by Ana Calin
“Lord Dracula?”
“He saved you from that ditch, didn’t he?”
Bile gathers in my mouth. I hate this bastard so much. “You owe me to at least be better informed. That you should at least care what happened to a child you abused and thrown into a frosty ditch at the edge of the town.”
“Child.” His face contorts in an ugly way as the word leaves his mouth. “You weren’t a child, Irina, you were a whore. Other man had fucked your tight little pussy before me.”
Memories ravage my heart, and my fists tighten, my wrists straining dangerously against the cuffs. It’s so fucking hard to refrain from shattering them, revealing my strength and immunity to silver, and ripping this scumbag apart, piece by piece, member by member.
I look down at my fists, my back straight, the red lights of the club playing on the tense sinews of my arms. I can sense the ogling of the slimy shifters, and I start to devise a plan in my head. I start releasing pheromones to get them on my side.
“Lord Dracula didn’t find me in that ditch. I survived, I crawled out.”
I can sense the question in the air, even though he doesn’t voice it.
“You took care not to turn me into a vampire, not to grant me immortality, but apparently I had a few stubborn bones in my body. I dragged myself to a former ‘client’ who’d been more or less nice to me before. He was a former convict with PTSD, he rocked in his seat, bracing himself all the time, but he only had me give him hand jobs, and he always gave me apples extra to the pay. He took care of me, but his neighbors were intrigued by the bites all over my body. I grew weaker by the day, and I would have eventually died, especially because the guy couldn’t really take care of me. He was damaged.
“But my story made it to Dracula’s ears. It was unusual, for a vampire’s victim to live long enough to raise questions. He came personally to erase your tracks, and found me rotting alive on a cot in the guy’s house. I guess I was in a pretty bad state if it melted even Dracula’s heart. He gave me his blood, erased the town’s memory, and took me away.”
I reemerge from the memories, struggling to keep my chin from trembling. “So I gave you my painful story. Now give me yours. What happened? How did you end up in this wheelchair? And without fangs?”
“You might not believe this, Irina, but you were my masterpiece.” He sucks from the cigarette, relaxing into the conversation. “I never did with anyone what I did with you. Not before us, or after.”
“I’m flattered. But it’s not what I asked.”
“I didn’t interrupt you, so please return the favor.”
“You’ve got nerve.”
“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He blows smoke up from his thin, pursed lips that wrinkle in a way I never saw a vampire’s skin wrinkle. I squint at him, trying to understand.
“What exactly did Lord Dracula do to you?”
“Well, first, he found me.” He tilts his head as if he’s sharing a great secret. “I had dues with him, because I’d deserted his ranks. He had a powerful army back then. He hadn’t lost his center of power to his brother yet. But I was tired of only feeding on the creatures that he considered low enough to deserve the kind of death we offered.
“No, no, don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I don’t think rapists and child murderers like myself don’t deserve to die, because I totally do. We’re the greatest scum, I’d never deny that. I’m not a hypocrite. But let’s be honest. If a hooker offers every hole of her body in exchange for money or other kinds of benefits, then that’s all she’s worth. The holes in her body. So I take advantage of that, use her till she breaks, and then drink her worthless blood to the last drop. Until she drops dead on the floor.” His eyes light up with the passion of a man who believes himself a Messiah.
“Don’t tell me—you’re a redeemer, cleansing the world of the pestilence of hookers.”
“Oh no, I’m not one of those. But if we are to cleanse the world of the filthy, then we might as well not discriminate.”
I eye the slimy serpent shifters around him. “Is that why you switched sides? Because Dracula’s policy wasn’t draconic enough for you?”
“Dracula is a true hero to you lot, isn’t he? I can’t believe I’m the only one who sees him for what he truly is—a tyrant making decisions on a whim. Some bad guys are worse than others in his eyes, all coming down to personal preference in the end. Like, for example, he could break my bones, knock the fangs out of my mouth, and tear my fingernails one by one, but he’d never dream of fucking a hooker to death while sucking her blood.”
