by Will Hill
“Where’s Aaron?” asked Larissa. “Isn’t he coming?”
“Didn’t get a pass,” said Tim. “I checked with the Director, but he said they can’t spare him right now.”
“Unlike the rest of us,” laughed Kara. “We’re clearly all expendable.”
“You definitely are,” said Tim, peering round and grinning at her. She aimed a half-hearted punch in his direction, but he dodged it, put the car in gear, and pulled out of the hangar. Fifteen minutes later they passed through the Front Gate; ten minutes later they were speeding east along Highway 375, the big car steadily eating up the miles that lay between them and Las Vegas.
Larissa spent the first hour of the journey overcome with a guilt that was almost physical. She had reconciled herself with Kelly’s logic, that if General Allen was trying to do something nice for her, she should just be grateful and accept it. But that acceptance had been quickly replaced by worry over what Jamie and Kate and Matt would think about what she was doing. She hoped they would be pleased for her, that they would not resent her taking the opportunity to have some fun, but couldn’t quite convince herself; they would be working and fighting while she drank and danced and gambled. By the time the Vegas skyline appeared on the horizon, she had pushed her concerns deep down inside herself. They were still there, however, twisting gently, seemingly indestructible.
They checked into a vast hotel with three towers and its own beach. Kara had called ahead and Larissa quickly found herself in an express lift, her bag in one hand, a plastic key card in the other. She emerged on the twenty-seventh floor and followed the long, winding corridor until she found her room. She pushed open the door, reaching for the light switch even though her supernatural eyes could see perfectly well in the gloom, then noticed the view from her window, and stopped.
Wow, she thought. That’s pretty amazing. Fair enough.
The Strip stretched away below her, flanked on both sides by ludicrous recreations of landmarks of the world: the Eiffel Tower, the Statue of Liberty, the Sphinx of Egypt. Cars cruised along the eight lanes of tarmac, thick beams of multicoloured light blazed into the night sky, and everything was bright and loud and full of life.
Larissa tore her gaze away from the view, which was so uniquely, brilliantly American that it brought a wide grin to her face, and returned her attention to the light switch. She found it on the wall beside the door, spent several minutes wondering why it was refusing to turn the lights on, and was on the verge of smashing it to pieces when she noticed a slot intended to house her room key; she slid it into place and warm yellow light filled the room. She unpacked her bag, hanging her clothes in the vast wardrobe and arranging her toiletries on the huge granite sink in the bathroom, then pulled her phone out of her pocket and called Kara. The helicopter pilot told her they were meeting downstairs in five minutes, outside the sports book. Larissa had no idea what a sports book was, but told her friend she would see them there.
Since then, it had all been a bit of a blur.
Larissa found the sports book, which turned out to be nothing more than a huge version of the betting shops that were found on every English high street, and met up with her friends. They were full of the laughter and happiness that came with being able to temporarily put down the enormous weight of NS9 and the permission to have fun without feeling guilty about it. Tim led them straight to the nearest bar and the drinks began to flow; they continued to do so as they set up camp at one end of a craps table, as Kara ushered them first into a cab and then into a restaurant inside a hotel that had been built to resemble Venice’s Grand Canal. More drinks, a brief introduction to the world of blackjack, then another cab back to their hotel and a club that was little more than a large black box. Then dancing.
So much dancing.
By this point, Larissa had also made a startling, wonderful discovery; flexing the muscle that made her fangs descend and her eyes begin to flood red also sobered her up, instantly. Her friends, on the other hand, were not so lucky; Danny was the first to go, staggering away into the night, promising to meet them all for breakfast. Kelly was next; one minute she was sitting on a leather sofa in the corner of the club, chatting away amiably to anyone who would listen, the next her eyes had closed and she was snoring gently.
“She needs to go to bed,” said Kara.
“Agreed,” replied Tim, then cast a long look at Larissa.
