by Sierra Dean
But tonight I couldn’t be worried about risks. Tonight what I needed to be was a vampire. I needed to smell like one, look like one and pass for one.
And there was one more thing I needed, which I caught a whiff of on the faint breeze. I followed it down the block, still within sight of the alley. I crept up slow and soundless until I was within inches of my prey.
I leaned in from behind so my lips were almost flush with his ear, and then I let myself be known.
“Hello,” I purred.
Nolan, the good-natured, unpracticed vampire hunter from Bramley, had just let a vampire sneak up on him. He yelped and turned to face me, stumbling off the bench he’d been sitting on.
“S-S-Secret?” he stammered.
“Calm down.” I climbed over the back of the bench, plopping my purse in the center, and sat on the backrest instead of the seat he’d formerly occupied. It gave me a good vantage point to look down at him where he sat on the sidewalk. “I won’t bite,” I added, then leered wolfishly. I clasped my hands together and rested them on my knees. “I won’t bite,” I repeated. “But you’re a block away from a giant clusterfuck of vampires who wouldn’t think twice about it. And if I can sneak up on you, so can they.”
He brushed some gravel off his palms and sucked up his cheeks in a familiar, defensive posture. “I just wasn’t—”
“You weren’t paying attention. And that will get you killed with a rogue.” I looked him over. His jeans were faded and so worn they appeared about as thin as a cotton shirt. His T-shirt was a size too small, which worked well for his well-muscled chest and arms, but I didn’t think that was the reason for the size. Nolan smelled of something unmistakable and sad. Desperation. He was trying too hard to prove himself my equal, and I wondered why it was so important for him to be accepted as a vampire slayer.
“Nolan,” I said. “Have you ever actually confronted a vampire? Face-to-face, I mean?”
He stood, rubbing his scuffed hands on his jeans, and tried to make himself look bigger than he was by puffing up his chest and straightening to his full six-foot frame. I found it more endearing than menacing. There was a reason vampires didn’t tell scary stories about Nolan to their newborns. There were no cautionary tales for baby vamps about the Jamesons and Norikos and Nolans of the world.
Me, on the other hand, they all knew my name.
“I’ll take that as a no,” I concluded when he didn’t say anything.
I hopped off the bench to stand next to him, where I was dwarfed by his height but still somehow the tougher of the two of us. I placed a hand on each of my hips and stared up at him. He glanced at my face but wouldn’t meet my eyes. After a moment he couldn’t even look at my forehead and turned his head away, slumping as he did.
“What kind of weapon do you have?” I held out one of my hands.
He acted indignant, but after I sighed and crooked my fingers he stopped fighting me and mumbled, “Uh.” He pulled something out of his back pocket and handed it to me.
I laughed out loud. “No. Seriously.”
He flinched and put his empty hands back into his pockets, blushing. I gawked at the sharpened wooden stake he’d given me and tasted bile rising in my throat. What was he going to do with a stake? Start a teeny fire and burn the vampire to death? That would only work if the rogue in question was too busy laughing his ass off to think about killing the boy.
My fist tightened around the stake, and then with a whoosh I chucked it over the fence and into the park beyond.
“Hey!” Nolan protested.
“Trust me, Nolan, you’re better off with nothing than with that. When we’re done here, if you still want to do this, I want you to go see Leary Fallon on 8th. Tell him I sent you. He’ll get you something useful. Don’t ever bring a stake to the hunt again.”
I brushed my hands on my dress, offended by what I’d just touched.
“What do you mean when we’re done here?” he asked nervously, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. His Brooklyn accent seemed to thicken in relation to how frightened he was.
“You really want to be a vampire hunter, Nolan?”
“Yes.” This time he spoke with total confidence. If Nolan made it through the night, I wanted to hear his story, his whole story.
“All right then.” I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him towards the alley. “Time for lesson one.”
