Chapter 13: God Bless Drunk Girls in Nightclub Bathrooms

X

Likely only due to the compulsion of the mirror as well as the spirit of the ancient queen trapped within it, Rei skittered backward as the demons flew, somehow managing to avoid becoming trapped between the demons and the rooftop ledge when they came thundering down before her. Tiles cracked under their feet with a clatter, a spray of broken ceramic dusting Rei's toes in their strappy sandals like a hail of jagged-edged bullets. She'd managed to lurch back under the pergola, calves bumping into the low coffee table with a thump.

These were the same two demons (demons, demons, actual demons!) who'd tried to kidnap her two nights prior, of course. She recognized their broad faces and curling horns. The sadistic smiles on their mouths were also pretty hard to mistake. The smiles had burned themselves into her memory ever since they met, staring back at her in her dreams, reaching for her with curving claws and promises to devour her eyes—

Rei realized just how hard she was breathing with a start. Her chest rose and fell in hard, harsh pants, air rushing from her mouth like striking sleet. If she were a cat, her hair would have risen along her spine in a sharp stripe.

She was not a cat, however. She was just a woman, contending with demons without the aid of claws or teeth.

"Hello, Rei," one of the demons (the literal, actual demons!) said as they straightened up, coattails flapping upon the wind. How anyone could ever mistake them for humans, horns or not, it was impossible for Rei to say. "We meet again."

"Too soon for me, sorry," Rei said—and she whipped around, grabbed her untouched martini, and chucked it right at them.

She was pretty sure the demons weren't expecting that move. Given their wide grins and lax stances, ham-hock fists hanging loose and languid at their sides, she suspected they thought they had her dead to rights and were going to… well, probably gloat about it, was her thinking. Rei was relatively certain that if she hadn't tossed her drink, they would have resorted to taunting her, probably. Traded some witty repartee and veiled threats—that sort of villainous thing, or whatever. Too bad Rei wasn't interested in playing the part of a kidnapping victim, like, at all? Throwing the martini was a pathetic show of protest, true, but it certainly made her feel a little better when she turned tail and ran like hell away from the demons, toward the rooftop bar and the stairwell hidden inside it.

The demons, meanwhile, weren't so happy. After a series of curses and the shattering of glass, one of them said, "Aw, yeah. She's a fighter." He said 'fighter' the way most people say 'asshole'. "Almost forgot about that."

"My shins didn't forget," Rei heard the other say before a set of heavy feet pounded the ground. "Get back here, you little bitch, or—"

No time to listen; she was already halfway into the bar, where patrons saw her running and let out a shout of surprise, one that rose in volume when she overturned a table or two, drinks smashing against the pavement as she beat a hasty path to the stairwell door. Those shouts got louder still as she slammed into the stairwell, because by then the demons had gotten into the bar, as well—probably to overturn more tables and yell at people, judging by the screams of both partiers and shattering cocktail glasses. Rei didn't stop to see what specific form of mayhem they caused, however. She was too busy running down the stairs as fast as she fucking could.

The heavy metal door to the stairwell banged against the doorjamb when it fell shut behind her. The roof was five stories up, the door to the club lying at the very, very bottom of the stairs (stairs that hadn't seemed too intimidating when she first climbed them to reach the rooftop bar, but ones that now seemed as steep as an escalator to hell). She tried not to think about how fast the demon dudes could run as she took the steps two at a time, listening as the music from the downstairs club began thudding in the walls with a quick pop beat. Despite the steadily rising music, she still flinched when she heard the stairwell's upper door rocket open so hard it collided with the wall. Two heavy sets of feet crashed down the stairs after that, tracking the clatter of her high heels as she made her way toward the club—to populated areas, where surely they wouldn't dare touch her.

Well. Probably wouldn't dare touch her, anyway. She wasn't sure what would stop these demons, and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out.

Rei reached the bottom of the stairwell just as the demons leapt down two or three flights of stairs behind her. (Descending far faster than she had—fuck these demons and their stupid demon speed!) The metal door to the club, one marked with a glowing red EXIT sign above it, looked like the pearly gates of heaven to Rei, but just as Rei touched the metal bar across its face, she stopped cold. Looked at the door for a minute. Threw it open, hard, so that it banged into the wall with an enormous crash. Music and flashing lights poured out across her face, bass pulsing in her teeth like a mouthful of wasps.

