by Jill Myles
“You’re a sick woman, you know that?”
“What’s the old saying? Takes one to know one?”
She had me there. I decided to change the subject. “So aren’t we supposed to be finding some vampires around here?”
Remy shot me a look that could kill. “Don’t make me kiss you again.”
I clamped my jaw shut and crossed my arms over my chest, doing my best to ignore the two creeps loitering behind us, waiting for either me or Remy to turn around.
The bartender came over, his face getting the same glazed look on it the moment he laid eyes on her. I’ll say one thing for being a succubus: sex will get you everywhere.
“What can I get for you, miss?” He shot a look at me as well, his eyes resting on—you guessed it—my cleavage.
I sighed. I’d never thought the day would come when I hoped for a guy who didn’t think I was sexy.
“A Bloody Mary for myself and my friend here.” Remy smiled at the bartender and placed her hand on my arm.
Ugh. “Remy, I hate tomato juice—”
She gave me another dirty look. “Two Bloody Marys.”
The bartender asked, “Got a stamp?”
Remy held the back of her hand out to him. “Of course.”
To my surprise, he took her hand in his own and sniffed her skin gently, then released it. I wondered what they’d stamped us with. It seemed that I’d almost fucked up the super-secret code, but how was I supposed to know? I held my hand out as well. “Me, too.”
He gave my hand a sniff, then nodded. “Be right back.” The bartender walked to the far end of the bar, motioning over another bouncer and talking to him.
Remy turned in her bar stool and faced me. “You really suck at hints, you know that? Do me a favor and keep your mouth shut for five minutes, all right?”
Feeling rather sulky, I made a face at her. “Fine. I won’t say anything at all.”
Relief splashed across her face. “Perfect.”
Oh, I was so going back to my apartment after this.
The bartender returned after a moment and placed two drinks before us. “As requested, your drinks.” He cast a meaningful look at Remy, then walked away.
That was weird. I picked up my drink and sniffed it. It smelled like tomato juice. I hoped I wasn’t supposed to drink it as part of the signal.
Behind me, someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around just as a large hand clamped over my bare shoulder. It was yet another bouncer, if the black T-shirt and huge arms were any indication. He had a unibrow that would have made a mobster jealous and shoulders that you could probably build a house on. “Come with me, ladies.”
This whole process was starting to scare me. I gave Remy an uncertain look so she would know how nervous I was. She looked as cool as a cucumber.
“Of course,” she said, and downed her drink in one long gulp. I heard a collective intake of breath behind her from the men.
I took her lead and choked mine down as well, gagging on the taste. “Ready here.”
The bouncer escorted us through the crowd to the far end of the bar, where a door marked “Emergency Exit” was covered in bathroom graffiti. “Through here.”
Since I’d been pushed to the front of our little pack, I opened the door and stepped into darkness.
I heard the door slam behind me, and the sound of the music was immediately muffled into a low throbbing. I felt Remy move next to me and I reached for her hand. She gave my fingers a reassuring squeeze and didn’t move, so I stood still as well, my heart hammering in my throat.
A tiny flame lit up the room, and the end of a cigarette flared into life, bright orange in the choking darkness. “What brings you two ladies to Midnight?”
The voice was masculine, with an inflection that I couldn’t put a name to. Urbane and smooth, it rolled across the darkness, and I felt the angel mark flare on my forehead again. Jeezus, he must have a really nice voice.
“We’re interior decorators, looking for a few good contacts, and we were told this was the place to come.” Remy’s voice slid through the darkness.
“Sure you are, Remy,” he said, his voice marginally closer than before. I heard the sound of a long pull on the cigarette and boots thumping on the floor as he walked. “Who’s your friend?”
“Her name is Jackie.”
“She doesn’t have a tongue in her mouth?” The man’s voice sounded amused. “That must be how she’s managed to stay friends with you for so long.”
I snorted. He seemed to know Remy and her bossy tendencies pretty well. Remy squeezed my hand again, and I remained quiet.
