by Jess Haines
“What about the police?” Sara asked, her voice gone breathy. My attention centered on her, and I frowned at the sight of her bright blue eyes gone wide, lips parted as she stared at Royce. Arnold had his arm proprietarily around her shoulders and was glaring at the vampire. What was Royce doing? Whatever it was, while it may have drawn Sara’s interest, she retained enough of her wits to ask pertinent questions. “Shiarra’s contracted to you, not Max. What makes him think he can get away with hurting her without having to answer for his actions?”
“The police only hold as much power over us as we let them. There are few vampires as old as I am who agree it was a good idea to integrate ourselves into your society. Max is one of the dissenters; he comes from a time when we simply took what we wanted. He knows how to hide his dealings from or manipulate your police and judicial systems to escape punishment. Consider it a survival mechanism. If we did not know how to do these things, he and I would not have survived this long.”
Though it was diversionary, my curiosity was piqued. “Does that mean you could find ways to make people disappear, too?”
He looked at me, eyes narrowed with anger. Must have hit a sore point there. “Theoretically, yes, I could. Unlike Max, my conscience would not allow for me to stoop to such a level.”
Royce had a conscience? That was news to me.
He must not have liked what he saw in my face. Or maybe one of his vampire powers was to read minds. His expression was bitter enough to choke on and I felt a momentary pang of remorse for having thought so little of him. At every turn I somehow managed to think the worst of him, his motives, and his actions. I felt like I should offer a comforting touch, say something to let him know I didn’t think he was such a bad guy. I needed to apologize, though I wasn’t totally sure what for.
The belt cut in before I could speak. ‘Stop meeting his eyes like an amateur. You should know better by now. Draw on my strength and on the charm you wear, or you’ll lose yourself to him the way the elf has.’
I took a deep breath and did what the belt ordered, averting my gaze and focusing on calming down. Looking away took the edge off the shame. My reaction was unnaturally strong, like a kernel of real emotion had been fanned into an all-out conflagration, meant to override any other thoughts or feelings. How very odd that Royce could manipulate emotions like that. Fear and lust I could understand–but pity and guilt? That didn’t seem his style.
Dawn broke the uncomfortable silence. “It’s late. If you’re planning a confrontation tonight, I would hurry or there will not be time for your vampires to seek shelter from the sun before this is over.”
By my reckoning, it was only a little past midnight. I thought we had plenty of time, but then, I’d never fought a battle like this before, and Royce hadn’t made us privy to his battle plans.
The vampire slowly rose to his feet. I felt a momentary pang as Sara pressed against Arnold’s side, her fingers tightening on his jacket. Royce’s gaze swept over the room, lingering on Sara before settling on me. Averting my eyes, I felt a pull of something, though exactly what emotion he was projecting or what he was willing me to do or think wasn’t clear. The combination of my wariness and the belt and charm’s assistance was halting Royce’s mind games admirably. He closed the distance between us, extending a hand to help me up.
“Shall we go?” he asked.
Chaz made a grumbling sound under his breath when I slid my hand into the vampire’s.
“Sure. I’ll be riding with Arnold and Sara, by the way.”
We hadn’t discussed it, but there was no way I was going to ride with the vampire while he was projecting those weird moods. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was having trouble deciding whether he was disappointed or happy about what was going on and was wavering somewhere in between. He didn’t argue, which was a blessing, but he didn’t let me go once I’d gotten to my feet either. Instead, he lifted my hand up and cradled it between both of his own. I couldn’t pull away without expending more effort than it was worth. I’d never seen him act this way before.
“Are you entirely sure you want to take part in this fight? It is not too late for you and your friends to go.”
Ah. The concern he radiated was so sincere, I couldn’t help but smile and lose some of the tension that had threaded through me when he didn’t let go of my hand. “No, I’m not about to run and hide. This isn’t your fight–it’s ours.”
He returned my smile, his expression shifting to something dark and wicked and oh so bad for you. “So be it.”
