Revelations: Book One of the Lalassu (6 page)

Chapter Ten

A smile, a wink, and a twenty convinced the cabby to hurry. Disgusted with the time wasted in the police station, Dani considered simply not showing up for work tonight. Vincent and Eric were still out there somewhere—she refused to allow herself to believe otherwise. The longer the delay, the colder the trail would be. But her earlier impulsive actions left her no choice except cooling her heels. Chomp would still be in the hospital. He might not even have regained consciousness. Either way, he would definitely be the subject of police interest, and she couldn’t afford to attract any more.

Frustration threatened to stir the Huntress. She’d not only failed to get the information from Chomp, she’d gotten distracted taking Hulk down and nearly lost her only real lead. It wasn’t the first time her impulses had interfered with her goals. She’d lost her temper, forgetting her own strength, and she knew how dangerous it could be. If she wanted to have any chance at rescuing her brothers, she couldn’t afford mistakes.

She splayed her fingers, pleased to see the puffy redness gone. Whatever else the Huntress did to her, the quick healing was a welcome side benefit.

Think it through for a change
. If she worked, she got her money for the night and avoided attracting any more attention. Besides, her job was the only place she felt balanced and powerful, all sides of herself coming together. She needed that right now, to wipe away the foul taste of failure from her tongue. She reminded herself that she’d made it out of the police station without being put into any official records. That was a minor achievement but hardly a resounding success. Flying under the radar was a Harris family specialty, but it wasn’t Dani’s style.

Arriving at the club, she couldn’t help but smile at the giant, glossy promotional posters picked out in cheap illumination. Let her family whine about the importance of being invisible. She’d earned her place here as one of the starring performers.

Michael couldn’t believe this was the right spot.
Here? You really want me here?
More anecdotal proof that the Universe enjoyed a sadistic sense of humor.

“You getting out or what?” his cabby demanded.

His quarry had already vanished into the club. Posters of scantily clad women made it clear what kind of performance to expect. He’d made it this far in his life without having to go into a strip club, and breaking the habit wasn’t appealing. The strongest compulsion he’d ever experienced writhed under his skin, itching like cheap wool. There wouldn’t be any peace until he did what was necessary, which meant he needed to get this done so he could focus on helping Bernie.

He examined the other businesses on the street. A tattoo parlor, a sex shop, a Goth-oriented boutique, and two parking lots with spotty illumination breaking the twilight gloom. Nothing he really wanted to hang around in, waiting to see when she came back out.

“Getting out.” He paid the driver and stepped out, coughing at the grit in the air.

The building might have been a movie theater in the thirties and forties. The marquee proclaimed the Blue Curtain Club was the home of the Jewels of the Night, the city’s top burlesque act. The red and white paint was flaking away in patches. The brilliantly lit signs blinked to attract attention, tacked on after the fact like cheap costume jewelry. Swallowing his discomfort, Michael stepped up to the bored bouncer. Relinquishing his ID and a twenty-dollar cover, he pulled back his glove long enough to get a blurred stamp in return and permission to pass through the beaded curtains into the club proper.

The business might not have spent much outside, but inside, the club was decorated in warm sensual reds and golds. Waitresses in tight corsets and heels clicked efficiently through their rounds. The bar stretched across one wall, and a small stage dominated one end of the club. Most of the tables were a mix of businessmen, frat boys, and, to his surprise, women in shiny club attire. Michael claimed a tiny standing bar table and ordered a beer. He took the time to survey the room, searching for his mystery woman. A heavy compulsion weighed him down, pressing his feet into the floor.

Maybe she was in trouble. Or something could be about to happen to her, something he could prevent. Guessing why the compulsion wanted him there seemed futile. He shifted uncomfortably, wishing the universe had picked another time to play with his life. A pair of dancers on stage performed an improbable series of acrobatic maneuvers in lacy body stockings. Funny, in a crude and bawdy kind of way. Anticipation and amusement buoyed the crowd, lightening his spirits despite his attempt to stay focused.

He shook his head as the dancers produced bananas from hidden thigh sheaths and the crowd broke out in laughter and applause. He disapproved of strip clubs in general. Too many women ended up in them, stripped of their choices along with their clothes. People shouldn’t prey on other people’s desperation. No one should have to accept humiliation for a paycheck.

Of course, this one didn’t seem to quite fit the mental image he’d gleaned from various psychic intrusions. It was well lit. There were no booths along the back for private performances. The women on stage might be in provocative costumes, but they weren’t just wiggling and jiggling for the crowd. The crowd itself was light and cheerful, enjoying the show but not demanding more.

