Samantha Watkins: Chronicles of an Extraordinary Ordinary Life (Samantha Watkins Series Book 1)

by Aurélie Venem

  “Only since I met you. Who else taught me to be confident?”

  “Being confident does not necessarily mean rushing headlong into things.”

  He was frowning, so I must have been irritating him too.

  “Oh, come on, you’re one to talk.”

  While we were readying ourselves for our thousandth fight, François’s deep laugh stopped us. Phoenix looked at him as though it were the first time that had happened since they had known each other.

  “This is the first time I have ever seen you like this, Phoenix. You are funny, the two of you, bickering like an old couple.”

  I flushed scarlet, but Phoenix tried to recover his usual impenetrable mask (with some difficulty, by the way).

  Karl chose that moment to intervene. “Do not say that, François. She was very welcoming with you,” he spat out, “but she might jump down your throat if you do not watch what you say. That human woman knows how to be a real tigress.”

  I had to be careful with my reaction if I didn’t want to offend my boss again.

  “Only when I’m provoked. What happened last night was only the result of a misunderstanding, am I right?”

  I made it easy for him; it was up to him to be smart enough to pick up on it.

  “Actually, I was rude and your reaction was understandable. I promise you that in the future, I won’t act like an uncivilized and uneducated barbarian, but as a perfect gentleman. Do you forgive me?”

  He certainly had a good sense of formality. His apology almost seemed credible. In any case, Phoenix was smiling. All right, then.

  “I forgive you. Let’s start over. It’s the best thing to do.”

  François hadn’t understood the entirety of our exchange, but he also seemed satisfied with our truce.

  Phoenix came forward and immediately sobered up the reunion.

  “I’m happy that you’re here, my friends. Dark times are ahead, and if we don’t put a stop to the blood trafficking in this region, it means my death and the deaths of our leaders.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Pursuit

  Our conversation was not lightened by the joy that friends feel after a long separation. Our faces were serious, the atmosphere heavy. We knew we only had a short amount of time before the Greats decided to take matters into their own hands and take the heads of Phoenix, Talanus, and Ysis along the way.

  I couldn’t accept that this man who’d offered me a second life would lose his own. I couldn’t stand losing my best friend, the only person who accepted me for who I really was and who pushed me to become the person I should be. His death was unthinkable, and I would do anything to save him.

  Phoenix had explained everything to François and Karl. He truly trusted them, which was troubling, given Phoenix’s usual insistence on the untrustworthiness of vampires. But he said that friendship could be deep between them . . .

  “Karl, do you remember Bill Miller?”

  “You mean Thirsty Bill?”

  “Yes. He runs a strip club in east Kerington, the Sexy Thong Show.”

  Karl raised his eyebrows at the name, trying not to laugh, which made my boss roll his eyes.

  “If you know Bill, you also know that he has never been very clever.”

  “Indeed. What do you need me to do?”

  “He is connected to the blood trafficking. Shadow him. He might lead us to their hideout. François, you will go with him.”

  François nodded in agreement.

  “And you two?” Karl asked.

  “Sam and I will do our part. We cannot afford to wait for news from Kaiko and Ichimi.”

  I knew what he was talking about: he wanted to put my idea into action that evening, and I wasn’t dressed to hit the clubs yet. I was rather disheveled, I must say. Now that it was spring, the days were getting longer, and the weather was getting nicer, so I’d opened the window in the Buick and taken advantage of the fresh air. The result was some seriously wind-tousled hair. And François had called me his demoiselle. Would someone from the seventeenth century celebrate bad hair days the way that people today do? I doubted it.

  “I’ll go get ready,” I said before rushing off to my room.

  It would take some time to prepare for what I had in mind. I went directly to the armoire, which was filled with the clothes Phoenix had given me—the ones I’d sworn never to wear. I knew that to do what I was about to, I believed he must truly be in danger.

