“Like what type?” I asked her, making myself think fast.
“Well,” She purred. “I figured you maybe for a classy bar. A cop bar, maybe. But a college bar? It just doesn’t seem to fit.”
“I went where the money was. Terry’s treated me all right.”
“An intelligent fellow like you must waste away in a place like this.”
I offered my most business-like smile. “It’s why I read a book a week. Keeps the noggin sharp.” Though, to be honest, I was behind on this week’s reading. The new books I got from Pacific Books were sitting on my coffee table untouched. Note to self, I was going to take my Saturday morning and read one of those mysteries. If I wasn't even deeper in crap.
“A book a week?” She leaned over the bar to look me in the eye, letting me catch a glimpse of her cleavage in the low-cut sweater she was wearing. “Mm, you do you have the eyes of a reader.”
“So,” I said, trying to draw my mind from Teresa’s body-and my eyes, for that matter. “What can I get you?”
“Scotch, and good scotch, not what you give to the kiddies, neat.”
I nodded, and brought down some of the top-shelf stuff. Though, to be honest, Terry’s top-shelf stuff wasn’t fantastic. We just kept it around for when some guy got too spendy and wanted to blow a wad on what he thought was being classy.
I poured her the drink, and at her insistence, left the bottle. “So, why are you here?”
“Can’t I be interested in you? I said I wanted to ask you out for drinks. Or am I that forgettable? Quelle dommage.”
“You're hardly forgettable.” I found myself smiling.
“But it took you quite some time to notice who I was.”
“I’m working. My brain goes off to other places when I’m working.”
“Oh, a dreamer?” She chuckled. “That, I can see you as.”
“Realism? Naw. Blame the overload of books I read. Gives a man strange notions.” I answered. “But, seriously, I’m at work.”
“And when do you get off work?” Her dark eyes caught my gaze, and I felt a little flutter of lust in me. Oh, hey, libido. It had been a long time since we’d met on equal terms.
“I leave at one-thirty, after we close the bar. But, honestly, I’ve been working since five, and I’m a bit worn out.”
“Oh, poor me,” she remarked. “You know, I’d be more than willing to go home with you. I’m sure we could find some way to entertain ourselves.”
I laughed then, a bit nervous, a bit genuine. “Well, listen, I’m flattered, but my place, first of all, is freaking dreadful. Also, isn’t one-thirty a little late for drinks?”
“Only if you follow mortal guidelines.” Damn, that smile of hers was infectious, even if she was flashing fangs with it. “Pax is always open late, or early if you wish to look at it that way, or perhaps we could visit one of the vampire bars.”
“Uh, no vampire bars, thanks. But Pax,” I said. “Pax is definitely possible.”
“Fantastic.” She said, and sipped at her scotch. “Would your gentlemanly upbringing prevent you from allowing me to buy for the evening? You look like you could do with a bit of worry-less time.”
“Naw, figure out that my entire existence is turned topsy-turvy, get attacked by a vampire, have run ins with the Count of vampires in the Bay and the Alpha of the were packs?”
“You met Finnegan?” She chuckled. “Oh, you do need some time off.”
“Yea, yea. I’ve been making my rounds and ticking off just about anyone in the supernatural community who will take me seriously.”
“I’d hardly say that.” She chuckled. “You made quite the impression on Ishmael. He likes you.”
“Seriously?” I arched an eyebrow.
“Yes, though I wouldn’t take it as a compliment. You’re interesting to him, though he’s not sure what to think of you yet. Your intentions are noble, but…well, he’ll see, and decide what you’re actually all about.”
“So, I’m the hot ticket. Great.” I couldn’t help but smirk. ”Just hang on for another hour, and we’ll do drinks.”
“Fantastic.” Teresa smiled. “I’m going to take my scotch now and go somewhere quiet.” She said, standing up from the bar stool.
It took me a long moment to draw my eyes away from her as she walked away. Damn, but the woman was beautiful.
