Page 70 of Shadowblood Souls: The Complete Series

Twelve

Riva

I t turns out that I didn’t really need my new favorite hoodie anyway, because Miami in September is freaking hot.

We cruise along the main strip with the air conditioning blasting, but I can still feel the heat radiating through the windows of our new car alongside the bright late-afternoon sunlight.

Jacob and Andreas nabbed this one not far outside Toronto, since it seems likely the guardians who survived the battle will have taken note of our previous vehicle.

The station wagon is clunky and a bit of an eyesore, but the back seat is more spacious than our most recent rides. I stretch out my legs where I’m perched next to the lefthand window.

Just this once, I managed to convince the guys that Zian should get a chance at riding shotgun. Both he and I need to be scanning the streets for possible monsters. Or shadowkind. Or whatever we’re going to call them.

The sun isn’t the only thing radiating through the windows. Thumping bass seems to reverberate out of buildings on every street and through the windows of open car windows on the road around us.

I kind of like it. It’s like the city is one big dance party.

Which is a good thing, because we’re doing a lot of cruising without any success so far.

There are a lot of hotels in Miami, and none of them come with signs announcing “Get your monsters here!” So we figure our best shot of finding the one we want is hitting up the local potential clientele.

Hopefully at least one of them will be a little more open to answering questions when that question is a simple, “Do you know where we can find a guy named Rollick?” But in the four hours since we crossed the city limits, Zian has spotted one woman who gave us the monster vibe, and she took off on us before we could even get the whole question out.

“We could go down to the beach,” Zian suggests with an unmistakably hopeful note in his voice.

Jacob kicks the back of his seat. “We’re not here to sunbathe. If the guardians have some way of getting the younger shadowbloods to track us, we can’t stick around here any longer than we absolutely have to.”

Zian lowers his head, abashed. “I know. But maybe monsters like the beach too.”

He pauses. “It’s supposed to be that in the ocean you can float no matter how heavy you are—because of all the salt. I never had the chance to try that.”

Andreas lifts his right hand from the steering wheel to tap Zian’s arm with his knuckles. “We’ll get you some beach time in there somewhere.”

At the obvious fondness in his voice and the fact that he wanted to reassure Zian at all, a twinge runs through my gut. That’s Andreas for you, always keeping his friends’ spirits up.

When he talks like that with Zian, he totally means it, no hidden agenda. Not like all those words of encouragement and reassurance he offered me in the first couple of weeks.

“After we’ve made some progress,” Jacob grumbles.

I jerk my mind back to the present and frown at the high rises we’re passing by. “We might have better luck after it gets darker. We only found the two monsters in Toronto when it was getting on into the evening.”

“Shadowkind sticking to the shadows,” Dominic murmurs from beside me. He’s been looking even more pensive than usual since we left Toronto.

He’s going to be uncomfortable even in his thinner trench coat anyplace without air conditioning. When we stopped to approach that one woman, he stayed in the car.

Maybe the creatures that call themselves shadowkind can teach him something to help with that problem too. Even if he can’t get rid of the tentacles, it’s possible there are other techniques for hiding or distracting attention from them that we simply haven’t discovered.

We leave behind the commercial strip for a row of ritzy-looking condo buildings, stark white against the deepening blue of the sky. As Andreas flicks on the turn signal to head back downtown, my gaze slides over the front courtyards—and stalls on two kids playing on a tiled walkway.

There shouldn’t be anything remarkable about them. It’s a boy and a girl, both of them I’d estimate around seven years old.

At least, that’s how old they appear to be. Because when my attention halts on them at the first niggling awareness, the now familiar tingle of recognition shivers through me.

It hits me twice, as I study each of them.

“Wait!” I call out.

Andreas takes the turn he already committed to but pulls over to the curb just a few car-lengths down the intersecting street. “What’s up? Did you see something?”

He twists in his seat to meet my eyes as the other guys watch me too.

I motion over my shoulder toward the condo buildings. “I know it’s going to sound ridiculous, but there were a couple of kids back there, hanging out in front of a building. They both gave off that shadowkind feeling.”

Zian’s forehead furrows. “Kids?”

Andreas cocks his head. “They might not actually be young. It could be some kind of illusion or other supernatural effect they’re putting on.”