He leans in over the table, with difficulty and pain from his damaged spine, but in his eyes I recognize the brute. “Didn’t you notice, for example, that he kills more men than women? Even that traitor Victoria got away with a load of sick shit before he took effective action against her, didn’t she?”
“No, you’re right, he does tend to spare women. He has the instinct of a protector.”
“Oh, that’s right, he’s all sensitive and good, while I’m a monster.”
“Exactly.”
He’s dying to strike me now, I can see it in his face that’s full of evil. I smile.
“I just love the way you look at me,” I tell him.
“Really, why?”
“Won’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want you to take it away from me.”
His face tenses up so much that he might as well whistle out of his ears, his gaunt cheeks all red. I’m getting to him. I start sending pheromones in his direction and that of the serpents that have his back, but turn my face to the dancing vamp hookers.
“Aren’t these women a little old for your taste? I thought you were into the ‘tight little pussies’ of girls.”
“They’re not here to entertain me.”
“How come these people’s blood get them so hooked?”
He doesn’t answer, but he stares at me, I can feel his gaze burning my face even though I look away.
“Come on, tell me. I’m here, in your power, it’s not like I can do anything about it.” I change my tone of voice into the luring calling of a seducer. There’s powerful chemistry in that, too. It might backfire, but it’s my best bet to get out of here and run with everything I know to Dracula.
“I told you. Immortal blood.”
“You’ve deciphered the Old Priest’s riddle,” I whisper.
He grins. “From the very beginning. It took less than a day, if you want to know.”
“I can’t imagine it was actually you. The Serpent Lord?”
“He had help. Someone who’s both a scholar and a warrior for centuries, someone many supernaturals think of as some kind of archangel. His name helps, too, to be fair.”
“The Devil’s Son.” I conclude. “Prince Michael.”
“Michael the Bad, that’s what they used to call him, isn’t it?” He inhales smoke and blows it out leisurely. “Michael the Bad. Sounds like the evil counterpart of the archangel Michael. And so majestically handsome, too. The only one with real potential to surpass his father in the Underworld, if you ask me.”
“You mean potential for evil.”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re opposed to evil, sweetheart,” he mocks. “Look at you—dressed like a hooker in latex and leather, smeared with blood all over. A woman who fucks and kills at the same time.”
“I had a good teacher,” I retort through my teeth.
“See? Then why turn up your nose at evil?”
“So you never planned on using immortal humans as soldiers in your army. The plan is to use their blood and enslave vampires with it. But enslaving vampires has been tried before. Only months ago the vampire Gruia almost took over Bucharest using something similar to what you’re doing. He had a special kind of venom that made vampires rabid and subordinated them to him. But Lord Dracula and Lady Ruxandra won that war. They will win this one, too.”
“See, that’s exactly the thing,” he says, waving a finger at me.
“They won a battle, not the war. The Serpent Lord is smarter and much wiser than you think. He’s at least a move ahead of Dracula all the time.”
So the Serpent Lord creates immortals to enslave vampires with their blood, to then use them against Dracula. I realize in dread that he could actually take over the world, not just a city or a country, or even a continent, and it would only be a matter of months. This could spread like a virus all over the globe.
“The Serpent Lord will bring about the apocalypse.” I bend over the table, grabbing the hand of the man I hate most in the world, my cuffs making clattering against the table. It surprises him, I can see that, even though he tries to hide it. “Zdrovan, you have to stop this madness. Maybe you don’t have fangs or claws anymore, but you’re a vampire, you live on blood, you’re a creature of the night, of the Hidden World. You can’t let the Serpent Lord destroy vampires, the vampire kind is the closest thing you have to family. Believe me, when you’ve served your purpose for the Serpent Lord, he’ll get rid of you.”
“The vampire kind is my family, oi?” He puffs, staring out of those deranged reddish eyes, but he doesn’t pull his hand away. The first sign that my pheromones are working.
