Chapter 4
Cillian
If I’d hoped I’d get shot of Vittoria once the meal was over, I was mistaken.
And now I need another plan. Reluctantly, we leave Vincenzo and the other Kennards drinking together at The Angel’s Share, which I hope doesn’t result in disaster.
I want to go and drag my sister and Niamh out of Sussurri, but I can’t as long as I’m with Vittoria, and she seems determined not to let me out of her sight.
‘We’re not going to your house?’ She pouts when we pull into the private car park outside the former mansion where my club is located.
I capture her hand and draw her towards me, kissing her hard on the mouth before letting her go. ‘No, I have something far more special planned here.’
I’m gratified at the hitch in her breath and the slow smile that slides across her face.
There are so many possibilities open to us in the exclusive Underworld area of this club, and while I’d prefer to bring someone far more submissive here, the fact that Vittoria will fight me at every turn might provide the distraction I need from Niamh tonight.
Plus, I’m going to make her pay for killing that man earlier – the Huntsman inside me is still desperate for blood.
The Three Graces lies on Grace Street – the name a sly dig at the pretentiousness of the clientele who frequent it.
They choose to associate it with ancient Greek myths and legends when, in fact, it’s merely a statement about the number of levels the club has – only two of which exist in the human world.
Rose has suggested several times that we tailor the branding to catch all the New Agers who are obsessed with anything that can loosely be described as pagan, druidic, or even Celtic.
And if they happened to witness any of the actual supernatural aspects of the club, they would likely just accept them and come back more often.
Three is a magical number, appearing as the maid, the mother and the crone, the Celtic triple goddess, and the three faces of the Morrigan, to name only a few.
Even amongst the Kinfolk so many stories have been lost to time.
Particularly the stories of powerful women – other religions may have a lot to answer for there.
There’s a queue at the door – always a good sign – and I notice Jamil, one of our newest bouncers, checking the ID of a group of smartly dressed and painfully young-looking girls.
I see the flash of fear that crosses his features when he notices me just as the last of the young women disappears inside the building.
He’s a large man, a good four inches taller than me and with a lot more bulk, but he’s human and wise to look nervous – especially if he has something to hide.
‘They all had driving licences, Mr Hunter. I checked carefully,’ he says as we reach him.
I nod at him, my suspicions evaporating as I realise he’s just concerned that I might be there to see if he’s doing his job properly.
‘Good job,’ I say. Given some of what goes on in the lower levels of this club, I’m insistent that the city’s laws are observed carefully on the upper two.
The last thing I need is for the polis to have a reason to poke around with a warrant – I could use the Guth Dorcha to make them forget, but it’s easier just to avoid the situation arising in the first place.
Jamil nods back and turns to open the VIP door that’s next to the main one.
He holds it as I usher Vittoria in ahead of me.
‘You know that paying your staff is more than enough. You don’t have to pretend to be nice to them, too,’ Vittoria says as I key in the security code and allow her to precede me into a private staff corridor.
‘Staff loyalty is an important business practice, darling. The Rialis should try it some time.’
‘The threat of a hideously painful death if they fuck up or betray us works just well, Cillian, and requires a lot less effort,’ Vittoria says.
‘And how many human staff are you relying on now? You should keep the jobs for Kinfolk. It involves far fewer explanations – not to mention bloodshed, if someone sees something they shouldn’t. ’
‘There are ways to make sure no one sees anything they’re not supposed to, Vittoria,’ I say. ‘Or do you find Glamour and the Guth Dorcha a challenge?’
Kin make use of our different powers to control the humans we come into contact with, as well as the lesser Kinfolk.
Glamour is the most frequently used – the ability to make something look like something else.
Levels of ability vary, from straightforward alterations in appearance that last only a short while and are easily broken, to more complex spells that even other skilled practitioners would find it difficult to undo – that is if they even realise that they’re there.
The Guth Dorcha is the voice of darkness – or forgetting.
