by L. M. Justus
“I am Gabriel,” the younger-looking male vampire replied, clearly the leader of the group despite looking younger than the other two. Luckily, Nathaniel had been correct in assuming they would be fluent in English. “All five of you wish to meet our King?” He frowned slightly as his gaze moved between Trudy, Sophie, and Sarah.
“Yes, all five of us,” Nathaniel confirmed. “We are in a rather unique situation, having recently escaped from the New York City area, and we seek refuge.”
Gabriel motioned to his companions. “May I introduce Katrina and Bernard?” He pulled a cell phone from his back pocket. “Please wait one moment while I confer with my King.”
While Gabriel made his phone call, we stood looking at each other in silence. Katrina pulled a pair of thin knives out of hidden sheaths beneath her jacket and began twirling them with her fingers the way some people fiddled with pens. She wasn’t very tall, but she looked like someone you didn’t want to mess with. Bernard seemed content to hang back behind her.
With my vampire senses, I couldn’t help overhearing Gabriel’s phone conversation. The fact that we had three humans with us, who didn’t appear to be mind-controlled, had thrown him for a loop.
Sophie nudged Sarah in the side. “That Gabriel guy is pretty hot,” she whispered.
Gabriel was capable of hearing us as clearly as I’d heard him and I gave Sophie a pointed look. “Vampire hearing,” I whispered back, pointing to my ear.
She stuck her tongue out at me.
“That’s mature,” I said.
“Said the seventeen-year-old,” she retorted.
I glared at her. “Eighteen in two weeks.”
Gabriel walked over, interrupting our argument. “It is settled. The King welcomes you all to his residence. We are immensely curious to hear about the situation in New York and open to the possibility of inviting you into our realm. Please, follow me.”
Katrina slipped her knives back into their sheaths and winked at me before turning to follow Gabriel. We fell into step behind them and left the warm shelter of the church.
After a brisk walk up the block, we descended a set of stairs to a subway station. It was another new experience for me; I’d never been on a subway, or ‘Metro’ as they called it.
The Montreal vampires paid our fare and we waited a couple of minutes for the subway to arrive. There was a sparse scattering of passengers this late on a weekday evening, so we had the car mostly to ourselves.
“Why do they have windows on these things?” I said, tapping the glass. “There’s no view.”
“Some subways go outside for a bit and then there’s a view. I think it’s also so you can tell when you get to the right stop,” Sophie said.
“They could have a lit-up sign that says what the next stop is instead. And announce it over a loud-speaker,” I said, moments before a recorded female voice did exactly that.
“Good point,” she admitted with a laugh.
Wow, she hadn’t come back with a snarky reply. I grinned. The Montreal vampires sitting across from us watched our exchange, smiling back. I had a hunch this group of vampires might be a lot more normal than the other vampires I’d met so far.
Sarah relaxed next to me; she must have been relieved to see her sister and me getting along for once. Our immediate future looked promising and I enjoyed the rare feeling of optimism.
Several stations later, our subway car screeched to a stop and we exited onto the brightly lit platform. Our hosts led us down a winding route of hallways and out of the Metro station, back into the winter night.
The streets were paved with cobblestones, like a quaint European village. Christmas lights lit up the shop windows and old houses.
The realization sank in suddenly: Christmas this year had already come and gone and I hadn’t even thought about it until now.
The vampires continued walking for another few blocks, leading us into an area packed with three-story brick houses. We passed a waist-high wrought-iron fence to a paved walkway, which led to one of the townhomes. The snow had been neatly shoveled off the path and a warm glow shone through the front window of the house.
We followed the vamps through the front door, which gleamed with a pristine layer of black paint. The entryway and hall that stretched toward the back of the house was wallpapered in a complicated flowery pattern and the floors were spotless hardwood.
After removing our outdoor footwear and coats, we entered a large living room with a fire crackling away in a stone hearth. At the corner of the room, a man with shoulder-length dark hair stood and smiled.