With that, he brushed a chaste, gallant kiss on the back of my hand, his lips grazing my knuckles before he released me. Oddly enough, it didn’t bother me in the least. He was just being, well … Royce. Chaz didn’t take it nearly so well, rumbling a low warning.
“Keep your hands off her,” he spat, sliding an arm possessively around my waist. Royce barely glanced at him, a satisfied smirk curving his lips.
I just sighed.
Everyone else got up to file out the front door. Chaz refused to take his arm from around me until we got close to the car. Arnold’s ostentatious sports car did not look so out of place among the convertibles and other high-end vehicles parked on the street and in the driveways around us.
Dawn surprised me again by wanting to come along for the fight. I wasn’t sure what help she could be, but Royce didn’t argue. Sara agreed to give up shotgun to Chaz so the couples could ride together in Arnold’s car. Devon and Tiny had no complaints about riding in the silver sedan with the most dangerous supernatural New York had to offer. Then again, that might be because Dawn didn’t seem to mind sitting between the two men in the back while Royce chauffeured them to our destination. Go figure.
Sara and I did the necessary contortionist acts to squeeze into the back seat of the convertible so we could have our own private discussion while Arnold, Chaz, and Royce discussed our destination outside.
“What gives, Shia?” Sara whispered, not wanting the Others to overhear. “How come you’re working with Royce? I thought you swore off ever having anything to do with him again.”
I didn’t have any graceful way of avoiding her eyes while crammed into the tiny back seat. Hard as it was, I met the concern and fury in those blue eyes. This was worse than confessing to Mom–nobody could throw your own words back at you like your best friend.
“I did,” I admitted. “I had to make an exception for this.”
She twisted in the seat, putting one knee up so she could rest her elbow on it. She twined her enviably straight blond hair around her fingers in a nervous gesture that made her look uncannily like her neurotic sister, Janine.
“You don’t go into this shit lightly. What changed your mind? Why now, months later? Don’t tell me it’s just because of this Max guy.”
“I thought having an ancient vampire after my ass was sufficient excuse to call for backup.”
“Bullshit,” she said, looking pointedly at the belt wrapped around my waist. I huffed and drew the trench coat shut to hide it from view. “You could have called me or Arnold or even Chaz and hidden from this. Instead, you’re playing Lone Ranger and riding in to save the day or whatever. I don’t believe for a second you weren’t thinking of running from this until he got involved.”
“Sara! I don’t always run from my problems.”
Her wry grin wore away the immediate edge of my anger from her “accusations.” Before long, I found myself grinning back.
“Okay, okay. I was pissed at Chaz because he broke off another date with me on Friday night. I thought it would get under his skin if I invited Royce to come to my place. At the time, I needed to know who Max was, so it was a convenient excuse to invite him over.”
Her feigned shock was spoiled by the knowing grin splitting her face. “Ha! I knew it!”
“Oh, shut up,” I said, unsuccessfully smothering a smile. “Anyway, Max backed me into a corner when he kidnapped me. He means business, and I don’t want this to escalate to the poi
nt where he hurts my friends and family. Hence our little coup tonight.”
“So how does Chaz feel about you and Royce making nice?” she asked me, her suggestive brow waggle completely ruining the innocent look on her face.
“Oh my God, Sara!”
I gasped in a mix of mock and true horror at the unspoken implications, making her burst into laughter. It was tough to be mad at her when she was laughing so hard. My face felt so hot, I was sure it must have turned as red as my hair. Despite my indignation, before long, the idea had me in giggle fits, too.
Chaz and Arnold opened their doors to join us in the car. They looked a bit surprised at our mirth, which was understandably out of place considering we were about to go into battle against an elder vampire. Their puzzled looks deepened as Sara hid her face behind her hands, trying to control the tears of laughter spilling down her cheeks.
“What’s so funny, girls?” Arnold asked, sliding in and peering at us through the rearview as he started up the car. Once seated, Chaz craned his neck to peer at us in mystery.
It just made us laugh harder.
