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I cross my arms, blushing. “I like to know why I’m doing a job.”

“Leave the girl alone, Mel.” Celeste stops on the sidewalk above a set of stairs leading to a basement entryway. Turning to me, she says, “Basically, there’s a lot of money involved tonight and that can go south really fast. All I need you two to do is be there and intervene if someone tries to kill me.”

“Can’t you defend yourself? I feel like I’ll weigh you down more than anything.”

She shakes her head. “Magic is a little like chemistry. It can be incredibly powerful – mostly with lots of preparation – but it’s also easy to counter by those who know what they’re doing.”

Dampened saxophone music comes from the basement of the building. She reaches into the inside of her coat and produces two vials of blood, handing them to me. “If something does go wrong, you’re responsible for me and Mel is responsible for the car.” She glances at the siren. “For obvious reasons.”

Mel throws her hands up. “Just because I’m the only person in this city who knows how to drive!”

I look at the vials with unease, trying to conceal the way my mouth begins to water at the sight. It takes some effort not to rip the stopper our right then and there and downing the contents.

“My own blood,” Celeste clarifies. “I need top reaction speed tonight.”

With a flippant gesture, she takes a joint from Mel’s mouth that Mel was about to light. “The same goes for you,” Celeste says.

I turn away to drink, hiding the expression of pure greed that I’m sure my face is showing as I open each vial. Though my fangs are not needed, they made their presence – and their readiness to tear into skin – known. Clenching my fists as I fight the urge to chase after Celeste and get more of that sweet, sweet blood, I hear them descend down the steps.

“Have I ever let you down?” Mel asks. “You know I’m a better shot when I’m just a little high.”

“And yet I’d like you to be surewhoit is you’re shooting.”

I clench my jaw, shaking my head to try and ground myself. The music becomes clearer and now I pick up voices and laughter as well. The air smells faintly like rubbish and smoke. I still have the desire to hunt and chase but try to bury that to the best of my ability.

“You’renot sober,” Mel argues as I scurry down the steps behind them.

The door at the bottom of the stairs is opened by a very large man with an incredible amount of body hair, including the most spectacular beard I’ve ever seen.

“I’ll be sober when I’m dead,” Celeste replies as she enters.

The man holds me back as I try to follow them. “No vampires.”

Celeste waves her hand dismissively. “She’s with me.”

His grip on my shoulder stays steady. “Not even as pets.”

“Excuse me?” Celeste stops in her tracks.

Mel, who’s stepped aside, watches with naked amusement on her face as Celeste walks back to me, putting her arm around my waist, and stopping less than an inch from the man’s barreled chest.

She stabs her finger at him, sparks flying from the tip. “I didn’t get that. Did you want to repeat it?”

They stare at each other for a moment – though I’m a little distracted by Celeste’s hand on my waist – until something in his face changes. He shrinks a little. “Never mind, come on in.”

“That’s what I thought,” Celeste mumbles as we walk past him.

***

The room she leads me into is filled with the saccharine smell ofGhostshade smoke,a tightly packed space that looks like we’ve travelled back to the roaring twenties. Elaborate glass chandeliers hang from tin ceilings, drawing long shadows over the brick walls. The furniture is cozy – leather chairs around small round tables. A cherry-wood bar runs the length of the room and one of the corners is taken up by a small, raised stage. The band’s singer is a siren, filling the air with dizzying, wordless song.

Siren song and Ghostshade don’t seem to be the only illicit items on the menu – it looks like at least one table is dedicated to fortune telling, while the sparks and smoke being produced as the drinks are being mixed hint at magic in the cocktails.

Either way, it looks like the kind of place that charges twenty-five dollars for a glass of water. My heart cinches – I have about eight dollars in cash, if I want to pay my rent tomorrow. I squirm and sink into my leather seat while Mel deliberates what to drink.

“What about you, kitten?”

“I… uh…” Uneasy, I rub my hands over my jeans. I’m not at all dressed to be here. “Water?”