She didn't go through the door, though.

Instead she toed off her heels, turned her back on the club, and crept back to the bottom level of stairs—and to the small, dark crawl space below them.

Rei managed to squirrel herself away below the lowest rise of stairs just as the demons came down them like a murderous, eyeball-eating avalanche. She clasped both hands over her mouth and nose and curled into a tiny ball, not daring to make a single sound, lungs screaming and veins thundering with adrenaline as she watched the demons' feet turn the corner and head for the club door. She had to hope the demons didn't have, like, dog noses or whatever, eyes watering from lack of oxygen as the demons came to a stop before the gaping door to the club. Could demons smell fear? Let's fucking hope not…

Her hopes almost collapsed when the demons stopped by the door, watching as it fell shut with a bang—still settling down after Rei had wrenched it open earlier. Just liked she hoped it would.

"Shit!" one of them swore. "She got away!"

"And the little bitch's signal is too damn weak to detect with all these humans everywhere," said the other.

"Yeah, but at least that purple hair's easy to spot."

"Wrong move on her part." His already deep voice roughened into an outright growl. "I don't care what you say: I'm breaking her damn legs!"

"No arguments here," said his companion. "We just need her eyes, anyway."

"C'mon." One foot moved toward the door with a clunk. "We'll find her no matter how far she runs."

Joke's on you, suckers, Rei thought, hands still clamped over her burning face. I can't run, but I can hide! Her eyes watered, lungs spasming and temples pounding. Oh, wait… that's not how the saying goes!

But the demons could not read minds, and thus they did not comment on Rei's mixing of maxims. They just entered the club and let the door shut behind them, at which point Rei finally let her hands fall from her face so she could guzzle down great, big gulps of air. Smoothing her hands over her wig, tugging it into place with her thumb, she stretched her bare feet out ahead of her along the cold floor and let her head hang on the end of her limp neck. That had been a close call. Thank fucking Christ they'd fallen for her fake-out. If they hadn't…

Rei did not want to think about that, so she did not.

Instead she thought about what to do next, and how she had no fucking clue what that even was.

First of all, the club only had one exit, and Rei couldn't exactly fly (or jump, or whatever) like those demons had when they'd accessed the roof. That meant she was trapped between two eyeball-eating demons and a sheer drop to her death off the roof of the building—not exactly great options, in Rei's humble estimates. But with no options of escape left to her, where the hell was she supposed to go? The demons would probably double back if they realized she wasn't in the club, and that meant time was of the essence, and that meant—

A flash of pain in her hand told Rei she was gripping onto her high heels so tightly, the little gold buckle on the main strap had bitten into her palm. She unclenched bit by bit, telling herself to calm the hell down with every movement. If she panicked, she'd get herself killed, and she didn't need a magic mirror to tell her that much.

… the mirror!

Rei had somehow managed to get it into her pocket during her flight for freedom, and here she took it out again, holding the mirror aloft in the darkness below the stairs to stare into its polished surface. But try though she might, no face of an ancient queen eclipsed her own. The only eyes she saw reflected on its face belonged to her. And even when she cried Himiko's name and demanded her to help, the mirror remained as flat and lifeless as a piece of broken glass.

OK, then. So Himiko wasn't available on speed-dial.

But maybe certain other supernatural entities in Rei's life were on speed-dial.

Rei's phone numbered among the handful of objects she'd brought with her to the club. However, calling Yusuke and Kurama's numbers resulted in nothing but voicemail access—probably because they were too busy to answer, or the clubs were too loud for them to hear their phones ringing. Or maybe signal was too bad inside the club; Rei herself hadn't had any bars until she went up to the roof. And that meant getting help from Kurama, Yusuke and Kuwabara was as unlikely as getting it from Himiko herself. But without being able to reach them, what the hell was Rei supposed to do?

Digging her fingers into her neck, Rei groaned and massaged her nape. Damn, she hadn't been clubbing in years, and she'd forgotten the most important rule of a fun night out: Always have a rendezvous point, and always pre-schedule frequent check-ins with your friends throughout the night. If she'd done that, she wouldn't be in this mess! Someone would come looking for her when she didn't report in for a check-in!

"Dammit," Rei swore to herself. "I've lost my party-girl edge. Fuck!"

