Blood for Breakfast (Sydney Newbern Book 1)

by Helen Bell

  Chapter 4

  A long line of people stretched from the entrance of the club, down the road, and around the corner, waiting patiently to get inside. I followed Tess and Daryl past the line and right up to the bouncer guarding the front door. With folded arms and sunglasses atop his head, he acknowledged Tess with a nod and let us in.

  Inside, strobe lights pulsed, changing colors around the packed room as pumping music filled the smoky air. The Dark Night looked like a typical nightclub, nothing hinting that vampires were nearby, feasting on blood.

  I trailed after Tess and Daryl, weaving through swaying bodies. The crowd became thinner after we crossed the main hall. We passed the bathroom and turned left. A black curtain faced us. Tess drew it back, and we moved inside a vacant, shadowy hallway with black walls. We continued until we reached a door tucked away.

  Tess laid her palm flat beside it, and a bald man in a black suit opened the door a second later. Light spilled into the hallway. His eyes met mine and stayed on me while we entered the room, his expression stony. Tess closed the door behind us, and the loud music stopped at once. Besides him, no other men occupied the windowless space.

  “Jack, this is Sydney,” Tess told him. “She’s here for the Donor job.”

  He scanned the length of me, head to toe, then said, “Okay, she can go in.”

  Tess tossed him a smile, and we crossed to an arched passageway on the opposite side of the room. Passing through, I rubbed my arms, feeling the temperature dropping. Our shoes echoed across the stone floor as we moved toward a long stairwell. As we descended the steps, fear sent a shiver up my spine. What if something went wrong? What if I did something that pissed off a vampire and he ripped my throat out? I pushed the disturbing thoughts aside. Everything will be fine.

  When we reached the bottom of the stairs, the scent of vanilla swirled around me. A row of scented candles lit the underground tunnel, along each side. The passage was paved, and the ceiling, limestone rock, was about nine feet high. With each step I took down the narrow tunnel, the stony walls felt as if they were closing in on me more and more, sucking the oxygen out of my lungs. Sweat gathered on my brow, my heart galloping loudly in my ears.

  “God, I feel like I can’t breathe. The air circulation is too slow,” I said.

  “Are you claustrophobic?” Tess asked.

  “No, the tunnel is just a bit too narrow.”

  “Don’t panic; you won’t suffocate. Vampires don’t need to breathe, but for the humans who work down here, they made sure there would be oxygen.”

  “I hope so,” I told her as we kept striding forward. My heart still beat fast. A flashback of the small room I’d been kept in for three weeks popped into my mind, and I felt as if the tight space of the tunnel became even narrower as we continued moving. Then, a rocky wall stopped us.

  “Guys, um, we kinda reached a dead end here,” I said. “Maybe Asgard moved the vampire’s section to another place?”

  Tess put her hand in the middle of the wall, and it melted away. Music poured into the tunnel.

  “The magic flowing through the stone recognized my hand as a Donor,” she said at my surprised look.

  I stepped into a spacious cave with Tess and Daryl, and the wall reappeared behind us, sealing me in. The metallic smell of blood hovered in the stuffy air. With my jaw slack, I stared around me. Soft light lit the sandstone cave, which had ornate vaulted ceilings and pillars. There were wooden tables, with candles in wrought-iron holders, scattered around the middle of a dance floor. A long bar was tucked against the stony wall, two bartenders attending to customers. On the opposite side, girls gyrated on an elevated stage with dancing poles. The cave was full, but not packed like the club upstairs. People were dancing, drinking at the tables, and feeding on humans. My skin prickled with discomfort.

  As we traveled farther into the cave, Tess told me, “Stay close to us.” Oh, she didn’t have to tell me twice; no way was I leaving her side.

  We passed by a table where a woman with a deep cleavage was wedged between two female vampires, one drinking from her neck, the other from the upper swell of her breast. Nearby there was another group of bloodsuckers. In only underwear, a poor man was sitting on the floor, his wrists and ankles cuffed with chains fixed to the wall. Three vampires, two males and one female, fed on him. Each drank from a different part of his body: neck, stomach, and arms.

