Ghost Hunter Page 19

  Still curious if he’d found out anything useful last night, she asked him again once they sat down to have breakfast.

  He reached for the pepper shaker. “Not anything that tells me what kind of ghost Del Vecchio is or how to get rid of him. But I did have an epiphany of sorts.”

  “What kind of epiphany?” she asked, sipping her coffee.

  “That I’m spending too much time talking to other hunters about Del Vecchio and not enough time talking to the things I hunt.” He picked up his fork and loaded it with scrambled eggs. “If we’re ever going to find out what makes his ghost different, then we need to talk to other things like him.”

  “Where are we going to find a ghost that will talk to us?”

  He shook his head. “Not a ghost. Other paranormal creatures.”

  “Like what? Vampires and demons?”

  “Among others, yeah.”

  She bit into a piece of toast. “Isn’t that dangerous? Why would any of them willingly talk to you? I mean, you go around killing them for a living. I imagine that doesn’t make you very popular with their kind.”

  “Not usually, no,” he agreed. “But talking to them isn’t as difficult or as dangerous as you might think. Believe it or not, there are a lot of vampires, werewolves and demons out there that are better behaved than your run-of-the-mill ghouls, hellhounds and serial-killing ghost. They have families and jobs, hell, they even have mortgages. The trick is finding the right paranormal creatures to talk to.”

  “How do we do that?”

  Trace helped himself to more scrambled eggs. “There’s an underground club in New York City where paranormals hang out. If there’s a place to find out what Del Vecchio is, that’s it.”

  “There’s a club for monsters?”

  “Yeah. But you probably shouldn’t refer to them as monsters. They tend to be sensitive about that kind of thing.”

  She really needed to get out more. “And you think we should go there and ask around? See if anyone knows anything about Del Vecchio’s ghost?”

  Trace nodded.

  “I suppose that makes sense,” she said. “I’m not trying to sound ungrateful or anything, but why didn’t we try this earlier?”

  He took a swallow of coffee. “Because paranormals aren’t known to be the most talkative bunch. While they might know they have nothing to fear from me if they don’t go postal on a human, that doesn’t mean they’re going to talk to me. The only reason I’m willing to go to the club is because we’re sort of at a dead end here.”

  Dead end. Not exactly the way she liked to think about it. Of course, he was right regardless of the poor choice of words. They were out of options. At least this might give them something to work with, Cassidy thought as she went back to her breakfast.

  The eggs weren’t bad at all and the toast was even browned nicely. When she mentioned it to Trace he said he couldn’t take credit for it because the toaster had done all the work. She didn’t agree. Toasters could be very persnickety.

  Since she and Trace couldn’t go to the underground club until later that evening and he didn’t want her outside any more than necessary, they hung around his place for the rest of the day. She wondered about the other cases he might be working, but when she mentioned it, he said he’d put them on hold for the time being.

  “Right now, my number one priority is protecting you,” he said.

  That was okay with her, especially since they spent a good portion of the day trying out various sexual positions she’d read about in the most recent Cosmo, something which Trace was only too happy to do.

  He collapsed back on the couch after one exceptionally naughty move, his breathing ragged. “Remember what I said that first night at the house in Moores Mill about you needing to do research for the sex in your romance book? Well, I was wrong. You definitely don’t need any lessons in that department.”

  Cassidy laughed and leaned forward to kiss him. “You’re pretty well-schooled in the fine art of lovemaking yourself.”

  He chuckled. “How is that book of yours coming along, by the way?”

  She shrugged. “Not bad. I’m about halfway through the rough draft.”

  “That far already, huh? Why don’t you read it to me?”

  She lifted her head from his chest to look at him in surprise. “Read it to you?”

  “Yeah. Unless you’re uncomfortable.”

  “No, I’m not uncomfortable. It’s just that…” Her lips curved into a smile as an idea suddenly occurred to her. “Okay. But only if you agree to let me ask you all those ghost hunting questions you wouldn’t answer when we first met.”

