Vampires of Moscow (Blood Web Chronicles Book 1)

by Caedis Knight

  I planned to ask Ansel some more questions too, but she’s not returned to the club since we had breakfast together. The other dancers say she’s had stomach flu.

  More lies.

  I turn to Lukka. He’s positioned himself so he’s sitting with his back against the bar, a leg either side of me. I’ve not seen him since my first day here and I’d forgotten how different he is to his brother.

  “Yes, I love working here,” I lie.

  His pale eyes travel up my thigh, gliding over yet another outfit his brother picked out for me. This one is red, tight, and strapless.

  “Your dress is boring,” he says. “Maybe next time I choose something for you.”

  Dear God, no. Tonight he’s wearing jeans slung so low I can see his hip bones and a tight top that keeps riding up his middle. And, as always, his empty purple gun holster is strapped across his shoulders like a backpack.

  He smiles. No gold-capped fangs this time, just a diamond skewered through the tip of his tongue which he runs between his teeth. He leans back, his arms spread along the length of the bar. I notice the other working girls look up from the men they’re talking to and check him out. Lukka has a reputation in this place. Not because they’ve all had him - but because they all want him.

  I grin to myself at the thought that I’m currently standing between the legs of the toy everyone wants to play with.

  “Where’s Ansel?” I ask him.

  Lukka looks confused.

  “She’s not here? Why?”

  This is strange. “Did you know her boyfriend works for your construction company?” I ask.

  He sits up quickly, his knees clasping shut around my legs.

  “And what do you know about KLV?”

  His thighs hold me still, then slowly and ever so lightly, he begins to stroke the back of my knees. I clear my throat to hide the gasp I just made.

  “Your brother said some of your workers are going missing,” I manage to say.

  He shrugs and leans back, but he still doesn’t let me go.

  “The workers come and go. I don’t have much to do with it. Kostya deals with the businesses.”

  “So, what do you do then?” I say quietly, enjoying the fact the other girls are no longer hiding their stares.

  “I look pretty,” he says, wiggling his tongue through his teeth again.

  “Lukka.” Konstantin’s voice rings out and I swear even the clients make themselves look busy. Not Lukka though, he couldn’t be more languid as he sits up and tips his head to one side, staring at his brother with those white vacant eyes of his.

  He tips his chin up as if to say ‘what?’ and Konstantin sighs impatiently.

  “I need to talk to you about a new shipment we have coming in. Saskia?” I jump to attention as he takes a long stride towards me. “I have some special guests arriving soon. I need you to look after them.”

  I look at my watch. “It’s 5.35 am,” I say. “Aren’t we closing soon?”

  Konstantin raises his eyebrows and a light smile plays at his lips. “You were curious about the Blood Bunnies, right? Well, now you get to watch. It’s nearly feeding time.”

  It’s not easy trying to keep my face from showing the panic I’m feeling.

  “Who are these special clients?” I ask.

  “They work with Boris, my business partner. In fact, I should probably introduce you to him soon. I flew these men in from Switzerland this evening. Make sure they have a good time.”

  “How come I get to meet them?” I ask. “Don’t you trust them?”

  “I don’t trust anyone,” Konstantin says.

  I walk from the upstairs bar back down to the main club, through a collection of winding corridors, and find a group of men waiting with the bouncer outside a set of ornate doors.

  The bouncer glances at me with disdain. A club this big yet I keep seeing the same muscle. He’s the bear Shifter who wouldn’t let me in the day I came to audition...and he still hates me.

  “Welcome to the Black Rabbit, gentlemen,” I say in English. Konstantin mentioned they were Swiss, but they don’t need to know I understand their language. In fact, I’m banking on it. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

  There are three of them. All young, fair and handsome.

  “I plan to drink my fill when I get inside,” says one of them to the group in French. He’s younger than the others.

  They all laugh and I put on a dumb face, as if I have no idea what he just said.