“W-w-which is?” He was so surprised I’d been able to move him, he wasn’t even fighting me. He would be putty if someone got the thrall on him.
“We meet a real vampire.”
We passed under a streetlight, and he got his first good look at my face.
“Secret? What’s wrong with your eyes? They’re…” His voice was cold with fear.
My eyes were solid black, of course. I had the vampire hunger to thank for that. Pretty soon I wouldn’t be able to stop from flashing fang, but I was hoping to save that for a more opportune moment.
“You’ll see,” I promised, as we came to a stop in front of the entrance to Havana. “You’ll see.”
Chapter Nineteen
Havana was like no other club I’d ever been to. This was my first foray into the interior of the establishment, and I was amazed by how different it was from what I’d expected. It was dimly lit, but not the moody darkness of a human bar. Even if the lights had been lowered it would have been more for ambience than anything else, because dark or light, the vampires there could see perfectly.
The music was kept at midlevel volume rather than blaring obnoxiously. It helped create an illusion of privacy.
Nolan and I entered into a small antechamber where a spiral staircase set into the floor promised to lead us onward. The walls were a deep, rich green color and the floor was polished black hardwood. Heavy brocade curtains were draped over doorframes and windows to protect the secrets that lay beyond.
Between us and the staircase a slender girl sat in a high-backed armchair. She had her legs crossed at the knee, and her fingers were tented in front of her smirking lips. Her hair was white blonde and cut short in an asymmetrical pixie style that complemented her angular facial features. She reminded me of Sig, if he were a waifish, arresting girl.
She wore a simple black minidress, which accented the ten miles of leg she was showing off. Her sky-high purple pumps made me both jealous of her and self-conscious of my own height and footwear.
The gatekeeper couldn’t have been more than sixteen when she died, but she wore her power like a tailored suit. She didn’t give off a vibe of old age some vamps did, but she felt important to me, and I knew I should give her my respect, if not for my sake, then for Nolan’s.
I relaxed my grip on the boy’s arm and skated my hands over his too-tight shirt, my fingernails dragging over his chest. Then, catching a fistful of the T-shirt material, I yanked him towards me. I couldn’t tell him what I was doing, so I hoped he’d be smart enough to play along. We moved to stand in front of the girl, and the tremor of Nolan’s throbbing heart pulsed against my chest.
The girl hadn’t moved an inch, not to take a breath or bat an eyelash. She was sizing us both up, and the twist of a smile on her lips didn’t falter for a moment. When she began to speak, I knew immediately the power of this girl was not to be trifled with.
“You’ve brought a beautiful toy to us, assassin.” Her voice was a honey-smooth drawl, and judging by the tension that eased out of Nolan, she was one of the few vampires in the world who could enthrall with voice alone.
My lip curled. Of course she would know who I was. My own heartbeat was the one thing I couldn’t hide, and this girl was smart enough to put the pieces together. But it didn’t hinder my plan.
“If you know me, then you also know I am a warden now,” I replied.
She crossed, then uncrossed her legs elegantly, but her gaze never left my face. The smile remained, but there was a coolness in her expression.
“Yes, I suppose you are.” Her accent was Southern, but not the same way Grandmer
e’s was. I would stake money on Georgia for this one. The ladylike poise, tweaked for modernity, was another hint at a belle’s upbringing. So was the forced politeness.
Maybe it was the voice, but in spite of her obvious disdain for me, I sort of found myself liking her. Tough nuts are endearing to me.
“Very well, warden. What can Havana offer you tonight?” Her head tilted to the side, big green eyes boring into me. “You look a little…hungry.”
I’d never heard the word sound so erotic before. Feeding was a high for most vampires, but I’d never experienced it that way, at least not until my dream with Holden. I had fed to kill, fed to eat and fed to live, but never fed for lust. The way the gatekeeper said it made it sound like there was no other way.
My hand tightened on Nolan’s shirt. “This one is mine.”
