Ginny sipped her drink and sighed over the ice-cold bitterness in her throat. “I think this is the same beer Tucker gave me. Or maybe they all taste the same.”
“Tucker gave you beer? And Jonas allowed him to keep his head?”
“Jonas knows…” She stopped short, trying to find the right words. “It’s a little odd now that I think about it, but Jonas knows I couldn’t have an interest in anyone else as long as he exists. Or as long as I’m aware that he exists, anyway. And I know the same about him. Somehow that goes unsaid.”
A vein ticked in Roksana’s temple. “Da, that is how it would be,” she said, low enough that Ginny wondered if she’d heard correctly. “What about before you met your…Jonas? Were there boyfriends?”
“No. I had one date with Gordon and I think he’d like another, but—”
“Turn him down.” She shrugged. “If you’d like him to live, that is.”
“I would,” Ginny said quickly. “You’re not saying Jonas would—”
“I am saying that.”
“That’s a fine thing to do. Killing off my only potential suitor when he’s so dead set on taking my memories and hitting the bricks.”
“Killing a man for getting too close to you would be an involuntary thing, Ginny—” Roksana broke off, taking a long pull of her beer. “Beer gives me a loose tongue.”
Reluctant to badger Roksana on their night out, Ginny turned in her stool to face the room, noticing the dance floor for the first time where it was tucked in the back corner beneath a neon yellow chandelier. Bodies moved fluidly, together and apart, hips rocking, hands seeking. What would it be like to dance with Jonas like that? With his mouth in her hair and his leg pressed between her thighs?
The bartender completed an order with the group to Roksana’s right and before he could leave to service another customer, Roksana tapped his elbow. “Two shots, please. Patrón.”
“Yeah,” he grunted, skulking away.
Ginny took a deep breath, bracing for her first shot of actual alcohol and felt a ramble coming on, due to her nerves. “How do slayers find this place?”
“Enders has been here for a century. I guess word got around. For me, I ran into Luther when we were stalking the same vamp in Gravesend. He’s sort of the unofficial manager. No one has ever met the owner, but there are rumors.”
“What kind?”
“They say she is savage. That in her office, she displays the heads of slayers who didn’t pay their bar tab. Some say she is a mafia princess. No one knows the truth.” Their shots were set down in front of them. Roksana slid one in front of Ginny before hoisting her own. “To your health.”
The tequila burned going down. Lord, it burned. Ginny didn’t find it unpleasant, though. It spread into a lake of warmth in her belly and gave her a relaxed sense of optimism. “Let’s go dance.”
Roksana winced. “Can I convince you to dance in your seat?”
Ginny gave her a sorry, Charlie headshake. “I don’t even know how to dance, so this should be fun.”
“Copy me, only. Not the ones humping.”
“Deal.”
They hopped off their stools and started to weave through the high top tables and groups of people. A step away from the dance floor, Ginny’s vision doubled. The music expanded, the words stretching out interminably, like her footsteps. Was she even moving? Were the lights getting brighter?
That’s when the pain struck.
“Oh,” she heaved, her knees landing on the ground, sending pain shooting up her thighs. But it was nothing compared to the stabbing agony in her stomach. A sharp twist she could only liken to a hot fireplace poker ramming into her gut made her fall sideways and curl into the fetal position. She squeezed tightly into a ball but that only made the pain worse. Nothing helped. Nothing helped.
Oh Lord, make it stop.
“Ginny!” Roksana was beside her, running hands all over her body, her touch leaving fire in its wake. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” she gasped, a terrible throb beginning in her throat. There was the sense that she needed something. A cure. Now now now. What was happening to her? She couldn’t withstand the torture much longer—and all she could think of was Jonas. She needed him there. He’d stop the pain.
Distantly, she realized people were gathering around them. Barstools were shuffled aside and the music trailed off. Roksana’s voice reached her, along with a tinny, yet familiar, one. As if it was coming over the phone.
“Bitch at me later,” Roksana shouted. “There’s something wrong with her…I don’t know! If I knew, I wouldn’t be calling you. She’s in pain, but there’s no injury. God, she’s…it’s like she’s dying. Tell me what to do! No. He made me promise I wouldn’t.” There was a heavy pause. “N-no, you can’t come here. You can’t—”