  Some time later, I looked at my reflection in the mirror and smiled. Not bad. It was the result I was hoping for . . . My inspection came to an abrupt end when my phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Please accept my humblest apologies if I’ve disturbed you, but we’re starting to get impatient.”

  Phoenix hung up before I could say anything. It didn’t matter; I was going to join them anyway.

  I thanked heaven that I hadn’t tumbled down the stairs in my heels, and then I walked into the parlor.

  Phoenix, Karl, and François turned toward me, and simultaneously, they froze in place, mouths agape, stupefied. I instantly transformed three centuries-old vampires into ridiculous, gawking statues. The worst of the three was my boss, who looked like he was choking on a piece of meat again. Seeing their expressions, I thought that maybe I’d gone overboard.

  I’d put my hair into a complicated bun, a little like the ones sported by the starlets of the moment, with so many bobby pins I felt like a porcupine. To emphasize my eyes, I’d applied dark eye shadow and liner. Simple earrings, a necklace, and a bracelet completed the look and tempered my silver dress, which was so dazzling and so . . . short. Phoenix must have thought it was just a top, forgetting that today’s styles were no longer those of five hundred years ago; now women were showing off a lot more than they once did, too much even. I’d managed to slip on black shiny pumps that I’d found in my armoire. Lastly, I put on my favorite perfume, Escada.

  I thought I looked the part of a young, naive escort for a stylish and wealthy client, the kind of man allowed entry into any nightclub he wished. Alone, my boss could have seemed suspect, but with me dressed like this at his side, he could pass for a powerful man who wanted to show off and have a good time.

  But seeing his face, I had it all wrong.

  “Too much, is that it?” I guessed, fearing the answer.

  Karl and Phoenix stayed silent as the grave. I felt immense relief when François came to my rescue.

  “I think I see what you were going for. It is a good idea to want to play the ostentation card to avoid suspicion. Additionally, dressed like that, I doubt that the vampires you met at the warehouse will recognize you. Is she not magnificent?” he concluded, turning to his companions and emphasizing his question so they would finally react and decide to speak.

  “Uh . . .” I don’t know what Phoenix was going to say, because Karl interrupted him.

  “Of course she is magnificent. Look at her, she is positively delectable. Yum . . .”

  It took an incredible effort to not lose my cool, seeing his mocking smile and his barely disguised insinuation. He’d promised to behave like a gentleman and so had chosen his vocabulary carefully, but I still found him repugnant.

  “Karl, François, good luck. We shall check in tomorrow at sunset.”

  My boss thus called everyone to action and, in doing so, brushed aside the issue of the length of my dress. It was time to get to work.

  In the blink of an eye, his friends left, and we were alone. We got in the Camaro and headed in the direction of the bars and clubs in east Kerington; I’d made a list of them with the help of the Internet.

  “You think we’ll find anything?” I asked, suddenly doubtful of the merits of our plan.

  “We must. I do not have a choice.”

  “We don’t have a choice. We’re in the same boat, you and me. I’d be annoyed if you died.”

  “Happy to hear it,” he said, smiling slightly.

  “Besides, if that happens, I doubt that the Greats will let
me live, knowing all that I do.”

  I’d intended it as a joke, but I realized as I said it that it was entirely the truth. If Phoenix was executed, I would have to die with him to preserve the Secret. My mouth got suddenly dry, and I had trouble swallowing. The smile on my boss’s face had completely disappeared, and what he said next terrified me completely.

  “I know.”

  After a few minutes of mutual reflection, I decided it would be best to keep the conversation going rather than be depressed.

  “I hope I didn’t shock you too much earlier. You must have thought that this dress was just a T-shirt when you gave it to me.”

  He waited before answering. “Your era leaves little to the imagination. People praise transparency, they analyze everything with technology that gets more and more sophisticated, and no one ever even needs to imagine women without clothes, because they only ever wear a strip of fabric by way of a dress.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing and annoying him.