She frowned a little. “There is much to see and try here. Are you certain you don’t want to share?”
“He is mine,” I repeated.
“Greedy.” But there was a twitch of amusement. “You really are Sig’s.”
This startled me, but I said nothing about it. “May we pass?”
“Is someone stopping you?” She and I watched each other warily for a moment, and then Nolan and I skirted around her and towards the staircase, followed by her last words, “Have fun, warden. Play nice.”
When we were almost at the bottom of the iron staircase, Nolan had his first meltdown. I was impressed he’d held it until then, so I let him have it.
“Whatswrongwithyoureyes? Whatsawarden? Whydidsheletyouin? And what the fuck do you mean, I’m yours?” He had the common sense not to raise his voice above a tense whisper.
I grabbed him by the chin, and we stopped our descent.
“What I’m about to tell you does not leave this building, do you understand?” His eyes grew wide with fear, but he nodded. “I don’t just work for Keats. I report directly to the vampire council.”
His pulse quickened even as color began to drain from his face. He tried to pull away, but I was stronger. That seemed to scare him as much, if not more, than my proclamation.
“I am still the same vampire-slaying, demon-hunting girl you had so much respect for back at the bar. I’m just not a vigilante.”
“But you’re one of ’em,” he choked out.
“I will never be one of them. That much you can be certain of.” There was a hint of regret in my voice, but I doubted he would be able to contextualize it. I dropped my hand away from his face. “I told them you’re mine because under council law it means no other vampire can touch you. It means you’re protected.”
“Is it permanent?”
I wasn’t expecting that, as far as questions went. “Unless another vampire petitions me for you, you will always be mine. At least in the eyes of the council.” Honesty. It felt nice to not lie to him.
He nodded tightly and began to descend on his own. “I guess if I have to belong to someone, it may as well be a tight little blonde.”
At the bottom of the stairs we passed through a heavy curtain and into the darkened grand ballroom. The ceiling swelled thirty feet up, with old tin-roof tiles polished to reflect the candle-lit sconces, which were the only light in the room. Red beads were draped on the walls and over other objects, giving the illusion of bejeweled blood splashes.
Individual chambers lined the walls, each three steps off the main floor, with curtains to give privacy to those who dwelled within. Somewhere inside one of those booths was someone with the answers I needed.
“Stay close, and for the love of God, whatever happens, just go with it.” I placed a hand on the back of his neck, which looked quite peculiar given how much taller he was, but I needed to show everyone he belonged to me.
There were about thirty vampires in the room, and perhaps forty humans. It was impossible to tell if the breathers were daytime servants or enthralled evening snacks. Telling the vampires from the humans was easy enough, though.
What surprised me was that the girl behind the bar was not among the former.
I steered Nolan up to the long black bar that had all the fixings of a normal, human bar, but would be serving something a little bloodier as well. The girl turned her attention to us. She appeared to be a few years older than me, but if I was guessing her age from her eyes, I’d say she was decades older than her body claimed. Her skin was a flawless brown color, like rich chocolate. Her hair was cut short, but instead of making her look boyish, it showed off her incredible face. She had big round eyes with sleepy lids, and a full mouth that wasn’t smiling.
She looked at my hand on Nolan’s neck, then ignored him and focused on me. This girl understood the system. Nolan was chattel and I was the master.
“What can I get you?” she asked. Her nod was curt, and she stared right in between my eyes like Nolan had when we’d first met. Smart, this one.
“AB.”
“Pos or Neg?”
Nolan choked back a noise that might have screwed us totally. Instead it sounded like a burp.
“Surprise me.”
“And for your pet?” She inspected Nolan admiringly, then turned back to me. He was easy on the eyes.
“I—” he began, before I squeezed his neck and he quieted.
“He’ll have a Coke. And can I leave him here for a second?”