I grip his hand tighter, staring into his eyes, even though it makes me wanna throw up. “Look, I hate to say this, but you and me are alike. I have become a murderer, a seductress vamp who occasionally even takes pleasure in torturing her victims. For many years I told myself that it was all your fault, that you had turned me into this monster, but the truth is my transformation began long before the fated night I met you.”
My skin creases as if worms are crawling up my legs, but I can’t back up now. Creating this sick connection to him is my only ticket out of here. Even with my newly gained immunity to sunlight and silver, I wouldn’t be able to fight my way out of this place, not with so many slimy serpent shifters lurking about the place in their damp black suits. Plus that the clients here are supernaturals, and certainly on Zdrovan’s side.
“It’s probably what drew me to you,” Zdrovan says, then changes his tone, so that everyone can hear him. “I’ll tell you what—I’ll make you a deal. Dance for me tonight, and I’ll take you to the Serpent Lord tomorrow, after sundown, and give you a chance of persuading him to stop this madness yourself.”
I puff. “As if that’s actually a deal.”
“It’s one you’d be smart to take, because the alternative is a lot worse.” He makes a point of looking at the zombie-like dancers.
“You know I’d never put my tongue on the blood of an immortal human, knowing what it’ll do to me.”
At Zdrovan’s sign one of the hulky serpent shifters brings a case with a limb, the rich blood trickling over the sides of the case. My nostrils flare at the scent, my throat constricting—fuck, it is irresistible.
“I want more than meeting the Serpent Lord face to face. I want you to ensure me a deal with him.”
“What kind of deal?”
“A meeting between him and Dracula. The two big bosses, alone with each other. They stand a better chance of sorting this out between themselves than you and I ever could.”
“Yes, that’s true, but that leaves one question open—where’s the fun in that for me?”
I motion with my hand around at the place. “Isn’t this club fun enough? Sure looks like you could have your choice of perversions.”
“Come on, sweetheart.” He taps the cigarette against the edge of the ashtray as if he’s having the most casual conversation with an old friend. “I told you, you were my masterpiece, which means that you of all people know exactly what I like. What fun means to me.”
I can feel the mask of calm on my face cracking. I wouldn’t be able to take half of what he’s done to me in the past.
“You will start by dancing for me,” he says. “Actually, you’ll do more than that. You’ll please me in all ways I ask.”
“No.”
The monster smiles, an ugly creature in an impeccable suit.
“Well then, I hope you enjoy your last drink as master of your own body.” With that he signals the big serpent shifter to bring the case with the severed hand close to me. That’s it, I’ll have to fight my way out of this, but then the bastard seems to get a better idea.
“On second thought, I might have a better incentive for you to dance for me, sweetheart. I have to say, I prefer you fully conscious when I have my way with you.”
“I’ll kill myself before I let you lay your hands on me again.”
“Oh, really? What about if I toy around with someone else you care about? Would you consider my offer then?” He smiles widely, and two shifters appear behind him, dragging a struggling Kareem. He makes desperate, muffled sounds from behind the cloth they stuffed in his mouth.
My insides melt.
“Look at that beautiful, painted body. Isn’t it a marvel to behold? Look at him struggling, it’s not so different from dancing is it? A natural, authentic dance, motivated by deep feelings of fear. Not some studied act to fool the senses.”
One of the shifters pulls a knife on Kareem, who’s struggling like crazy between the two goons holding his arms apart.
“No, please,” I break, “why do that to him? Where’s the logic in that?” My desperation shines through no matter how hard I try to bridle it. “He’s not a villain! He’s done nothing to deserve this.”
“He’s a male hooker, isn’t he? Doesn’t a woman pay him to dance for her and give her pleasures?”
“The client is your wife! She’ll be furious that you did this.”
He laughs, his skeleton chest moving up and down. “Geneva, furious with me? She had her fill of the guy. She gave him over to me herself.”
