booking on one of her many credit cards to make sure that I went. 9th Street station wasn’t far away, and the three star room was fancier than anything I’d ever stayed in before… I can’t be the only one who’s terrified of ruining white bedding just by looking at it.

  I made a mental note to send Becca a postcard when I figured out what I was going to do with myself.

  The money I’d brought with me, and Becca’s gift of the hotel room would be enough to get me started. It wouldn’t be too hard to find a job, I was eager to work, and most places didn’t care where you were crashing as long as you had a social insurance number. The precious concert ticket sat on the desk. I was almost as afraid to touch it as I was the bed. I’d spent the three days on the bus checking and re-checking that it was tucked safely in my notebook with my photos.

  Against the request of my harried social worker, I’d turfed my cell phone as soon as I’d hit the bus station. The last thing I wanted was a nanny service checking up on me. If I was truly on my own, I wanted to be on my own. New life, new rules, new everything.

  I needed a phone, a Gatorade and maybe a cigarette… anything to pass the time before I had to be at Spiral. The best night of my life was only a few hours away.

  The club was empty and I crept down the stairs, staying close to the railing. A short girl with dark purple hair and a bright blue shirt that proclaimed she was ‘Too Spoopy 4 U’ was behind the bar. I’
d seen that shirt at Hot Topic a few weeks ago, and had barely talked Becca out of buying it. I thought New Yorkers were supposed to have taste. There were a few leather-clad guys milling around the stage, moving music equipment and speakers. Roadies, obviously. Tonight was a big deal.

  One night only. Mutually Assured Destruction.

  The biggest punk band in the underground scene. They never toured, never played any other clubs… nothing. And there they were, right in front of me.

  I was so close. Eli Maddern was stalking across the stage looking the same way he had in the promo photos of M.A.D’s last album release. How did they do it? How did they stay so young and beautiful? The bass player abused his instrument just the way it sounded on the album… would they really be as good live as I hoped? I had ruined most of my love for my favorite bands by seeing them perform live… but even in a practice set, they sounded perfect. I had been frozen in place, caught up in the pounding of the music in the speakers.

  “Hey!”

  Oh fuck, that’s right, I wasn’t invisible.

  A heavy hand gripped my arm just above my elbow. The chill of the bouncer’s hand radiated through my jacket and I flinched away.

  “Let go! I have a ticket; I have a right to be here!”

  I mean, I knew perfectly well that I didn’t have a right to be there right now, but the words were already out of my mouth. I pulled my ticket out of my pocket and shoved it in the meathead’s face. He was a good six inches taller than me, with a shaved head and dark sunglasses. He smiled thinly and plucked the ticket out of my fingers.

  “If it escaped your notice, madam,” the bouncer said through clenched teeth, “the doors don’t open until nine, show starts at ten.”

  “And?” There was no backing down now, plus, I didn’t like being grabbed by strangers. A woman with unnaturally vibrant red hair watched me from a booth upholstered in black velvet, she had a bottle of beer in her hand and a small smile on her face. I gritted my teeth and focused back on the bouncer.

  “And I ain’t babysitting you ‘till then! You paid for one show, you don’t get two,” he bellowed, waving my ticket in the air above me.

  “Hey!” I shouted, jumping to try to steal back the ticket, but he was too tall and I was nowhere close to reaching it.

  “Ah-ah-ah, little miss! I’ll be holding on to this until the doors open. You line up with everyone else who paid for their tickets, and you practice a real nice apology, and then I might consider letting you in.” He grabbed my elbow again and spun me around, pointing up the stairs with a fat finger. Our interview was over. “Now, beat it!”

  I stomped angrily up the stairs, pausing for just a moment to turn and flip the fat shit off. Fuck you and a side of flies, asshole. Behind me, Eli had started into a song, one I hadn’t heard before, and a chill ran up my spine. The major magazines had been given an exclusive sneak peek at the new album, and it was supposed to blow their debut record out of the water... there was no way I was missing this. I was getting in, even if I had to beg that goon on my hands and knees.

  I checked my watch, another parting gift from Becca, I had a few hours before the doors were supposed to open, but there wasn’t any way I was going to let some other skid take my place in line.

  I ran to the bodega on the corner and grabbed a soggy burrito and a soda before taking up a post beside the ropes that marked out where the line would begin. I’d come a long way for this night, and nothing was going to ruin it for me.

  Time ticked by, and I chewed on my burrito and tried to focus on the sounds coming from the club below me. I was convinced that I could feel the bass and drums vibrating up through the concrete of the sidewalk.

  People started to line up behind me, and the bouncer who had taken my ticket took up his post in front of the stairs that led down to the club. The neon red light above the door snapped to life, flickering and humming in the gathering dark, shining on the bouncer’s head and gleaming in his sunglasses. Sunglasses at night. How cliché.

  “Hey,” I called to him, leaning on the rope that held the line back. “Heeeeeeyyyy!” The bouncer sighed and turned his head towards me, his arms crossed over his barrel chest.

  “What do you want, you little punk?” He sounded bored, but I bristled just a little. He was pretending he didn’t know who I was.