  He flashed her a grin. “Deal.”

  Cassidy thought she would be self-conscious about reading her book to Trace, especially since it was a rough draft, but after the first few pages, any shyness she felt completely disappeared. Probably because he seemed genuinely interested in what she’d written. True to his word, he answered each and every ghost hunting question she asked him. He even added a suggestion of his own here and there. He still couldn’t understand how the book could have a happily ever after when the heroine was a ghost, though.

  “I’m still working on that,” she told him as she closed her laptop.

  He grinned. “Yeah? Well, while you’re working on it, why don’t you come over here so we can try out another one of those sex positions you read about?”

  She didn’t answer as she smiled and crawled on top of him.

  It was almost two hours later when they finally came up for air, and just about time to leave for the city. After a quick shower, Cassidy whipped up something for dinner while Trace called Wes. When the other man didn’t answer, Trace left a message asking his friend to call him back.

  Cassidy couldn’t help but notice the frown that creased his forehead as he put away his cell phone. “Everything okay?” she asked, setting the plates on the table.

  “What?” he asked distractedly.

  “Everything okay with Wes?”

  “Oh. Yeah. Wes is a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

  Then why did Trace look so worried? She wanted to ask what kind of supernatural monster Wes was off saving the world from, but didn’t. Trace had enough to deal with right now. Like going to an underground club that catered to paranormal creatures who would probably as soon kill a hunter like Trace than look at him.

  It took a little over an hour to get from Sleepy Hollow to New York City. Cassidy was a little surprised when Trace pulled up to a curb outside a small bodega in lower Manhattan.

  “I thought we were going directly to the club,” she said.

  “We are.”

  Cassidy looked around, but all she saw besides the bodega was a video rental store, a dry cleaner and a pizza place. She gave Trace a quizzical look, but he took her hand and headed for the bodega. Once inside, he led her down the snack food aisle to a door in the back marked “Private.” He opened it, then guided her down a set of dimly lit stairs. As they descended the steps, she could hear the faint sounds of music coming from below and realized the underground club really was underground. Considering it was a members-only kind of place, she didn’t expect it to have flashing lights or a neon sign out front, but she didn’t think it would be in the basement of a grocery store, either.

  The steps took them to a long hallway, at the end of which was another door. There was a man standing outside this one, though, and he stepped in front of it as she and Trace approached. If the way he was blocking the door hadn’t told her the man was club security, then the fact that he was built like the Hulk definitely did. His stern expression was kind of a giveaway, too. Though he was undoubtedly imposing, she’d expected the place to have bouncers who looked a little less human. Something with fangs and claws, maybe.

  “Can I help you?” the man asked.

  “Just going to the club,” Trace said.

  The man studied them in silence, his eyes narrowing as he looked from Trace to her and back again. “This place is only f
or a select group of regulars. How did you two hear about it?”

  “I’ve been here a few times before,” Trace told him.

  The man folded his arms across his barrel of a chest. “I don’t recognize you and I know everyone who comes here.”

  “It’s been a while,” Trace said.

  “Is that so?” His gaze went from Trace to her again, then back. “Look, there are a lot of nice trendy clubs in midtown. Why don’t you try going there?”

  Though the man’s tone was polite, Cassidy got the feeling he wasn’t going to move away from the door for anything. Trace must have picked up on that too, because she felt him bristle.

  “Thanks for the recommendation, but this is exactly the club we’re looking for.” Trace took a step forward. “Now, if you don’t mind stepping aside…”

  The man held up his hand, halting them. “Nice try, but I don’t think so. You’re not the right type for this place. The clubs in midtown are better suited to your kind.”

  Their kind? Cassidy frowned. She hadn’t realized vampires, demons and whatever the heck this guy was could recognize others like themselves.

  “Our kind?” Trace lifted a brow. “That’s very politically incorrect, don’t you think? Maybe we have friends who come here and they invited us.”