But no amount of poor planning could force Rei to give up hope of getting herself out of this one; she had recovered from worse parties, even if they hadn't been quite so perilous, and she told herself that this one would be no different. With all of the above options exhausted, Rei realized with mounting horror that there was only one, realistic option left to her: She needed to brave the dangers of the club and find Yusuke. Well, maybe not Yusuke. He'd accepted a couple of shots from her burlesque friends and might not be in the best frame of mind as a result. And Kuwabara, meanwhile, was drunk out of his goddamn mind, which meant he was no help whatsoever. That left Kurama. But where was Kurama, in that case? Probably in the bathroom babysitting Kuwabara, but that was just a guess…

Either way, first thing's first: Rei needed a plan, and to have a plan, one first needed a goal. Her goal had to be to find Kurama, given her lack of alternative options. And that meant that her plan had to be…

Lively bass thrummed through the floor and into her legs.

Rei took a deep breath.

Rei put back on her shoes.

Rei stood, braced herself, and walked into the club.

X

The dance club was set up a lot like the jazz club. The room had been laid out in a gigantic rectangle, with upraised platforms along the southern, western, and eastern walls where club-goers could sit and relax on plush couches and velveteen chairs. Along the north wall, a DJ on a stage pumped his fist skyward, lights dancing and flashing in time to his carefully orchestrated beats. Along the southern wall underneath the upper catwalk sat a bar and a bunch of tables, where people lounged while sipping drinks and talking over the roar of the music. The place had been done up in cool silvers and blues, swirling lights sparkling with greens, aquas, purples and scintillating whites. Tiles beneath the dancefloor lit up in time to the music, too, dying the dancers' faces shades of brilliant luminescence.

Rei didn't need the bar, the dancefloor, or the DJ, though.

Rei needed the bathroom—and she walked through the club's front door on the hunt for it.

Himiko had apparently abandoned Rei's ass, but some alternative higher power must've been looking out for her. The sign for the bathroom availed itself at once, tucked beneath the catwalk on the room's western edge… although this was on the opposite side of the club as the stairwell Rei had come out of. She therefore had no choice but to dive straight into the crowd on the dancefloor, shimmying between bodies as she headed for her target. She kept one eye out for the demons, too, and for a minute she thought that maybe they'd left the club—but then two heads, far taller than the rest of the clubbers, seemed to sprout into the air a ways to her left, over by the DJ station amid the dancing part-goers. One of the demons pointed above the crowd, mouthing something to his equally tall partner, who then shoved a dancer out of the way and took a step in Rei's direction.

Something funny happened, then. Before Rei could so much as recoil in fright, a shout rang up from the crowd, ripples of disquiet throwing off the clubbers' dancing in a wave. People turned toward the demons as if drawn there by a magnet. Instantly, one demon—the one who hadn't shoved someone—grabbed the other's arm, shaking his horned head. The pair of them hunched a little, then, as if trying to blend in with the short human crowd.

Interesting. So they were supposed to keep things subtle, huh? Not give their presence away? Not make a scene? That's what it looked like to Rei, at least, and she was happy as hell to see it. If they couldn't use their super-speed and strength, that gave her one small advantage amidst the chaos.

And she intended to make good use of it.

Rei ducked below the other dancing bodies before she could see the demons start toward her again. This shit was stressful enough without pair of Godzillas breathing down her neck. Not daring to look back, she fought her way to the bathroom through the crowd. The crowd was going to help hide her and slow down the demons, sure, but that advantage wasn't going to last. As she struggled, slipping between bodies, jostled with every step, eyes and ears dazzled by the lights and music, Rei wondered—should she go into the men's room immediately and look for Kurama?

No, not an option. As she emerged from the dancefloor crowd and neared the bathrooms, a group of men left the bathroom at a slow amble. Dudes would probably freak if they saw her entering the men's room, so she made a hard turn and entered the ladies' room, instead.

And good timing, too, because just then she heard a booming voice cry above the thumping music, "There! There she is!"

Fuck. She didn't dare look behind her, but Rei knew it had to be the demons. Thank God there wasn't a line at the women's restroom, at the very least. She slipped through the door and inside it with a prayer on her lips, one whispered in gratitude to the universe for this small favor.

The bathroom was as nicely appointed as the rest of the club, with black marble counters, chrome-plated pipes, and huge mirrors in platinum frames, stalls covered with floor-to-ceiling doors to hide occupants from view. Into one of these Rei slipped, shutting and locking the door behind her so she could lean against it and sigh, relieved at her escape. Damn, did it feel good to feel safe—

…or was she even safe here at all?