This is it, she thought. Kara will take Kelly back to her room and it’ll just be you and Tim left and he’ll suggest you get more drinks and you won’t have a good reason to say no. Then he’ll suggest you dance. And then you know what he’ll try and do. Again.
She stared at him for a long moment, their eyes locked on each other. Then Tim dropped his gaze and looked at Kara. “I’ll take her back,” he said. “You two have fun. I’ll see you both in the morning.”
Kara grinned happily and kissed Tim on the cheek as he scooped up the sleepy, protesting Kelly and guided her towards the club’s exit. He nodded at Larissa as he left, an unknowable smile on his handsome face. She watched him go, unsure of exactly what she was feeling: relief, unquestionably, but also a cold sliver of something it took her a second or two to put her finger on.
It was rejection.
Maybe he’s not going to try again, she thought. Maybe he doesn’t want me any more.
Then Kara handed her a terrifyingly green shot and Tim Albertsson disappeared from her mind as she tipped the bright liquid down her throat. Moments later she and Kara were back on the dance floor, where they remained until neither of them could stand upright any longer, and they fled for the comfort of their beds.
Eight hours later they regrouped for breakfast in one of the hotel’s many restaurants.
Four pairs of tired, bloodshot eyes stared enviously at Larissa, who was feeling not the slightest bit worse for wear, and had been informed by all four of her friends that they now hated her with a deep, abiding passion. She merely grinned, and sipped happily at her coffee.
Larissa was experiencing a contentment that she had not felt in a very long time. The weight that she carried around with her, a crushing combination of loathing of her own vampire self, concern about Jamie and her friends, desperate curiosity about the family that had rejected her, and the constant, lurking presence of Dracula, was gone. She was not stupid enough to believe it had left her forever, but she was incredibly grateful for the respite.
She ate heartily, watching her friends move their food listlessly round their plates, until they eventually admitted defeat and Tim called for the cheque.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked, as everyone threw bills into the middle of the table. “What does everyone want to do today?”
“I want to die,” said Kelly. Her skin was pale and a light sheen of sweat covered her forehead. “Can you arrange that for me?”
“Sleep,” said Danny, from behind sunglasses that were shielding his bloodshot eyes.
“Sleep,” echoed Kara. “I want to lie by the pool and sleep until I feel better. I reckon it’ll only take three or four days.”
Larissa laughed. Kara scowled at her, but couldn’t keep it up; her face twisted into a broad smile, before she groaned again, loudly.
“What do you want to do?” asked Tim, looking at Larissa.
“I can’t lie by the pool, I’m afraid,” she said. “I don’t think any of you could handle seeing me burst into flames this morning.”
“Oh, hey,” said Kara, sitting up and frowning. “I wasn’t thinking. We don’t have to go to the pool, Larissa. We can go somewhere—”
“Don’t be silly,” she interrupted. “It’s fine. You guys hit the pool. I’ll be totally OK inside.”
“Are you sure?” asked Danny, lowering his sunglasses and peering at her. “Kara’s right, it’s not a big deal.”
“I’m sure,” replied Larissa. “Let’s do our own thing for a few hours then meet up for an early dinner. Say six?”
“Sounds good,” said Kelly. “There’s
a chance I might feel human by then.”
“All right,” said Larissa. “Six o’clock. Let’s stick with the sports book.”
“Agreed,” said Tim. “We’ll see you later then.”
“Yep,” she said, getting up from the table. “Have fun. Maybe a cocktail or two?” A chorus of groans rose from her friends and Larissa smiled to herself as she walked away from the table. She left the restaurant and headed directly down on to the casino floor, feeling the temperature of the air drop slightly, smelling the underlying scents of tobacco and sweat that the huge ceiling fans were never able to get rid of entirely. She strolled across the vast gaming area, skipping easily between crowds of frat boys and bachelor parties, around families on holiday, past old men and women feeding the slot machines, and the suited men with the flesh-coloured earpieces who watched over them all.
