I slipped a hand into my apron, gripping the jeweled dagger. This was my chance.
With a wild yell and bark of laughter, I rushed into the room. I raised my arm, thrusting the dagger toward Puck’s heart—if the bastard even had one—but was wrenched to the side as a vampire appeared before me.
The southern vamp from the bar, I thought as my vision tunneled, shadows racing in from the periphery. I tried to move again toward Puck, but pain slammed into me. I gagged and slid to my knees.
The vampire snarled, holding a bloody, lifeless arm in his grasp. Confused, I looked down to see my own arm missing, blood oozing from my shoulder. Understanding dawned and I smiled. I’d be out from under Puck’s thumb no matter what happened now.
I fumbled at my apron with the fingers of my remaining hand, muscles already growing slow and weak. The demon continued his argument with Puck and the vampire was babbling about the need to protect Bite Club or some such nonsense. My head buzzed and my vision blurred.
I didn’t have much time.
I extracted the ice pick from the torn seam where I’d kept it, longing for the day I’d win my freedom. It wasn’t as elegant as the jeweled dagger, but it would have to do.
I managed to get a foot under me and lunged, jamming the ice pick upward. I felt the silver punch through muscle and slip beneath the ribs and into Puck’s heart. His eyes widened in surprise and I laughed.
Adrenaline fading, I hung limply in the arms of the vampire who’d grabbed hold of me. Licking my lips, I looked up into the frenzied face of the vampire. The creature latched onto my neck, sinking his fangs into my jugular, but I no longer cared.
“I did as you asked, my queen,” I rasped.
My vision dimmed to a tiny point of light and my body felt pleasantly cold. I relaxed, a smile still on my lips. I’d served my queen and been granted my own wish. No more tending bar in a sweaty nightclub. No further decades of servitude to the almighty Puck, who was now dying alongside me in this moldering, old wine cellar.
I was free.
DUSTED
The first rule of Bite Club is there are no rules. The lack of restrictions is what makes our soirees so dang irresistible. Bite Club is an all you can eat buffet of blood and wonton pleasure. But like all good things, Bite Club comes in small doses.
If vampires bit and drained everything in sight on a regular basis, we’d be hunted, staked, and burned to ash never to rise again. I tugged at the brim of my hat, which sat catawampus from a burst of speed, and made my way down the spiral staircase toward the bar.
I’m not a rogue—I can play by the rules—but immortality is a long, long lifetime and I’d found that Bite Club helped its members cope with the boredom and frustrations of eternal life beneath Vampire Law.
The vampire council mandates that all new fledglings adhere to their laws, or perish. What our masters don’t bother to tell us is that even after decades of following the rules to the letter, the restrictions do not lift. And after half a century, the laws regarding how one must conduct a hunt had begun to chafe.
Vampire Law states that feeding must be done discreetly. Blood slaves, humans who give their blood willingly, are encouraged—so long as we only make slaves of those unfortunate souls whom human society has already forsaken. We feed off the fringe of humanity—the homeless, addicts, runaways—those who are unlikely to be missed or whose disappearance can easily be explained away. But this forced discretion scraped against my true nature like a wooden stake against my heart. Vampires are predators, not scavenging birds meant to swoop in and pick at the garbage that humans cast aside.
I am no trash pickin’ gull. I am a vampire.
When I was first turned, I left the familiar bayous of my hometown seeking freedom. I had hoped that a change of scenery and putting distance between me and my master would alleviate the feeling of suffocation that plagued my new existence. Who would have known the undead led such a repressed life after death?
Inching my way north, I’d found my salvation in a dockside tavern outside Boston. I’d met a man, much like this Puck I was to meet with tonight, who organized a special club for vampires who wanted a taste of excitement—and blood.
I was indoctrinated into Bite Club, a no fangs barred gathering of vampires who, like me, chafed at the rules that bound our daily lives. At one of our meetings, humans could be purchased and, so long as we were within the confines of the designated location, we could do what we wanted with them. Some meetings were in places suitable for hunting games while others were in more comfortable settings for sating hunger for something other than blood.