Somehow she doubted it, feeling stupid for ever having entertained the thought in the first place. How the fuck had she even considered that demons might respect the sacred boundary of gender segregated washrooms! Hell, Rei didn't even believe in gender half the damn time, herself! This place was no sanctuary, that's for sure, and suddenly the walls of her tiny bathroom cubicle (scented by some unseen device with the aroma of lemongrass) felt more like a trap than a safe-room.

Pants firmly on her ass, Rei sat on the toilet and groaned, head falling into her hands. This sucked. This was not good. The demons couldn't draw attention to themselves, so they probably wouldn't come barging in right away (two burly dudes in flasher trench-coats forcing their way into a women's bathroom weren't exactly subtle), but it was only a matter of time until they lost their patience… or so Rei had to assume. But what was she supposed to do now that she was trapped? Could she get a signal to Kurama somehow? No, no, probably not… She needed to leave the bathroom and try to get into the men's or something, look for Kurama and Kuwabara. But with the demons looking for her, how could she hope to find them before she got caught? She couldn't look for Kurama if the demons were looking for her

Hunched as she was, the strands of Rei's purple wig tumbled around her face in a glossy curtain.

Rei's head lifted off her hands, black eyes staring sightlessly at the tips of her hair.

What was it the demons had said about her? That her purple hair was easy to spot? The demons were looking for purple hair, not her. And that meant…

Suddenly, she had an idea.

Rei reached into her pocket, where she'd left a tube of lipstick. The metal case felt cold against her fingertips, double-C of the Chanel logo rough under her manicured nails.

"Heh." Rei grinned. "I fucking love a makeover."

The door to the bathroom swung open with a creak and a louder wail of electronic music, but the only feet that clattered against the tiles wore high heels—definitely not the heavy shoes of Rei's pursuers. Once she released the breath she'd been holding, Rei got up, listening with half an ear as someone started barfing into the toilet in the next stall. Another girl murmured comforts in her ear as Rei shrugged out of her suit jacket and hung it on the purse hook on the back of her stall's door. Next she kicked off her heels, and then her pants. Her white button-up shirt was wrinkled as hell, but she smoothed it out as best she could, pulling the back as far down over her ass as it would go. It barely covered anything, but given there were quite a few half-naked burlesque people running around that night, she didn't think it was too big of a big deal. In fact, she'd probably fit right in. She'd also worn a pair of black hose under her pants for warmth, which helped hide the fact that she this outfit was totally not what she'd meant to wear that night. Once she slipped her shoes back on, though, she'd bet money that some people thought the style was 100% intentional. Especially once she took her belt out of her pants and used it to cinch in her waist, plus cover up some of the shirt's wrinkles. The structure of the belt made the outfit look complete, or so ran Rei's not-so-humble thinking.

Too bad she'd have to leave her jacket and slacks, so perfectly tailored and lovely, behind in the bathroom when she made a run for it.

"Pity," Rei murmured to no one. "I liked that suit…"

She told that joke to distract herself, but now was not the time for distraction. Centering herself, Rei took a deep breath. Then another. And then a third.

Now came the hard part.

Slowly, carefully, Rei removed her wig. Ran her hand over the bald patches decorating her scalp like craters on the moon. Considered what to do about her hair—or lack thereof. The demons were looking for purple hair. Her wig, her armor, made her a walking target. But she couldn't go out with her bare scalp on display, either—and not just because her pride would not permit it. No, Rei couldn't venture out of the bathroom like this because it would no doubt draw too much attention to her, which was the opposite of what she wanted. But she couldn't keep wearing the purple, so…

The silk pocket square in her jacket pocket gleamed in the light of the warm overheads. With a gasp she whipped out the square—more like a scarf, really, that she'd managed to fold up tight enough to fit in her breast pocket—and folded it into a triangle so she could tie it over her hair. She used one of the many necklaces she wore to affix it in place, leaving a bit of chain to trail down over her exposed nape. The scarf's corners jutted up atop her brow, perkily pointing skyward in two gold tails. You could probably see some of her scalp at the back of her head and at the bottom of her nape if you looked closely, but to Rei, this was certainly better than nothing.

And yet, it still wasn't a good enough disguise.