  The other man scowled. “Or maybe you heard a few rumors and wanted to come check the place out to see if they were right? Well, let me clarify this for you. Everything you heard about this place is bullshit, so you can run back to your nightclubs and espresso shops on the other side of the tracks.”

  Cassidy threw Trace a worried look. He gave her a smile he probably thought was reassuring, but it only made her more nervous. Oh, hell. He was going to do something drastic.

  The man barring the door must have thought so too, because he took a threatening step forward. It was then that Cassidy realized the club’s bouncer wasn’t simply some big, intimidating-looking guy. His eyes were glowing red around the irises and the smell of sulfur was coming off him. That couldn’t be good.

  “You might not want to do that, Cruz,” a woman’s voice interrupted. “I think Trace here might give you a little more trouble than you’re expecting.”

  Cruz stepped away from the door to the club so the woman could pass. “Ma’am, do you know these two?”

  The woman laughed, the sound deep and husky. “Oh, I do indeed know Trace McCord. I can’t say I’m acquainted with his little friend here, though.”

  The woman turned her gaze on Cassidy, a mix of condescension and curiosity in her dark eyes. She was tall and thin with long, black hair and alabaster skin that looked even more pale next to the material of the floor-length black gown she wore. A gown that showed way too much cleavage and way too much leg thanks to the low-cut neck and high side-slit. She looked like an Elvira wannabe in the getup, right down to the pouty, red lips. Cassidy wondered if the woman might actually be a vampire. Whatever she was, Cassidy immediately decided she didn’t like her.

  “Though I daresay if she’s with him, she must be another one of his damsels in distress,” the woman added.

  Oh yeah, Cassidy really didn’t like her now.

  “Was I wrong to stop them?” Cruz asked. “I didn’t think people like them belonged here.”

  The woman turned her big, dark eyes on Trace. Cassidy might have grudgingly admitted she was attractive if it wasn’t for the predatory way she was looking at Trace. As if she wanted to take him to bed and devour him.

  “No, hunters like Trace McCord don’t belong here,” the woman drawled. “But when has that ever stopped you before, Trace?”

  Cruz’s eyes flashed, his irises blazing red. “He’s a hunter?”

  The bouncer spat the word as if it were a curse and surged forward, but the woman caught his arm before he could take more than a few steps.

  “That’s enough, Cruz. Even though he’s a hunter, Trace McCord is welcome here any time.” Her lips curved into a smile. “He’s a special friend of mine.”

  Cassidy felt a stab of jealousy at the familiar way the other woman looked at Trace.

  Beside her, Trace was regarding the woman with an almost amused expression. “That’s very gracious of you, Ramona.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” She looked at Cassidy. “Who is this you’ve brought with you?”

  “I’m his girlfriend,” Cassidy said, taking a step closer to Trace.

  Cassidy knew she should have waited for Trace to make the introductions, but for some ridiculous reason she had an almost overwhelming urge to stake her claim on him. She’d be damned if this dark-haired vixen thought she was going to pick up with Trace wherever the two of them had left off the last time he’d been there. Of course, in her desire to set Ramona straight, she hadn’t given any thought to what Trace’s reaction would be to her announcement that she was his girlfriend. She shouldn’t be presumptive simply because they were sleeping together. She gave him a sidelong glance and was relieved to see a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

  “Ramona, this is my girlfriend Cassidy,” he said, going along with her story. “Cassidy, this is Ramona. She’s the owner of the club.”

  Cassidy smiled and held out her hand to the woman. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Ramona murmured something indistinct, her fingers brushing Cassidy’s in a poor imitation of a handshake before she turned her attention back to Trace.

  “I’m assuming if you came here with your girlfriend that you didn’t come here to see me,” Ramona said, her husky voice a few degrees cooler than it had been before. “Why did you come?”