  Appalled, my steps faltered, and I grabbed Tess’s arm. “I-I c-can’t do this. I can’t work as a Donor.”

  “What? Why?” she asked over the music and followed my stare. “Sydney, he’s not suffering. The opposite is more like it. Look at his face.”

  I did. Oddly enough, pleasure—not pain—covered his features.

  “If you don’t work as a Donor,” she went on, “Asgard won’t heal you, and you’ll die from a terrible disease.”

  I pulled in a deep breath. She was right. I’ll just close my eyes when the time comes, reminding myself how much I love to live and have money.

  “Okay, where’s Asgard?” I said.

  She opened her mouth when a waitress carrying a tray of red drinks walked up behind her and tapped her shoulder. She had a blue pixie cut and a lip ring, and was clad in a tight-fitting tank top with a low-cut neckline and a pair of black jeans.

  “Tess, what are you doing here? Your shift doesn’t start until one.”

  Tess turned to her. “Need to talk with the boss. You seen him?”

  The waitress looked surprised. “Asgard? He’s in his room, but I don’t think

  anyone is allowed to interrupt. He just started a business meeting.”

  “With whom?” Daryl asked.

  She tossed him a half-smile. “Sorry, didn’t catch the vamp’s name; it was a bit hard to pay attention to anything coming out of his mouth as he was too damn hot. I mean, really, that kind of deliciousness is distracting and should be illegal.”

  A man approached the waitress. “No time for chatting, Emily. Back to work,” he barked at her, and his eyes moved to me. “You, the new human, take off your jacket and come with me. Asgard wants to see you.”

  “Good, let’s go,” Tess said, taking the jacket from me.

  “Alone,” he told her. “You know his rules: no more than ten people in his room. He hates when it’s too crowded. Besides, Bill wants to see you and Daryl upstairs in his office.”

  The blood drained from her face as she took out her cell. “Yeah, right, no problem. I’ll call and tell him we’re on our way up.” To me, she said, “We’ll see you later. Good luck.”

  The man gestured for me to come with him, and my fear increased, beating against my nerves.

  To follow him alone was the last thing I wanted to do; nonetheless, I did just that. I maneuvered my way through the crowd until we reached a wooden door at the far end of the cave. He knocked, waited two seconds, opened it, and ordered me inside. He stayed outside, closing the door behind me. The music died at once.

  I was in a big room with a high ceiling. A dude in a brown button-up shirt and black pants with flawless, milky-white skin sat on a button-tufted couch placed against the rocky wall. The man’s blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail at his nape. His blue eyes moved to me. Power radiated from him like heat from a fire, flushing my skin. Expressionless men with black suits stood on either side of his couch, three on his right, three on his left.

  In front of the blond vampire, Asgard I assumed, there was a low glass table with an open case, and across from that there was a man clad all in black: black shirt, long black leather coat, black pants, black boots. From his profile, I could see that his skin, the color of porcelain, was unblemished too—a vampire. About three inches over six feet, he was standing even though a chair was next to him.

  At Asgard’s stare, I mumbled, “I’m, uh, Sydney. I, um … want to work as a Donor.”

  His eyes went to the vampire across from him, as if I hadn’t spoken. “I’m at a loss here,” he said to him with a faint trace of a foreign accen
t. “I was under the impression you intended to buy The Dark Night. We’ve agreed you’ll pay half the money now and the rest next month, but the case is empty. Why?”

  Rather than answering, the vampire dressed all in black asked, “Does the human really need to be in here?” He sounded displeased.

  “You can speak in front of her. She’s insignificant, just a mortal. Why is the case empty?”

  Insignificant? I can hear you, asshole.

  My eyes moved to the other vampire. It seemed like Asgard’s reply didn’t satisfy him. He didn’t voice his discontent, though. Instead, he answered the question. “Because I didn’t bring the money with me. I know the club is in a financial crisis—”

  A flicker of surprise passed across Asgard’s face before his expression was back to serious. “Who has fed you those lies? Didn’t you see the queue outside my club? I assure you, the financial records of The Dark Night will prove that your source is unreliable, Mr. …?” Asgard frowned as if trying to recall his last name.

