“I think that can be arranged,” she whispered. “Am I sending you away out of anger, anticipation, or boredom?”
“Lady’s choice.” It didn’t matter to me.
We moved off the escalator and passed into a twisting hallway that opened up on a salon with dozens of chairs and couches subdividing the space into separate camps where people could have semi-private conversations and still maintain social visibility. My eyes roamed over the faces. The more I scanned, the more uncomfortable I became.
I couldn’t pinpoint any one face that made me uncomfortable, rather, it was the collection of them. There were too many perfect features in the prime of their lives. Sure, there were rich tech millionaires in their thirties aplenty, but the Fairhaven Club was more about old money, old power. There shouldn’t be so many youthful faces, here. The women up here seemed to fawn over them, too.
Then there were the older faces with angular features that didn’t fit quite right. Too hight cheekbones, eyes too far apart with a small, button noses. If I had seen only one of those faces, I might have written it off, but a cluster of five such people set my hair on end. Coincidence didn’t happen on this scale.
“Loose, Matthew.” Nikki whispered. “We’re not ready for our display, yet.”
“They’re. . . .” I trailed off.
“Yes. When this is over, you shall have to tell me how you knew.”
Most of this room was full of supernatural creatures wearing human guises. I didn’t know all the various types, but I didn’t need a rundown to know I was in great danger.
I was keenly aware that my gun and its silver bullets sat in Nikki’s limo.