by E.J. Stevens
I nodded, icy tears falling from my eyes to shatter on the hard surface of the bar.
“Good,” she said. “I do believe you will enjoy the task I now set before you. Puck, Oberon’s former lapdog, has been acquiring too much power in this city. Kill him quickly and quietly. I am granting you your freedom, Beryl. Do not waste this gift.”
My heart swelled. Freedom at last! It was true that I’d sought a long, painful torment for the trickster, but if the Queen of Air and Darkness willed it, then I would kill Puck quickly.
“You will not remember our conversation, of course,” she said. “My presence here in the mortal realms must not yet be revealed. But you are bound by our bargain all the same. Put down Oberon’s pet and gain your freedom.”
I blinked and rubbed my eyes, wondering why they were misted over and my cheeks were wet. Had I fallen asleep on the job? I glanced around quickly, hoping Puck hadn’t noticed. The last time I dozed off while working, he’d held my hand over an open flame. The bastard knew of my aversion to fire and taunted me with it ceaselessly. Thankfully, Puck was too busy with his diversions to notice my lapse. He was only now leaving the dance floor with a curvaceous human on his arm.
I wiped absently at the counter in front of me, trying to look busy as I studied the trickster’s new conquest. She bore multiple tattoos on her bare arms, but they didn’t look like brandings or other marks of fae ownership. Examining her face, I could see that she was wearing heavy makeup, but her eyes were still bright and alert. The human wasn’t on Ice, yet, but it wouldn’t take Puck long if he wanted her dosed. All it would take was a quick sleight of hand while ordering her a drink and she’d be another slave to add to his larder.
I could have warned her. I’d done it more than once to thwart Puck’s little games, but not tonight. I didn’t care about the fate of this weak human. I had more important things to take care of, though I wasn’t at all sure what those things were. For a moment, the room seemed to tilt on its axis and cool air whispered along my skin. I shook my head and continued wiping at the counter.
My hand hit a hard object and I looked down to see an ornate dagger in front of me. That was odd. I didn’t remember any customers sitting here who may have left this behind. My eyes slid from the weapon to Puck striding this way. I grinned wide, seeing the chance I’d been looking for. I’d always dreamed of a long, slow revenge, but at the moment the thought of killing the trickster quickly and cleanly filled me with joy. Yes, he needed to be put down. Tonight.
As Puck walked past, I tossed my dishrag over the dagger and pulled it across the bar. Once he was gone, I slipped the blade into the pocket of my apron, the ice cold handle a comfort in my sweating hand. The weapon’s sudden appearance must be a sign. I gripped the dagger tightly and slid into a nearby shadow.
My captor had gone through the door to the left of the bar and into the back storerooms. I knew what he did down below in the old wine cellars, and had learned to keep my distance from his special customers and their depravity.
But now I eyed the door with longing, wishing I had a way inside. Normally, I could make an excuse to run back for supplies, but it was a “special” night according to Puck and he’d locked the doors to all except paying guests.
One by one, vampires had been letting themselves in with newly crafted keys made of iron. I don’t know how Puck managed to convey the keys to the vampires without suffering the effects of iron poisoning, but his security paid off. There was no way a faerie could steal one of those keys and gain admittance to his special bloodsucker party.
I was still glowering at the door when the southern vampire, who’d been sitting at the bar, stood and made his way toward the back room. As he slid a key from the pocket of his leather jacket, an idea sprung into my mind and I smiled. Heart racing, I grabbed a stack of bar towels, upended an unfinished drink on them, and hurried to his side.
“Excuse me,” I said. “Can you hold the door? I need to swap these for clean linens or Puck will have my head.”
A look of distaste crossed the vampire’s face, either at such pushy behavior by a servant or the mention of Puck, I wasn’t sure which. Maybe he was just annoyed that I’d delayed his dinner plans. Whatever the reason for his pinched expression, the vampire held the door while I scurried past, hurrying on once he’d followed me inside.
