Wildfire

Chapter 12

12. negotiate

Someone, somewhere during the increasingly bizarre events that had unfolded tonight, had flipped my default setting from almost normal to total hysteria. Diego's presence inside the entrance to the club probably should have surprised me – or, at least, startled me somewhat – but as I shuffled inside the dimly lit hallway, the only thought that sprung to mind was the beginning of a really awful joke.

A human, a druggie and a werewolf walk into a bar...

I had finally, completely and utterly, lost my frickin' mind.

And if the half-startled, half-wary look Diego was giving me was anything to go by, he was thinking the exact same thing. How else could you explain a mental breakdown in the middle of an anthropology lecture? Or my subsequent attempt at fleeing the scene? A small, tiny part of me struggled to find something even remotely intelligent to say instead of just staring back, but I was a hopeless cause.

For the first time in my entire life, words completely failed me.

I stood there, gaping, until Darren slung an arm around my shoulders and the urge to kick him squarely in the nuts reared its ugly head.

I settled for elbowing him in the stomach, jabbing as hard as I dared. "Get off me," I hissed.

Darren scowled back, eyes flashing.

His words startled to trickle back through my mind, "If anyone asks, you're with me. You don't need to elaborate on that. The bouncers might give us some trouble because we're human..." and two things occurred to me at once – one, I'd just blown our cover, and two, one of the bouncers who intended to give us trouble was none other than the guy whose life I'd possibly saved only three days earlier.

It didn't matter how many dimensions or worlds there were to travel – the universe was still a freakishly tiny place.

I took a deep breath, tamping down on the anxiety that twisted in my gut, and started forward on jelly-like legs.

As Darren and I started to approach, the first bouncer – the blond one – pushed himself away from the wall and turned slightly, the muscles of his arm bulging beneath the sleeve of his black t-shirt. Most bouncers were pretty intimidating, but this guy took the cake. He looked like he could easily bench press both of us without breaking a sweat, and then Diego for good measure. The effect was somewhat softened by his boyish face; he looked young, maybe seventeen or eighteen, and his face hadn't quite lost his baby fat. He had obviously tried to look older by letting his dark blond stubble grow out a little.

Still, when he loomed over us, a wave of apprehension crashed through me.

"Password?" he inquired.

I glanced at Darren, my heart rate starting to pick up.

"Don't have one," Darren said lazily. "Don't suppose you'll let us in anyway?"

I could have cheerfully murdered him. Disbelief shot through me and I slid an incredulous glare in his direction. This was how he intended to get us inside? A vision of Lexie, her body cold and bloody and strewn across the pavement outside rose in my mind and the nausea in my gut grew stronger. How the hell had I tricked myself into believing that Darren – that Darren Weisz, of all people – could save my best friend? The guy could barely keep himself out of trouble, never mind another person!

The only reaction the bouncer gave was a slight arch of his thick, blond brow. "No."

"We think our friend's in trouble," I blurted out, completely ignoring Darren's request to "be cool". The lazy, almost cheerful expression on Darren's face slipped as he glanced down at me, anger darkening his eyes, but I was through doing things his way. If it came down to it, I knew I'd rather face his wrath than the fury of the guy in front of me.