Page 25 of Heart of a Witch
“Never heard of it.”
I forced a smile. “You will.”
“New to town?”
“Yes, and if you were in Dawnridge, you would know the name. My brother would be disappointed to learn of this disrespectifI tell him.”
The two exchanged looks, then the bigger one cleared his throat. “New members are to use the guest pass.” He handed me a card with silver writing on it. “Welcome to Redforest, Miss Weathermore.”
I hurried inside, handing my jacket to a man waiting at the entrance. He gave me a number on a ticket and walked me to a small table. I gazed at the women who danced in skimpy dresses, much like they did at The Black Card back home. This club didn’t seem too different. It operated in the shadows of Redforest, illegal like the Black Card, all because of one thing: liquor. Illegal and coveted.
A quartet played violins in the corner, while another musician played the piano in harmony. I’d heard better, but they weren’t terrible. I took my seat, watching the blond man from the back of the room, my gaze following him to the other side of the bar.
“I’ll take one of those.” I pointed at a drink on the menu when a waiter appeared, who bowed his head and left quickly. At least they were efficient.
The man, whose features I noticed were sharper than what I remembered of Damian’s, slapped his friends’ backs by way of greeting, then smiled his pearly whites at anyone who looked his way. He brought a round of drinks for the men surrounding him, commanding the attention of the bartender within seconds, then moved his attention. He tapped his fingers against the shoulder of a woman who appeared to be in her early twenties.
She turned, her smile widening. Based on her slight smirk and the gentle nudge to his arm, she knew him. She ran the stirrer of her drink along her bottom lip and fluttered her eyelashes, gazing up at him, then she averted her gaze to her drink, where a lonely cherry bobbed next to ice.
My drink arrived. I thanked the waiter, handing him a gold piece. He didn’t so much as bat an eye at the generous payment and tip, which confirmed my suspicions on the type of people who frequented the club.
It was a place for the wealthy and bored.
I examined the crystal glass, bigger than the size of my hand, and sniffed the smoking green drink. A hint of mint with lime floated to my nose. I took a sip and delighted in the fresh, albeit slightly sour, hit from the cocktail. Wafting away a cloud of smoke that had made its way from another table, I continued to watch the man I’d followed here and the woman at his side. She turned, her knees facing him the whole time. Minutes turned to an hour. His eyes glazed over her but didn’t stay on her. Every so often, his gaze moved to other women in the room.
Two drinks later, I pushed my glass to the middle of the table, paying the waiter handsomely. The woman leaned in, ready to close the night, nudging closer.
“Elijah,” the woman said, laughing. “Are you are trying to get me drunk?”
He laughed. “I have no need to get you drunk.”
“Mr. Shaw,” the bartender said. “Will you be wanting another scotch?”
The chatter from the surrounding tables drowned out their voices.
He almost seemed bored with his slight sigh and slumped shoulders. Standing with her, he walked to the other side, only a few tables from mine.
My waiter cleared my glasses, pulling my attention from Elijah. “How has your evening been here at The Black Horse?”
My lips stretched into a genuine smile. “It’s been excellent. Thank you.”
He bowed his head and left with his tray. I really did have a good night. I’d got everything I needed. A name. He was in fact a relation to the hunter, and I’d bet my dramair he was Damian’s son. He was at his property, had his name, bore striking resemblance to Damian, and was at the right age. He had to be.
Elijah Shaw.
Son to my sister’s murderer.
I let his name swim in my mind. He was everything I needed. He would be my way in, my revenge, my punishment. I watched him leave with the woman, a half smile on his face—curved lips but no crease to his cheeks. I knew the type. He wanted a challenge, and no one here was giving it to him.
If that was all it took, then I would beexactlywhom he wanted.
Nine
Elijah
The same nightmare came for me again; I was glad it was Amber who was in my bed and not some other woman. I awoke in a panic of sweat and heavy breathing. She pretended not to notice, which I appreciated.
“Morning.” The corners of her eyes softened.