“Welcome to la belle province, my friends,” he said, brushing his long hair away from his face. “I am Marcel, the King of Montreal.” He had a strong French accent, and the way he said ‘Montreal’ sounded something like Mow-ray-al.
Gabriel walked over to the King and they embraced. “Mon amour,” he said and they kissed each other, once on one cheek and then the other. They turned to face us; hands clasped together. The King sat down and Gabriel perched at his side on the arm of the chair.
Of all the things I could have thought at that moment, the first one that came to mind was how Sophie’s chances of getting it on with Gabriel had just faded into non-existence. I wrestled with my self-control to stop myself from laughing, but a snicker burst from my lips and I coughed to cover it up. Sophie gave me a half-lidded glare.
Our truce from the subway–where we’d actually gotten along for a few seconds–wasn’t meant to last. What a rotten impression I must have been making on our hosts. I bit my thumbnail and focused on being serious.
The King gave us a mildly quizzical look, but didn’t seem offended. “Please, have a seat,” he said.
We sat.
Sarah
The King of Montreal, Marcel, swept his gray-eyed gaze across their ragtag group. His face lit up with curiosity as though they were a welcome source of news and entertainment.
“I am dying to know what brings you here and if you have news of the disaster in New York,” the King said.
Sarah had learned her lesson about the older, insane vampires, so she didn’t hesitate to delve into Marcel’s mind to arm herself with as much information as possible. His thoughts were clear, however, and he seemed genuinely interested in hearing their story and helping them out. She hadn’t even noticed how stiffly she was sitting on the couch until now; she blew out a breath of relief and her body relaxed. If only she had some way of reassuring the others by letting them know what she’d discovered.
“I am Nathaniel, and this is Reed, Sarah, Sophie, and Trudy,” he said, motioning to each in turn.
“Of course, I forget my manners,” Marcel said, “but I believe you have already met mon cher, Gabriel, as well as the newest addition to our lair, Bernard, and my head of security, Katrina. There are others, of course; we will introduce you to everyone later. Not to ignore the usual pleasantries, but we are very anxious to hear your news. Please, tell us . . . is it true the New York lair has been eliminated?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Nathaniel answered. “We were in New York City for only a week before the virus was released, and none of the vampires survived except for ourselves and one other. I feel we must be forthcoming and warn you about this other one for she is a very old vampire and she endeavors to harm us. She was also the King’s sister.”
Marcel’s eyebrows lifted. “I did not realize the King of New York had a sister.”
Reed snorted. “Yeah, she’s a real treat.”
Sarah worried about Reed speaking out of turn, but Marcel grinned, looking more amused than ever.
“It is the sister from whom you seek refuge then?” Marcel asked.
Nathaniel nodded. “Yes, and she is not to be underestimated. I am certain she is losing her mind, as her brother had, and I am afraid she harbors some resentment toward us after what occurred in her own realm, San Jose.”
“San Jose, California? I had heard that lair was destroyed as well. Are you saying the last two
vampire lairs you visited were brought to ruin?”
“The San Jose thing was an accident,” Reed said.
“It was mostly my fault,” Sarah added, worrying about the guys shouldering all the blame.
“While I can’t take any of the blame for what happened in San Jose, I’m the one largely responsible for the destruction of the New York lair,” Trudy said. “But not without good reason. We knew about the King’s plan to release the virus, and we were trying to stop him.”
Marcel stared straight at Sophie. “And what about you? What was your role in all this?”
Poor Sophie startled backward in her seat, gripping the arms of her chair. “Who, me?” she asked, her voice an octave higher than usual.
“I apologize,” Marcel chuckled, covering his mouth with his free hand. “A poor attempt at including you in the conversation.” He turned back to Nathaniel. “This is a lot to take in. Let me see if I have this right: you are in the company of three humans, which is certainly odd, and they are claiming responsibility for eliminating two major vampire strongholds. In addition, the former ruler of San Jose–a crazy and powerful female vampire–is pursuing you and wishes to hurt you in some manner.”