Larissa found a blackjack table with an empty seat, ordered a coffee from the waitress who instantly appeared beside her, and placed a fifty-dollar bill on the green felt. She had no idea how long she had been playing when Tim Albertsson eased himself into the seat next to hers.
“How’s it going?” he asked.
“Not bad,” she replied, smiling at him. “How was the beach?”
“Hot,” said Tim. “Far too hot for me.”
“So why did you go?”
“Because I didn’t want to give the rest of them something else to gossip about.”
Larissa’s smile faded. “They talk about you and me?”
“Of course they do,” said Tim.
“What do they say?”
“Nothing bad,” said Tim, starting to look as though he regretted raising the subject; there was a chill to her voice that was clearly audible. “They know I like you. That’s the long and short of it. And they think that maybe you like me. A little bit.”
Jesus. What a mess.
“How do they know that?” she asked.
“How do they know what?”
“That you like me.”
Tim shrugged. “Because I told them I do.” Larissa opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “I told them because it’s true and because they’re my friends. I know you’re with Jamie and I respect that, whether you believe me or not. But I also think that you do like me, maybe more than you want to admit. Maybe things would be different if you were single, or if you were staying here permanently. But they aren’t, and I don’t want it to be weird when I come to Blacklight with you next month. That’s why I came to find you. You’re my friend, Larissa, and I don’t want there to be a problem between us.”
“Do you actually mean that?” asked Larissa. “If you don’t, then tell me now because I’m going to be seriously pissed off if you let me think we’re OK then try to kiss me the next time you see an opportunity. Which was a really shitty thing to do, in case you didn’t realise.”
Tim nodded. “I know,” he said. “That’s not really me, I hope you know that. It was just a heat of the moment sort of thing.”
“I believe you,” she replied. “It’s fine. As long as it doesn’t happen again.”
“It won’t,” replied Tim. “I’ve no desire to get on your bad side, Larissa. I’ve seen what you can do, remember?”
She laughed, and felt some of the tension dissipate from where it had gathered in her shoulders.
“So we’re cool?” he asked. “I won’t do anything else that’s stupid and inappropriate, and you’ll still take me to Blacklight with you when you leave. Deal?” He extended his hand; Larissa rolled her eyes at his attempt at formality, and shook it.
“Deal,” she said. “Now shut up and play your hand.”
They played happily for a couple of hours, until Larissa announced that she was going to go and get ready for dinner.
Tim nodded, and told her he was going to play a few more hands. She left him at the table, made her way through the casino, and into one of the lifts. When she was back in her room, she drank two litres of blood that she had brought with her from Dreamland, undressed, and stepped into the huge walk-in shower that took up half of the bathroom. She let the pounding heat of the water clear her head, hoping that it would wash away the promise that she now deeply regretted making.
Tim Albertsson was obsessed with Blacklight. His grandfather had been a soldier in the Swedish army and a member of the FTB, the German Office of the Supernatural, for more than two decades. When Tim had been recruited into NS9, his grandfather had filled his head with grand tales of the European Departments, whose history and proximity to the birthplace of vampirism lent them an aura the Departments in other continents could never hope to match. And, above all, he had told his grandson about Department 19, the place where legends had walked: Van Helsing, Harker, Seward, Holmwood.
Tim had applied for a transfer to Blacklight three times in five years, and on each occasion had been deemed too valuable to NS9 to part with. But General Allen had guaranteed Larissa free rein in picking the six Operators she took back to England with her, provided they were ranked below Major, which seemed fair; she could not expect the NS9 Director to let her gut the senior ranks of his Department, no matter how much he wanted to help Blacklight get back on its feet. This guarantee, which she had told Tim about one evening in Sam’s Diner, represented the answer to his prayers, a way for him to fulfil his one great ambition.
I can’t take him with me, she thought. To hang out with me and Jamie and Kate and Matt. I just can’t. It won’t do anyone any good. I just have to hope he can understand that.