  “Champagne,” he says to me with a thick accent. “Make the Bunnies bring it.” His mouth opens a fraction and his canines wink in the dull red light as they grow a little in anticipation. Unlike the movies, real Vampires don’t have huge fangs, they just grow a little and sharpen up whenever they sense blood. I’ve noticed some fangs are bigger than others - clearly length and girth matter in the Para world too.

  The men are restless with excitement and I wonder if it’s because Konstantin’s blood is special, pure like Mo told me. Or because it’s a feast of Shifter blood they’re about to enjoy.

  The bouncer opens the double doors with a flourish and gestures for the three men to take a seat. It’s a small room made up of large white plastic couches, white glossy walls and a white tiled floor. It looks clinical, so different from the rest of the club, then I spot a coiled hose discreetly tucked away in the corner of the room.

  Of course. The blood.

  Konstantin has created a whole user-centered experience. Never mind that the room looks like the inside of a spaceship holding cell, the Vamps want to see the contrast of the red blood against the white. Pools of it on the floor and splatters against the wall. I don’t know if I'm more disturbed by this visual, or the fact Konstantin has so meticulously customized the Vampire feeding experience.

  I walk back to collect the champagne glasses, spotting three Blood Bunnies striding across the empty dance floor. I’m not one to judge how people make a living, but I can still feel that nasty Vamp’s hands around my neck and the sting of his fangs sinking into my flesh. I’m scared for the Bunnies. No amount of money is going to make this pleasant for them.

  I make a mental note to call Jackson when I get back to my shitty apartment and tell him about the Blood Bunnies. I know he’ll want to cover this exposé too. Even though it’s probably a human-interest piece for The Chronicle’s leisure section at most. I’m here for a much bloodier story.

  I hand each girl a champagne bucket and they follow me as I grab six glasses and lead them back along the corridor to the room. The bouncer is outside guarding the entrance and lets us in, slamming the door shut behind us.

  Then everything happens in fast forward.

  In a super-speed flash of black suits, the three Vamps whisk the girls away, sending bottles of champagne smashing to the ground. When I look over at the couch one of the men already has a Shifter lying across his lap while he sucks hungrily at her neck. Silvery scales flicker across her skin and I realize she’s some form of reptile Shifter. Blood mixes into the Vampire’s beard and dribbles down one of her scaly shoulders, staining her white dress in rose blooms over her breasts. I’m surprised when she whimpers in delight. It certainly didn’t feel good when the Vamp attacked me in Strogino.

  Who knows? Maybe being fed on can be pleasurable when it doesn’t kill the biter. I wouldn’t know. Witches despise inter-Para relations so much I was brought up to hate any kind of interaction. I’ve spent my life in complete ignorance that some Paras actually enjoy having their blood drunk.

  I watch as the Vamp cradles the Shifter in his arms, groaning into her collarbone as she pushes his hand beneath her skirt. Yep, everything can be enjoyable when there’s consent.

  On the other side of the room one of his colleagues, the oldest looking of the three, has clamped his teeth into a Shifter’s back. She moans in response to the feral act. This is all so intimate I feel like a peeping Tom - but at the same time, it’s hard not to watch.

  I look around for the younger guy an
d find him on the ground. His Blood Bunny is on her back, her tight white dress pulled up over her thighs to her waist. The vamp has pulled her underwear to one side and is sucking on her femoral vein. She’s writhing beneath him, pushing his head deeper between her legs, as blood shoots into the air. The tiled floor and plastic couches make sense now. The room stinks like an abattoir and the couples are sliding around in the blood, the Vamps’ hands and faces stained red.

  Is it like this every night? How much feeding can one Shifter take? The girls’ eyes are fluttering shut and their bodies are growing limp, but they are still asking for more. I can’t help thinking of the drained bodies that keep turning up at the construction site. Is this what happened to them? Were they a feed gone wrong?

  Unlikely. None of them were pretty young girls, most were men.