“I see,” the man said, his voice thoughtful. “And the fact that she smells like one of your kind should be a hint as well. Should I tell Nitocris you’re here, I wonder?”
“Zane,” Remy said, her voice taking on a pleading edge. “If you tell her I’m here, she’ll make both of our lives a living hell.”
Whoa. I didn’t know which was scarier—that Remy was afraid of this Nitocris person, or that she was reduced to pleading with this guy. I shivered in my platform heels and wondered if I was up to this.
My ears detected the sound of Zane taking another drag from the cigarette. “So what do you give me if I decide not to tell her that the resident succubus of New City has deigned to gift us with her presence again? Or that she has a friend in tow?”
“What do you want?” Remy’s voice was resigned.
“It’s not you, my dear. A trip on the town bicycle isn’t nearly as fun when everyone’s already run it roughshod.”
I heard Remy’s swift intake of breath and her hand clenched mine painfully. “You’re such an asshole.”
“Of course I am. Comes with the territory.” The end of the cigarette brightened for a moment and swung toward me. “Your little friend here, though … what’s her name? Colette?”
“Jackie,” Remy reminded him, her voice grating as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth.
“She’s got quite the figure. Nice red hair, too.”
I thought that was a pretty neat trick, seeing as it was pitch-black in the room. Something told me that this guy was dangerous. It practically seeped into the air around us.
The cigarette flickered into darkness. “Well, Remy, since your being here makes me rather curious, I don’t think I’ll say anything to the others. I do, of course, have to give you the standard pat-down to make sure you’re not coming in to cause trouble. No crucifixes, holy water, things like that.”
“Of course.” Remy’s voice returned to a more neutral tone, and my heart stopped hammering in my throat. “I’ll owe you one for this, Zane.”
“I know you will.” He sounded amused by her promise. “Now, if both of you would be so kind as to put your hands into the air?”
I obediently raised my arms in the darkness, feeling somewhat silly. “Is this really necessary?”
Two warm hands were suddenly resting on my breasts, kneading them. “Ah. She speaks.” A quick brush of the fingertips across my hardening nipples, and I felt the kiss flare on my forehead as sensation rushed over my body in response. The stranger chuckled near my ear. His thumbs flicked over my breasts again, deliberately. “Nice rack.”
The kiss flared, saving me from jumping the asshole’s bones, and I slapped his hands away. “Forget it. I’m done here. Screw you, buddy.”
“Jackie,” Remy’s voice warned me from a few steps away. “Don’t mess this up.”
“Do you know where this fucktard has his hands?” I felt them reach for my behind and sidestepped to the left. “I agreed to come here. I didn’t agree to be grabbed like some two-bit hooker.”
“That’s right. You girls are so much classier than that, aren’t you?” Zane’s smooth voice rolled across the room again, and I felt his hands encircle my waist.
I could hear Remy sigh. “Don’t be such a prick, Zane. You’ve got us in a bind, and she’s new, all right? Cut her some slack.”
His hands stiffened on my waist and t
hen pulled away. “New?” There was a pause, then a chuckle. “Interesting. Not the place I’d think you’d bring a baby Suck to, but then again, I’m not you.”
“No, you’re not.” Remy’s voice sounded strained. “So can we go in or not?”
“Depends. Who’s her daddy?”
“I beg your pardon,” I said, outraged.
“He means your master, Jackie. He’s just being a jerk—”
“Oh. I don’t know who—”
“And you don’t have to tell him anything,” Remy warned, cutting me off before I had a chance to spill everything. “Got it? You’re not obligated to tell him squat, and Zane knows it’s impolite to ask. He’s trying to slip one past you because you’re new.”
Oh. Whoops. “Gotcha.”
I felt Zane’s breath against my ear as he chuckled. “That new, eh? Your secret is safe with me, Princess.”
I shoved him away again, thankful that the kiss was on my forehead. It burned into my flesh, reminding me of the uncomfortable situation we were in. “You’re a real prick. Can we go in or not?”
