by Мишель Роуэн
“You have to get out of here,” I told him.
“It is my club,” he replied. “Why should I go anywhere?”
“You have to. It’s not safe.”
He studied me for a moment, then motioned for the two of us to sit down. I slid into the booth despite my brain screaming at me to tell him everything as quickly as possible. I just didn’t know where to begin.
“It is not safe anywhere, Sarah. That doesn’t mean that we should hide ourselves away like cowards.”
I cocked my head to one side at his words. They sounded awfully familiar.
He smiled at me. “Yes, Veronique told me about your little ‘girls’ night out’ She fears that she may have scared you away, or made you think less of me, as you left without saying anything to her. I know she told you stories of my earlier days. I now realize why you were acting so odd earlier.”
“I didn’t believe her.”
Quinn remained silent beside me, hands folded in front of him on the table, saying nothing.
“Why not? After all, she was telling the truth, but that was a long time ago. And you needn’t think I’m the same man today I was then.”
“I needn’t. I mean, I don’t.”
“Then why do you ask me to hide like a child afraid of a thunderstorm?”
I was about to let it all spill out of my mouth. Tell him that I’d been terrible, sold him out, and now the hunters were after him. In other words, the truth. But Quinn beat me to it.
“It’s all my fault,” Quinn said. “The hunters now know where this place is, and they’re after you in particular. I sold them the information to buy the cure for me. For me and Sarah. I wanted us to be human again.”
Thierry studied him for a moment. I half expected him to kill Quinn where he sat, or at the very least to scream at him, threaten his life. But he was calm, stoic, like a statue.
“There is no cure.”
“We know,” Quinn said. “Now we do, anyhow. But it’s too late. They tricked us, and now you have to get out of here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“But, Thierry,” I heard the hard edge of panic in my voice, “you have to. They’re going to kill you.”
His eyes slowly tracked to mine, where they held for a moment. “Yes, they will.”
I shook my head. “You don’t care?”
“No, I don’t. As you well know, Sarah, it is a time long overdue. If I am to die tonight at the hands of the hunters, then I will accept my destiny. It is fate. I am not afraid.”
His voice sounded so loud suddenly, or maybe it was just his words, hopeless and despondent. I wanted to slap him hard across the face. Make him wake the hell up. There was no reason for him to die tonight. No damn reason at all. I could hear my heart pounding, the blood rushing through my ears. Everything seemed louder suddenly. But why? No. It wasn’t just me. The club was silent. The music had stopped playing. Conversation had halted throughout the smoky room. I looked over at the band. The dark-haired singer clutched the microphone on the stand in front of her, standing there, unmoving, unsinging. There was an odd look on her face. Surprise? Shock? But before I could figure it out, her expression faded, and a large red stain spread across the front of her white blouse. And then she fell—it seemed to take forever—face forward off the stage.
Peter stood behind her, holding a bloody stake in his right hand. He grabbed the wobbling microphone and pulled it close to his mouth and raised an eyebrow. The one that wasn’t covered by the patch.
“Is there a Sarah Dearly in the audience tonight?” he said, loud and clear. “If there is, could she please come up to the stage?”
Chapter 25
The silence in the club was deafening. I slumped down in my seat. How did Peter know I was even there, or was he just guessing? Hoping I was there so he finally could exact his revenge on me for what I’d done to his eye. Thierry made a move to stand, but my hand darted out to catch his wrist. I squeezed it as tightly as I could.
“Sit down,” I hissed across the table. “Please!”
He met my gaze and shook his head. He placed his other hand on top of mine and pried my grip off him. He stood up and turned to face the stage.
“Leave this club. You’re not welcome here.”
“You’re not Sarah,” Peter said but then smiled. “But I’m betting that you’re this Thierry dude, right?”
“That is correct. My name is Thierry de Bennicoeur.”
“Pretty faggy name, man. I hate the French. Don’t worry; we’ll get to you in a minute.
The boys and I got all night for this. Now, where are you hiding that bitch? Give her up and maybe I’ll let a few of you live.”
There were several other rough-looking guys flanking Peter. I recognized a couple of them from the night I was sired, and a few more were from the pub across the street. The others I’d never seen before. But they all looked out to the audience of frozen vampires like lions who had their pick of weak, helpless prey. I felt the press of a warm body join me and Quinn on my side of the booth. It was George.
He looked petrified.
“What the hell?” he whispered “Why do they want you?”
“It’s hard being so popular,” I whispered back.
“You,” George said to Quinn. “They’re your friends, right? Do something!”
Quinn’s expression was bleak. “Not anymore. There’s nothing I can do.”
“Then come on.” George pulled on my arm. “Let’s sneak out the back.”
I shook my head. “No. There’re too many people in here that will be hurt. And Thierry’s going to get himself killed if we don’t do something to stop this.”
I scanned the crowd and spotted Amy sitting with Barry at a small table near the stage.
She gave me a quick wave of her hand and mouthed, “What now?” She clung to the small frame of Barry as if he were the only thing keeping her from falling into the abyss. He stared up at the stage with a fierce, brave expression on his face. I shrugged at her. I honestly didn’t know what to do next. All I knew was that I couldn’t just slither out of here on the floor, saving myself but no one else. It just wasn’t polite.
“Any dealings you need to have,” Thierry said to Peter in a commanding tone, “you can have with me. Sarah has nothing to do with any of this.”
Peter took the microphone off the stand and pressed it against his lips so the words came out slurred and extra loud. “Sa-rah. Sa-rah. Come out, come out, wherever you are. I think I’ll start with your eyes and work my way down that luscious little body. Come on now. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Quinn climbed over me to stand next to Thierry.
“Peter,” he yelled up to the stage. “Don’t do this.”