“That viper of a woman. She’s as rotten as you are.”
“Or more. She makes me so proud,” he mocks with that ugly smile on his face.
“Please, leave him alone.”
“I can’t, Irina, he arouses me. He has the perfect profile of my favorite of kind of scum. He’s a hooker and a deceiver. He fools the client’s senses, making her believe he’s actually aroused by her, when in truth he despises her. Much like you used to do.”
I jump up to my feet, fury heating my face, my hands grabbing so hard to the table that the wood chips. “He’s one of the most tender souls I’ve ever met, you bastard! He was the only one who had a heart for me when they put me in chains.”
“All right, all right.” Zdrovan holds up his palm, his tone so calm I could crack his skull open. “I understand his life means a great deal to you, and I’ll spare him, no worries.” His tone darkens. “If you do what I tell you. Start by dancing for me, will you.”
The twinkle in the bastard’s eye tells me he’s got me right where he wanted me.
And so it begins.
CHAPTER V
Lazarus
I slink inside the new establishment with Herald Gruff’s help.
“I thought nothing could surprise me anymore,” he grumbles as he smuggles me in through the back. “But here I am, working hand in hand with my worst enemy.”
“Wow, I’m your worst enemy—quite an honor.”
I spike up my senses, hearing beyond the music pounding from the sealed door down this narrow hall, the one leading to the back of the club. Herald grabs my arm, his bony fingers like brittle cardboard against my hard vampire flesh.
“Listen, this place isn’t like the other one. There’s ninety percent supernaturals in here. If you plan on fighting them to save your girlfriend, you need a new plan.”
Irina, my girlfriend—the idea puts a prickle in my stomach. “Relax, I have a plan.”
“You sure you can get us all out of here safe and sound?”
“Getting cold feet, tough guy?”
“You bet your ass I am. I know what we’re up against here.”
“So is that why you do prostitutes, because it’s the only way you can feel like a man?”
“Easy for you to spew venom.” He looks me u
p and down as if everything I am has been achieved by stealing something from him. “Forever tall and handsome with those ruffled locks and the deep blue eyes of a young poet. Easy to judge other men when you’re so easy to desire, to love.” He takes a few steps away. “So what’s the plan?”
I look past him to the metal door at the end of the hallway. “There’s only one thing that will work without knowing exactly what’s happening in there. Disguising ourselves.”
“Sorry mate, but—” He points at himself. “There’s no way this oldish human can fake being a supernatural.”
“You say there are vampires in there.”
“Yes.”
I grin. “I don’t know if you ever stopped to notice, but it’s usual for vampires to bring along snacks.”
We steal masks from the dancers’ dressing room and slink into the club. Only seconds later I glimpse Irina with her shiny long blonde hair all the way by a table near the far wall. I blend in, acting like a drunk vamp here for some fun, dragging his snack along with him. For that I smear Herald with some of the abundantly available blood that makes him want to throw up in his mouth, but I stop in my tracks as I realize that Irina has started to dance for that bastard.
She’s stepping onto the bar across from the booth, filling his field of vision perfectly, her long legs in netted stockings and stilettos coming apart as she lowers herself into the slowest, sexiest split I’ve ever seen. She has fantastic, long-muscled, toned legs, and the bastard licks his wrinkled lips as he watches her.
“Fuck me,” I breathe, stunned at the sick lust in those reddish eyes. Something tells me he’s thinking about the darkest kind of fucking as he ogles her.
I grab the back of Herald’s neck and hold him really close to my face for a second, baring my fangs at him as I say, “Now you play along and, no matter what, don’t say a word. No, don’t make a fucking sound.”
I drag him along, keeping behind the bar where Irina and other vamps wind around poles. I’ve almost reached her when she stretches her arms up, the muscles in her back long, tanned, strong, the straps of her latex corset pushing into her skin. God, she’s the sexiest creature that ever existed, but judging by the way that bastard looks at her that may well be her doom.