The compulsion crawled along his nervous system as he sipped the beer he’d ordered.
Why am I here?
Curiosity added its own weight to press him into his seat. He felt as if he were on the cusp of a major change, the end of the world as he knew it.

The acrobats accepted wild applause and cheering as they skipped off stage, waving gleefully at the audience. A hush of anticipation fell over the crowd. Michael glanced at the eager smiles around him. People hurried from the bar to reclaim their seats and the waitresses discreetly withdrew to the edges of the room.

The lights dimmed, drawing his attention to the panels behind the small stage. The silhouette of a woman appeared against the panels, igniting applause. An unsmiling pair of men in tuxes appeared from the wings, glaring at each other.

A familiar song began, and the panels slid aside to reveal a woman with her back to the crowd, her curves sheathed in a glittering black dress. She moved away from Michael, dipping her hand into the man’s pocket to pull out a long rhinestone-studded string. She held it up to the light and then tossed it away with a shake of her head.

Michael smiled despite himself. Cute. As the singer turned to face his side of the audience, Michael’s jaw dropped as he recognized her. She looked very different with her black hair piled high in curls and wearing elaborate stage makeup. But after his earlier flash, he would have recognized her no matter what disguise she wore. It was his mystery lady.

Chapter Eleven

Oblivious to Michael’s shocked realization, the singer continued with
Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend
, making the rounds of the men and pulling sparkling ornaments out of their pockets and decorating herself as she moved around stage. Two other women joined the performance, but he kept his attention focused on her. She’d been sexy at the club and the police station but now kicked it up to a new level of indulgent sexuality. Discomfort nagged at him, as if he were trespassing on something private that had accidentally been put on display.

The number came to a close, with all the women glittering in their jewels and the male props banished from the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen,” an unseen MC announced, “the Blue Curtain Theatre and Club is proud to present our lovely Jewels of the Night, beginning with the lovely and fiery Ruby!” The strawberry-blond dancer dressed in brilliant crimson sashayed forward, lifting her skirts just enough to reveal high heels covered in shimmering red sequins.

“Our beautiful and exotic Opal!” The statuesque woman with chocolate skin shimmied up, her white dress glittering with an iridescent rainbow of colors.

Michael stayed focused on the third woman, held by both his compulsion and sheer disbelief.

“And of course, the star of our show, the incomparable and always-sexy Onyx!”

The black-haired singer stepped forward, lazy bedroom eyes sweeping the audience as she undulated her spine in her clinging cocktail dress. “Diamonds are good, but sometimes a woman has to be her own best friend,” Onyx said. “But this isn’t what you came here to see. You came here and plunked down your hard-earned money to see dancing and singing by beautiful women.”

The audience clapped and hooted with approval. Uncomfortably, Michael began to wonder if he’d misjudged the entire thing. But why would he have been compelled to come here if not to rescue his mystery woman?

Onyx pressed an open-mouthed kiss onto Opal’s scarlet lips and the audience broke out in enthusiastic hollering. Michael looked away. It was more than just discomfort at the voyeuristic display—he could sense an aura of danger around her. Masked by the sensuality, it changed a commonplace act of titillation into something darker, like a cobra swaying to hypnotize a mouse.

“Every lady here is a precious gem, ladies and gentlemen.” Onyx’s arms spread wide to encompass her fellow dancers. “Every one a stone cut into a beautiful, glittering work of art and illusion. But maybe it’s time to strip away the illusion. What do you think?”

Her darkened lips curved in a delighted smile as the crowd shouted. Reaching out, she yanked down the zipper keeping Ruby’s dress closed. The strawberry blonde’s eyes and bright-red lips went round and she clutched the loose fabric against her. Michael quashed his automatic instinct to intervene. It all had to be part of the show.

Onyx flicked a finger underneath the material as if peeping underneath while Ruby winked approvingly at the audience. “Tonight, you’ll look beneath the fantasy.” Onyx sauntered over to Opal, slowly unzipping the other dancer’s costume. She paused to listen to the audience’s encouraging applause before shaking her head, zipping it back up.

The audience erupted in wolf whistles and shouts, and Onyx smiled at them, stripping down the zipper fast enough that Michael would have bet money it would rip. But it had clearly been designed for this kind of hard usage. Her eyes swept the crowd, meeting his for the briefest moment. He sucked in a breath, the air resonating in his chest as if he’d inhaled a chiming bell.

It vanished when the performer’s mask was firmly in place once more. “A little fantasy can be a good thing. Because fantasy is just another word for imagination.” She sauntered to the back of the stage, glancing over her shoulder at the rapt crowd. Slowly, she began to pull down the zipper of her own dress. “And we can all use more imagination.”