  “You mean the falsified financial records and the fake line outside the club that you staged to impress me?” the vampire said. “Seeing as I was the one who spent significant time and effort over the past few months ensuring The Dark Night would lose money, I think I can say I’m a reliable source. My apologies for the trouble I’ve caused you, but it was necessary.”

  What the hell is he talking about? I wondered.

  Asgard’s irises grew bright gold. “To hell with you. You never wished to buy my club, did you?”

  The other vampire let out a soft chuckle. “Of course not. The Dark Night is a terrible investment. But driving your club to the brink of bankruptcy was a good cover story to get you in a room like this. Where there are no cameras and everyone knows you won’t allow more than ten people in your office at once. That makes what, six bodyguards?” The vampire drew a dagger from inside his coat.

  I gasped, shocked by the unexpected turn of events.

  “It was a good thing I made sure only I can buy The Dark Night,” he continued, playing with the weapon in his hands. “You were so desperate to sell that you let me in without having your security team search me. You’d have done anything to make me feel welcome. Oh, and call me by my first name, Gideon. No need for formality. After all, I’m going to be the last person you see before you die.”

  Asgard’s bodyguards were already moving in, but their boss raised his hand to signal them to stay put, his eyes blue once again. “How old are you, vampire?” Asgard sniffed the air and answered his own question. “One hundred and sixty-five years old. A baby. And you think you have the physical power to eliminate me? An Ancient? A Ruler?” His tone was scornful and patronizing.

  “Actually, I do. Maximus and Ferdinand would have attested to that if my dagger hadn’t turned them into a pile of ashes.”

  Asgard shot up on his feet. His eyes turned back to gold, spitting fire. “You! You are the traitor who killed Maximus and Ferdinand? It is impossible; you’re a mere baby!”

  “Technically an Adult,” Gideon said. “I’d love to continue our lovely chat, but the clock’s ticking, my lord.” He gave him a mocking bow. “And it’s time to end your existence.”

  Fangs thicker, sharper, and longer than Daryl’s tore from Asgard’s gums. “I will cut your hea—”

  “Nobody’s killing anybody. Not tonight anyway.” A familiar voice stopped him. It took me a few seconds to realize it was mine. What the hell was I doing? I shifted my weight nervously when Asgard’s gold eyes jerked in my direction, his expression furious. He fired a how-dare-a-human-interrupt-my-threats look at me. I swallowed hard.

  I had to defuse the situation. I needed Asgard alive. He was my permanent cure for my cancer. “Everybody just calm down,” I said, but of course everybody didn’t just calm down. Gideon, who evidently was the Rulers’ killer Tess had referred to, seemed unhappy—to say the least—that I had drawn attention to myself, and Asgard looked even more pissed.

  “Drain the mortal dry for not knowing her place, then burn her body,” the Ruler ordered.

  “But, my lord, we’re in charge of your protection. We mu—” one of the bodyguards started to argue.

  “He’s an infant,” Asgard barked. “Don’t insult me. I can end him myself. You kill the mortal.”

  Gideon muttered a curse and turned to move in my direction, as if to help me, but he was stopped.

  In a blur of motion, Asgard was near him, kicking his stomach hard, sending his body sailing across the floor away from me. His bodyguards closed in. Terror sliced through my body as they circled me. Oh God, I was going to die. One of them grabbed my arm and yanked me to him, lips curling into a vicious smile.

  He reveled in my fear—which transformed it into anger. “Let me go.” I scratched his face with my free hand. He snarled and punched me in the chest, knocking me to the floor. I gasped for air.

  Hissing, I scrambled to my feet and moved to the door. It was locked, so I pounded on the wood. “Tess, Daryl, help!”

  “Save your energy,” one of them said behind me. I turned around. The vampires stood in a semi-circle around me. “Your thief friends are dead, and the room is soundproofed.”

  “Dead?” My voice was almost a whisper.

  “Yes,” the bloodsucker replied. “We caught them on camera stealing blood bags. Tess thought if she told Bill they brought you as a gift to Asgard and not to work as a Donor, it’d soften our Ruler. He ordered their deaths anyway before you came into the room. Too bad for you, Asgard doesn’t like it when his sex slaves don’t keep their mouths shut. He hates to be interrupted.”