But no matter what, the venue had always changed. That was why I got so excited when I learned of this place. Following rumors from other members, I was led to a city where Bite Club was hosted not once, but many times at a place called Club Nexus. The meetings were behind closed doors, down in the club’s wine cellars, but I didn’t mind the crypt-like setting if it meant I could have my fun without interruption. Puck made sure that only well vetted members were allowed admittance, so there was no risk of punishment from the Vampire Council.
I smiled, the skin stretching tight across the bones of my face. It wasn’t breaking the law if the uppity council didn’t know about it.
I sidled up to the bar, awed once again by the shelves of glowing liquids encased in glass bottles. None of these victuals would sustain me, there was only one substance now that could accomplish that, but I ordered a shot of bourbon anyway. I stared into my glass, watching the blue, green, and pink reflections sparkle across the surface, while I waited for my contact to arrive.
I breathed deeply as two women, one fae and one human, crossed the room heading toward the other end of the bar. I no longer had to breathe to survive, but I scented their blood like a sommelier running wine along the tongue. The faerie smelled like toasted pain and simmering hope, as if she was a creature of fire who’d long been broken and was only now beginning to put the pieces of her life back together. The human lacked the subtleties of fae scent, but her blood pounded tantalizingly beneath the skin and her hair smelled like cherry blossoms.
As a fool boy, I’d picked bushels of cherries from a nearby orchard and ate until I thought I would burst. Groaning with an upset stomach from overeating, I’d felt dumber than a stump, that was certain, but now I’d give anything for that sated feeling. I needed an abundance of blood and pain to feel content these days, both of which were in short supply while following the rules of Vampire Law.
I flicked my eyes to the shifting purple sand in the hourglass suspended above the bar. Puck was late.
I didn’t care for Puck’s company; he was slicker than a bullfrog in a rainstorm. But I had to admit, for a faerie, he was sensible. He’d had the horse sense to make a regular business of the Bite Club clientele and our sundry needs. Deviance is nothing if not full of variety and Puck had discovered how to capitalize on each and every one of our desires. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the imp was purposely late to our meetings to build the suspense, and empty my wallet.
I scowled at the time and massaged my temples. Where the devil was he? Beneath my glamour, my fangs lengthened. I needed to feed, now. Perhaps if I bought the ladies at the other end of the bar a drink, I could lure them into a shadowy corner. The council be damned.
I was so caught up in the dust storm of my thoughts that I jumped when a hand slapped my back. I turned to see the body of a young man attached to the offending hand. Puck appeared to be about seventeen, no more than three years younger than I’d been when I was turned, but his dimples and mop of curly, blond hair gave his face a childish innocence. As my ma would have said, he was cuter than a box of puppies.
And like a puppy, he’d be happy to take all I had to give and then shit in my boots. Too bad he was the only purveyor of vice—true vice, the kind without limits—in this god forsaken town.
“You’re late,” I said. I tossed back the bourbon and upended the empty glass, slamming it on the bar with a wall
op.
“Sorry, Cyrus,” Puck said. The curl of his lip was enough to know the faerie’s apology wasn’t genuine, but I held myself rigid. Tearing off this one’s head would do me no good. More’s the pity.
“I ain’t seen hide nor hair of you all evenin’,” I said. I frowned around my fangs, trying to ignore the ache in my jaw.
“Busy night,” Puck said with a shrug.
Puck looked around the bar and smiled at one of the women I’d been stalking. My prey. The predator in me wanted to lash out and tear his spine through his eye socket, but I pressed my lips together and remained seated on the barstool. The faerie may be too big for his britches, but he’d provide me with a dinner date soon enough.
“Got what I came for?” I asked. No sense in waiting while Puck made eyes at the human woman. I was past waiting on the man. It was time to get down to business.
“In the market for a short or tall ten pints?” he asked. “Had a new shipment of Ice in this week, so your drink can come feisty or sedate. Take your pick.”
Ice was the drug Puck was pedaling lately. I reckoned it was some magic concoction that gave paranormals a euphoric high and left humans stoned out of their right minds.
