Dancing With Raven (The Young Shakespeareans Series) (21 page)

The scale suddenly tipped in her favor. By helping Tori, she’d actually be acting in her own self-interest.
That’s the Felicia I know.
He nodded. “All right, but if Tori has any complaints, I won’t hesitate to bring them straight to your grandfather.”

Felicia gave an excited wiggle. “You won’t regret this.”

Somehow I already do.

Beyond wary, Tori opened the front door to Felicia the next afternoon. The sunshine lit her fair hair like a halo and she flashed an innocent smile. Inwardly, Tori sighed. Although Raven had called to tell her Felicia was determined to make things right, she was still not looking forward to her attempt.
I wish Raven had come instead!

“Are you ready?” Felicia cocked a thumb toward the driveway. “Mr. Cassidy loaned me his car. I thought the limo was too ostentatious for our errand today.”

Tori didn’t trust Felicia’s driving any more than she trusted her. “Since I know the city better, we should take my car. But before we leave, come on in and meet my foster mother.”

She led Felicia through the living room and into the kitchen, where Misty was reading the paper.

“This is a friend of mine from school.” Tori tried not to choke on the word
friend
. “Felicia, this is Misty Savannah.”

“Pleased to meet you, Felicia,” Misty said. “Any friend of Tori’s is welcome here.”

“I’m pleased to meet you as well.” Felicia spoke without a trace of her English accent. “I noticed a lovely painting of Baphomet over your fireplace.”

Misty looked blank. “Is that what it’s called? The painting was a gift from a fan many years ago.” She chuckled. “I like the colors.”

“Well, we’re off to do some shopping,” Tori said. “See you later.”

“Bye!” Felicia chirped.

Once they’d left the house and buckled into the car, Tori gave Felicia a hard stare. “What was with the American accent? I hope you’re not mocking me.”

“It’s called undercover work. Today I’m channeling a totally gnarly California girl.”

Tori started the engine. “‘Totally gnarly’ is so decades ago.”

“Now who’s mocking whom?”

“After last night, I’m entitled.”

“I’m sure Raven told you I apologized for my rudeness.” A sigh. “I suppose I’ll just have to prove myself.”

“If possible.”

“Fair enough, but you’ve got to give me a chance. Where are we going?”

“A shop on Melrose called The Mime’s Eye. The owner knows things about the Shakespeare Institute, and slaying demons.”

“Does he have any idea who you are?”

“No, but he does know I can see demons.”

Tori took Laurel Canyon Boulevard south until it turned into North Crescent Heights Boulevard.

“I’m completely lost. Where are we?” Felicia asked.

“West Hollywood. Melrose Avenue is just a few blocks from here.”

Felicia was glued to the scenery as they drove, staring at the shops, people—and demons.

“This place is
teeming
with denizens of the underworld, and nobody seems to notice anything weird.”

“With each quake more and more demons appear,” Tori said. “L.A. has its freaks, of course, but it wasn’t always this crowded.”

“Do you have any underworld or demon friends?”

“Are you kidding? If I let demons know I can see them, they’ll attack!”

“That’s not true—unless you mention the Scottish play, of course. Many demons are perfectly harmless, and some can be quite fun. Vampires throw the best parties.”

Disconcerted, Tori didn’t know how to respond. She parked her car, but as she and Felicia walked down Melrose Avenue, it was difficult to pry the British beauty away from the boutique windows. She stopped dead in front of a leather shop and gazed lovingly at the garments within.

“Oh, what a gorgeous blue leather jacket! It matches my eyes. I want to buy it on the way back. With your coloring, maybe you should buy one in winter white.”

“I’ve a very limited budget for clothes. I doubt if there’s anything in that store I can afford except perhaps a keychain fob or a coin purse,” Tori replied.

Felicia’s eyebrows drew together. “I don’t want to argue, but the dress you had on last night was no rag.”

“It was a gift from Misty. She bought me a few things the other day, and paid for me to get my hair done.”

“Why?”

“An early birthday present.”

“A very generous birthday present.”

“She’s always been very kind. I’ve told her I intend to pay her back one day.”

“I don’t want to rain on your sponge cake, but ballet isn’t the highest paid profession in the world. If earning money is on your agenda, perhaps losing the SBT job wasn’t such a bad thing.”

It required some effort for Tori to control her temper. “How did you know about that?”

“I heard it from the tiny anemic-looking blonde at school.” Felicia curled her lip. “What a horrible shrew. I think if I had to dance alongside
her
, I’d vomit on her toe shoes.”

Tori burst out laughing. “A mutual dislike of Kirsten is one thing we have in common.”

A half block later, they reached The Mime’s Eye. While Felicia paused to admire an elaborate display of crystal-studded dream catchers, Tori glanced around for Mr. Mime. The owner was nowhere to be seen, but a new employee was manning the register. She tried not to stare, but the tips of short stubby horns were protruding from his dreadlocks.

