“The real question is, how couldn’t I? We all do things for a greater purpose, Sarah. You did yours to get the cure. I did mine for simple monetary gain.”
“For money?”
“I’ve lived a long time. Never had a goddamned penny to my name. I’m a three-hundred-year-old bartender, for Christ’s sake. You’ve had it so easy and you don’t even realize it. Thierry never helped me as much as he’s helped you, and even then I never would have sold him out like you just did. Then again, I didn’t know he was worth so much until today. Still, nobody but him ever lifted a finger to help me. Well, now I’m lifting a finger. My middle one—and I’m finally going to get what’s coming to me.”
My grip on the cell phone tightened. “Yes. You’ll get exactly what’s coming to you. As soon as I get there.”
“Gonna have to let you go, sweetie. The boss just got back, and he doesn’t look happy. It’s funny, him being worth all that money. Makes me look at him in a different light. That kind of cash would have been sweet, but I guess you beat me to the punch on that juicy little piece of information. C’est la vie.”
The phone went dead. I screamed into it and smashed it hard on the dashboard. It broke into pieces in my hand.
I glanced at Quinn. “Oops. Sorry. I’ll buy you a new one.”
“Forget it. What the hell was that all about?”
My numbness was going away. The fog was pulling away and leaving behind a hot line of rage.
“Zelda’s the traitor. I can’t believe it. I thought she was my friend.”
“Who’s Zelda?”
“The bartender at Midnight Eclipse. Looks like a teenager.” I stared out the window at the road ahead. “And as soon as we get back there, I think I’m going to ground her for life.”
Quinn was gunning it all the way back to Toronto, but it still felt as though we were moving at a snail’s pace.
“What’s the plan?” he asked as we saw the CN Tower ahead and the shimmering lake to our right.
I shook my head. I wasn’t going to panic. There wasn’t any time for a luxury like that. “I don’t know. Hope we’re in time to even have a plan.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I. I’m sorry about your father. Maybe the two of you just needed some time to work through all that stuff.”
He laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “I think that’s the only thing I’m not sorry about. He killed my mother. He treated me like I was shit on the bottom of his boot for nearly thirty years. Is it wrong to be happy he’s finally dead?”
I didn’t know how to answer that, so I didn’t. Finally we got to the club. It was just after ten o’clock. Quinn didn’t bother trying to park neatly, so we left the car with one tire up on the sidewalk. I ran to the front door and pushed it open, Quinn at my side. It was empty. Nobody at the front desk. The sound of recorded Musak-like tunes filled the air. I went toward the black door that led to the club and pushed it open. An entirely different kind of music filled my ears now. The black door must have been soundproof, because in the tanning salon there was zero indication that anything else was going on only a few feet away. The usual band was onstage, the Bettie Page-like singer belting out a tune. At the moment she was singing “Goldfinger,” the James Bond theme song.
At first glance, the only thing out of ordinary about the club was that it was filled way past capacity. There had to be at least a hundred vampires in there. It struck me as odd for a moment, but then I realized that other clubs were closed, either burned to the ground or shut down to prevent being burned to the ground. And here I thought Veronique wanted to keep things trucking because she was the traitor and wanted to give the hunters easier access. Now I knew it was simply a business decision. It took a lot of greenbacks to pay for her designer wardrobe. And with that many thirsty vamps filling the club, she must have been raking it in tonight.
“Sarah!” George raced up to me. His hair was sweaty and plastered to his forehead. “Am I glad you’re here!”
My eyes widened and I grabbed his muscled arms. “What’s wrong? Where’s Thierry?”
“Who cares where he is! Romance can wait, sweet pea. Do you see this crowd? I’m going nuts. Grab a tray and start taking orders.” He glanced at Quinn. “And you, too, handsome.”
I grabbed his shirt. “I’m serious, George. Where’s Thierry?”
He raised his eyebrows. “He’s around. I saw him just a minute ago, okay?”
I let him go and glanced toward the bar. “Where’s Zelda?”
“She’s gone. It’s just me and the new guy, and he’s a total waste of space. Come on. Help me out. I’ll owe you a big one, and you can take that any way you want to.”
“I thought you said you didn’t sweat the small stuff?”
“I lied. I’m sweating. Look at me, it’s disgusting.” He looked over at the bar to see a young vampire reaching over to refill his mug of blood. “Hey! Hands off!” He ran off to stop him.
I looked at Quinn.
“I’m not exactly in the mood to wait tables tonight,” he said.
I grabbed his shirt. “We have to find Thierry.”
We threaded our way through the busy tables until I felt a hand reach out and grab my arm. I spun around, ready to punch or kick whoever it was.
“Sweetheart,” a dark-haired man slurred. He was with a busty blonde, and both of them were obviously drunk. “Can we get a round of O pos and gins here? Actually, make them Rusty Nails, would you, toots?”
I turned away, ready to ignore him, but he pinched my ass hard enough for me to spin back around. I had to clench my hand at my side to stop from slapping him.
“Look, dickweed, do I look like a waitress to you?”
“You were the other night.”
“Oh. Well, I’m not now. And hands to yourself, buddy.”
“I’m going to complain to the management.”
But I’d moved far enough past him not to care. I glanced at Quinn. Considering the horrible night it had been, especially for him, he actually had the audacity to look amused.
“What?”
“Dickweed?”
I shrugged. “And your point? He was one and I call ‘em like I see ’em.”
“I can imagine what you want to call me right now.” His amused expression faded.
“Don’t get all melancholy on me. I need you to keep it together.”
“You need me?”
“Yeah. Now don’t go getting any ideas, though.”
“A discussion for another time?” He looked at me hopefully.
“You’re impossible.”