Chapter 26
An hour later, standing in the parking lot of Twisted Temptations (arguably the most risqué of Royce’s many establishments), surrounded by a bunch of vampires and a handful of Weres, I didn’t feel like laughing anymore. It was bitterly cold. The parking lot of the warehouse-like night club was packed full, so we’d parked a few blocks away. The armor and trench coat weren’t protecting me well from the icy wind blowing through the streets as we hustled to meet the other vamps and Weres. Even the warmth radiating from Chaz’s arm wrapped around my shoulders didn’t help.
From the information John had scraped together, Max had moved into the club early in the evening and replaced all of the regular staffers with his own men. A runner was sent to fetch something from one of the offices here and reported a sign on the door saying the club was closed for a private party. After that, they didn’t hear from him again. To the few hundred people who’d come for some dancing and drinking at the Goth fetish club, being turned away at the door would’ve been disappointing, but normal. Business as usual.
Meanwhile, anyone who was stuck inside when Max took over may not have noticed anything out of the ordinary. Not until it was too late. Vampires and their contracted toys were no doubt still going up on stage, singing, dancing, even stripping or doing some BDSM crap for the amusement of the crowds. The only difference being that none of them answered to Royce.
I couldn’t figure out Max’s reasoning behind taking over a night club. I mean, it was Royce’s property, right? Max couldn’t get his hands on the titles or deeds to the business. Was it meant as a personal affront to Royce? More likely he knew something about the tunnel system that would give him access to the other businesses, and wanted to use this location to stage attacks.
Only three other Weres had showed up to help Chaz. He hadn’t forced the issue, but it was interesting to see how few of the sixty-odd werewolves of the Sunstriker pack were willing to back up their pack leader against vampires without being directly ordered to do so. Of the Weres who did come to our rescue, Simon and Dillon had showed up with Chaz right before Sara got kidnapped earlier this year, and Vincent had come with us a few times when we got together for somebody’s birthday, the debut of the latest action movie, things like that. None of them struck me as being particularly brave or loyal before now. Kudos to them.
More vampires had showed up to help Royce than had been present when he came to rescue me. It made me nervous as hell, and the belt kept interjecting little (and sometimes not so little) hints that it really, really wanted to take some of them down. Considering the thing had the purpose of ridding the world of vamps, I couldn’t say I blamed it. I just wished it would shut up now and then so I could concentrate.
Simon and Dillon went with a few of the vampires to guard the back doors and make sure none of Max’s vamps escaped. The rest of us just went straight for the front door–Chaz and Vincent at either side of me, with Arnold, Sara, Tiny, and Devon at our backs. I don’t know what Dawn hoped to accomplish in a knock-down-drag-out fight, but she was somewhere in the mix of vampires, too.
We could all hear the music pounding from inside, some heavy metal with a lot of bone-shaking bass. There should have been bouncers guarding the front and some lastminute stragglers trying to get in, but the street was oddly deserted. Royce led the way; he didn’t look happy no one was there to greet us. Though there were a few vampires between us, I saw him turn to John with a frown when he tried the front doors. Locked.
John unlocked the bolt so we could get in. The vampires around us didn’t tense up so much as go deathly still in anticipation. I felt the tightening of muscles under my fingers on Chaz’s arm, even through the jacket he was wearing against the bitter chill in the air. We all surged inside as soon as the double doors swung open, Royce in the lead.
The smell of blood was heavy on the air. If I hadn’t had heightened senses from the belt, I might not have noticed, but the acrid, sticky reek was too strong to ignore. I couldn’t ask what anybody else thought of it since the pounding music made conversation impossible.
I pulled a stake from the belt, running my thumb nervously along the leather grip to remind myself I had a weapon, that I could handle this, and it would all be over soon.
As a group, we moved forward cautiously, everyone else’s pace slowing when Royce’s did. When we passed through the hallway and reached the first room in the club, there was nothing much to see. There was no one behind the bar; the plush couches lining the walls were empty, as were the raised stage and two metal cages for dancers in the middle of the room.
