Velvet Haven

Velvet Haven.
    If they only knew what lurked in the shadows of this place. What did they know, these mortals, other than that Velvet Haven had been created inside an old mansion built in the ornate Victorian Gothic style? What lured them, besides the mystery and seduction to be found behind the arched iron doors?
    Did they know the truth? Did any of them suspect that a diaphanous veil separated the mortal world from the Celtic Otherworld? Did the humans know that beneath the floor they danced and writhed upon was the Cave of Cruachan— the magical entrance to Annwyn?
    Would they believe that here in Velvet Haven, mortals and immortal shape- shifters mingled? Danced. Fucked . Would it scare them to know the type of magick being practiced right beneath their noses?
    Was it possible one of these mortals was practicing the dark arts? He frowned at the thought.
    “Does she displease you?” Sayer asked as he caught Bran’s black expression.
    “No.”
    Sayer grinned and gazed once more at the dance floor. “You’re a real buzz kill tonight.”
    “There is no ‘buzz’ in this for me, Sayer.”
    “There could be, if you allowed yourself the pleasure.” Bran grunted as he crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s no pleasure in this curse. You know how I feel about mortal females. They’re nothing but a necessary evil.”
    Sayer glanced out the window and stared down at the blond woman he had picked to service his king. “Mortals have their uses.”
    “You’re sure she’s clean?” Bran asked, getting back to the night’s mission and his purpose for being in Velvet Haven.
    “You needn’t worry. She’ll do you right.”
    Sayer suddenly stopped, his gaze sharpened like a predator’s when it spied prey. His skin flickered; a brief sparkling of iridescent orange and pink ran up his neck; then it was gone, but the Selkie’s watchfulness was still present, alerting Bran to a danger his friend had suddenly sensed.
    At the same moment, Bran felt the pupil of his right eye dilate, swallowing up the gold iris. There was something going on in Annwyn. Movement . Gathering . Darkness .
    “What do you see?” Sayer asked as he watched Bran’s eyes glow in the dark.
    “Annwyn. An unseen threat lurking in the forest. Magick. Dark magick.” The portal that allowed him to see his home closed, leaving Bran with his mismatched eyes.
    “Necromancy.” Sayer spat the word as he scanned the humans and immortals below them. His skin absorbed every hum, every vibration. “I sense it here, in the club.”
    Bran searched the darkened corners, peering through the shadows for this necromancer he sought. Scattered among the humans were the rebels of the Otherworld. Shifters with no allegiances; magicians with great powers.
    They were here, lurking in darkness, cloaked by shadows and magic. The Phoenix, the Griffin, the Shadow Wraith. Even the Fallen Angel had come out of his hiding place amongst the mortals to partake of the night. The only one missing was the gargoyle.
    The gargoyle— Carden —his half brother needed to be found. And soon. But to continue the search he needed energy. He needed the sexual pleasure of a human female to recharge his power, and with it, the ability to perform the strongest of magic in Annwyn—destruction magic. With this magic he could destroy the dark magician who was preying on his people. He could destroy Morgan. And find Carden. Someday. But first he needed to find the book Cailleach spoke of, as well as the other immortal warriors he was supposedly going to lead.
    “The female,” Bran growled irritably. “I need her— now .”
    “You needn’t sound so unhappy about it. Your own uncle fell in love with a mortal.”
    “No mortal will ever ensnare me. You can count on that.” Sayer only smiled and shifted to the left, allowing Bran full access to the window and a glimpse of the woman who was to be his evening’s entertainment. “You’re just pissed because your uncle’s abdication made you king. You’d rather be playing war than ruling Annwyn.”
    Bran didn’t bother to answer. “She is rather mousy, isn’t she?” he muttered.
    Sayer shrugged. “You gave me three requirements. First, she must be free of drugs; second, she must not be ovulating; and third, she must be hungry for sex. Hours of it .”
    “And so I did.” But a part he didn’t want to acknowledge had secretly wanted to enjoy it. Although he didn’t know why he still, on occasion, longed for the