The door behind us swung open, casting light inside and letting me see Zane’s face for the first time.
Dark, dangerous eyes glinted at me. Slashes of black eyebrow arched in my direction, curving upward in amusement. There was a shadow of stubble across his strong, crisp jaw, and it accentuated the most perfect, most sardonic mouth I’d ever seen. His hair was short, just brushing his ears, and cut in a fashion that I’d come to associate with Ivy League lawyers if not for the floppy lock that hung over his forehead, making him look as if he’d just rolled out of bed. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Perhaps it was the familiarity that comes with being breathtakingly gorgeous, with a face that every sane woman would want on the pillow next to hers.
Sans fangs, of course.
His eyes swung up and down over my figure, assessing me, and came to rest on my face. “I do hope we’ll be seeing each other again, Colette.” He held the door open and gestured for me to walk through.
“It’s Jackie,” I reminded him, brushing past and noticing he was dressed entirely in black leather with lots of buckles and straps. Sure, it was a cliché, but it worked for him. He looked like a dark, scary cousin of James Dean.
I was fascinated despite myself.
He just gave me another lopsided smile. Remy gave me a shove in the back, hurrying me through the door and away from Zane.
As I stepped into the “vampires only” part of Midnight, I noticed three things. One, that it was decidedly less crowded than upstairs, and two, that you could barely hear the music. And three, it was filled entirely with men.
All of which, I was pretty sure, were of the fanged persuasion.
The bar itself was more ordinary than the one upstairs. Polished wood, clean bar stools—the place looked like a snappier version of Cheers. It was downright weird, given the fact that the occupants were rather intimidating. To a one, they were pale-skinned, on the intimidating side, and completely riveted by the two of us.
The heat of a hundred pairs of eyes on me was an uncomfortable feeling, and I shoved Remy ahead of me. “You go first.”
She rolled her eyes at my sudden cowardice. “Don’t be such a chicken. Nobody knows who you are here, got that?”
“But that Zane guy—”
Remy shook her head and leaned close to me. For a moment I thought she was going to plant one on me again. I moved back instinctively. “No, silly.” She gestured for me to lean in, and I did so. “They won’t figure out that you’re a succubus unless you offer it up. Zane’s an exception to the rule—he was the second to fall, and so he’s got edgier senses. If anyone else asks, you’re wearing my clothes, and they won’t be able to tell the difference in the smell. Now find what you need and let’s get out of here, okay?” She pushed away from me and headed toward the bar.
“Wait,” I said, following after her like a lost puppy.
Remy shot me a look that could have pinned me to the wall from ten feet away. “You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” she hissed. “Girls come down here to hook up with dates, if you get my drift. Go find yourself a date and I’ll find me one—got it?”
Ick. Most of these men were creeping me out, not turning me on. I glanced around as I stood near the doorway, uncertain.
Behind me, Zane chuckled. “Something I can help you with, Colette? Or could it be that you’re attracted to my charm?” His eyes slid to my breasts again, and he gave me a knowing smile. “At least parts of you are.”
Bastard. I ignored the flaring of the kiss on my forehead and scowled at him. Like I’d let him know that he turned me on. I crossed my arms over my chest and stalked away, trailing Remy again. She’d seated herself at the far end of the bar, away from the other patrons. I’d have bet money that she wouldn’t be alone for long though, judging by the way they eyed her. “Remy,” I whined.
She put her hands over her face, and I thought I heard her mutter something in a foreign language. “What? What now?”
I slid in close to her and spoke low so nobody could hear—especially not that Zane, who still watched the two of us with amused eyes. “How am I supposed to get this information I’m looking for?”
Remy pinched the bridge of her nose, stemming off a headache from my ineptness. “You could put your date to sleep, for starters. Then you read his head.”
I frowned. “Read his head?”
“Didn’t I tell you about that?” Remy shooed away the bartender when he came over, then turned to face me fully. “That’s part of your powers. You can read dreams and stuff—just don’t go crazy with it. The vamps are a bit sensitive when it comes to us mucking around, since we’re supposed to be neutral. If you get caught, it’s very bad news.”