  I want to intervene, tell the Vamps they’ve had enough, when I notice the blinking of a red light in the corner of the room. Security cameras. So that’s why Konstantin sent me in here. It can’t just have been to listen in on their conversation - it’s hard to talk when you have a mouth full of throbbing jugular. The bastard is testing me and my loyalties.

  “Konstantin was telling the truth,” the Vamp with the goatee shouts out to his friend. “It’s the best quality blood I’ve ever tried.” He drops his girl onto the couch with a squelch and sits back, straightening his tie. “But if he wants our help it won’t come cheap.”

  The Vamp on the floor gets to his feet and licks the blood off his fingers one by one. “He needs our facilities. He’s still small-time.”

  Is he planning on franchising his Blood Bunny service? God, that’s disturbing.

  “He might have a small operation, but look at what he’s built. I say we charge the asshole triple,” says the other Vamp.

  His Blood Bunny is groaning on the ground, a puddle of blood between her legs.

  I inch back against the wall. What exactly am I meant to do? I didn’t think to ask Konstantin at what point I’m allowed to leave. Am I meant to get the girls back to the changing rooms safely? Not that anyone has looked in my direction since I stepped into the room.

  “He can afford it,” the Vamp with the goatee says.

  “It’s his crazy brother I worry about. He might cause problems,” he says moving on to champagne.

  “Did you hear what happened to Varlam and the Georgians?” goatee Vamp replies. “Lukka is unpredictable. Konstantin says he has him under control, but I doubt it.”

  My heart is beating so fast I’m sure they can hear it.

  Luckily at that point the Blood Bunny on the floor groans and the young Vamp bites his wrist. He leans over her and she sucks his blood hungrily, holding on to his arm like he’s an ice cream on a hot day. He seems to be enjoying her rapture.

  “Take your fill, beautiful. I need you to have energy later,” he says in English. “I’m still horny,” he adds. “You!”

  I look up. Is he speaking to me? I walk over to him, careful to avoid slipping on the puddles of blood on the floor. I hope I don’t look as scared as I feel.

  “Would you like me to fetch more champagne?” I ask in English.

  “No. You smell interesting. What kind of Shifter are you?”

  With lightning speed, he grabs my behind and pushes me towards him, laughing as I struggle against him.

  “I’m not a Blood Bunny,” I say. “I’m not on the fucking menu.”

  He’s pulling down the strap of my dress, pushing his face into my neck. “I don’t care,” he says.

  He bites me, then instantly starts to cough. I stumble as he lets go of me and falls back against the couch, his hands grasping at his throat. Bubbles of spit are foaming at the sides of his mouth, his eyes bulging in shock and pain as his friends look on confused. I try and step back but he’s grabbed my arm, his strong fingers pressing into my flesh.

  Suddenly there’s a slam behind me and a rush of wind. Lukka has already knocked him to the ground, and with one clear crack breaks his hand.

  “Ask first, bite later,” he says with a cackle.

  “What the fuck!” shouts the other Vamp. “Why do you have a Witch as a Bunny?”

  “Dinner is over.” Lukka picks up a jacket and chucks it at him. “Get the fuck out of my club.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “You don’t kick out clients,” Konstantin growls. Lukka doesn’t look up. He’s sitting opposite Konstantin’s fancy desk reading GQ magazine.

  “You,” his attention snaps to me. “What did you learn.”

  “They were considering doing business with you.”

  “And?”

  “And they wanted to charge you triple their rates because they know you can afford it.” I don’t mention what they said about Lukka. He saved my ass, now I’m saving his.

  Behind Konstantin there’s a beautiful map of Moscow blinking in different colors - red, green, blue. It’s bewitched. I wonder briefly where he got it and what the dots signify. I stare at that instead of the thunderous face of my Vamp boss.

  “Triple,” Konstantin repeats dryly. There’s murder in his voice.

  I didn’t think it would be possible, but now I feel bad for the Vamps planning to rip him off.

