Bitter Spirits (Arcane Wonderland #2)

Chapter 1

Isa

“I’m hitting the lot now.” Isa’s headlights swept over the gray cement-block wall and the dumpster in front of it. The low-slung building crouched in the shadows of its taller siblings in downtown Phoenix.

“I’m right behind you. Wait for me,” Desmond ordered.

Only the fact that Des was one of her best friends kept her from snapping a sharp rebuke. “Whoever is inside knows the alarm code,” she said with patience and a hint of sarcasm as she put her car in park. “That generally takes murder out of the equation.”

“Not funny, Isa.”

“Lighten up, Des,” she shot back.

It was freaking three thirty in the morning, and instead of being curled up in her extremely comfortable bed after ten hours on her feet, she was back at Wonderland, the bar she co-owned with Des and Cass—her bestie—wondering which employee was holed up inside.

Normally, Cass would be the first in line to handle shit like this, but she was in Vegas, dealing with her toxic family.

That had left Isa and Des on speed dial when things hit the fan.

Sometimes being a bar owner sucked balls.

She activated the charm in her earring, switching the phone’s audio from her car to her ear. “If we were being robbed, they wouldn’t have bothered with the code.”

“That doesn’t make it safe.” His voice was rough with irritation.

“I’ve got my Taser.” She grabbed it from her cupholder then shoved open the door.

“If I solemnly swear to use it, will you chill out?” Isa hip checked her door closed and crossed the cracked-pavement-and-packed-dirt parking lot as Des’s curses filled her ear.

“Look, I’ll stay on the phone until you get here. ”

He continued to grumble in her ear, but she let the sound wash over her as she kept an eye on her surroundings and crossed to the front entrance lit by an overhead security light.

“Putting you in my pocket,” she warned him before tucking her phone away.

Then, holding the Taser at the ready, she set her other hand against the security ward embedded in the metal door.

Magic washed under her palm, flashing from bright orange to pale green.

There were no further indications that someone had messed with the security ward, just the snick of the lock releasing.

“Yep.” She kept her voice low. “Definitely had the code.”

She pulled the door open, and the hinges released with a muted squeak.

Shadows filled the narrow staircase leading down to the bar, the soft glow of the security lights barely holding them in check.

Isa slipped inside and froze just over the threshold as the weight of the door hit her back.

She eyed the stairs disappearing into the darkness and regretted her agreement to keep the dim, atmospheric lighting.

Built in the late 1940s, the building had initially been an art gallery that sat below street level as a concession to the desert temperatures.

Even though logic promised nothing lurked in the inky depths pooling at the bottom, tension clawed its way up Isa’s spine and sank deep as her pulse ticked up.

She drew in a breath, held her Taser at the ready, and inched forward, easing the door closed.

She stopped on the bottom step and strained her ears, trying to catch any noise that didn’t belong.

The only thing she heard was the hum of the air conditioner.

Cool drafts danced over the exposed pipes curling out of brick walls and wound through the hollow areas surrounding the thick wooden beams before spilling to the shadow-strewn floor.

The windowless space was filled with nebulous shapes, but the graffiti-style tags and sigils covering the double metal doors on the back wall glowed softly, offering glimpses of upturned stools on top of scattered pub tables.

The arcade side of the open floor was quiet and dark, as the electric machines had been powered down at closing time.

Security lights, installed under the booths lining the wall, offered some relief to the gloom, their illumination reflected in the long mirror behind the bar.

“Talk to me!” Des barked in her ear, startling her.

She’d forgotten he was on the other end. “Doesn’t look like anyone’s here.”

“I’m turning in now.”

“Cool.” Reassured, she started across the floor, her goal the door behind the bar that led to the office and compact kitchen. “I’m going to check out the back.”

Isa rounded the end of the bar and flipped the pass-through, while in her ear, Des muttered to himself as he parked.

She moved into the back as the clunk of his car door closing was followed by the rapid crunch of footsteps.

A light burned bright over the stove in the kitchen, but the space was empty of life.

She got to the office and had her hand on the knob when she heard movement.

“Shit.”

“What?” Des demanded as a familiar squeak indicated he’d hit the entrance door.

“Someone is in the office.”

“Do not go in, Isa.”

Ignoring him, she tightened her grip on the doorknob, held a finger over the Taser’s trigger, and threw open the door.