Terry noticed, and decided to comment. “Well, well, here I thought you were gay. Or with that blond chick that helped you in Wednesday.”
I laughed. “Uh, no. Amy is… a friend, that’s it. And I’m not gay. Just because I haven’t shown any interest in wo-“ I stopped myself. “I’m walking into that one, aren’t I?”
“Yea, kid, you are.” Terry chuckled. “So, who is she?”
“Her name’s Teresa. Apart from that, I don’t really know anything about her, besides that she's a vampire.”
“Then why are you doing drinks with her? I mean, besides the obvious fact that she’s caught the eye of everyone here with a Y chromosome.”
“Well, first of all, case in point.” I said. “Second, I never go out on dates. I’m giving this a shot.”
“Well, just be careful. You know I like all you guys to keep well.”
“Then why do you put up with Jared and his flying off to God-knows-where?”
“Because Jared knows that I don’t put up with it, and that he doesn’t have long. After this, I’ve got an excuse to fire him and hire a new bartender.”
It was at that moment I looked at Terry with a bit of a different light. I knew he was smart, but that was just clever. Power to him.
“Well, I trust you, Terry. You haven’t steered the bar wrong yet.”
“Good. Now, let’s get through the last hour, so you can go drinking with that honey of yours.” Yea, he was trying to get a rise out of me. It worked, too, and from Terry’s face, he got a shade of red on me that he’d never seen before.
Jerk.
Chapter 14
When I finally walked out of the bar at one-thirty, I had almost forgotten about the drinks with Teresa. Almost. I saw her on the street, leaning against her sports car. She still wore the low-cut maroon sweater, jeans, and her fantastic smile.
“Why, hello there, Eric. I have to say, the t-shirt and jeans look, while tried and true, is a bit…ill-fitting.”
“Ill-fitting? It’s my work attire.”
“And you wear it well enough. I just think you’d look fantastic in a suit.”
I shrugged. “For what occasion? I work at a college bar most days, and when I don’t, I’m not exactly the social butterfly.”
“Oh, I suppose.” Her eyes twinkled with mischief. “I might just have to drag you out somewhere where I can test my theory.”
“Hey, just drinks, all right?” I said. “The suit, you can save for another night.”
“Spoilsport.” She said. “Come on, witch, let’s get going.” She said. I got into the passenger’s seat, and she started to drive us towards Pax. “So, what did you go to see Finnegan about?”
“Always with the questions, aren’t you?” I chuckled.
“I’m a curious woman. One of my better qualities, I think.”
“Modest, too.” I teased.
She shrugged. “Would you be modest if you were second in command of vampires in the Bay?”
“I’d try to be. Never let them see your true face. Always play things down, let them underestimate you. Well, that is, until it benefits you to show that power.”
“My God, it’s like I’m really in Renaissance Italy.” Teresa shot back.
“I read Machiavelli when I was eleven.” I said. “And I re-read it every election year for kicks.”
That got her laughing. “You’ve got to have quite the library.” She said.
“Oh, who needs furniture, a pad with a bedroom, and decor when I can have books?”
“And what about film?”
“I like most movies, but I’m a big fan of old stuff.”
Teresa gave me a litt
le grin. “Why do I have the feeling you’re a walking history museum?”
“Because I like to learn from the past, and I’m a bit of a geek?”
“A geek?”
I shrugged. “Yea, do you want me to start quoting Monty Python and the Holy Grail? Or maybe Twelfth Night? I can do something like half the script from heart.”
“I think we can do without until I’ve gotten a couple in you.”
We reached Pax a few minutes later, and as we got out of the car, I said. “The joke’s on you. I don’t get drunk.”
“Really?”
“Really. Got a cast-iron stomach. I get buzzed, not drunk, and I've never had a bad hangover. Granted, I've never really tried to get uber-wasted, but it's yet to happen.”
“Well, at least the conversation will be lively. We’re in the same boat. I don’t get drunk. One of the perks of being undead.”
“But you can drink?”