  “You know exactly what I want, you meathead, my ticket!” I was seething now, angrier than I’d been in a long time.

  “Hm. No idea what you’re talking about. No ticket, no entry.” He turned his head to look at me again. “How old are you anyway? Are you even legal?”

  “Old enough,” I spat. “You have my ticket and you’d better hand it over or...”

  “Or what,” he said, just a hint of malice in his voice.

  The line behind me jostled, shoving me forward against the rope just a little. I turned around angrily, but no one made eye contact. They all wanted to get in just as badly as I did. Kids my age, younger ones trying to look older... and older punks ones trying to look younger. There were even a few middle aged men and women swathed in Victorian black velvet, ‘Elder Goths,’ they called themselves... there were a few that circled the club scene in Seattle, I thought they were insufferable. Pretending to be vampires and quoting Poe on every occasion... ugh.

  I turned back to the bouncer, who was still staring at me from behind his dark glasses. I could feel his eyes burning into my neck. “Or... or...” I stammered, not knowing what I’d do, what the fuck could I do? “I’ll leave a shitty Yelp review! I’ll hit social media and you’ll lose your job!”

  The bouncer smiled and reached up to re-adjust his sunglasses. His teeth glinted in the red light... teeth that looked sharper than they should have... what the shit? On second thought, threatening this guy might not have been the smartest move.

  He stood in front of me, but looked past me to a pair of surly looking punks who stood behind me. “Tickets,” he demanded, holding out his hand.

  The guys looked at me warily and then pulled out their tickets and pushed past me to get through the rope and rush down the stairs and into the club. I gritted my teeth and glared up at the bouncer.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I shouted at him as he took another set of tickets and let another group pass by.

  “Where’s my apology, girl?” He said, taking more tickets and letting more people through the rope.

  “Apology!?!” I shouted incredulously. I staggered just a little as I heard him chuckle. That was it; I was going to have a rage stroke. My vision was getting foggy; maybe that burrito had been a bad idea. Before I could open my mouth to shout at the fat-headed asshole, a gentle hand fell on my shoulder.

  “Hey, Church, aren’t you being a little hard on her? She’s traveled a long way to be here tonight.”

  I turned to see who had stepped in, and recognized the woman with dark red hair who’d been watching me in the club. Her touch felt protective, almost comforting, and I didn’t immediately flinch away. The fog in my mind began to clear and I shook my head as what she had said registered.

  “Your name is Church?” I coughed with laughter, enjoying the expression that crossed the bouncer’s face.

  “She’s an imposter. She snuck into the club, and could have done some serious damage in there. Maybe I’ll let her in if she begs my forgiveness and brings me a note from her mother that she’s allowed to be out this late at night.” Church grinned at my would-be rescuer, and my eyes widened as I saw his teeth again. They had definitely been sharpened; there was no other way to explain it. Body mods were intense in New York...

  I shrugged off the woman’s hand and crossed my arms over my chest. “My mother is dead, you asshole, you’ll be waiting a long time for that permission slip.”

  Church opened his mouth to say something else, but the redhead stepped in again. “Look, I never do this, but I’m going to invoke my privilege here,” she said, staring at the bouncer with calm defiance. “She’s with me tonight. I’ll take responsibility for her an
d make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

  The bouncer paused, clearly faced with a harder decision than he’d planned on making.

  “You’re taking too long, Churchill, if you have a problem, you can take it up with Bishop. She’s coming in whether you like it or not,” the woman said, reaching down to unhook the rope and grab my arm to pull me through. She wound her arm around my waist and steered me towards the stairs, a wide, sweet smile on her face.

  I was too surprised by the contact to react, so I just smiled goofily at the bouncer, thrilled that my benefactor seemed to have some influence at the club. She might also be hitting on me, but I’d deal with that later.

  Right now, all that mattered was that I was getting into the club, and everything was about to change.

  Chapter 5 ~ Ophelia

  “Don’t worry, Church will get over it… it just might take him a little while,” I pulled the girl to the stairs, and while I could feel her hesitation, there was something else there too.

  “Thanks,” she said haltingly, and I smiled, waving away her awkward appreciation.

  “Don’t mention it. I know you’re not old enough to drink, so let’s get you a soda.” The girl looked bewildered, but I ignored it. She was definitely underage, and while Spiral wasn’t exactly held to the same standards as other clubs in the state, I wasn’t going to do anything to tip her off that things were different down here.

  Lacey drummed her fingers on the bar, gnawing her lip nervously as we approached. I knew she was anxious about tonight, but I knew she’d be fine.

  “Hook me up with two soda’s Lacey? The glass bottles from Mexico if you can…” I looked at the girl next to me, “I think Mexican Coke just tastes better, I’m pretty sure they still put some of those old fashioned illegal ingredients in it.” She didn’t say anything, just stared at me wide-eyed.

  Lacey muttered something and turned to pull two bottles of the imported soda that Bishop ordered from his contacts south of the border in El Ray. For all I knew it could be original, it wouldn’t surprise me.