Everyone exchanged glances, but didn’t say anything. Marcel had summarized their situation perfectly.
The King tapped his lip thoughtfully before saying, “I haven’t been this entertained in ages!”
Nathaniel looked uncertain how to respond. Everyone in their group was wary of yet another eccentric King who’d gone mad, but Sarah’s ability to read minds had reassured her that this King was nothing like the one in New York. She grasped Nathaniel’s arm and gave it a light squeeze in an effort to convey her confidence in Marcel’s intentions.
Nathaniel met her look with one raised eyebrow and she gave him an encouraging smile.
The King’s gaze shifted to Reed, who was fiddling with the frayed cuff of his shirt. He stopped when he realized the King was staring at him.
“You are a youngling,” the King observed. “Like our Bernard. May I ask how old you are?” He cocked his head to the side and smiled; his teeth were startlingly white.
“Uh . . .” Reed swallowed. “In human years?”
Marcel laughed. “Young enough that human years still matter then? Tell me in human and vampire terms in that case.”
“Well, I’ve only been a vampire for a month and a bit, but I would’ve turned eighteen in a couple of weeks.”
“Eighteen!” the King exclaimed, pulling his left hand out of Gabriel’s grip. He held his hands to his cheeks with glee and his eyes shone. “An important birthday indeed. We will celebrate: a welcome to our city and your birthday all in one. I love an excuse to party and I know the perfect place: Le Cachot Noir, my favorite dance club. We’ll lend you some better clothes and head out right away.”
“A dance club? I’m not exactly legal–”
“Mon ami,” the King interrupted and stood. “In Quebec, eighteen is legal. Not that it matters; we are vampires. We can control the minds of humans and do whatever we please, non?”
“Hey, that means I’m legal too,” Sophie said, brightening. “So what kind of clothes are we talking about?”
Sarah was surprised Marcel hadn’t questioned them more about New York. It was hard to accept any vampire ruler would be willing to put serious issues aside for fun and entertainment.
As the group continued to discuss the logistics of their outing, Sarah wondered if they should be mentioning their unusual talents: her mind reading and Reed’s immunity to sunlight and silver. Would the Montreal vampires be upset they hadn’t disclosed that information if they found out about it later? And what about Reed’s lack of ability to mesmerize humans? Was it important to let the King know about that now? Then again, maybe it was best not to lay all their cards on the table just yet.
Sarah mulled things over and kept a sharp eye on their hosts as the Montreal vampires led them to the lower level of the house. The basement of the lair was fully finished, and Marcel and Gabriel took off down a long hallway with the men while Katrina welcomed the women into her room.
Katrina’s room–you couldn’t really call it a ‘bedroom’ because there wasn’t any bed–was through the first door on the right at the base of the stairwell. After entering her small living space, the female vampire immediately started sorting through her closet of clothes, passing a few selections to Sophie to try on.
Meanwhile, Sarah stuffed herself into a pair of skin-tight black jeans. She managed to get the zipper and button done up and then looked at the result in the floor-length mirror. The jeans fit like a pair of long capri pants because Sarah was a few inches taller than Katrina was. Not that you could tell Katrina was shorter at a glance because she was wearing a pair of boots with crazy-ass high heels.
Sarah buttoned up the lacy, midnight blue blouse she had chosen from Katrina’s extensive wardrobe. Satisfied with her outfit, she turned to see how her sister was doing.
Her jaw dropped. “Sophie! No way are you wearing that in public.”
Sophie turned and placed her hands on her scantily clad hips. “I like this skirt, and you’re not my mother. Even if you were, I’m twenty years old and I can wear whatever I like.”
“Soph, that skirt is at least five inches too short. If you so much as breathe, people will be able to see . . . well, everything! And that top; why don’t you just walk into the club naked?”
“Sarah, you’re embarrassing me.”