The vampire rushed past in a blur of movement, not willing to waste any more time before going below stairs. I shuddered, gripping the linens tight to my chest. The man probably already had his fangs in some poor schmuck’s neck by now.
The door clicked shut and I released a shaky breath, setting the soiled towels on top of a low stack of cardboard boxes. The vampire hadn’t bothered to switch on the lights in his hurried descent to the crypts below, and I certainly wasn’t going to turn them on. The room was dark, but my Unseelie eyes were suited to lurking in shadows and I didn’t want to alert Puck, or any of the vampires being entertained with blood and vice, to my presence.
I tiptoed to the door we’d just come through and, after placing my ear to the wood to listen for anyone approaching, bent low and blew an icy mist into the lock. When the keyhole was filled with ice, I turned toward the stairs at the back of the room.
Silently, I dodged crates and boxes, making my way across the room and down a flight of stairs. At the bottom, I could hear movement and the dry, hacking sound of a laughing vampire. Beneath it all ran a soundtrack of agony: moans, cries, and shrieks of pain or terror. I swallowed hard and pulled myself up to my full seven-foot height.
Soon I would be free of this prison and though the roads to the Winter Court were sealed, I’d find a new place to live where the ones crying out in agony were Seelie fae, as it should be. I imagined Puck chained in iron and strung from one of the court’s elaborately carved balconies. How Mab would have laughed at such a sight. She always did love the sweet taste of revenge.
I blinked back icy tears at the memory of my lost queen—if only she’d return to us!—and pulled the dagger from my apron. Strangely, the weapon made me feel closer to my liege.
I moved forward, but as I was about to turn the corner into the wine cellar, I heard the faint scuff of a boot on the stairs. I ducked into deeper darkness behind a rack of wine bottles, embracing the shadows as I held my breath.
Seconds later, a man in an old-fashioned waistcoat came into view. I frowned, studying the man as he descended the stairs. How had he opened the locked door above? The ice I’d frozen the lock shut with shouldn’t have melted so quickly.
Flame flickered in the man’s eyes, providing my answer. The dapper gentleman was a demon.
After surveying the room and tugging at his gloves, the demon continued on. I listened, wondering if I should make my escape before more partygoers made their way through the door and down the stairs. I dug my fingernails into my palm, trying to stem the wave of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm me. If I was discovered, Puck would take great pleasure in my punishment.
The sound of an argument and Puck’s strained voice convinced me to stay. For once, the trickster sounded worried. Plus, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had a duty to fulfill.
I pressed my lips together and crept out from behind the racks of wine, inching my way along the demon’s trail. At the first open doorway, I could hear the demon and Puck arguing. I stole a glance into the room, and jerked my head back.
A slow smile spread across my face, the upturned curve of my lips feeling odd after so many years of enslavement. The demon was circling Puck, keeping him distracted and off balance. I had no idea what their argument was about—money, a girl, a drug deal gone wrong—and I didn’t care. What I saw in that room was an opportunity.
I slipped a hand into my apron, gripping the jeweled dagger. This was my chance.
With a wild yell and bark of laughter, I rushed into the room. I raised my arm, thrusting the dagger toward Puck’s heart—if the bastard even had one—but was wrenched to the side as a vampire appeared before me.
>
The southern vamp from the bar, I thought as my vision tunneled, shadows racing in from the periphery. I tried to move again toward Puck, but pain slammed into me. I gagged and slid to my knees.
The vampire snarled, holding a bloody, lifeless arm in his grasp. Confused, I looked down to see my own arm missing, blood oozing from my shoulder. Understanding dawned and I smiled. I’d be out from under Puck’s thumb no matter what happened now.
I fumbled at my apron with the fingers of my remaining hand, muscles already growing slow and weak. The demon continued his argument with Puck and the vampire was babbling about the need to protect Bite Club or some such nonsense. My head buzzed and my vision blurred.
I didn’t have much time.
I extracted the ice pick from the torn seam where I’d kept it, longing for the day I’d win my freedom. It wasn’t as elegant as the jeweled dagger, but it would have to do.
