A ward.
As soon as she was within the magic’s protective sphere, hundreds of sounds collided with her at once.
Even when she’d been human, Brynleigh would’ve found this place overwhelming. As a vampire, she could barely suppress the shiver that ran through her.
Noise assaulted her from all sides.
Loud conversations battled with booming music. A steady beat shook the floor. Feet stomped. People cheered and roared.
She stood still for several seconds, letting the sounds wash over her until she got used to them.
Only then did her other senses kick in. The scents of alcohol, sweat, and bodies tightly packed together wove through the space. Beneath them all was the cloying, coppery aroma of blood. Her fangs ached, and she curled her fists at her sides. She’d had several servings of blood earlier in the evening to ensure she’d be prepared for anything.
And the people.
The warehouse was packed to the brim. Horned and winged elves, shifters, werewolves, witches, fae, vampires, and humans milled about. A long black bar stretched along one wall. Dozens of bottles were shelved behind the three bartenders filling countless drink orders.
The lighting was dim, save for two blinding spotlights shining on an elevated platform in the middle of the warehouse. Though the stage was empty, people kept glancing at it.
Brynleigh grabbed the arm of a horned elf walking by. The woman was stunningly beautiful, with umber skin and long, silky black hair that reached her waist.
“Excuse me, would you know where I can find Dimitri?” asked Brynleigh.
The woman looked at her like she was asking whether the moon hung in the sky.
“Of course.” Her tone made it clear that Brynleigh was an idiot for asking such a ridiculous question. “He’ll be out later.”
Before Brynleigh could ask a follow-up question—like what this place was or who this mysterious Dimitri was—the elf disappeared into the crowd.
Brynleigh asked about Dimitri three more times. Each time, she got the same looks and story. He would be out later.
Vague as hell.
Annoyed and wondering why Jelisette had sent her here, Brynleigh made her way to the bar. Thankful she’d brought money, she ordered and paid for a glass of blood wine. Once the beverage was in hand, she turned and leaned against the countertop.
A frown pulled at her lips. She’d told Jelisette she wanted to take down the Representatives, and her Maker had sent her here. This was one of the strangest things Jelisette had ever done.
What was Brynleigh doing here?
Sipping her blood wine, she meandered through the crowds. Luckily, she’d adapted to the noise, and though it was still loud, she could filter out the conversations from everything else. Some were everyday discussions she’d expect to hear anywhere: relationship woes, life troubles, job problems, and other pedantic issues.
Other conversations were far more interesting, though.
A pair of Death Elves a few tables over were sipping neon pink drinks that sported plastic umbrellas hanging over the edges. They leaned against a high table, their sparkly outfits barely more than strips of fabric covering their important bits.
The shorter of the two had strawberry blonde hair, pale pink butterfly wings, and red Maturation marks circling her neck like a collar. She leaned forward and sipped her drink before loudly whispering, “Did you hear what Chancellor Rose did last week?”
Her companion, another Death Elf with curling black horns, shook her head. “That bitch? What did she do now?”
Brynleigh’s eyes widened as she glanced between the two women. She’d never heard anyone disparage the Chancellor so openly before.
“Well, I heard she was the one who backed the newest laws in the Eastern Region.”
“The Registration Decree for those born Without?”
Brynleigh swallowed. She knew that many in the Republic looked down on those born Without almost as much as they did vampires, but she hadn’t realized a law forcing them to register had passed in the Republic. Registration was a slippery slope leading nowhere good.
“Mhmm.” Butterfly Wings sipped her drink. “The one and only.”