  The next day I’m a bit earlier than normal and the nightclub’s changing room is packed with girls. I edge my way to the lockers and pick up the outfit that’s always waiting for me. A quick peek inside confirms it’s another short but tasteful number. Thankfully Lukka hasn’t had his way yet and chosen my dress for the night. Right now, I’m grateful for the smallest of mercies.

  I’ve gotten into the habit of putting the right underwear on at home and coming prepared. I slip the dress on and try to bat away my frustration at how little information I’ve managed to garner for my story so far. All I know is that everyone hates the Volkov brothers and no one knows who’s killing the construction workers. Basically, I know exactly what I already knew on the plane over here nearly a week ago.

  I go to sit down and stumble. Jeez, I’m tired. Seeing those Blood Bunnies get devoured last night shook me up so bad I couldn’t sleep or eat anything all day.

  “Are there any energy drinks?” I ask one of the dancers. I think she’s American. Her name is Kristy or Kirsten or Kristen.

  She shakes her head. “They don’t even give us coffee here. But eat something. The food is really delicious and it always gives me plenty of energy,” she says, nodding at the table full of food.

  I’ve been too busy to have my fill of the gorgeous buffet table, and Konstantin’s dress choices don’t allow for binging, but tonight I’m so tired I don’t care. I grab a plate and pile it high with raisin cheesecake, bauble-shaped donuts, smoked string cheese, and some blinis with orange caviar, then sit down on a swivel chair at the dressing table.

  I’m halfway through my lap picnic when I hear Lukka’s unmistakable voice. I’ve never seen Konstantin in the changing rooms, but Lukka is here all the time.

  “How are my pretty birds this evening?” he shouts.

  A few of the dancers flock around him and he laughs as the parrot Shifter tickles him with one of her feathers. But it’s me he’s looking at.

  I stuff the last of the blinis in my mouth and chew quickly as he walks over.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks, sitting on a chair in front of me. “After last night?”

  Has he come here specifically to check up on me? The other dancers return to their mirrors or head for the dancefloor, but I can see them all glancing over at us.

  “I’m fine,” I lie. “Just a bit tired. I feel better after having eaten though.”

  I feel more than better, I feel like a million bucks. Lukka glances at the food table, a shadow passing over his face. “My brother insists that his workers eat well.”

  “That’s kind of him.”

  “My brother isn’t kind.”

  “Are you?”

  Lukka looks me up and down slowly, as if he’s never been asked that question. He drops his hands on my knees, s
lips them behind my legs, and quickly draws me closer, my wheeled chair gliding across the floor. His misty white eyes freak me out but I can’t look away. He swallows hard and the swirling tattoos on his Adam’s apple contract.

  “You’ve seen me murder, Saskia, yet you still ask if I’m kind?”

  “Well, do you enjoy the killing? Or you do it because you have to?”

  This strikes a nerve. He lets his grip on my knee slip and slides his palms slowly higher up my legs. His thumbs press on the inside of my thighs, his painted nails catching on my stockings and stopping just short of their lace trim.

  “You do other things,” I say, crossing my arms. I can feel the chill of his touch through the nylon. “Good things.”

  I think back to last night when he pulled me away from those blood-thirsty animals, and how he always has time to talk to the dancers. When he’s apart from his brother he’s a lot less scary.

  The wicked look on his face slips for a moment. He stands. The conversation is over.

  “Maybe you look too hard.”

  He leaves the room without another word and I stand, smoothing down tonight’s outfit - an electric blue dress much like the others. Konstantin’s elegance never waivers.

  The door opens and I look up expecting Lukka again, but it’s Ansel. My stomach flips with excitement. God, I feel like I’ve had ten coffees. Is it the food that’s woken me up, or the strange exchange I just had with Lukka?

  I smile over at Ansel but she doesn’t look at me, in fact, she keeps her face turned away from us all and sits on the other side of the room. I’ve been meaning to delve deeper and ask her more questions since we had breakfast together, except I’m not normally buzzing this much to speak to a lead.