Chapter 8

The club was dim on the outside, like a cinema, large windows like dark eyes, the door was especially like jaws, with a ragged black curtain hanging from the top ledge as though it had been slashed. A tendril of its coarse material scraped against her cheek as she passed through into the cloak room behind it.

Blade took her coat, hanging it in a corner along with his own knee-length black leather coat. Timidly, she followed him into the room, followed by two other people, dressed entirely in black as though for a funeral that carefully ignored her.

A bar tender sleepily rinsed spectacles with a cloth before pressing them back on the bridge of his fleshy nose, shooting a glance at her through watery eyes and turning to polishing a pint glass.

There were about six other couples sitting at the small round tables scattered throughout the room, a few strobe lights shedding watery white light down from the rafters, from which came a few movements every few seconds: bats were clustered within the roof, dozily waiting for nightfall. A breeze of brisk cold air sped through a small window through which the bats would leave at dark.

A crowd of kids were by what she presumed to be a stage, though it was small enough really to be only called a pedestal, around which was clustered the dark shapes of instruments: a set of drums, a guitar case hanging open like a vampire's coffin. Talking of which, one of the 'kids' turned and flashed a pair of fangs at her in a leer. She kept her eyes on the ground after that, as Blade led her to a table. "Do you want something to drink?" he asked awkwardly as though stuck for something to say.

She spread her hands in a small, helpless gesture. "I don't mind."

"I'll get you a drink then," he said, swiftly walking away as a girl twisted to face her, sitting at a table a small distance away. She wore crimson nail polish, a silver ring on her finger with a black dahlia… witch, Sarah remembered suddenly.

"Hazel," the girl introduced herself coolly. "Who are you?" she spoke as if Sarah was a filthy rat and she a princess.

"Sarah," she answered just as coldly.

"Don't go icy on me," the girl said in exactly the same tone with just a touch of exasperation. "I don't pick my voice, honey."

"Too right she doesn't," the guy sitting with her agreed earnestly, nodding, a hand curled around a glass of coke. The girl, Hazel, turned and smiled at her partner briefly before turning back to Sarah. "I just noticed that you're on edge. It gave me a headache." She said it all plainly like commenting on her makeup.

"Sorry," Sarah muttered.

"Watch out," the guy warned. "Hazel thrives on getting herself embroiled in everyone else's problems."

"Whereas he drowns himself in knowing the future," Hazel shot back. "And loses track of the present."

The guy nodded like he was used to agreeing with Hazel.

Blaze had come back just in time to hear the last part of it. "If you can tell the future," he said casually, "then how about telling Sarah's future."

"Twenty dollars," the guy said, bored, holding out a hand expectantly.

Worse, Blaze was actually putting his hand in his pocket.

"No," Sarah said in dismay, putting a hand on his arm. "Don't."

He gave her a mischievous smile. "Afraid of knowing what lies ahead?"

How could she say that yes, she was? Afraid that knowing might tamer with what lay ahead or worse…what if there should be a mention of Kierlan? At that, her blood ran cold. "No," she said fiercely. "But it's not worth it, Blaze. Please."

Puzzled, he frowned at her, then sighed and took his hand from his pocket. "How about if I prove it's okay?" he asked good-naturedly, a twenty dollar bill in his hand. He handed it to the guy.

"It's—" she stopped herself: she'd been about to say that it was a waste of time. But saying that in the hearing of not one witch but two was asking for trouble. She bit her tongue and looked down at the table.

"He takes ages," Hazel said drowsily, getting up. Blade took her chair as the guy tucked the twenty dollar bill into his wallet. She came and sat by Sarah. "Are you okay?"

Sarah shrugged, afraid of what the guy might say.

"Lance doesn't mess with the future, don't worry," Hazel assured her. "He's got like a colour code in his head telling him what's important not to say and what can be said. It'll all be trivial stuff, don't worry."

She tried to listen in on what the guy was saying to Blade, but the two males were quietly talking now, heads close together. Fear clutched at her insides like wiry thread binding her.

Blaze looked satisfied enough when he sat back, lightly placing a hand on her shoulder as Hazel got up and went back to her chair. "Wait," Lance lightly requested and Hazel stood still. Standing up, he murmured something in her ear and a look of intrigue came over Hazel's face until she finally nodded and took a ten dollar bill from his hand, going to the bar for another drink.

"How about a free reading?" Lance murmured in her ear, suddenly standing behind her. "How about it, little mouse?"

Blade grinned. "Come on, Sarah. He's good at it. He knows what he's talking about…a free reading isn't anything to sneeze at."

"Too right," Lance agreed, crouching slightly to speak softly in her ear. "I'll do it privately, where he can't hear," he promised.

At that, Blade looked disappointed then shrugged, giving Sarah a small smile. "How about it?" he cajoled.

"Oh, fine," Sarah sighed, then got up. "You won't tell any of this stuff to anyone else?" she asked worriedly.

Lance shook his head, wrinkling his nose. "Nah. I want to know what's going on. Who you are, Sarah Strange."