She nodded. “We don't need food or drink. Only blood, even if we can eat or drink normal food by choice. The only way I can really get intoxicated is, say, drinking the blood of one who is already drunk.”
“So, which one of you thought up the idea of blood cocktails?” I asked.
“Oh, that's been around since Rome.” She smirked. “Come on.”
As we descended the stairs to Pax, I immediately realized something. There was a distinct difference in the Pax I visited Wednesday, and the Pax here tonight. Where it had been loud and buzzing a few nights previous, tonight it was quiet and subdued. A corner of the bar had been cleared away, leaving a small amount of space. Somehow, they had packed a string quartet into the corner, which were playing. Where there’d been shouting, loud conversations, now there was whispers, focused attentions, and tranquility.
The music, which I couldn’t immediately place, seemed like good dancing music, if there had been any room to dance. As we found our way to a booth, I asked. “Who’re the strings?”
“The Four Horsewomen.” Teresa whispered. “They’re a band of Red Angels.”
“Red Angels?” I’d heard the name tossed around a few times in the papers, but they seemed a mysterious lot, at least.
“Indeed. Demon spawn.” She said. “Not exactly bad lots, but they’re deceptively human, for what nature lies beneath.”
“And what nature is that?”
“That conversation’s not really for the public.” She remarked. “Let’s just get our drinks.”
We took a seat, and Sasha approached. “Ah, Eric.” She smiled. “You return, and with quite the opposite of what brought you in a few nights ago.” She nodded politely to Teresa. “My lady.”
“Sasha, dear, a cup of red, with vodka and pineapple juice?”
“Of course.” She nodded. “And you, Eric?”
“Do you have any of those werewolf lagers?”
“Oh, definitely. I’ll be back in a minute.”
I looked back to Teresa as Sasha left. “So, when you say a cup of red…”
“Oh, don’t you know it’s illegal to sell live blood in California? Not to say Pax won’t. Synthetic plasma’s pretty distasteful, but it works. Although, when you mix enough alcohol, the taste can get a little better.”
“Even if you don’t get drunk?”
“It gets us full, and we can taste it. It’s like Prohibition. The beginning product is terrible, but once you mix in enough good stuff, the bathtub gin is bearable.”
Curiosity got the better of me. “And what about from the source?” I asked. “Live blood, what’s that like?”
“Have you ever gone through a long day’s work, and just sat down in the shade, with a nice cool drink?”
“Yea.” I nodded, thinking back on many a hot summer day growing up.
“It’s like that, mixed with sex. It’s fantastic, empowering, and absolutely delicious. It’s indescribable of just how good it is.”
“Wow.” I murmured. Is that how Darius had felt when he’d drank from me? Fantastic, empowered? I bit my lip a moment, not wanting to think about it.
“It’s pretty great. Though I don’t get to do it often.”
“Why’s that?”
“We don’t take unless it’s offered. To do so is a crime for us. Now that we’re public, every forced feeding is treated as a crime as bad as rape. You’re not an exception, either.”
We got our drinks, and we started to sip as the band played. “So, besides being Ishmael’s Number One, what do you do?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Number One?”
“Bad reference. Forget it.”
She shook her head. “Well, I act as the Bay’s... marshal, I suppose is the best word,” she said. “I represent Ishmael’s word in all things, and will carry out justice in his name when our laws require it.”
“And when you mean justice…”
“Think of me as Ishmael’s sheriff and judge. When one of his has committed a crime that requires justice be dealt, I am dispatched to bring them in. And, when Ishmael makes his sentence, I carry it out.”
“So, you’ve killed.”
“Yes, it’s part of being a vampire. What about you? Have you ever taken a life?”
I will add, for the record, that this usually wasn’t what I talked about on the first date. “Would you believe that I'm nor much of a brawler? I mean, I’ve tossed a few drunks out, but that’s nothing.”
She smiled. “Hmm, I suppose it’s not as common as it was back when I was young.”
“And when and where were you young?” I asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Not at all.” She said, and took a sip before answering. “I was born in the early nineteenth century, in Brazil. Ishmael saw me as a girl with talent. He gave me immortality.”