Thanking the ghost of Himiko that she'd left her wallet at the bar, she removed her lipstick and phone—not to mention haunted the mirror—from her coat. All but the lipstick she tucked into the waistband of her hose before placing her hand on the stall's lock.

Rei stood there for a long time. Longer than she'd ever admit to anyone.

Then, slowly, she stepped unlatched the door and walked out, into the restroom at large.

Rei left her pants and jacket in the stall when she stepped up to the mirror above the sink. The reflection staring back at her was perfect, of course, at least from the forehead down. She wouldn't stand for anything less than perfection for a night out. Her makeup had been applied with a deft hand, with flawlessly arched brows, tasteful blush, vivid red lipstick, smoky eyeshadow, and rich, full fake eyelashes crowning the look with that little over-the-top something that got people to turn their heads when she walked by.

Too bad none of it could stay.

Painfully aware of how different she looked without her panoply of makeup, every motion laced with regret, Rei bent her face toward the sink and turned on the tap. She ripped of her eyelashes (magnetic, and her favorite pair of falsies, to boot) and stuffed them in her breast pocket before scrubbing her foundation, bronzer and highlighter away, blotting off her lipstick with a paper towel, rubbing her eyes with her fingertips until all traces of her smoke eyeshadow washed down the drain. She took care not to smudge her brows entirely away (going browless also drew attention, she knew from painful experience), but smudge them she did until their perfection faded, suggestions of hair wispy and thin and fragile on her skin. Work finished, she studied herself in the mirror, carefully cataloging the streaks of makeup she hadn't been able to get off without makeup remover.

She looked… plain, like this. Plain and messy, like she hadn't tried to look her best at all. Her eyes had lost their sparkle, her lips their fullness, her cheeks their healthy glow. The person staring back at her was a wan, dull stranger—a person who did not reflect the way Rei pictured herself when asked to paint a mental image. But still the stranger stared back at her, defiant and unrelenting.

This is you, the reflection told her.

Quickly, Rei averted her eyes. Busied her hands so she wouldn't think about how ugly she appeared. Applied dots of lipstick to her cheeks, blending them out into a hectic blush that made her think of clowns, or children trying on their mother's cosmetics with clumsy hands. Then, once more, she stood back to study her reflection.

It's amazing, how different a person looks without lipstick, with faded brows, no lashes, no eyeshadow and bad blush. Her face had transformed, even the structure of her cheeks and jaw appearing different without contouring. The lashes were what put it over the top, though. Without them, she'd been transformed into a different person. Looking at herself, Rei felt confident the demons wouldn't recognize her unless they truly tried to see past the artifice—but what if she was wrong? What if this disguise didn't work?

"Oh my god," slurred a bright, feminine voice. "Is that your wig?"

Rei flinched, reaching for her hair, but there was no wig to adjust, no fake layer of hair to shield her from the eyes of this stranger. Behind Rei stood one of the girls who'd come into the bathroom before, thin frame swaying atop her towering high heels (her friend continued to puke in a nearby stall, a third girl still whispering comforts so quietly, Rei almost couldn't hear them). The girl ogled Rei through wide eyes rimmed in false lashes Rei appreciated immediately, and not just because she was no longer wearing her own pair. Immaculately dressed in a pink body-con number, she wore her hair bleached to a gorgeous, glossy chestnut Rei envied on sight. But Rei ignored the jealousy in her chest in favor of noting the way the girl stared at the wig lying beside the sink, violet strands glossy against the black marble countertop. Rei didn't remember carrying it out of the stall, but apparently she had, holding onto the wig—her security blanket—subconsciously. Looking at the wig made Rei want to jam it over her head again, but the envy in the girl's eyes did more than echo the avarice in Rei's own—they gave her an idea. And a good one, at that, if not a little evil.

"Yeah." Rei grabbed the wig and held it toward the girl. "Do you want it?"

The girl blinked at her with a startled peep of, "What?"

"Here." Rei plopped it over the girl's silken locks (ones she tried not to envy as they brushed her wrist, but at this endeavor she spectacularly failed). Still, she stood back from the girl and forced herself to smile, feigning appreciation. "Wow! It looks so good on you!"

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" The girl examined her reflection with a squeal of delight, turning to Rei with a smile—and then with a moment's shy hesitation. Fishing in her purse, she said to Rei, "Do you—do you want some lipstick?"