“Can I help you?” His accent was Jamaican. “The name’s Cody.”

When the young man stepped out from behind the counter, Tori noticed cloven hooves where his feet should be. She lowered her voice. “Forgive me for asking, but how do you navigate past the anti-demon rune out front?”

“I’m a satyr, not a demon, so it doesn’t affect me.”

“Oh, I beg your pardon.” Tori flushed. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

He waved off her apology. “No worries. Since there aren’t too many satyrs around here, you’ve probably never met one before.”

“You’re right, I haven’t.”

Felicia joined them, seemingly unperturbed by Cody’s appearance. Her brows rose as she glanced down at the young man’s painted hooves. “Beautiful nail polish! Is it Black Plague?”

“That it is.” Cody gave her an appraising look. “You certainly know what’s trendy.”

“I’ve always made fashion a priority.”

While Cody and Felicia chatted about nails, Tori’s gaze dropped to the display case. The silver dagger Mr. Mime had showed her was missing—presumably sold to a demon hunter.
I wonder how many of us are out there?

“Excuse me,” she interrupted, “but is Mr. Mime available? I need to talk to him.”

“In his office. To the back and hang a right.”

Tori and Felicia found Mr. Mime unpacking a case of runestones, imported from Germany. When he glanced up, recognition brought a smile to his face.

“Tori! And you’ve brought a pretty friend with you.”

“Yes, this is Felicia. I see you hired an employee.”

“Actually, Cody’s my son. He’s half-Satyr—a by-product of a whirlwind trip to the Caribbean some years ago.” He gave a sigh, as if in fond remembrance.

“Nobody notices anything different about him?”

“I dabbled in the occult, remember? A little glamour spell works wonders on everyone except a discerning few like the Nephilim. How can I help you today?”

Tori glanced at Felicia, who sprang into action.

“Mr. Mime, I understand you’re plugged in to what’s
really
going on in the demon world.” Her accent was American—low and sultry. “Tori and I have been hearing certain rumors, and we decided to run them past an expert.”

Her flattery had the expected result. Mime giggled and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t know if I can help, but I’ll be happy to try.”

She drew closer. “Word is, demons are preparing for the Apocalypse on March first, and Los Angeles is Ground Zero.”

His grin slipped and he gestured to the door. “Close that, would you?”

Tori complied.

“I’ve been hearing the same thing.” Mime’s expression was grim. “Apparently someone very powerful has located a Nephilim Leap Day child and intends to make a sacrifice.”

Tori gulped. “Does anyone know the child’s identity?”

Mime shook his head. “Only the person or persons preparing to sacrifice him.”

“Who might that be?” Felicia asked.

“I don’t know.”

Tori gestured to the shipment of runestones. “You’re still going about business as usual, so you must not think it will happen.”

His somber mood lifted. “I’m an optimist. March first is weeks away. I could win the lottery by then.”

“Are the vamps for the Apocalypse or against it?” Felicia asked.

“Against, of course. The only creatures who are for it are the worst sort of demons and humans who’ve been promised something in return for bringing the Apocalypse about.”

“Such as?” Tori asked.

“Power—in whatever society is left. Or perhaps somebody sold their soul at some point, and they want to get it back.” He shrugged. “Of course there are always humans who enjoy destruction, even if it results in their own doom.”

“And people think
demons
are weird,” Felicia murmured.

“One last thing,” Tori said. “You had a silver dagger in the display case out front, but it’s gone now. Did you sell it to a demon hunter?”

“Yes. There have always been a handful of Nephilim in L.A. who like to raise Hell, as it were, just to smack it down again. Kids your age, mostly, who are runaways. Without special training, they don’t last long. The kid who bought the dagger knows how to handle himself. He calls himself Stormchaser.”

“Stormchaser?” Felicia rolled her eyes at the name. “How terribly dramatic.”

“If Stormchaser spends a lot of time on the streets, I bet he’d know who is behind all this,” Tori said.

“He might,” Mime said. “Then again, he might not.”

“I don’t suppose you have his address?” Tori asked.

“I’m not sure he has one. He’s into the club scene, though. If you run across him, tell him I said hello.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mime,” Tori said.

As she reached for the door, Mime spoke. “Be careful, ladies. Any humans who stick their noses into this may find themselves torn apart by a pack of demons who’d do anything to ensure the Apocalypse will come about.”

The slightly arrogant smile on Felicia’s lips told Tori she was thinking Stormchaser wasn’t the only one who knew how to handle himself.

Felicia insisted on buying two of the shimmering one-inch dream catchers. While Cody rang up the purchases, Tori tried to curb her impatience. The meeting with Mime had done nothing to ameliorate her feeling that a target was painted on her forehead.
And I’m no closer to learning who wants me dead than I was before.
As Cody slid the tissue-wrapped items into a small hemp shopping bag, Felicia gave the satyr a slow smile. “Anyone who uses Black Plague nail polish probably knows where the best parties are.”