“And you’ll freeze to death the second you step outside.”
Katrina plucked a long fur coat from her closet and draped it over Sophie’s shoulders. “That should solve the problem,” she said. “Shall we go meet the men upstairs?”
Trudy rose from her chair in the corner with a barely supressed grin; she had politely refused to change out of her clothes. She led the way out the door, waiting for the others to follow.
Resigned to letting her sister go out barely dressed, Sarah followed the other three into the hallway. She had just raised a foot to start climbing the stairs when a door down the hallway opened behind her.
“Psssst,” Reed hissed, his head poking out of the doorway. He crooked a finger, beckoning her closer.
“I’ll catch up in a minute,” she called to Sophie, who nodded once before continuing to the main floor.
Reed pulled Sarah into the room and shut the door. It was another small room like Katrina’s, furnished like a bedroom minus a bed. An assortment of clothes, books, and other personal belongings lay scattered about.
“Whose room is this?” she asked.
“Bernard’s,” Reed said. “The other guys are getting changed.”
She grasped the front of his shirt, tugged him closer, and looked up at him. “You’re still wearing the same clothes.”
“There’s no possible way I’d trade what I’ve got on for anything those guys own.”
Sarah laughed. “Are you ready to go clubbing?”
“Not really,” he admitted with a slight grimace. “Call me crazy, but I don’t feel much like celebrating. Going to a dance club is the last thing I pictured us doing tonight.”
“And what would you choose to do instead?” she said, batting her eyelashes. She was pleased to see the serious look melt from his face.
“Hmm . . .” He combed his fingers through the hair at her temple, his fingertips tracing a soft trail down her cheek and under her chin. “I think I might like to stay here in this room with you all night long. Yeah, that sounds safer and . . . more fun.”
He grinned at her and his deep blue eyes sparkled. Sarah bit her lip, stifling another laugh. “You’re very cute,” she said.
Reed’s eyebrow lifted. “Cute?”
“And sweet.”
He cringed. “Sweet?”
“Sexy?”
“Getting better.” He slid his hand around the back of her neck and drew her close.
“Hot as hell?” she whispered, their mouths an inch apart.
“Mmm,” he agreed, kissing her at last.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and savored the feel of his warm lips against her own. Warmth emanated from her core and she wanted to lose herself in the moment, but then she pictured everyone else waiting for them.
“Reed?” she mumbled into his mouth.
He pulled back. “You’re going to say we should go, right?”
She gave him an apologetic half-grin. “Sorry.”
He shook his head, but he was smiling. “Foiled again.”
As they approached the entrance to the club, the throbbing bass from the music grew louder. The only four Montreal vampires to join Sarah and her group were the same four they’d met earlier: Marcel, Gabriel, Katrina, and Bernard. They appeared to be in their element, and even Nathaniel had dressed the part of a regular club patron. Sarah, Reed, and Trudy were by far the most conservatively attired.
Le Cachot Noir was located at the edge of an industrial park full of flat, one-story buildings. A purple neon sign over the door broke up the black brick exterior of the dance club. The windows were covered with dark paint without a trace of light leaking out.
When they entered the building, a blast of warm air and two bouncers–who stood flanking a second door–greeted them. Marcel said a few words to the men, who then waved the whole group inside.
Strobe lights flashed above a dance floor packed with sweaty people moving in time to the music’s pulse. Sophie removed her coat and passed it to Sarah. “Now this is what I call a good time,” she shouted at Sarah over the music before diving into the fray.
“Wait!” Sarah called after her sister, but the crowd had already swallowed her. Would she ever learn to stop being over-protective of Sophie?
Marcel drew up beside Sarah and leaned next to her ear, his long hair brushing the side of her face. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Figuring she might as well try to enjoy herself, she accepted his offer. He winked at her and took off to the bar. It was hard not to let her stare linger as he walked away, his toned muscles obvious under his black silk shirt and his butt outlined by tight leather pants.