It works best when combined with physical contact, but it’s not always necessary.
I push open a door that takes us back out into the main area of the club and out onto the mezzanine, from where we can observe the upper bar. There’s a small dancefloor downstairs, which is currently packed.
‘Another busy night.’
‘Yes,’ I agree. There’s a hen night in – a group of about ten women wearing pink sashes and enough bling to rival the disco ball.
One of them, presumably the bride, is wearing an extravagant tiara and currently dancing with four men, two of whom are grinding against her while a friend tries unsuccessfully to pull them off.
I swallow, a chill spreading through my bones.
If that was my future wife, I’d be wading through the other dancers and those two would be lucky to ever find their balls again.
Vittoria presses herself against my side and moves her hand over my chest.
‘If that was me, would you stop them?’ she asks, her hand slipping lower to palm my cock. I won’t deny that the woman has talented fingers and before I can stop her, I’m hard. And yet, despite her standing right beside me and being the one with her hands on my cock, it’s not her I’m thinking about.
It’s Niamh’s long, pale legs wrapped around my waist that I envisage.
Niamh’s wide blue eyes that I want to stare into as I make her mine.
Niamh’s long, ebony hair that I can almost feel wrapped around my fist as I force her to take me deep between those rose-red lips.
There’s something about her innocence I crave control over.
Vittoria’s smirk when my thoughts cause me to harden even further has me covering her hand with mine and removing it from my aching balls. I’m sure she thinks she’s wholly responsible for my rock-hard cock, and I don’t want her to suspect anything different.
‘Would you want me to?’ I ask, twisting her arm behind her back and pulling her roughly against me before taking her mouth in a brutal kiss. I pull back when she bites me and laughs.
‘Of course, darling. There’s nothing sexier than a possessive man.’
What neither of us says is that until we’re married, we’re both free to see other people, sleep with other people.
Something I have happily done all my adult life – until that bloody graduation party.
Since then, Niamh has occupied every sordid thought, although anyone paying attention to my choice in women over the past four years would quickly recognise that each and every one has had a striking resemblance to that one woman.
Besides, I simply don’t care enough about Vittoria to do any such thing, and she knows it.
Not to mention the fact that she’d be pissed as all fuck if I interfered with her sex life.
Although I imagine she’d enjoy the feeling of multiple men fighting over her, and I can picture her bathing in the blood of the men I’d defeated.
She’ll make a formidable wife. For as long as we survive each other. And no matter how much I might crave someone else, only marrying Vittoria will make me king.
We head down the spiral staircase to the wine bar.
The seating is designed primarily for the more adventurous couples.
The upholstery, luxurious black velvet, and pillars topped with gilded ornaments are designed for indulgence.
Unlike upstairs, this area isn’t overlooked and gives the impression of privacy, although there are carefully placed cameras everywhere and the recordings from those have provided much of the material we’ve needed over the years to ensure that various influential customers remain under our control.
Vittoria is correct. We’ll never trust humans in the same way we trust other Kinfolk – even our enemies – and we ensure that we have iron-clad ways of getting what we want from them.
From there I lead her towards the back of the building, pausing in front of a studded wooden door.
I place a hand flat on the surface, feeling the wood heat beneath my palm and a set of carved symbols appear.
I read the ancient letters of the Ogham inscription aloud and the door pulses, shifting in its reality before it opens, not into the narrow basement staircase of the human world, but into the foyer of my club in the Underworld where fantasies are indulged.
The worlds exist on top of one another, but time functions differently in each, meaning that there are only certain times and places where you can move between the two without some kind of magic.
Some areas have changed in one world but not the other.
Glasgow’s Underworld includes an extensive series of tunnels and underground features long since covered by the modern human city.
Kinfolk are able to move easily between worlds using the thin places. Some are permanent, while others appear and disappear on a whim. A rare few can be conjured using a particular type of magic.