  A sex slave? I was aghast. Tess and Daryl had betrayed me to save their own skins. Which meant I was completely on my own. In an underground cave teeming with vampires. The irony that I’d been safer held by a psycho in a prison cell did not escape me.

  The vampire in the middle neared me. My back pressed against the door. I had nowhere to go, and he clearly enjoyed my helplessness. They all did. His fangs jutted out as he wrenched me to him. His head dipped to my neck. Sweat gathered on my brow. Each beat of my heart sent adrenaline pumping through my veins.

  I expected to meet my death. Except I didn’t. What happened next shocked me. On reflex, I moved back, squatted, spun, and with a low, spinning sweep kick—which I performed flawlessly—I knocked him off his feet. Before he had a chance to get back on his feet, I took off my left shoe, quickly straddled him, and plunged the heel into his chest. Blood poured from the wound and he screamed with anger, but he didn’t die. If anything, I’d just managed to piss him off. As his eyes narrowed in rage, changing color, something slid across the floor toward me. It stopped near my bent knee.

  “Silver through the heart will do the job,” Gideon’s voice said. As I grabbed the stake on the ground, I caught a glimpse of Asgard wrapping one arm around Gideon’s neck while he tried to stab a dagger through his chest with the other.

  The vampire underneath me pulled out my heel while telling me all the nice things he’d do to me, like ripping my head off, tearing me limb from limb, and gouging out my eyeballs. Not giving him enough time to make good on his word, I swiftly drove the silver stake through his heart.

  I leaped back to my feet with the weapon and stared at the dead body, stunned. The vampire on the floor hadn’t exploded into ashes, but he was dead. I’d definitely killed him. How the hell had I done that? I’d never taken any self-defense classes. He was twice my size, yet I’d managed to overpower him—in a minidress and heels, no less.

  I snapped out of my shock when one of the leeches swung a fist toward my face. With reflexes I never knew existed, I dodged it and stabbed him in the heart while two other bloodsuckers charged at me. I took off my right heel to fight barefoot, turning to them. They stopped to glance at Tess’s sister’s dress, which was covered with their friend’s blood. Their eyes changed to bright silver.

  “Yeah, I know, I don’t think a stain remover will fix it, either,” I said and jerked to the side, a
voiding another blow. I kicked out a leg and hit the vamp on my right in his stomach, sending him staggering back. The one on my left, I punched in the throat, grabbed him by the shoulder, and kneed him in the side of his rib cage. Then their friends joined the fight.

  I expertly moved right, left, down, up as I blocked, dodged, and deflected blows from every direction, then punched, kicked, smacked, and struck back. I neutralized two leeches by breaking their necks with a swift pull of the jaw and then killed them with the stake. I did the same to the next two bloodsuckers who met my fist. I blew a wisp of hair off my face as I looked down at the floor. All of Asgard’s bodyguards were dead. I snorted in disbelief. How? How was it possible? How had I kicked their asses in a matter of a few minutes?

  The tattoo on my palm started to glow white, in and out, drawing my attention from the endless questions swirling in my head. I ran a finger along the ink. Was it responsible for my new martial arts skills?

  A loud thud broke me out of my musing, reminding me I was not alone. I snapped my head up. Asgard and Gideon were still fighting, but the latter’s focus was on my left hand. Looking surprised and distracted by my glowing tattoo, he got a punch in the face. The number ceased to glow. Gideon spat blood and went back to concentrating on Asgard. He dodged Asgard’s next blow and struck him with a flying sidekick. When he recovered from the hit and charged at him, the sound of a phone ringing filled the space. Gideon whipped out his cell from the pocket of his pants, glanced at the caller ID, and pressed the device to his ear.

  “A little busy here, Kate,” he answered as he kicked Asgard in the stomach and knee. Then he picked up the dagger lying on the floor. “No, don’t open the cave yet. Keep stalling,” he responded to whatever Kate had said. Wincing in pain, Asgard growled when his opponent’s blade sliced deep into his thigh. He collapsed to the ground. “I’ll be there in five minutes,” Gideon added. Asgard got up in spite of the severe injury in his leg, which caused Gideon to roll his eyes. “Make it six.”