From her purse she produced a tube of coral lipstick, and of a brand Rei actually preferred. Rei abhorred the color on most occasions, but seeing it against the girl's pale skin, she couldn't help but smile. This was another small detail she could use to change up her look, and it was therefore welcome, indeed.

"Girl, that's so cute!" Rei gushed, snatching it out of her hand. She uncapped the lipstick even as she said, "Really? I can really borrow this?"

"Yes!" the girl gushed right back. "It will look so good on you!"

God bless drunk girls, Rei thought as she applied the lipstick. The girl watched in soused happiness as Rei did her makeup, offering encouragements and compliments—pitying ones, because no doubt the girl saw Rei's smudged brows and terrible blush as a cry for help. Still, Rei could only smile. Drunk girls were the purest, kindest beings on the planet, that was for fucking certain.

"Thanks, chickie," Rei said when she finished. She handed back the lipstick with a wink, which made the girl giggle. "You're the greatest. No don't let your friend drink too much, OK?"

"OK!" Rei's new BFF said at once. "I gotta go show my friends this wig!"

Apparently forgetting that her friends were in the bathroom vomiting, she ran out of the bathroom on her high heels, swaying a bit with every step. Rei felt bad for a second for what she'd just done to her, but she put the guilt out of her head and took advantage of her newfound solitude to adjust her bearings. Normally she walked with head high, shoulders back, strides long and measured and conditioned after years of ballroom dancing—a memorable gait, she'd been told, but one she couldn't afford to use. Watching herself carefully in the mirror, Rei thrust her head forward, sloped her shoulders, and curved her spine a bit, shifting the position of her hips under her torso. These tiny tweaks completely changed the rhythm and bounce of her walk, which she tested by taking a series of short, quick steps around the restroom. Still watching herself in the mirror, she swung her arms more than usual, too, until both her walk and her face no longer belonged to her.

Just as she got the hang of her new, mincing walk, a shrill scream erupted from just outside the bathroom door. Once again smothering a pang of guilt, Rei took a deep breath, steeled herself, and headed for the restroom's exit.

This was her moment, she was sure. And she didn't need a magic mirror to tell her so.

New walk and new look firmly affixed in place, Rei strode out of the bathroom without pause, not allowing herself the luxury of self-conscious hesitation, not daring to glance at the two enormous men standing off to the side against the wall—where they'd cornered a girl in a pink body-con dress and a violet wig styled with a zigzag part down the middle. One of the demons held her by the arm, teeth bared and growling in her face (as far as Rei could tell, at least, since she refused to let herself look at them straight on).

"I won't ask you again!" the demon bellowed as Rei walked quickly by. "Where did you get that wig?"

"In there!" The girl hiccupped and sobbed, pointing a frantic hand over her shoulder at the bathroom. "In there!"

The demons let her go just as Rei got past them, heading back toward the women's restroom as Rei made a beeline for the men's room. She wanted to run the hell out of the club, but she did her best not to let her knees shake as she pushed inside and listened. Rei didn't hear anyone barfing, however, the only sound her heels clicking against the tile and the thrum of the bass through the walls.

"Kuwabara?" she said, softly. "Kurama? Are you in here?"

No response—which meant they weren't here, which meant Rei had just wasted her time, and with the demons right next door. Fuck!

Rei slipped out of the bathroom as quickly as she'd slipped in, hugging the wall as she beat a quick retreat away from the bathrooms entirely. Women's screams followed her, a couple of bouncers rushing toward the bathroom the demons had invaded, but she tried not to pay attention to them as she scanned the club. If Kurama and Kuwabara weren't in that bathroom, then where were they? She didn't see them near the bar or on any of the catwalks above, so with head held low she stalked toward the dancefloor, scanning the people on it one by one. But no familiar faces showed amid the cool silver and blues, and no familiar voices called above the music, and—

A telltale flash of brilliant red.

Rei nearly screamed with relief when she spotted him walking toward her along the edge of the dancefloor, but she stifled the cry as she trotted toward him and slipped a hand through the crook of his arm, coming to rest against his side facing back toward the way she'd come. Kurama startled at her touch, blinking owlishly as their eyes met. He didn't recognize her, if Rei was reading him right.

"Kurama!" she said, voice rising to be heard above the music. "Kurama, it's me!"

"Yamato?" Clarity pooled behind his eyes, along with a healthy dose of confusion. "But why are you wearing—?"