  “It’s crazy how old-fashioned you are . . .”

  A growl echoed through the car, but I wasn’t intimidated.

  “Say what you will, but as for me, I think you have to get with the times. Besides, showing their bodies allows women to have some self-confidence.”

  “I do not see any difference except that you are dressed in less than usual.”

  “I’m not different. But you know me, maybe better than anyone, by the way. This evening, it’s important that people don’t see me as a threat, just the plaything of some golden boy. That way they’ll leave us alone.”

  “This from the same woman who made a scene with Karl because he took you for a sexual object,” he said.

  “It isn’t the same thing,” I said. “Honestly, do you think I overdid it? I wanted to seem sexy, not give the impression that I’m . . . uh . . . lacking in . . .”

  Good grief. I hoped he wouldn’t say that I looked like a prostitute. But he kept his eyes on the road.

  “You are perfect.”

  I should have been relieved, but I felt strangely frustrated by his answer.

  “How should we proceed tonight?” I asked.

  “I have selected four nightclubs on the outskirts of the east Kerington. We shall stay about an hour in each one and see if that comes to anything.”

  “As easy as looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  “It was your idea, if you recall.”

  “Well, I’m starting to wonder if it was a bad one.”

  “It is either this or wait for Kaiko and Ichimi to call.”

  “I forgot to tell you something . . .”

  “What?” he said, worried.

  “I don’t know how to dance.”

  We arrived at Pacific Dreams, a very selective club that could be of interest to the Chinese gang we were looking for, given the rich and powerful men who went there to have fun and do business, legal or not. The line to get in was at least a hundred people long, and as I headed to the end of the line to join them, Phoenix grabbed my arm and pulled me close to him as he walked to the entrance. My high heels had me so off balance that he almost sent me flying into the gutter, but he wasn’t paying attention. He only wanted to skip the line and enter like a VIP. I was mortified by the looks of shock and outrage from those who saw us walk straight to the door. I preferred to not listen to what they were muttering behind us, knowing full well that my boss could hear them fine.

  We reached the bouncer, who was built like a tank, six and a half feet tall with muscles the Incredible Hulk would envy. Phoenix looked at him with scorn and arrogance. The guy had a list of names, and I doubted that Peter Livingstone’s was on there. He was going to throw us out, pure and simple, and in front of a curious audience who was expecting it.

  Against all odds, the bouncer stepped aside and let us through.

  “What did you do to him? You couldn’t have hypnotized him, but I’m sure you did something,” I asked Phoenix after handing over our coats to the coat check.

  “I just signaled to him that he should check his coat pocket.”

  “Huh?”

  “Your human eye did not have enough time to see me put a thick stack of bills into his pocket.”

  Of course. Nicely done.

  The music was blasting so loud I couldn’t even respond. The club’s decor was immaculate, and you could tell from the magnums of champagne being paraded about what kind of clientele was served here. Looking at the dance floor, I couldn’t help but laugh. I tapped on my boss’s shoulder, and he came closer so I could shout in his ear.

  “And you thought my dress was too short!”

  Indeed, top model lookalikes were wriggling their hips to the rhythm of the music without any concern for the way their gold hot pants gave glimpses of half of their behinds or the necklines of their tops reached their navels. Some of their skirts were so short they just barely hid what women should never expose in public. The vision of these shimmying girls was worthy of the most cultish scenes of the Fast and the Furious movies: enough thin girls and fast cars to make men dream . . . Speaking of, one of the men in the audience was seated at the edge of the dance floor, holding a handkerchief and wiping away the drool from his gaping mouth as he stared at all that fresh flesh. Gross.

  My boss led me to a table where we could keep an eye on the scene. Once we were settled next to each other, he called for a server and ordered champagne.

  “Get closer and massage my shoulders.”

  “What? Absolutely not!”

  “Need I remind you that I am supposed to be someone important and you are my groupie? Stop acting like a frightened virgin.”

