Page 5 of Battle for the Shadow Prince (A Bargain with the Shadow Prince #2)

5

Bad Witches’ Club

ELOISE

B ad Witches’ Club is a nightclub for supernatural beings living among humans. It’s themed after all the dark characters from well-known stories and fairy tales, each section enchanted with magical ambience. The last time I was here, I had an uncomfortable run-in with the freezing temperatures of Narnia’s white-witch section. That visit changed everything.

Only a few months ago, I didn’t know witches were even real, let alone vampires and shifters, but they are, and apparently they like to party like the rest of us. I ordered Damien to bring me here to investigate Gold Weaver before we discovered Tony was using the magazine as a front to counterfeit and launder money. Then, I hadn’t a clue what I was in for. This time, when Maeve uses her special gold key to let me into the stark white room with the bare bulb swinging from the center of the ceiling, I’m already facing the wall we’ll walk through to get inside even before she relocks the door.

“Take a deep breath,” she says without even looking my way, as if she can smell my anxiety. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

“Right. Morpheus has to know something.” Blowing out a deep breath, I step through the enchanted barrier and am welcomed by the steady thump of house music. Before me, an enormous mural of an evil queen, her crown tipping back with her laugh, greets me. She’s my mother’s design. How could I have ever missed the sharp details that are the hallmark of her art? But then, I never suspected Mom could be a witch. “Looking back, there were signs,” I say absently as Maeve sidles up to me. “Like how she stood so close to the edge of the cliffs behind our house and how her hair looked freshly brushed even when the wind blew it every which way.”

“And your father could make anything grow. His landscaping business performed miracles.”

“Miracles,” I parrot. I can’t help it. The idea that my parents were magical, my mother a witch by birth and my father made one by drinking dragon’s blood, still seems unreal to me.

“We should go. I made an appointment, but Morpheus won’t wait around if we’re late.”

I take one last look at my mother’s mural and follow Maeve.

Morpheus’s office is in the back, the Hansel and Gretel section. Here the tables and chairs are all made to look like candy with peppermint stools and licorice railings. A trail of lacquered breadcrumbs is the hallmark of the walkway. The bar is decorated like the witch’s sugar-windowed cottage with a mural of the witch herself on the back wall, complete with an open, bloodstained oven. I catch a couple of vampires in the corner, making out atop a sofa designed to look like a pile of bones.

Maeve nudges me toward an unmarked door in the wall. She knocks three times, and it opens for us from the inside. We enter a surprisingly mundane office where Morpheus types vigorously on a sleek silver desktop Mac.

“Have a seat,” he rumbles without looking at us. The vibe reminds me of opening an account at my local bank. There are definite bank vibes in this office. Bank sounds.

I slowly sink into one of two GUBI meeting chairs across from him—again, very bank-like. Morpheus is an older-looking shade, an odd thing considering the creatures are immortal for all intents and purposes. Yes, they can be killed if they’re exposed to sunlight first, but Damien told me they otherwise don’t age. Also, now that I’ve seen Damien in his monster form—black-skinned, leather-winged, with talons and fangs—I know that the image I’m looking at is an illusion. So I wonder at Morpheus’s choice of appearance. A scar runs through his right eyebrow down to his upper lip. His skin is sallow, his dark eyes beady as a rat’s. If I’ve understood Damien correctly, he could make himself attractive by human standards if he chose to, but instead, he looks like this.

But when he turns those dark eyes on Maeve, I get it. I squirm in my seat at the intensity coming off him. Morpheus doesn’t want to be attractive. He wants to be intimidating. And he is. When his attention shifts to me, my palms instantly start to sweat.

“Ms. Harcourt!” His brow lifts as if he’s surprised to see me, and his entire face softens. “A pleasure to see the daughter of Diana Harcourt once again. Is this about getting you your own key? Maeve should have told you the front desk can handle that request.”

“No. Not that,” I say quickly. “Damien was taken. We need your help.”

Maeve shoots me a stern look like I’ve made a grave error. I don’t understand why until Morpheus leans back in his chair and laces his fingers over his waist. His previously warm smile morphs into something far more chilling. He glares at Maeve, eyes burning with repugnance. “Do the Gowdies wish to enlist the triune’s help in returning their guard dog?”

Shit. Now I understand why Maeve was hesitant to come here. Morpheus loathes her. His expression is dripping with barely restrained malice.

“No,” Maeve says. “But?—”

“Then I’m afraid I can’t help you. Show yourself out.” Morpheus turns back to his computer.

I open my mouth . “No… No…” I raise both hands. “This isn’t about her family at all. He’s my?—”

Maeve stomps on my foot. Oww.

“What Eloise means to say is he was her friend. We know you have a connection to Damien, and he’s missing. We are afraid something nefarious has happened to him. We were wondering if you’d heard anything about his disappearance.”