"No time!"

The demons had emerged from the bathroom; Rei saw them clear as day where they towered over the crowd. Before they could spot her, Rei tugged Kurama toward the dancefloor, hauling him after her into the crowd. Kurama yelled her name, but she ignored him until they'd reached the middle of the floor. There she threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder and out of sight. Rei felt him freeze beneath her touch like pipes on a cold winter's night, arms held stiffly at his side, shoulders rigid.

"Yamato," Kurama said in her ear. "What are you—?"

She lifted her face from his neck to hiss, "Over my shoulder, to the left." (Kurama's head moved at her command, bless him, but the wrong way.) "No, your left!"

His head moved again. This time, he understood what she was getting at. Rei could tell he'd spotted and recognized the demons for what they were because his arms suddenly encircled her waist, hands splaying against her back hard enough to close the distance she'd so far kept between them. Kurama swayed to the music, dragging her with him, bodies pressed firmly against each other—but he wasn't dancing. No, Kurama was no doubt blending them in with the swaying crowd, tolerating without complaint the way Rei sagged against him in relief… and in startled curiosity.

If her sense of touch wasn't deceiving her, Kurama was… muscular beneath the lines of his tailored jacket. Quite a bit more muscular than his lithe frame had led her to believe, in fact. And his hands were bigger than she'd expected, too, where his fingertips slipped slowly up her spine. But more alarming still, a weird trio of shivery pulses, like static, had just skated up her back at his touch, raising the hairs along her arms and nape like the call of euphoric music. She almost laughed at the sensation. Rei had heard of feeling sparks before, but this was ridiculo—

IGNORE IT! Rei commanded, and she put the observations out of her head.

"I take it this is your disguise, in that case."

Kurama spoke softly, voice barely audible beneath the thump of the electronic music. Rei heard him, though. She turned her face back to his neck, grateful for his solid presence as she pretended to embrace him. One of her hands slipped into the hair along the back of his head, taking comfort in strands of thick silk.

"Nothing gets past you," Rei muttered back.

"But you got past them," said Kurama.

"Of course I did." Rei rolled her eyes, even though he couldn't see. "Never underestimate the power of a makeover." Her fingers twined into his mane of hair; she tried not to envy the way it felt against her palm. "Fuck, where are they now?"

Breath whispered over the shell of her ear as Kurama told her, "Shh. Breathe." Only when she took a deep, shuddering breath did he continue to speak, fingers tracing a pattern on her hip. "They're still by the bathrooms. Surrounded by bouncers."

"Poor fucks," Rei lamented. "They don't stand a chance."

"No. They don't." She couldn't see his face, but she sensed the smile in his voice. "But the demons will behave themselves if they know what's good for them."

"Hmm?"

"The current king of Demon World does not take kindly to interspecies violence. A request of his sister's he is not inclined to allow any demon to break."

"Remind me to thank his sister if I ever meet her." Rei shuddered, thinking about the demons, the horns, the way they'd grinned at her, hoping like hell the king didn't look like them. "What now?"

Kurama didn't reply. He just continued to sway, slowly pivoting their entangled bodies to the left. Eventually his arms around her slackened. One hand traced down her arm and to her wrist, encircling it with his long fingers. But Kurama wasn't looking at her, wasn't truly holding her hand—no, his eyes followed something over her shoulder, strobe dancing in their green depths.

"Now, we get you out of here. While they're distracted." At last he met her eyes again. "Come with me."

Rei and Kurama slipped off the dancefloor, him leading her this time by the hand—a surprisingly intimate gesture, but one not reflected in his cold, calculating gaze. He was just playing the part of a lover slipping away with the object of their affection. To outsiders he likely looked gentle, but his hand on her arm was anything but as he dragged her away, toward the club's exit. Hand as solid as iron, he walked with slow intention, not moving with haste at all… probably to not draw attention to themselves.

Rei understood why, when she glanced over her shoulder.

The two demons were still inside the club. They were being led toward a door by a trio of bouncers, true—but as if sensing her gaze, one of them looked over his shoulder.

He looked over his shoulder—and straight at her.

As Kurama led Rei away, she couldn't shake the feeling that although rescue had seemingly arrived, the demons weren't quite done with her yet. Whether this was a prediction, however, or just a flight of paranoia, Rei simply could not say.

X

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