Right. I remembered something about that from my conversation with Uriel. “Don’t get caught. Got it.” I glanced around, then whispered, “So how do I put them to sleep?”
Remy shrugged. “Touch him, kiss him—it’s hormone induced. You’ll figure it out—I don’t know the exact mechanics. I just think it, and boom, it happens. The kind of sleep we induce is not the same as regular sleep. He won’t remember any of it, if it makes you feel any better.”
I frowned. As answers went, that kinda sucked. “And I’m supposed to get jiggy with someone in the middle of a vamp bar?” I turned to look at Zane, and sure enough, he was still watching me. I made a rude gesture and he took the hint, laughing and wandering off. “Remy, they look at us like we’re appetizers.”
“Darling,” Remy said, patting my arm. “We are.”
“Oh great. I feel so much better now. Thanks so much.”
She winked at me and then gave me the same shooing motion as the bartender. “Off you go, then.”
Off I go. I turned away from the bar, since that was Remy’s territory. Zane was loitering by a pool table, his eyes focused on me. Definitely not heading over there.
A few booths lined the back of the dimly lit room, and only one was occupied. The two men watched me with hawklike interest as I wandered in their direction. One was blond, the other one dark-headed.
“Time to take the bull by the horns,” I said to myself, reminded of the angel kiss on my forehead that still burned. I strode forward, sliding my hands down my skirt and tugging at the hemline as I approached the table. “Hi, boys,” I said brightly, forgetting for the moment that I had to be seductive. “Want some company?”
My boobs were about eye level with the men, a fact that was lost on none of us. The blond stared at them in fascination, his bottle of beer poised halfway to his mouth. His mouth opened a bit and I could make out the tips of a pair of gleaming fangs. I wondered how long it’d take before they heard my knees start to knock together.
Blondie slid over in the booth. “Have a seat.”
I contemplated it and glanced over at his dark-headed companion. He had horrible red eyes, a scarred upper lip, and a look on his face that only Charles Manson would understand. I qui
ckly sat with Blondie, forcing my chipper smile back on my face. “Hi,” I repeated, feeling like the lamest succubus ever. “I’m um, Colette.” I figured since I was doing super-spy stuff, I might as well have a super-spy name.
“Well, Colette,” the scary vampire across from me drawled. “Are you a natural redhead? Because that’s an impressive color. Don’t suppose you’d let me check the undercarriage, would you?” He leered at me.
It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him to get lost, then I remembered where I was. “Sorry,” I said, trying to remain perky and not burst into frightened tears. “The undercarriage is off limits.” I glanced over at his blond friend, who was sucking down his beer, his eyes still on my boobs.
“Then why are you here?” His red eyes bored into me and I began to feel alarmed. Time for a little action.
I looped my arm around Blondie’s neck, my breasts nearly falling out of my corset, and gave Ugly what I hoped was a confident smile. “Because I thought your friend here was cute. Would you mind giving us some alone-time?”
Silence descended over the three of us, and I waited for someone to respond. Kick me out, buy me a drink, kill me, whatever.
I felt a hand slide up my thigh under the table, testing the waters. I shifted, resisting the urge to sigh in delight at the sensations the simple touch sent scattering across my flesh. “Why don’t you leave the two of us for a bit, Joel?” Blondie said to his friend, and his hand slid higher up my skirt, closer to my eagerly awaiting loins.
Success. I gave Blondie a faint smile and slid closer, practically shoving my cleavage under his nose. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Adam,” Blondie said as his friend got up and stalked away from our shadowy corner. His voice was slightly hoarse, his eyes darkened to a reddish shade, and his fangs had grown longer. Part of me wanted to run away screaming, and part of me was turned on by the power I had over him. I liked that I could make him lose control.
“What brings you here tonight, Colette?” I felt his hand slide up my skirt even farther and felt the Itch begin to stir. Uncomfortable as I was at the situation, the Itch didn’t give a rat’s ass.