I managed to get a foot under me and lunged, jamming the ice pick upward. I felt the silver punch through muscle and slip beneath the ribs and into Puck’s heart. His eyes widened in surprise and I laughed.
Adrenaline fading, I hung limply in the arms of the vampire who’d grabbed hold of me. Licking my lips, I looked up into the frenzied face of the vampire. The creature latched onto my neck, sinking his fangs into my jugular, but I no longer cared.
“I did as you asked, my queen,” I rasped.
My vision dimmed to a tiny point of light and my body felt pleasantly cold. I relaxed, a smile still on my lips. I’d served my queen and been granted my own wish. No more tending bar in a sweaty nightclub. No further decades of servitude to the almighty Puck, who was now dying alongside me in this moldering, old wine cellar.
I was free.
DUSTED
The first rule of Bite Club is there are no rules. The lack of restrictions is what makes our soirees so dang irresistible. Bite Club is an all you can eat buffet of blood and wanton pleasure. But like all good things, Bite Club comes in small doses.
If vampires bit and drained everything in sight on a regular basis, we’d be hunted, staked, and burned to ash never to rise again. I tugged at the brim of my hat, which sat catawampus from a burst of speed, and made my way down the spiral staircase toward the bar.
I’m not a rogue—I can play by the rules—but immortality is a long, long lifetime and I’d found that Bite Club helped its members cope with the boredom and frustrations of eternal life beneath Vampire Law.
The vampire council mandates that all new fledglings adhere to their laws, or perish. What our masters don’t bother to tell us is that even after decades of following the rules to the letter, the restrictions do not lift. And after half a century, the laws regarding how one must conduct a hunt had begun to chafe.
Vampire Law states that feeding must be done discreetly. Blood slaves, humans who give their blood willingly, are encouraged—so long as we only make slaves of those unfortunate souls whom human society has already forsaken. We feed off the fringe of humanity—the homeless, addicts, runaways—those who are unlikely to be missed or whose disappearance can easily be explained away. But this forced discretion scraped against my true nature like a wooden stake against my heart. Vampires are predators, not scavenging birds meant to swoop in and pick at the garbage that humans cast aside.
I am no trash pickin’ gull. I am a vampire.
When I was first turned, I left the familiar bayous of my hometown seeking freedom. I had hoped that a change of scenery and putting distance between me and my master would alleviate the feeling of suffocation that plagued my new existence. Who would have known the undead led such a repressed life after death?
Inching my way north, I’d found my salvation in a dockside tavern outside Boston. I’d met a man, much like this Puck I was to meet with tonight, who organized a special club for vampires who wanted a taste of excitement—and blood.
I was indoctrinated into Bite Club, a no fangs barred gathering of vampires who, like me, chafed at the rules that bound our daily lives. At one of our meetings, humans could be purchased and, so long as we were within the confines of the designated location, we could do what we wanted with them. Some meetings were in places suitable for hunting games while others were in more comfortable settings for sating hunger for something other than blood.
But no matter what, the venue had always changed. That was why I got so excited when I learned of this place. Following rumors from other members, I was led to a city where Bite Club was hosted not once, but many times at a place called Club Nexus. The meetings were behind closed doors, down in the club’s wine cellars, but I didn’t mind the crypt-like setting if it meant I could have my fun without interruption. Puck made sure that only well-vetted members were allowed admittance, so there was no risk of punishment from the Vampire Council.
I smiled, the skin stretching tight across the bones of my face. It wasn’t breaking the law if the uppity council didn’t know about it.
I sidled up to the bar, awed once again by the shelves of glowing liquids encased in glass bottles. None of these victuals would sustain me, there was only one substance now that could accomplish that, but I ordered a shot of bourbon anyway. I stared into my glass, watching the blue, green, and pink reflections sparkle across the surface, while I waited for my contact to arrive.