Michael couldn’t help his body’s reaction to the thought of getting a glimpse of what lay beneath the sequined fabric. But he wished he wasn’t sharing it with sixty other people. Erotic arousal began to overwhelm the earlier amusement of the crowd.

The drums and lights flared as all three dancers dropped their costumes simultaneously, revealing multi-colored corsets and knee-length fringe. Dancing and rolling to the music, the stage was a frenzy of decadent sexuality. The sense of release from the audience threatened to overwhelm him, but Michael’s gaze remained firmly fixed on Onyx. She smiled as she slowly undid the fastenings on her corset then held it closed, winking at the crowd as she flashed one side then the other. She teased them all as if each person were a private lover.
Who is she and why am I here?
The curiosity would drive him crazy if he didn’t get answers soon.

Eventually the three dancers were draped in provocative poses, sparkling pasties and G-strings catching the stage lights. The floors shook with stamping feet and the music couldn’t be heard over applause and shouting.

Onyx lifted her hands and the audience quieted as if puppets on her strings. “We are a dream come true and like all the best dreams, when the night is over… we’re gone.”

The stage lights snapped off, leaving the club in absolute darkness. As the house lights slowly brightened, the panels were closed, and a young woman in a bikini twirling hula-hoops on her arms occupied the stage.

Michael took a long swallow from his beer to moisten his dry mouth.
That was what I was supposed to see
. He was grateful it was over but still disappointed at the separation. The feeling of compulsion eased considerably. He still felt pressure to remain but nowhere near what it had been before. Yet he was no closer to knowing what he could possibly do with this newfound information. And more importantly, how long was it going to take before he could turn his attention back to Bernie?

“Good show, Dani,” Becca congratulated her, stripping out of her signature “Ruby” jewelry. The backstage area bustled and glittered as performers hurried to get ready for the next act in the cramped and crowded cubicles.

“Thanks.” Dani smiled, enjoying her hard-won respite. “Ready for the next round?”

“I hope they have the sound system synched this time. Last night I didn’t know whether to shimmy or booty-shake.”

The women laughed, hastily swapping out costumes for the next performance, due to start in twenty minutes. All except Tanisha, who played Opal. Frowning, Dani stepped over to where her fellow dancer peered out from the wings. “What’s up?”

“He’s here again,” Tanisha whispered.

“Redneck Whiskey Boy?” He’d shown up every night for the last week with his horrible clothes straining over his paunch and a dark mullet peeking from under a stained baseball cap. Glancing out, Dani spotted him in his usual spot, front and center at the long stage catwalk.

“He was waiting in the parking lot last night. I asked Raoul to smuggle me into a cab out front and drive my car home later.” Despite her efforts to hide it, the fear in Tanisha’s voice came through loud and clear.

Dani’s fingers tightened around the curtain, wishing she could simply pummel the ass and drive him out the door. But with Chomp’s bruises fresh in her mind, she suggested a less confrontational approach. “Switch spots with Ruby for the next number. It’ll keep you away from his side of the stage,” Dani suggested. “There is no way he’s native. Eventually the convention will leave or his business will be over and he’ll be gone. We only have to wait him out.”

“Thanks.” Tanisha didn’t sound enthusiastic.

“We stick together. Go get ready.” As the other woman walked away, Dani lingered in the wings. Redneck Whiskey was loud, obnoxious, and way too free with his hands. Clearly, the idiot believed this was just another strip club.
How did I miss him when I was out there?
Even as the thought echoed, she knew the answer.

The guy in the back, third table, stage left, the one wearing the leather gloves indoors. Audience members tended to blur together after a while, but something about this one caught her eye. Sandy-brown hair framed a face that could have been carved out of marble by one of the old art masters: cheekbones to make any woman sit up and take notice, expressive and mobile lips begged to be explored. She didn’t usually like long hair on men, but on this one, it seemed to fit. And his eyes—every time she’d looked, he’d been watching her with a strange expression. None of the mindless lust and smug entitlement most men brought to the club. Instead, his eyes were kind and somehow both innocent and knowing, as if he knew everything about the griminess of the world, but didn’t let it touch him.

Dani’s fingers curled against the worn velvet curtains as she stared at him. She’d never seen such a beautiful man who was so completely lacking in arrogance or even awareness of his own good looks.

“Earth to Onyx. Showtime. Remember?” Ruby called.

The stage beckoned. And after, she’d see what to do about the sexy professor.