“I prefer my meal kickin’ and screamin’,” I said.
I couldn’t abide my prey drugged six ways to Sunday. Where was the fun in that?
“Feisty it is then,” he said.
“When can I eat?” I asked.
“In good time,” he said. “Like I said, it’s been a busy night and you’re not the only vampire in this city with needs.”
“I shouldn’t oughta have to wait,” I said.
“Don’t worry, my friend,” he said. “You won’t have to wait much longer. Customer in front of you is a quick feeder. Man will be done in fifteen minutes tops. Give him time to finish up.”
“Fine,” I said, holding out my hand.
Puck upended a velvet bag embroidered with arcane symbols and handed over an iron key.
“At my signal, enter the basement—no sooner,” he said. “Use the room on the right, same as last time. Your toys are already laid out for you.”
I fidgeted on my stool and tried not to gaze longingly at the basement door. As soon as the vampire ahead of me was done feeding, it’d just be me, my prey, and a room full of chains. I’d be happier than a pig in poop.
Puck stood and slapped me on the back.
“Gotta run, Cyrus,” he said. “Have fun.”
“Always do,” I said.
I spoke into empty space. The faerie was already strutting down the bar toward the human woman and her friend. I turned back to the hourglass and clicked my fingernails against the bar top. It seemed like ages for the other vampire to clear out of the basement, but finally a vampire who looked like some Yankee Wall Street stock broker came out of the door in a blur.
It’s hard to keep our otherness in check immediately after a feed. The blood games provide a euphoric rush that pushes our bodies to glory in our vampiric speed and strength. The Yankee vampire held his body at odd angles, cracked the back of a chair he touched in passing, and moved too quickly. Evidently, he’d drunk his fill.
So where in the Hell was Puck?
I focused on the faerie’s voice and soon pinpointed his location. He hadn’t gone far. He was with the human woman and her intoxicated friend. Judging from Puck’s face, his attempts to win over the two women hadn’t gone well. If I wasn’t so hungry, the thought would have made me smile. Instead, I grimaced, waiting for Puck to get on with it.
Finally, after an eternity spent spying on Puck’s flirtations with the human woman, he came walking my way. As he passed the bar, Puck reached up to scratch at his cheek with two fingers. That was the signal; two minutes.
From the corner of my eye, I watched Puck saunter over toward a table of vampires at the edge of the dance floor. He passed something to one of the men and continued on toward the basement door at the end of the bar.
A pulse of pleasure raced up my spine and my fangs tingled with anticipation. I’d exercised enough patience and restraint for one night. I’d sat like a bump on a log while that other vampire drank his fill.
Now it was my turn.
I slid liquidly from the barstool and turned away from the crowd. Patting the key in my front pocket, I walked down the bar toward the basement door.
A woman brushed by, the edges of her midnight blue cloak twining around my ankles like coldblooded serpents. I shivered, which was something I hadn’t done since my human days. The cold doesn’t generally affect you once you’ve felt the chill of the grave. My reaction was odd enough to make me turn around, seeking the mysterious woman. But the cloaked figure was gone.
I clenched my jaw in frustration, and my thirst returned. A woman that beautiful was as scarce as hen’s teeth, but I wasn’t interested enough to attempt pursuit. There wasn’t much that could distract me when I’d set my mind to the pleasures of a blood hunt. The creatures who frequented this club may allow a taste, but often for a hefty price, and they’d never let me play the games I truly desired.
My head snapped back to focus on the door just to the left of the bar. Behind that door lay what I sought. Your toys are already laid out for you. I felt a slow smile skitter across my face. I had a good feeling about tonight.
Boots whispering along the floor, I pulled the key from my pocket and forced myself to walk, not run, to the door. Desire stirred within me like cream in a butter churn. Beyond that unassuming portal lay a world of pleasures.
“Excuse me,” said a voice at my shoulder. I scowled and pulled my gaze from the door. I’d been waylaid by the blue-skinned bartender. I recognized her as the one who’d poured my glass of bourbon. “Can you hold the door? I need to swap these for clean linens or Puck will have my head.”