She glanced at him again as she filled a martini glass with a dark red liquid and handed it to me. I couldn’t tell where she’d poured it from, but when I felt that it was warm, I decided I was better off not knowing. She cracked open a can of Coke and placed it on the bar, along with a glass of ice and a cocktail napkin.
“He gonna be trouble?” Her head tipped to the side, and she stared at him like he couldn’t hear her. I had to wonder what kind of a state people were usually in when they came here.
I sipped the blood out of the martini glass and waited for Nolan to look at me. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity until he nodded and sat on the stool nearest to us.
“No,” he told her. “No trouble.”
The bartender seemed surprised to hear him speak but left it alone.
“I’m looking for someone,” I confided to the girl.
“What kind of someone?” She leaned her hip against the prep counter behind the bar and crossed her arms over her chest. She had a lot of spirit for a human working in a vampire bar.
“Someone who knows things.” This was where my plan got a little hazy. I hadn’t expected to get so far without resorting to bloodshed. Since I wasn’t sure who I was here for or what I needed to ask them, I didn’t know how to be more specific.
But vampires love their vagaries, and the bartender was no stranger to this. Speaking to some vampires was like playing a frustrating version of charades, and this girl played the game like a pro. She pointed to a lone booth at the end of the room whose curtains were drawn.
I thanked her, placed a twenty on the bar and rubbed Nolan’s shoulder as I passed. “I’m coming back,” I promised.
I hoped I wasn’t lying to him.
Chapter Twenty
There was no way to knock and no guard to announce me, so I cleared my throat loudly as I parted the curtains and stepped into the booth. I was so taken aback by what I saw I almost tripped and fell backwards down the steps.
A spectacular-looking redhead, her hair straight instead of the halo of curls I remembered it being last, was nestled up to an equally striking brunette. The picture they painted was so intimate it made me blush.
“G-Genevieve?” I stammered.
The redhead opened her big violet eyes and grinned at me a little lasciviously. “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” she purred.
Genevieve Renard was the absolute last person I would have expected to find in the booth. She was a were-ocelot. Their queen, in fact, and no one would doubt her royal claim if they looked at her. Genevieve was just about the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
But that was before I’d seen the woman she wa
s with.
Righting herself from the embrace of the feline queen, the other woman glanced up at me, her eyes the sleek black of a vampire longing to feed. Her hair was so dark it was the color of charcoal, and her skin had probably been its current shade of ivory when she was human. Her features were dainty, and everything from her makeup to her clothes screamed sophistication. She was the one I was here for.
“Secret,” Genevieve cooed. “Do you know Rebecca?”
I shook my head, still not quite able to form words.
Even with both of them fully clothed, I felt like I was interrupting something very personal. And judging by the miffed expression on Rebecca’s face, I wasn’t wrong. Genevieve pressed against the vampire, brushing her nose up Rebecca’s neck and nibbling playfully at her ear.
“Say hello,” the ocelot queen instructed. I didn’t know which one of us she was speaking to, but it couldn’t hurt to assume it was me.
“Hello,” I said to Rebecca.
“Bonjour,” the vampire replied, her French accent evident in every syllable.
I was always intrigued by vampires with accents. Some, like Rebecca here and the Southern belle upstairs, maintained the accents they’d had in their human lives. Others, like Holden, seemed more suited to adapt to the new world they lived in. Though he’d been born in England, he’d been in America for over a hundred years, and I rarely heard him say anything that hinted at his history. It must have been a decision for them, to adapt or to keep that part of their human life.
Rebecca had clearly decided to stay French.
“I’ll leave you two,” Genevieve said, placing a kiss on the vampire’s mouth before rising to her feet. As usual, she wore sky-high heels. Her dress was simple and red and shouted dangerous curves ahead. She stood next to me and kissed each of my cheeks, then pouted a little. “Trouble in paradise?”
“What?” I gaped at her.
“You smelled like dessert last time I was with you, love. Now you smell like stale candy.” She patted my face fondly.
“I’m fine.”