“And so you’ve been following him around for two hundred years?”
“For the most part. We settled in San Francisco after California became a state. We’ve lived here ever since. I’ve done some traveling, where I would leave for a few years and go see some part of the world I thought interesting.”
I leaned forward, interested. “Really? What’s some of the places you’ve been?”
“Well, I spent two years in Paris in the twenties, I lived in New York during the sixties…Oh, and I can’t forget the touring I did around England in the Victorian era. That was right after Dracula had been published. Lots of little vampire hunters thought they could do what the drunkard Irishman wrote about.”
“And did they?” I asked, now genuinely curious.
“There were a few of us killed.” She said. “There was one of them, quite an effective hunter. His name was William Baxter. Baxter had a specific method. He had one of those new-fangled bolt-action rifles, a German gun using hand-crafted silver rounds. He took down three vampires in one night. It was astounding, to be honest. It was excellent work. We’d never been faced with that particular problem.”
I found myself leaning forward further. “So, how did you take him down?” I asked.
“It all was rather simple.” She said. “I stalked him. It was really an interesting study. I’d given it thought. How would I act, if I wanted to hunt vampires with a gun?”
“And how did it end?”
“In the end, he couldn’t shoot fast enough. I rushed his sniper’s nest, and brought him before the Count of London.” She said. “And…it was decreed that, for the crime of killing so many of our kind, there was only one punishment.”
I blinked. Part of me told me to shut up, not to ask. No, I was too curious to resit. “What was his punishment?”
“I turned him.” She said. “I made him a vampire. Then, he was taken into the custody of the London Court's court, and forced to feed on rat’s blood for a century while he was locked away. I imagine he’s only just started to adjust to unlife.”
I was silent for a long moment. Well, what could I say about that? I had known the moment I met Teresa that she was a killer. She at least had the instincts for it. She was a vampire, after all, and an old one. B
ut she’d just told me a story of how she’d hunted, captured, and turned a man. And, well, sure the guy sounded like a pretty bad sort, but who was in the right of all of this?
I wasn’t sure what to think of it. Was she trying to scare me off?
“Well,” I finally said, trying to bring myself to something resembling calm. “I mean, it’s not like you do a lot of killing these days. You guys are public, so you can let the cops take care of a lot of stuff, right?”
She nodded. “For the most part. Though, there are just some things the humans are ill-equipped to handle. We’re not exactly your average criminal. We’re faster, stronger, and tougher.”
“Yea, but by how much, I’ve always wondered.” I said.
“It varies, greatly. When the last time we fed was, how old we are…what we do to hone our abilities, even our progenitors influence it. These all can influence this.”
“Fascinating.” I remarked. “This is all pretty new to me.”
“Really? You’re a witch. Isn’t knowledge of your enemy pretty much required?”
I realized then that I had slipped. Oh, shit. Amy was going to kill me. My mind was totally racing for an answer.
She switched subjects, seeing my distress obviously. “How would you like to meet the band?”
“The band?” I glanced towards the small stage. They were wrapping up their set, it looked like.”Sure, they're pretty darn good.”
I stood up first, and held out my arm for Teresa. “Such a gentleman. Come on, let's get you introduced.” We walked to the stage, where Teresa spoke up. “Hello, ladies.”
One of the band members, a woman with short blue hair, looked up. “Why, hello, hello, Teresa. Who's the boy toy?” A wicked smile crossed her face, and a little shudder went down my spine. “You know I like blonds.”
“Emily, he is not for you.” She purred, her voice containing just a hint of danger. “This is Eric Carpenter. Eric, this is Emily Dupont.”
“Absolutely charmed, Eric.” Emily flashed her white teeth in a smile. “Any friend of Teresa's is a friend of mine.” She looked to Teresa. “His aura is absolutely clean. Wherever did you pick him up?”
“He found Ishmael, actually, and he ever so kindly agreed to drink with me.”
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