A sharp scream greeted her, along with the clatter of something bouncing off the desk, the dull thud of a chair hitting the floor, and a rush of movement.

In that fraction of time, recognition flashed, and somehow, she managed not to launch the Taser.

“Don’t shoot! It’s me!” someone sobbed.

In Isa’s ear, Des thundered down the stairs.

“What the hell, Kelly?” Relief, irritation, and the weird letdown that chased an adrenaline rush left Isa both pissed and shaky. She hit the switch, and the office filled with light.

Behind the battered desk stood Kelly, one of Wonderland’s servers.

She was dressed in a gorgeous goth clubbing outfit, her hands held high, her pale face blotched and covered in smears of tear-smudged mascara as well as more ominous shadings that indicated the rise of fresh bruises.

There was a small, raw cut on her lower lip, and the hands near her tangled, sweat-matted hair carried streaks of what Isa thought might be dried blood.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kelly babbled, her tone sliding along the edge of hysteria. “I didn’t know where else to go.” She started to lower her hands and motioned toward the floor. “I was calling you beca—”

The slam of the door to the back area reverberated down the hall. Kelly flinched as a half-strangled screech escaped her. The fast-approaching heavy tread that followed belonged to Des.

Isa kept her voice soothing. “It’s okay, Kelly. Shh, it’s okay.”

Kelly scrambled back, almost tripping on the overturned chair behind her, and gave a panicked sob. Her eyes widened, and her hands flew forward as if to ward off an imminent attack. “No, he’s here! He’s goin—”

“Kelly! It’s just Des!” Isa said in the stern tone that never failed to lower the drama level when shit went south with the serving staff. “Look at me!”

Kelley’s gaze jumped to Isa as Des pulled up short in the doorway.

“It’s just Des,” she said, softer now, trying not to lose her mind at the sight of long, deep scratches marring Kelly’s arms. “Take a breath with me. Come on.” She drew in a lungful of air and waited until Kelly did the same before letting it out.

When Kelly pulled in another broken inhalation, her eyes darted to Des, but they came back to Isa on her shaky exhalation.

Isa inhaled again, silently encouraging Kelly to keep it up, as she slowly set her Taser on the arm of the sofa.

Then she exhaled as she cautiously moved toward the shaken young woman.

When she got close, she saw that Kelly’s pupils were so big they almost erased the whites, and there was a concerning reddened knot coming up on her forehead.

Worry about a possible concussion was drowned under a simmering protective fury as Isa took in the other signs of violence—tears near the neck of the black lace shirt.

Singe marks on the short red skirt that wrapped around black hot pants.

A scattered collection of what looked like small cuts in the exposed skin of her thighs and the deep red coloring her knees above thick-soled lace-up boots.

Isa looped a careful arm around Kelly’s waist and guided her to the sofa, biting back a slew of curses as she spotted a ring of red that looked scarily like finger marks high on Kelly’s scratched arms.

“Come, let’s sit over here.” With effort, Isa kept her temper out of her voice.

Kelly gingerly sat on the sofa and wrapped her arms around her middle. When her shoulders curled inward, Isa grabbed a nearby throw and settled it around the shaking girl. A hint of smoke and alcohol rose from Kelly’s clothes.

A low growl from the doorway had Isa turning to Des. Based on his thunderous expression, he had come to the same conclusion as Isa. The shadows behind him deepened with a weighty sense of a menace.

This could be bad. Very bad.

Hoping to head off the explosion, she said, “Des, why don’t you get Kelly some water?”

The storm building around Des retreated as he shot her a quizzical look, complete with raised brows.

She canted her head and looked pointedly at his hands, which were fisted at his sides.

Those hands flexed open, causing the intricate ink on his skin to shift as he shook out his arms. The oppressive air around him lightened as he blew out a silent breath and then turned on his heel and left.

Isa crouched in front of Kelly and fought the urge to growl when she caught sight of the marks on the girl’s neck. “First things first—how hurt are you? Do we need to go to emergency?”

Kelly shook her head. “No, no, I’m okay.”

She wasn’t, not by a long shot, but this was not the time to argue. “Okay,” Isa said calmly. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Kelly started to nod then winced, her hand going to the knot on her forehead. “It was a farewell thing, you know? Leo wanted to go out one last time before I left town, so we met up with some friends at the Obsidian Club.”

That explained the Goth-inspired outfit.