This Side of the Grave (#5 Night Huntress)

Sometimes the old-fashioned way was the best choice, even if it meant a greater risk.
Tate pulled the needle out of his arm, and the small hole healed before he’d handed over the now full bag.
“There’s someone else who might be useful with this operation,” he said slowly. “A freelance reporter who keeps exposing classified paranormal
information to the public.”
“How can a reporter help track a group of ghoul zealots? I doubt they advertise their anti-vampire rallies in the newspaper.”
“This guy’s got good instincts,” Tate replied with a touch of grimness. “So good that we now have an employee whose sole job is to find ways to
discredit him every time his Ugly Truth e-zine goes up with way too many things the public isn’t ready to know.”
I wasn’t convinced a reporter would help. Especially one who blitzed the Internet with supernaturally sensitive information, but far be it for me to
leave any stone unturned.
“So you’re going to apprehend this modern-day Morpheus and talk him into aiding our cause?”
Tate’s mouth curled. “No, Cat. You are, because for starters, he happens to be in Ohio.”
Chapter Seven
I gazed at the narrow road in front of us, thick trees on either side giving the area a naturally secluded feel.
“Of all the places, figures he’d come here,” I muttered. “If we’re even let in the door, I’ll be amazed.”
Bones slanted a grin my way as he steered the car off the road onto a gravel drive. An open gate about a mile ahead was the only indicator that
this road led to something other than a dead end.
“We’ll get in. Trust me.”
Once we were through the chain-link gate, a large warehouse came into view. From the outside, it looked abandoned, windows boarded up and
only a few scraps of trash in the empty parking lot. If I didn’t have supernatural hearing, I wouldn’t have caught the music wafting out from the
soundproofed walls, but snatches of songs rode on the wind as unseen doors periodically opened.
Bones drove around to the back. Once behind the warehouse, another parking area came into view, this one packed with cars. Because of its
unusual clientele, the real entrance to the club was here, the decrepit warehouse image in front set up only to discourage motorists accidentally
passing by.
“Why don’t we just hang out here until he comes out of the club?” I asked. “If we go inside, we might be recognized.”
I’d left my wedding ring at the hotel we checked into, but I hadn’t dyed my hair or done anything else to disguise my appearance. And Bones’s
looks meant he stood out no matter what color his hair was.
He shrugged. “It’s better if we are recognized. We’ll only be in Ohio a few more days, but if we’re seen frequenting pubs, there’s less chance
those ghouls will think we’re on to them. They’d expect us to stay hidden if we were.”
He had a point. I’d expected us to stay hidden, after all.
“Besides.” Something cold glittered in Bones’s eyes even though his voice remained light. “If they think we’re unaware of any danger, some of
them might be thick enough to try taking us on. I’d only need to keep one alive to verify that it’s Apollyon behind these attacks.”
I shifted in my seat. Put me in a straight-up fight and I had no qualms about getting lethal, but when it came to the sort of interrogation Bones was
talking about, I wished there was a better way. There wasn’t, of course. Not when it came to the undead, and if things had to get messy to stop a
potential ghoul uprising . . . well, just call me Hannibal Lecter. With cleavage.
Headlights flashed in the rearview mirror as another car entered the parking lot. Tiny and Band-Aid would keep an eye out here. That meant
there would be no surprise ambush later when we were coming out of the club, which made me more relaxed.
Bones parked and I got out, brushing a few specks of lint off my charcoal-colored skirt. It was tighter than I preferred, plus low enough to expose
my navel and several inches of my stomach with my midriff halter top, but the goal was to look more interested in fun than fighting. The knee-high
boots might be expected to contain a blade or two, but only a very careful person would notice the texture of my heels as something other than
wood. Or the faint outlines on my back underneath my top as something more than a strapless bra.
Bones was also dressed as though entertainment were his only motivation. His long-sleeved top was made entirely of black mesh, his crystal
skin exposed more than it was covered with the material. Leather pants hung low on his hips, tight enough to hint at his assets, but with enough give
that they wouldn’t hinder his movements. The all-black ensemble combined with his dark hair only made his pale skin even more striking by
comparison, drawing the eye to the muscled flesh those hundreds of tiny holes revealed.
He caught my lingering gaze where the peep show of his skin ended and the front of his pants began—and flashed me a wicked grin.