Jacob tilts forward to get a full look at my face. “It was definitely them you got the vibe from?” he asks, with no sign of dismissiveness, only concern.

I nod. “I did a double-take after I got the first impression. It didn’t make sense to me either.”

“Let’s see what the kiddies have to say for themselves, then.” He glances at Zian. “Maybe you’d better hang back with Dominic, Zee. We don’t want to look like we’re ganging up on a couple of children.”

Zian grunts but stays put while Jacob, Andreas, and I climb out of the car. At the corner, I tip my head toward the two kids who are giggling as they poke at something on the ground with sticks.

They still look exactly like real, human kids. But I can’t ignore the jittering awareness that something isn’t quite right about them.

Something a lot like what isn’t quite right about me.

We walk over with a casual air that Andreas doesn’t even need to remind Jacob to maintain. The kids don’t glance our way until we veer off the sidewalk into the courtyard.

They pause, eyeing us, and the fat beetle they were prodding trundles away.

Andreas slings his hands in the pockets of his slacks and aims a warm smile at the two of them. “We’re a little lost and were hoping you might be able to help. Any idea where we could find a man by the name of Rollick?”

“He owns a hotel around here, we heard,” I put in.

The boy’s face pales. He flings himself away from us so fast I don’t have time to react, and then he’s vanished by the hedge.

The girl scrambles up too, but there’s a flicker of curiosity in her expression that stops her from outright fleeing.

“Please,” I say, taking another step toward her. “We won’t bother you any more than this.”

Her gaze darts over me, and she hugs herself. “Beach Bliss,” she spits out, and takes off in the same direction her partner went.

Jacob prowls after them with a huff of frustration, but Andreas already has his phone out. His thumb whips over the keypad, and a wider grin curves his lips.

“Beach Bliss Hotel and Nightclub,” he says, raising his head. “It’s just a twenty-minute drive from here.”

On the outside, the Beach Bliss Hotel fits perfectly with the other hotels along the prominent beachfront strip where it’s located. All white-washed walls and sleek modern styling, it stands a little taller than its nearest neighbors, though hardly a skyscraper at ten stories.

Its street-facing front glows with scarlet neon in the dwindling daylight. I can’t help thinking that color choice seems a little ominous compared to the pinks and blues on either side.

Even from across the street, my ears catch the pulsing of rhythmic music from the nightclub section that fills one half of the first two floors. More vivid lights flash through the otherwise dark windows.

It might be early in the evening, but the party appears to be in full swing already.

In the short while we’ve been watching, we haven’t seen anyone go in except for a few obvious travelers dragging wheeled suitcases. Either the club-goers are all hotel guests who’ve already checked in, or there’s an outer entrance beyond our view, maybe on the beach side.

“So…” Zian says with a doubtful expression. “We just walk right into the place?”

Jacob draws his already rigid frame up a little straighter. “Walk in, look for anyone monster-y, ask them how we’d speak to Rollick. Simple enough.”

He glances at Dominic, who’s still in the car, eyeing the hotel through one of the open car windows.

“I’m coming too,” Dominic says. “I shouldn’t be too noticeable in the club lighting.”

He gets out, the sleeves of his trench coat rolled past his elbows to allow him more relief from the heat. The air is just starting to cool as the sun sinks out of view.

We set off across the street and skirt the side of the hotel, picking up our pace when we spot a trickle of patrons heading into the building from a patio around back. Just in that first glimpse, the quiver of supernatural awareness wriggles through me.

I don’t have time to figure out which of the figures triggered the sensation before they’ve stepped out of view.

Thankfully, it looks like the club dress code is awfully loose—there’s a woman going in with just a sarong over her bikini and sandaled feet, and a couple of men in khaki shorts and tees.

My tank top and cargos should blend in just fine.

It doesn’t appear that security is particularly tight. No one is vetting people right at the door, although I do spot a couple of big dudes in professional-looking uniforms standing off to the sides just past the doors.

Because it’s early, the dance floor is only about half full, and most of those people are simply talking in clusters and maybe bobbing a little with the rhythm rather than outright dancing. I have to suppress the spring that wants to come into my step at the emphatic melody winding around me.

We’re not here to dance. We have a mission—one that’s all our own.