6: Tipsy Griffin's

SASHA POV

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I protest as Zoe parks our vehicle on the street outside of the bar our intel claims is a hotbed of illicit activities perpetrated by a rogue coven of vampires. The neon sign on the front of the otherwise boring brick building is clearly flashing “Tipsy Griffin’s” in annoyingly orange letters.

“And that’s why I wouldn’t tell you why I started laughing so hard when you told us what you’d learned from your spying extravaganza this morning,” Rika informs me with a self-satisfied smirk.

“What’s the big deal? We can possibly handle two birds with one stone this way, yeah?” Zoe smiles, ever the optimist.

“You’re handling the dogs, if they show up. The vampires are enough for me to deal with, based on what Rika’s dredged up,” I reply irritably.

“That’s a fair deal. I don’t want any part of that vampire business. But that band—Sleepers Awake, was it?—isn’t playing until 10:30pm, and it’s only 7. We’ll probably have to stick around longer than it takes you to deal with the vampires.”

“As long as nothing goes sideways. Which, if it does, you’d best be prepared to intervene regardless of your personal inclinations.”

“Girl, you know I always got your back.”

“Ladies, please. Let’s just head in, scope the place out, make sure our intel is valid,” Rika intervenes soothingly. “No sense arguing about hypotheticals.”

She’s right, of course. I take a moment to verify that the contact lenses I wear to make my feline pupils look like human ones are appropriately placed and then get out of the SUV, the last of the three of us to leave the vehicle. All three of us are dressed as punk rock enthusiasts—distressed skinny jeans, combat boots, leather jackets, obscure band tee-shirts, and messenger bags covered with various pins and buttons. Rika’s bag contains her tech-to-go kit; Zoe’s has a couple mechanic’s tools and a change of clothes for me; and mine is loaded with wooden stakes, garlic-holy water grenades, and, in a secret compartment, a very sharp sword that Rika has outfitted with a device that disrupts electromagnetic signals and fields. I’m not sure exactly how it works, but metal detectors don’t detect the sword when the device is equipped.

For whatever reason, that precaution is not necessary at Tipsy Griffin’s. As soon as we walk through the door, which is completely unguarded by metal detectors or bouncers or any other precautions, we are greeted by a pretty hostess in a tight red dress who is unmistakably a vampire and immediately recognizes Rika as such.

“Welcome to Tipsy Griffin’s,” she smiles with unnaturally white teeth. “Right this way, please.” She leads us through a fairly standard, mostly uninhabited bar area—dark wood, sticky floors, pool and foosball tables, dilapidated booths and tables—to a railing that overlooks a concert stage, then turns right and unlocks and opens a door to some stairs leading downward.

“Is there seating downstairs?” Rika inquires.

“Oh, yes. Prime concert viewing. I assumed you’re here for that?”

“Yes, thank you.” We start down the stairs, although not without trepidation; however, my nerves relax slightly when the door closes behind us and I see that it cannot be locked from this side. We’ll be able to get out, but people in the bar area cannot get in without a key. I wonder why they have it set up this way?

Emerging from the narrow stairway answers that quandary. Everyone in the downstairs area, which is somewhat more populated than the upstairs area, appears to be supernatural in some way. Most of them are vampires, but I notice a couple lycans, an earth elemental—distinguishable by the shifting browns and grays in their eyes—and one I could swear is fae, but would have to speak with to be sure.

“Right this way, ladies. It’s a pleasure to have you with us this evening,” a vampire in the guise of a waiter interrupts my observations of our surroundings. “Would you prefer a table or a booth?”

“A table, please, a bit away from the stage,” Rika responds. We agreed before we left our townhouse that she would handle the social interactions with other vampires, if the need arose. They tend to trust their own kind most.

“An odd request, if you’re here for the concert. Might I ask the reason?”

“We enjoy our personal space more than mosh pits, and it’s our understanding that the bands playing tonight will be more than loud enough to hear in exquisite clarity from anywhere in your fine establishment.”

The waiter laughs, evidently surprised by Rika’s wit. “Of course, of course. Will this table do for you?”

“Perfectly, thank you.”

“And can I start you out with anything?” He hands each of us menus, which I can tell from a touch have been glamoured. They’ll look different to humans than they do to us, is my guess.

“A house special for me, please,” Rika replies, referring to a wine glass of A positive.

“Just water for me, please,” I ask, a request Zoe echoes. I don’t trust this place at all. Glamours notwithstanding, what we’ve seen so far is already in violation of WASP laws, and we haven’t seen a hint of the egregious misconduct Anselm spoke of when he gave us this mission.

“Right away.” He walks speedily towards this floor’s bar, leaving us in relative privacy. Music is blasting from the speakers—a preview of tonight’s scheduled acts, by the sounds of it—but I know that everyone in the bar can probably hear us if we speak above whispers.