Larissa turned off the shower, dried herself, and put on the pretty grey dress her mother had bought her the Christmas before she had been turned. It was one of a small bag full of things she had managed to grab from her room as her mother screamed into the phone downstairs, demanding that the police come and take her daughter away. It still fitted her, as she had essentially stopped growing the moment Grey sank his fangs into her neck. She adjusted it in the mirror, feeling a pang of painful nostalgia as she thought back to the Christmas morning when she had first worn it, an excited sixteen-year-old girl whose whole life was ahead of her.
She’s gone now, thought Larissa. Long gone.
She dried her hair, letting it fall around her face and down to her shoulders, applied a tiny amount of make-up, and headed downstairs to meet her friends, wondering what the night had in store for them.
The club was quite simply the most ridiculous thing Larissa had ever seen.
It was a vast semicircle, full to capacity with barely clothed figures writhing and gyrating to a pulsing house track that vibrated through the floor and into her bones. A ring of tables, surrounded by red leather benches and topped with stripper poles, encircled a sunken dance floor. Away to the left, a long bar dispensed drinks of every conceivable size, shape and colour.
Tim shouted something over the music, but even her supernatural hearing was unable to pick it up. He tried again, and she shrugged and shook her head. Eventually, he tipped a cupped hand towards his mouth and pointed at the rest of their friends, who responded with nodded heads and raised thumbs. He wrestled his way towards the bar with Kelly following closely behind him, as Danny pointed towards the dance floor, his eyebrows raised. Kara and Larissa nodded, and the three of them began to make their way down towards it, Larissa holding her coat tightly in her hands.
They became separated almost immediately.
One second Larissa was right behind her friends, the next she was standing by herself. She scanned the steaming mass of bodies, searching for Kara or Danny, but could see neither of them. She decided to try a different angle, and began to work her way slowly towards the wide pool that lay beyond the open doors at the edge of the club’s main room.
She stepped out into the warm evening air and surveyed the scene. The pool had a wide ledge that was barely fifteen centimetres deep; men and women were dancing furiously in the shallow water, splashing and stomping and occasionally falling flat on their backs. Many of the women had stripped down to bras and bik
ini tops, and had acquired an admiring audience. Larissa left them to it and made her way round the pool. A ring of two-storey cabanas were full of men and women drinking bottles of beer and smoking cigars, while to her left an island in the centre of the pool was full of slot machines and gambling tables. Larissa grinned; in Las Vegas, the opportunity to gamble was never more than a few seconds away.
She was about to walk towards it, thinking that she might play a hand or two while she waited for her friends to find her, when a scent filled her nostrils that made her force her eyes to remain normal and her fangs to stay in place: a powerful aroma that she was unused to experiencing without her weapons and uniform.
The scent of another vampire.
Larissa stopped where she was and surveyed the crowd. There were less people out by the pool than inside, but the area was still busy; people strolled across the wet stone and huddled round the cabanas, laughing and chatting and shouting. She paid them all no attention; she was looking for someone different. And then, as though a spotlight had been suddenly shone down from the hotel that towered above the club, Larissa saw her.
The vampire was a woman in her early twenties, wearing a blue sundress and carrying a tall drink in a glass the shape of a test tube. She had long, honey-coloured hair, smooth, pale skin, and was wandering slowly along the edge of the pool, her bare feet in the shallow water. There was nothing to obviously single her out from all the other beautiful women in the club, but Larissa had no doubt: somehow, she just knew.
She made her way towards the woman, never taking her eyes off her. She closed the distance quickly and spoke in a low voice.
“You’re like me.”
The woman turned, a look of annoyance on her pale face, and for a split second Larissa saw red flicker in the corners of her green eyes.
“Do I know you?” she asked.
Larissa shook her head. “No,” she replied. “But you know what I am. We’re the same.”
The woman narrowed her eyes and looked about to protest, when a smile emerged on her face, and she laughed instead. “How did you know?” she asked.