If the situation hadn’t been so serious and we weren’t in the middle of looking for Max, I would have made some snarky comments about the décor to Royce. The neon whips and silver chains decorating the black walls were a bit much, even for one of his clubs.
Either way, there was nothing to see here. The room wasn’t very big. Directly ahead was a stairwell. There was another hallway to our left, and a screen of thin silver chains to the right obscured the way into the largest dance floor. There were strobe lights flickering through the chains, but I couldn’t see much more than a big, black, empty space beyond. The smell of blood and thicker things had become positively overpowering, so much so that I couldn’t rightly say which direction it came from.
We separated into three groups to investigate. Royce and the majority of his people went into the main dance hall. Arnold, Sara, and Dawn followed him. We’d discussed this tactic earlier over a hastily sketched map of the club’s layout. Max’s main target was Royce. Arnold specialized in intelligence gathering and defensive spellcasting, so it made the most sense for him to stay close to Royce to help buffer up the vamp’s abilities when Max struck. Sara wouldn’t leave Arnold’s side, and he didn’t want her out of his sight, so she stayed with them.
A handful of other vampires separated off and went down the opposite hallway. Six vampires I didn’t know, and one vampire I did–John–came with me, Chaz, Devon, and Tiny to check out the upstairs.
This club was a lot smaller than The Underground. There were two upper floors, both open to the public. Below was a basement connected to the webwork Royce’s people used to get around his businesses without chancing police, reporters, or daylight. John, knowing the layout better than the rest of us, took the lead.
The top of the stairs opened directly onto a smallish dance floor. There was different music playing here, just as obnoxious as what was pounding out of the sound system downstairs. Actually, I think it was worse, seeing as the singer couldn’t coherently scream his lyrics. Yeesh.
The creepiest thing about the place was that there were no people. Why all the cars in the lot below, but nobody manning the bars, no one dancing to the music, and not a soul reclining on any of the numerous plush couches and chairs scattered around the place? The people had to have gone somewhere. It was freaking me out that we hadn’t
come across a single one yet. Where were they being held? Where was the smell of blood coming from?
My heart had worked its way from my throat back down to my chest by the third empty room. It didn’t make any sense. Everyone else looked just as grim and just as puzzled as I felt. I was starting to think this whole thing was a bust and that Max and his people must have gone through the tunnels or left by some other means, when we came upon the largest dance floor on this level.
There were bodies sprawled everywhere on the floor, many piled on top of each other. Skin pale, so pale, unnaturally so. Some of them flashed scarlet at the neck, on the wrist, or maybe the bend of an elbow, vivid against bloodless skin. Glazed eyes stared sightlessly up at the weaving spotlights on the ceiling. Images of macabre scenes, graveyards, twining bodies, and empty eyes shifted on the screen above the stage on the other side of the room, flowing to the beat of the music. It was twistedly apropos of the piles of dead sprawled atop one another, covering the dance floor like a grisly blanket.
I tried to stay detached. I tried very hard to think analytically about what I was seeing so I would not run screaming from the room. The floor wasn’t literally covered–there were twenty or so bodies here; not nearly enough to account for all the cars in the lot below. There had to be more bodies around here somewhere. Maybe there were clues here as to where Max had gone.
The closest corpse was only a few feet away from where I’d stopped–an Asian woman with hair dyed an appalling shade of purple. She was wearing a top that barely covered her breasts, and a chain ran from her belt to a studded collar around her neck. More chains extended from the collar to matching bracelets at her wrists and ankles.
The cuff on the left had been torn away, fingers limply curled up to expose the inside of her wrist. There was a bite there, two jagged tears far more visible than the neat marks on my neck. Fangs had been used to slash that otherwise flawless skin, not just to pierce. I quickly shifted my gaze to her face; those glazed brown eyes seemed to stare accusingly at me. We were too late to save her, save all these people, from the kind of death that had haunted my nightmares ever since I found out that vampires existed outside storybooks and bad horror movies.