“Zoe. Can you feel the place out?” I murmur. She’s looked incredibly uneasy since we first came down here, but she nods and closes her eyes at my request. Her feet are firmly planted on the floor. Her eyelids and fingers twitch a few times before she opens her eyes again.

“Another level below us. Metal walls encased in other materials. I think there’s soundproofing of some kind. Entrance is in the corner there, by the doors to the bathrooms,” she breathes, nodding discreetly in the direction she means to indicate. “One large main room and a couple small ones down there. Large room contains metal cages.”

“That would match our reports,” Rika mutters. “As would that hulking bouncer near what I assume is the door you mean.” She’s not wrong; the beefiest vampire I’ve ever seen is standing in that corner, arms folded imposingly across his chest with muscles bulging.

“You down to get him out of the way for me?” I ask her softly.

“I hate flirting with men. But I suppose, for justice to be satisfied, I can oblige. He’ll have to be…dealt with in your way also, won’t he?”

“Yes, but not up here. With that opening to the main level, we can’t cause a commotion here without being in violation of policy ourselves.”

“I’ve got just the thing to deal with all the staff.” She taps her fingernails meaningfully against a glass flask in her messenger bag. Vampire poison. She concocted it herself; in addition to being a technical wizard, Rika has advanced degrees in biochemistry and has studied every document WASP has on file about vampire physiology. “They’ll have a ‘Staff Only’ cooler in the back. I’ll get our bouncer friend to take me back there for a good time and we’ll handle it that way. Any who aren’t on the floor by the time we’re ready to leave tonight, well, those are all yours.” Her eyes meet mine meaningfully, but it wouldn’t take a genius to read between the lines.

“Agreed. And Zoe, once I’m down there, if you get a distress signal, can you crush that underground room like a pop can?”

Zoe closes her eyes again, feeling out the metal substructure. “More or less, with some finagling so as not to compromise structural integrity up here. But how will you—”

“Don’t worry about that. I still have most of my nine lives.” We’ve had a couple close calls, since we started working together a few years ago, but I almost never have to invoke the emergency backup plan.

“I just hope your luck never runs out.”

“Tonight won’t be the end of me. Timeline?”

“For now, we enjoy the ambiance. Once things start to get a bit crowded, I’ll go introduce myself to our bouncer friend and get him away from that door, one way or another,” Rika plots.

“I’ll be just inside the bathroom and dart into the lower level once you’ve given me an opening, then.”

“And from there it’s on you. Be careful,” Zoe admonishes.

“I’m always careful. But if our lycan friends show up while this is going down, it’s your job to entertain them.”

“Agreed.”

All my nerves are tingling with anticipation. The waiting is my least favorite part of any mission. Nothing can be undertaken hastily, though, and there’s no sense springing the trap before it’s full.

The waiter returns with our beverages, and Zoe orders an appetizer platter for her and me to share. We’re going to be here for a while. The first band sets up and starts playing, and they are terrible. However, it’s only once the band starts playing that we start to see traffic in the back corner where the bouncer stands guard. Always it’s vampires he lets in, but some of them have humans on their arms. Dazed and confused looking humans. The intel is on point, then. Damn it all.

I hate it when my job forces me to kill individuals who aren’t actually causing harm, like those fae children a couple days ago. But missions like this, where our targets are causing others to suffer—these are the missions I enjoy. I will have absolutely no problems with tonight’s execution of justice.

The first band packs up, and a second, somewhat less terrible, band takes their place. The bar is filling up, both upstairs and on this level. The amount of traffic heading towards the back corner of the room has slowed to a trickle. Rika’s eyes meet mine. Time to move.

“Watch our drinks for us, won’t you, darling?” I ask Zoe as I rise from my seat, feigning slight inebriation.

“Of course,” Zoe replies in kind as Rika takes my arm.

“Let’s go. That guy is cuuuuuute,” she grins with a wink. We dance our way through the crowd, talking and laughing loudly about nothing in particular, until we’ve landed ourselves directly in front of the imposing bouncer.

“You here for the main event?” he asks Rika, eyeing me curiously.

“Only if the main event involves you…and me…somewhere less…crowded,” she purrs, trailing a finger seductively down his rippling pectorals.

“I’ll just leave you two alone,” I grin coyly, slipping into the nearby ladies’ restroom. Through the door, I listen intently as the bouncer protests and Rika continues to flirt; for someone who hates flirting with men, she’s very, very good at it. After a few minutes, the bouncer succumbs to Rika’s seduction, and I waste no time in making my way to the entrance to the lower level. To my surprise and grim delight, the bouncer actually left the key in the doorknob. Bless you, Rika. I open the door, lock it, and take the key with me into the stairwell, closing the door softly but firmly behind me.

Say your prayers, bloodsucking scum, for Death has entered your house, and there will be no escaping Her.