  “I need to talk to a few of your regulars about a case I’m working on,” Trace said. “See if anyone can help me out.”

  Ramona frowned. “You know I don’t like anyone mixing business with pleasure in my club, Trace.”

  “Believe me, Ramona, if I could get the information anywhere else, I wouldn’t be here.”

  The bouncer, Cruz, stepped forward again. “I can get rid of them if you want, boss.”

  Though his eyes weren’t glowing nearly as much as before, the sulfur smell was stronger. The part of the hallway they were standing in felt as if it was getting hotter, too. Cassidy shifted nervously. What the heck type of paranormal creature was this guy?

  “You could try, but I wouldn’t if I were you,” Trace said conversationally to Cruz. “You’re a third-level Pyreal fire demon, right? That would make you deathly afraid of any relics related to Saint Florian. Well, it so happens that I have something of his right here.”

  Trace reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather cord with a small glass vial attached to the end of it. Cassidy couldn’t see what was in the vial because it was so dirty, but whatever it was scared the hell out of Cruz. The big man turned three shades of pale and jumped back as if Trace had struck him, the heat and sulfur smell that had been coming off him immediately disappearing. He looked so terrified Cassidy thought he might actually turn and flee into the club.

  Ramona let out a throaty chuckle. “Oh Trace, you are so mean, frightening poor Cruz.” She reached out to put a comforting hand on Cruz’s arm. “Trace wouldn’t harm you without reason. It’s not his style. Besides, he would never want to hurt my feelings, would you, Trace?”

  Trace smiled and put the glass vial back in his pocket.

  Ramona sighed. “Oh, all right then. Come in and ask your questions, Trace.”

  The woman turned and walked into the club, motioning with her hand for Cassidy and Trace to follow. As they passed Cruz, the man eased back against the wall, giving them as wide a berth as possible. Knowing firsthand what it was like to be as terrified of someone as he was of Trace and the relic he had in his pocket, Cassidy almost felt bad for Cruz. Until she imagined what a third-level Pyreal fire demon like him could have done to them. If the heat in the hallway had been any indication, it probably wouldn’t have been much fun.

  Whereas the clubs Cassidy usually frequented were filled with loud dance music and colorful strobe
lights, this one had soft music and muted lighting that gave it a more intimate feel. There was a long bar along one wall and a raised platform where a small band was playing against the opposite wall. In between, there was a small dance floor and dozens of tables and chairs, most of which were occupied. The club’s patrons seemed entranced by the musicians and as Cassidy listened to their music, she could understand why. Two men and a woman, they played odd-looking string instruments that created stirring, emotional sounds reminiscent of whales singing. The resulting music was strange and yet beautiful at the same time and Cassidy was annoyed when Ramona’s husky voice interrupted it.

  “Try not to disturb my patrons, Trace. They enjoy their privacy. It’s part of why they come here.” She glanced briefly at Cassidy, then turned her attention back to him. “If you get bored with your little girlfriend, you know where my office is. Come see me.”

  Giving him a smile, she turned and sauntered away, hips swaying provocatively.

  “Bitch,” Cassidy muttered under her breath.

  She’d said the word too softly for Trace to hear and he was standing right next to her, so she knew Ramona couldn’t have heard it. But apparently the woman’s hearing was better than Cassidy thought, because the black-clad bimbo turned and shot her a glare. Cassidy glared right back.

  She turned to Trace. “Please tell me you didn’t sleep with her.”

  He chuckled. “Jealous?”

  “Of that Elvira knockoff? God no.” Cassidy wanted to laugh. “But if you did, I’d have to question both your taste and your sanity.”

  “Then you’ll be happy to know that both my good taste and my sanity are still intact because I’ve never slept with her,” he said. “I’ve worked a few cases she was involved with in a peripheral way and she thought I was interested in her. I wasn’t.”

  That was a relief. “Let me guess. She’s some kind of demon-possessed creature from the seventh pit of hell or something, right?”