I breathed deeply as two women, one fae and one human, crossed the room heading toward the other end of the bar. I no longer had to breathe to survive, but I scented their blood like a sommelier running wine along the tongue. The faerie smelled like toasted pain and simmering hope, as if she was a creature of fire who’d long been broken and was only now beginning to put the pieces of her life back together. The human lacked the subtleties of fae scent, but her blood pounded tantalizingly beneath the skin and her hair smelled like cherry blossoms.
As a fool boy, I’d picked bushels of cherries from a nearby orchard and ate until I thought I would burst. Groaning with an upset stomach from overeating, I’d felt dumber than a stump, that was certain, but now I’d give anything for that sated feeling. I needed an abundance of blood and pain to feel content these days, both of which were in short supply while following the rules of Vampire Law.
I flicked my eyes to the shifting purple sand in the hourglass suspended above the bar. Puck was late.
I didn’t care for Puck’s company; he was slicker than a bullfrog in a rainstorm. But I had to admit, for a faerie, he was sensible. He’d had the horse sense to make a regular business of the Bite Club clientele and our sundry needs. Deviance is nothing if not full of variety and Puck had discovered how to capitalize on each and every one of our desires. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the imp was purposely late to our meetings to build the suspense, and empty my wallet.
I scowled at the time and massaged my temples. Where the devil was he? Beneath my glamour, my fangs lengthened. I needed to feed, now. Perhaps if I bought the ladies at the other end of the bar a drink, I could lure them into a shadowy corner. The council be damned.
I was so caught up in the dust storm of my thoughts that I jumped when a hand slapped my back. I turned to see the body of a young man attached to the offending hand. Puck appeared to be about seventeen, no more than three years younger than I’d been when I was turned, but his dimples and mop of curly, blond hair gave his face a childish innocence. As my ma would have said, he was cuter than a box of puppies.
And like a puppy, he’d be happy to take all I had to give and then shit in my boots. Too bad he was the only purveyor of vice—true vice, the kind without limits—in this god forsaken town.
“You’re late,” I said. I tossed back the bourbon and upended the empty glass, slamming it on the bar with a wallop.
“Sorry, Cyrus,” Puck said. The curl of his lip was enough to know the faerie’s apology wasn’t genuine, but I held myself rigid. Tearing off this one’s head would do me no good. More’s the pity.
“I ain’t seen hide nor hair of you all evenin’,” I said. I frowned around my fangs, t
rying to ignore the ache in my jaw.
“Busy night,” Puck said with a shrug.
Puck looked around the bar and smiled at one of the women I’d been stalking. My prey. The predator in me wanted to lash out and tear his spine through his eye socket, but I pressed my lips together and remained seated on the barstool. The faerie may be too big for his britches, but he’d provide me with a dinner date soon enough.
“Got what I came for?” I asked. No sense in waiting while Puck made eyes at the human woman. I was past waiting on the man. It was time to get down to business.
“In the market for a short or tall ten pints?” he asked. “Had a new shipment of Ice in this week, so your drink can come feisty or sedate. Take your pick.”
Ice was the drug Puck was peddling lately. I reckoned it was some magic concoction that gave paranormals a euphoric high and left humans stoned out of their right minds.
“I prefer my meal kickin’ and screamin’,” I said.
I couldn’t abide my prey drugged six ways to Sunday. Where was the fun in that?
“Feisty it is then,” he said.
“When can I eat?” I asked.
“In good time,” he said. “Like I said, it’s been a busy night and you’re not the only vampire in this city with needs.”
“I shouldn’t oughta have to wait,” I said.
“Don’t worry, my friend,” he said. “You won’t have to wait much longer. Customer in front of you is a quick feeder. Man will be done in fifteen minutes tops. Give him time to finish up.”
“Fine,” I said, holding out my hand.
Puck upended a velvet bag embroidered with arcane symbols and handed over an iron key.
“At my signal, enter the basement—no sooner,” he said. “Use the room on the right, same as last time. Your toys are already laid out for you.”
I fidgeted on my stool and tried not to gaze longingly at the basement door. As soon as the vampire ahead of me was done feeding, it’d just be me, my prey, and a room full of chains. I’d be happier than a pig in poop.
