Afterlight - Elle Jasper [68]
“There’s a pack of them. Young, not fully transformed, but a load of trouble, if you know what I mean,” Eli said, inclining his head toward me. “One of them is her brother.”
Ned regarded me. “That sucks.”
“Have you sensed them around here?” Eli asked. “On the island?”
Ned shook his head. “Been in Atlanta at a gaming convention.” He glanced at me and grinned. “I created Urban Bloodsuckers,” he said, waiting for me to comprehend. “The computer game? You know, software? Badass.”
“Congratulations,” I said, and he shrugged.
Eli and Ned exchanged few more words, and then we said good-bye, with Ned’s promise that he’d contact us if Seth or the others showed up on the island. I felt skeptical—Ned seemed to be in his own little software world despite the superpowers having been bitten by a vampire had awarded him. “Live long and prosper,” Ned hollered from his front door as we climbed on the bike and left. Eli explained over his shoulder, “He’s a big Trekky.” I fully could see that—especially since he’d been around since before Captain James Kirk was even a spark in his daddy’s eye.
A spitting rain had begun just as we turned off of President Street and onto Bay, and we made it to the Panic Room just before the bottom fell out. A nondescript brick building, the club was completely void of neon lights or signs; the entrance was a plain set of haint blue double doors, and if you didn’t know of the Panic Room, you’d never have found it on your own. It was sort of a word-of-mouth type of place, and only a select few could waltz right in. A lot of shit happened in the Panic Room—drugs, sex, prostitution—but the owner’s attorney was a pit bull. They’d already sued the city for a bust without probable cause and a warrant, and not only did the attorney rake in the dough because of it, but the incident had made the SPD extremely cautious about raiding the Panic Room again. We parked the bike along the sidewalk and hurried to the entrance.
“Who’s the big guy with the braid?” Eli leaned toward my ear and whispered.
I turned into his neck and was surprised by the thrill that shot through me at the intimate closeness. “Zetty’s in his midthirties, from Tibet. He serves as the Panic Room’s resident doorman.” Zetty, with a black braid that reached his waist, always dressed in traditional Tibetan clothing, with a long red yak-wool wrap and black baggy pants tucked into a worn pair of shin-high leather boots. “He was once a Shiva follower,” I said. “See the symbol of a god inked into his forehead?”
Eli looked down at me. “Yeah.”
Tattooed into Zetty’s forehead were brightly colored squares of yellow and red adorned with dots that extended just down the bridge of his nose. He wore round, brightly colored stone earrings and carried a traditional Tibetan knife in a multicolored, handwoven sheath secured across his chest. “I’ve seen him use that knife, too, so don’t be stupid.” No one fucked with Zetty.
“Don’t worry,” Eli said, and placed his hand to my lower back and urged me forward.
Zetty smiled at me as we drew close, and recognition made his eyes shine. It was the kind of look that made his already intimidating features even scarier. “Riley Poe. What are you doing here?” he said in his heavy Tibetan accent, and grasped my shoulder.
Eli immediately stiffened and moved slightly in front of me, causing Zetty’s gaze to move from me to Eli. Zetty frowned.
“It’s okay,” I said quietly to Eli, and placed my hand on his back. “Zetty’s an old friend.” I looked at the bouncer. “Just here to hang out. So how ya been, Zetty?” I asked.
“Cannot complain,” he answered, but his attention was now on Eli.
“Good. Nice seeing ya,” I said, and tugged on Eli’s arm.
Zetty turned his eyes on me. “Stay out of the back rooms, Riley,” he said with a deadpan tone. “Nothing there for you anymore.”
We walked away, and I averted my gaze from Zetty.
“What’s up with him?” Eli asked as we passed through the small foyer where the music reverberated through another set of double doors that led into the