“Right,” I chime in. “You must be as concerned for him as we are. Damien told me you both come from the same world… Tenebris, right? Along with…” I try to remember the name of the third shade that was caught up in the Gowdies’ spell.

“Cassius,” Morpheus supplies flatly.

I nod once. “You have a history together.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “That was a long time ago.”

I scoot to the edge of my chair and lean across the desk. “He sacrificed himself for you. He bore the Gowdie curse for centuries so you and Cassius could be free.”

Morpheus studies me. “You seem to know a lot about the situation, Ms. Harcourt. How exactly does this have anything to do with you?”

“They’re friends,” Maeve interjects.

Morpheus rolls his eyes.

“I’m the one who freed him from the candle’s hold,” I interject.

The room plunges into a sudden and complete silence.

“ You freed him?” Morpheus finally says, leveling a stare as if I’ve suddenly become far more interesting to him. His nostrils flare and he leans in, studying me. I swallow hard, edging away until my back hits the chair, my hands gripping the armrests. Have I said the wrong thing again? “I heard he’d been freed but not how. Perhaps you have more of your mother in you than I assumed, Ms. Harcourt, to be powerful enough to break a Gowdie curse.”

Maeve shifts, her fingers tapping nervously against her thigh. “How exactly did you come to find out that our binding spell was broken, Morpheus?” she asks, drawing the heat of his attention back on herself.

Morpheus’s nostrils flare on a deep inhale. His eyes don’t stray from me as he answers. “Your Aunt Hildie. She was in here the other night, drunk on dragon fruit martinis. I overheard her tell that ancient friend of hers?—”

“Hazel?”

“The one with the hearing aid. I assure you, every vampire in the building heard the news.”

“Oh fuck .” Maeve’s curved fingers come to rest against her temple.

“What?” My gaze darts between her and Morpheus, my stomach contracting like it knows something I don’t. “Why are you saying fuck ? Vampires wouldn’t want Damien, right? What would they gain, taking him from me? It has to be a family of witches, doesn’t it?”

Morpheus’s nostrils flare again. In the time it takes a chill to travel the length of my spine, he’s standing beside me, the tip of his nose mere centimeters from my carotid. “You are his mate.” Not a question. Out of the corner of my eye, all I see is fang.

“Yes.” My voice is breathless from fear.

“Oh fuck, indeed,” he drawls.

I shiver at the way he’s looking at me.

“Morpheus,” Maeve says, the name holding a note of warning.

“Relax, Gowdie. I’m not crazy enough to lay a hand on another shade’s mate.” We both stare at him unblinkingly as he returns to his chair, his gait as steady and smooth as a flowing river. “I normally do not feel obligated to alleviate someone of their ignorance, but you are right about one thing—Damien and I have a history. You are correct, Ms. Harcourt, that I owe him for what he did the night we came through the rift. Even beyond that, it is a grave sin against our gods to separate mates. So let me fill you both in on circumstances that normally do not concern your kind. The vampire queen of Night Haven is in need of a consort, and she’s had her eye on Damien for years.”

“Night Haven.” I remember Maeve and Damien using the name of the place, but I otherwise know nothing about it. I certainly don’t remember Damien ever mentioning a vampire queen.

“That’s the subterranean city where the vampire covens of this area reside. Damien is a citizen,” Morpheus explains.

“Oh?”

“Damien never took the queen’s advances seriously because he was bound by the Gowdie curse. The queen would never take a consort charmed to obey a witch’s orders over her own. But if she knew his curse was broken, she’d want him for herself. As Ms. Gowdie can confirm, a shade is a very powerful weapon to have at your command.”

I rub my palms on my thighs. “You’re saying this vampire queen took him? But I thought the spell had to be performed by witches?”

Morpheus scoffs. “I don’t think she took him, Ms. Harcourt. I know. Everyone knows. The queen wanted him, and she has him. How she managed it, I haven’t a clue. But she has him. Only, she encountered an unexpected complication.”

“He was already mated to Eloise.” Maeve squeezes her eyes closed behind her glasses with a silent wince.

“Already mated,” Morpheus confirms, rubbing his chin.

“If you know where he is, why are we here? Where is Night Haven? Can you get him back?” I look between the two of them, waiting for someone to suggest next steps.

Maeve chews her lip.

“Oh, should you tell her, or can I?” Morpheus deadpans.

“I will.” Maeve turns in her chair to face me. “The queen wants a shade as her consort. She captured Damien. But to force him to be her consort, she first has to gain control of him by forcing him to be her mate. Vampires and shades mate for life. Neither can take more than one mate. The queen was probably shocked as shit to find out Damien’s cherry had already been popped.”

“Okay.” I blink twice. “Then why hasn’t she let him go? He’s useless to her.”