  He must have realized the enormity of what he’d said just as he said it, and my look of outrage only emphasized it.

  “Forgive me. That was rude and disrespectful of me. In short, it was despicable,” he said right away, sincerely.

  I stared at him severely. “You’re starting to master the formalities of apologies. But don’t make it a habit, or I might stop accepting your apologies.”

  “You are very hard on me. I find that I have made progress, though.”

  I burst out laughing at the chastised-dog look on his face.

  “In another hundred years, you might be able to make a funny joke.”

  “If I live that long,” he grumbled.

  “Super. You really know how to kill the mood.”

  The server brought us our champagne, and for an hour we played at being a couple having a good time together. We were on alert every time someone entered. But it was always a disappointment.

  Phoenix knew right away whether or not new arrivals were vampires. One vampire went to the dance floor. With his seductive charm, it wasn’t hard for him to attract girls, who grinded up against him with an almost vulgar shamelessness. He murmured a few words to the prettiest of the bunch, who was thrilled by what he said. Unfortunately for him, he passed by our table, making eye contact with my boss, and catching a glimpse of fang.

  Our mission didn’t impede Phoenix from fulfilling his function as angel. Phoenix’s growl of warning, low but loud enough for the other vampire to hear, was more than clear. The party vampire had no interest in hurting that girl if it meant losing his head, in the proper sense of the word, and he quickly rid himself of his companion and scampered off.

  “Impressive,” I murmured.

  “Thank you, but that is my job. I have to be merciless to be credible.”

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “If only they knew . . . ,” I said.

  “Knew what?”

  “That you’re actually a good guy,” I finished, swallowing the last drop from my champagne flute.

  He shook his head. “Do not think of me like that. It would be a mistake. I am a vampire, and thus on the side of Evil, do you not remember?”

  “That’s all nonsense. You just saved that girl’s life. So all this talk of vampires being on Evil’s team, you can keep that to yourself. I don’t
claim to know you very well, but I do know one thing. You’re a good guy. It doesn’t matter what you say to convince me otherwise.”

  He looked serious and exasperated.

  “You . . . ,” he began, but I clapped my hand over his mouth.

  “Shut up. The subject is closed. And unless you want to drag this out forever, seeing as there isn’t even a shadow of a Chinese vampire here, I suggest we go elsewhere.”

  Without giving him a chance to object or agree, I stood up and headed for the coat check.

  We went to another club, a bit less exclusive, called Miami Dance Floor, about fifteen minutes away. As we walked from the car, I shivered, wishing the temperature outside was the same as in Florida. Phoenix didn’t bother to get in line here either, and another bribe gained us entry. Once again, we sat at a table with a strategic vantage point and ordered drinks. Nothing interesting was happening, so I passed the time sipping my champagne. Suddenly, though, I felt something was wrong.

  “Phoenix, we’re being watched.”

  “I know. Two people who come to a club together and yet sit apart without ever dancing, that is strange.”

  “We’ve been here an hour. We should leave now.”

  So we did.

  In the car, I still had the sense something wasn’t right. I wasn’t sure what, just a feeling of being slightly disconnected from reality, of being too hot. But what was wrong with me? Finally, a light bulb shone in my befuddled head.

  Good grief. It was because of the champagne, nothing more.

  I hoped my boss hadn’t taken notice. I needed to pull myself together. I opened the car window and let the air rush in to clear my head . . .

  The Shining Rainbow was a classic club, contrasting with what you might think just from the sight of its bright rainbow sign. My deep breathing out the car window had its intended effect: my brain had unfogged. At least I thought it had.

  In the red-and-gold alcove where we sat, Phoenix ordered champagne again, which I took care not to drink. We took up our surveillance of the clientele, but after a while, he stood up and held out his hand for me. I stared at him wide-eyed, not knowing what he wanted.

  “We are going to end up attracting unwanted attention. I propose another means of observation.”