Night Witch (Weatherstone College, #2)(20)

Sara, on the other hand, could have run a marathon in her five-inch stilettos.

“Night out in New York City,” she cried, pushing her coat open to show off her dress underneath. It was freezing, but there was thankfully no sign of snow.

The club Logan had directed us to was in an industrial area, and our cab couldn’t get closer than two blocks from the venue. “There must be an event here tonight,” I said as we exited to join the streams of people moving along the sidewalk. “Do you think we’re in the right place?”

The girls didn’t answer as we were swept up in the crowd, leading us right to the warehouse venue. The building was massive, its black walls blending into the darkness beyond. Huge red doors stood out like beacons, open and beckoning everyone forward.

Four security guards were checking tickets, and I looked around wondering what to do.

“This is a ticketed event,” Haley whispered as we got closer to the red doors. “Which I doubt we can afford.”

“Logan said to mention his name at the venue,” I said, stumbling as a drunk chick crashed into me, cackling her head off. Just then a guard shouted, “The line for will call is over there.”

We pushed through the crowd, moving away from the doors to join the long line. It moved quickly enough, though, and soon we were at the front. A young chick with platinum-blond hair and heavy makeup looked up as we stepped in front of the window. “Show is sold out, so unless you’re picking up tickets on hold, you’re shit out of luck.”

Right. Okay. Well, that explained why the line had moved so quickly.

“We’re supposed to be guests of Logan Kingston tonight?” I tried not to make it sound like a question. Tried and failed.

Her gaze grew less flippant as she squinted at me. “Name.”

“Paisley Hallistar.”

Her demeanor changed dramatically as she reached for an envelope. We even got a smile as she said, “You’re our mystery VIPs.” She slid the envelope under the glass toward me. “And you use this entrance here. Make sure to put your lanyards on before you go in.”

I exchanged glances with Sara and Haley, and they shrugged their confusion. None of us had a clue what was happening. The chick left the glass enclosure to show us to a door hidden just behind her booth. There were two security guards on it as well. “Lanyards,” she hissed, and I fumbled to pull out the three black plastic cards with our names already printed on them.

“These are the mystery VIP guests,” she said to the first burly dude. He was one of the biggest humans I’d ever seen, with a patch of bright red curls that didn’t quite match his roid muscles.

He ran his gaze over us briefly, before he checked our passes and opened the door to let us through. “This is the weirdest club I’ve ever been to,” Sara said, peering down the hall as we stepped through. “I wonder what show she was talking about . . . Maybe it’s one of those sexy male dance groups. Or it’s a sex dungeon slash swingers club.” Her voice grew breathless. “I’ve heard they have a lot of them here.”

Haley squeaked. “I’m not ready for a sex dungeon. I couldn’t even get through the shifter sniffing scene.”

That cracked us up as we hurried along a dimly lit hallway painted as dark as the outside. When we reached the end, more security guarded a door, and after checking our lanyards, they escorted us into the main venue.

“Holy . . . shit.”

It was dark inside, strobe lights showcasing the massive space. Heavy music thrummed through my body and ignited my suppressed magic. The crowds were jumping and screaming already—there had to be upward of two thousand people packing the massive space.

As we rounded the corner into the central part of the venue, I noticed the stage and realized the music was live. The five members of the band were headbanging in time to their music.

The lead singer had hair to his shoulders, his dark eyes made even darker by the makeup lining them. He stared out over the crowd and rasped the words to his song.

“It’s a music venue,” Haley cried, relaxing. “Thank the goddess my virtue is safe.”

Sara threw her head back and laughed at our bestie, before she shrugged out of her jacket. “We need to ditch our coats.”

The coat check was near the red-doored entrance, and once we had our passes stashed in our clutches, we made our way toward the bar.

“Are you going to message Logan?” Sara asked as we ordered some drinks. “You’re never going to find him in this venue.”

Pulling my phone out, I was about to send him a message, when the final beat of the rock song faded away. There was a brief pause, and then the crowd lost their fucking shit. I turned to find the band leaving as red and purple lights circled the empty stage.

A loud voice blasted through the venue. “That was Burning Chains.” Applause filled the venue along with screams and cries. “And now the moment you assholes have been waiting for. You followed them around Europe, stalked their fucking asses across the States, and now . . . the fact that they’ve agreed to play here tonight means we’re the luckiest bastards in the world. Make some motherfucking noise for Casters.”

“Did he say Casters?” Haley breathed.

I squinted at her. “He did. And I’m guessing they’re part of our world with that name.”

She shook her head. “Babe, they’re one of the biggest underground rock bands of the last few years. I don’t follow them or anything, but if you’re into any part of the music scene that’s not mainstream, they’re a big deal.”