Puck might “have her head” for slacking in her duties, but the woman had no idea how close I was to literally tearing her head from her body and tossing it across the room like a hot tater. Too bad that kind of ruckus would draw the attention of club security, and put a kink in my plans.
“Fine,” I said, opening the door. “Now go on and quit piddlin’, or I’ll leave you out here.”
The faerie woman scurried inside, arms laden with soiled linens. Once inside, for just a moment, I considered taking the bartender as an appetizer, but then I heard a cry from below. Puck was tenderizing my meal. Time to get a move on.
Casks of wine moved by in a blur of motion as I nearly flew through the storeroom and down a flight of stairs, leaving the faerie woman behind. I continued on, slipping through the shadows without the need of a light, following the sound of someone pitchin’ a hissy fit.
They always did that when the Ice wore off. Don’t know how Puck managed to time it so perfectly. I reckon he drugged them at a specified time, making our meals suggestible and easy to transport into the basement rooms where we had our fun. Of course, we predators prefer our meals feisty. It wouldn’t do to have our prey ruffied to Hell and gone. What’d be the fun in that?
I pulled up short to see Puck in the doorway to my usual room.
“I’ve outdone myself with this one, Cyrus,” Puck said, gesturing for me to look inside the room.
For once, the faerie was giving it to me straight. The woman shackled to the wall was finer than frog’s hair. Like a human’s palate, vampires have preferences for what’s on the menu, and this woman was just my type.
“She’s a spittin’ image,” I said.
I’d given Puck a faded photograph to go by and tonight he’d come through in spades. The auburn haired beauty was struggling against the manacles and nekked as a jaybird. My fangs lengthened and an ache coursed through my body.
I reached into my coat and tossed an envelope of cash toward the retreating faerie. I closed the door, knowing Puck wouldn’t go far. No matter what the man claimed about running this business for profit, he was in it for more than the money.
On more than one occasion the faerie had lingered outs
ide the door of my room while I fed. Judging from the pheromones coming off the guy, Puck liked to listen. Well goody for him, tonight he was in for a treat.
I set to work on the woman, calling her by the name of someone long dead and gone. I tried to make it last, savor the aroma of her fear, but she reminded me so much of an irretrievable past. Within seconds she was bleeding like a stuck pig. I fed quickly and deeply, pausing only when I heard a ruckus outside the door.
Someone had entered the basement and was arguing with Puck. Best see what all the fuss was about. I may not like the man, but Puck provided me with warm meals like this one. I pulled an arm across my mouth and went to listen at the door.
“Playing at judge, jury, and executioner?” Puck asked. “That’s not like you, Forneus. Heck, I didn’t think you had the balls. Good for you.”
I swung the door open, nearly taking it from its hinges, and ran to defend Puck. A demon stood facing Puck from across the room and the blue-skinned bartender was rushing toward Puck with her arm raised, a jeweled dagger in her hand.
“No one threatens Bite Club,” I snarled.
I slid in front of Puck and hissed, spittle and blood flecking the wide-eyed faerie woman. In the same motion, I planted my feet wide, grabbed the woman’s arm and wrenched it free from her body. The jeweled dagger that’d been plunging toward Puck’s chest was no longer a threat.
I flung the arm across the room, nostrils flaring and fangs aching. Even full as a tick from my previous meal, the blood spraying from the faerie’s shoulder held my rapt attention. A coil of need grew inside my gut.
Once again, it was time to feed.
The faerie lunged toward Puck, and I struck. I latched onto her neck, sinking my fangs in deep and letting the rapid pulse of the artery carry me away.
Lost in a sea of blood dreams, I lost track of events. But as the faerie’s heart faltered, I came to my senses and scanned the room for additional threats.
Flame flickered along the demon’s fingers, making me flinch, and a human woman came rushing into the room, crossbow at the ready. At first, the human aimed the bow at the demon and I thought she’d take care of the man for me. But she spun and trained her bow on me, demanding I release the faerie girl.
Club Nexus (Ivy Granger, Psychic Detective) Page 2