“He’s only useless to her while his mate is still alive.” Maeve says the words slowly, as if she’s speaking to a small child, and I’m thankful for that because my mind does not want to pick up what she’s laying down.

I feel my brows cram together. “She plans to…”

“Kill you,” Maeve fills in. “She needs to kill you in order to force him to be her mate and consort.”

“All right.” I pull myself together. “But if she wants me dead, why hasn’t she come for me yet?”

Morpheus leans forward in his chair, resting his chin in a nest of his fingers. “That’s the delicious part. No one knows who you are, Ms. Harcourt. The queen can smell the mating scent on him, just as I can smell it on you, but Damien has refused so far to give up your name. Just yesterday she offered a reward for any vampire who could unmask your identity.”

A bounty on my head. And now Morpheus knows. Shit. A chill skims along my spine, and I tamp down a growing flare of panic . For a second I just stare at him, swallowing repeatedly while I get ahold of my emotions. A meltdown right now won’t help anyone, especially not Damien. The vampire queen doesn’t know who I am. Damien hasn’t told her. Even Morpheus didn’t know until now. And that’s the only reason I’m still alive.

I burst out laughing, and they both look at me like I’ve fallen off my rocker. “Of course she has. It’s been almost a week since someone tried to kill me. I’m overdue!”

Morpheus exchanges a glance with Maeve. “Is she all right?”

Maeve nods. “Just give her a minute.”

Eventually I wind down and catch my breath. “So what happens next?”

Maeve locks eyes with Morpheus. “The Gowdies and Caspians have been allies for centuries. But if you do a single thing to put Eloise at risk, I will consider it an act of war.”

His lids lower. “You’d do well to remember that we do not respond to threats, Ms. Gowdie. However, in this case, I have no desire to help the queen. She has already amassed far more power than any of the supernatural communities are comfortable with. If she succeeds in mating Damien and forcing him to become her consort, she’ll be unstoppable. A shade bound to his mate by blood will protect her at all costs. He’ll obey her direct commands. He will be her deadliest weapon. It is imperative that Ms. Harcourt’s identity remain a secret.”

“If that’s the case, why not rescue him!” I say, popping out of my chair. “With the power of the triune, you could have him home before nightfall.”

Morpheus growls. “Sit down.”

I’m raging mad that he hasn’t already rescued his friend, but reluctantly I lower myself back into my chair.

The shade glares at me. “While I respect and admire Damien, unfortunately, crossing the vampire queen is akin to declaring war on Night Haven. I’m sorry for your loss, Ms. Harcourt, but that isn’t a battle my triune is willing to fight. I’ll keep your identity as his mate a secret, and I’d advise you to do the same, but that is all I can do for you.”

I glare at him right back, folding my arms in front of my chest. “Fine. At least tell me where this Night Haven is. We can go.”

He looks confused for a beat, darting a glance between Maeve and me, then snorts. “I can never tell when you humans are making a joke.”

“I’m serious.”

He folds his hands on his desk. “As a favor to Damien, I won’t share the location of Night Haven with you. And now I have truly paid my debt to him, for you and Ms. Gowdie, if she was dumb enough to help you, would be dead the moment you set foot in Valeska’s territory, if not for being his mate then because you are human and would make a delicious meal.”

I look him dead in the eye, my voice low as I say, “But we have to do something.” I’m so angry it feels like my skin might split like a dried husk to make room for all the fire in my veins.

“I am sorry,” he says, and this time there is no humor in his voice, only sorrow. “I cared for your mother, and Damien is a friend. I’d like to help you. But take it from a warrior far more experienced in the ways of war than yourself. You do not want to pick a fight with the queen of Night Haven. She’s a vicious, heartless psychopath. The worst of her species. She will lie, cheat, steal, or kill to get what she wants. Damien is a warrior and a very powerful shade. He’s faced worse than this in our world and survived. My advice to you is to lie low, allow Valeska to grow tired of looking for you, and trust that Damien will solve the problem of his freedom in time.”

Like he did with the candle? I stand again and stare down my nose at him. “There’s no doubt in my mind that Damien is strong enough to survive anything the queen throws at him on his own,” I say firmly. “But even the strongest among us need saving sometimes. That’s why we have friends and mates, so that we don’t have to face our enemies alone.”

Morpheus’s expression softens, even his scar becoming less pronounced, his eyes dulling with memories he doesn’t share, ghosts from a past spent in another world if I had to guess. “The only way he’ll truly be alone is if he loses you. Don’t make him suffer that fate.”

Maeve stands and takes my hand, tugging me toward the door. “Thank you, Morpheus. We appreciate your time and your silence.”

He bows his head and turns back to his work. I allow Maeve to guide me from the club, a lump lodged deep in my throat.