Peter smiled at his former acquaintance. “Well, if it isn’t Michael Quinn. Glad you’re here. Wanted to say thanks a bunch for leaving me at the restaurant like you did. They had to take me to the hospital and pump my stomach. I almost died.”
“Kill or be killed, man. Times have changed.”
“Yes, they have. Look, Quinn, I’ll do you a favor because we have a history. I’ll let you walk. Leave now and I’ll look the other way. Doesn’t mean I won’t hunt your ass down another time, but all I want tonight is that bitch.”
Quinn was blocking me so Peter couldn’t see I was sitting right behind him. He shook his head. “Can’t do that. You’ve made this my fight now.”
“Stupid decision. Maybe your father’s been right about you.”
“My father is dead.”
Peter’s eyebrows shot up. He took a moment before speaking again. “Then I guess you really have made your decision. Okay, people”—he turned from Quinn to survey the rest of the crowd—“let’s get this show on the road. Time is money.”
He jumped off the stage and snatched Amy right out of Barry’s arms. He dragged her back up to the stage with him, his arm tight around her neck.
“Hey, darlin‘.” He kissed her cheek with a sloppy, wet sound. “Good
to see you again.”
I didn’t even feel myself move, but suddenly I was on my feet. “Hey, asshole,” I called up to the stage. “Let her go right now.”
Thierry turned around to glare at me for making my presence known. Quinn too. My two handsome protectors. I sure was a lucky girl.
Peter smiled at me but didn’t loosen his hold on his ex-girlfriend. “I’d be happy to let her go. Why don’t you come up here and take her place?”
“No, Sarah!” Amy’s voice was strangled.
Thierry, Quinn, and George grabbed my arms to try to stop me from moving forward, but I was determined. I marched through the crowd, which now parted before me like the Red Sea, and then I was standing in front of Peter.
“Here I am, you one-eyed bastard.”
“Come a little closer. Don’t be shy.” Peter stared down at me, and raging fires burned beneath the furious gaze of that one good eye. He was going to kill me. For what I’d done to him in self-defense.
I hesitated. After all, I didn’t want to die. Maybe I was all talk, no action. Come to think of it, that’s what they used to say about me in high school. But I didn’t want anyone else to die tonight, either. What was up with these hunters? Didn’t they realize what they were doing was wrong? We weren’t evil. We weren’t monsters. But that’s how they saw us. A breath caught in my chest. They saw us as evil, bloodsucking monsters that needed to be exterminated like insects.
That was it. That was the answer. I tried to make my voice as calm as I could. “You can have me, Peter. Do what you want to me. But could I say a few last words to everyone first?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“A condemned person on death row gets to say their last words. They also get a last meal, but I’m not hungry. All I want is my moment in the spotlight. Come on, be a sport.”
He studied me for a moment, men sneered. “Sure, why not? Go ahead, darlin‘. Say your fill. After that, you’re all mine.”
The smile he gave me then was full of the promise of all the horrible things he’d do to me if this didn’t work. I suddenly wished for a Plan B. You can never be too prepared. I stepped onto the stage. He released Amy after giving her a last disgusting lick up the side of her face and pushed her hard out into the audience. A few people caught her so she didn’t get hurt or land on top of the dead singer. Peter’s smile widened as he moved away from the microphone, waving his hand at it to indicate it was all mine. I was now close enough to him that if he’d wanted to reach out and snap my neck, he could have easily. But he’d promised to let me have my say. I guess he was a man of his word, even if that word was “asshole.” He sheathed his stake and crossed his arms.
I tapped the microphone. The lights were painfully bright up there, and the faces in the audience were darkened now, but I could tell I had everyone’s undivided attention. At the back of the club I could see two more hunters guarding the black door so no one could escape. That made, I counted in my head, twelve hunters in total. I looked over to Thierry and Quinn. George had stood up next to them so he could see me better. They all watched helplessly. They had no idea what I was going to do, other than get myself killed.
“Hi, everyone,” I said into the microphone. “I don’t have much to say. I know Peter here’s in a big hurry. Men, you know. The thing is, he’s just doing what he thinks is right by killing me and maybe killing the rest of you before the night is through. That’s what the hunters do. They kill vampires. I mean, look at what Hollywood has done to us. Made us into bloodsucking, murderous monsters. Ugly, white-faced bat creatures. Scary, icky night stalkers. Or, on the other hand, you have the hot, steamy vampire lovers. Those are my favorites, of course, but they’re still mostly evil.”
I pulled the microphone off the stand so I could hold it closer to my mouth.
“And evil things should be killed, right? If we were all just regular folks—doctors, lawyers, and schoolteachers—going about our daily business… well, that would be another thing. We wouldn’t deserve to die because of that. These hunters would be the murderers then, wouldn’t they? But we’re not those normal, everyday, boring things.”
I took a deep breath. “We’re monsters. Evil, scary, fanged monsters. Strong and dangerous, able to look after ourselves and our nasty friends and families. We give the hunters a run for their money, don’t we? We’d never make it easy on them or they might enjoy it too much. Might look at killing us as a game, a hobby—big fun. Something they can do to feel powerful and important.
“They have the weapons, sure. They have the teamwork, okay. But at the end of the day—in the wee hours of the night—take a look around, my monstrous friends… we have the goddamned numbers.”
I heard a rustle through the crowd as they looked around at one another, whispering about what I was saying and the point I was trying to get across. I hoped to God I was making that point loud and clear. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Barry climb up on top of his chair.
“She’s right,” he said loudly. “We are monsters! And there’s a hell of a lot more of us than there are of them.”
There was silence for a moment, and then another vampire rose to his feet. And then another. And then another. In the space of a few heartbeats, the entire club of a hundred-plus vamps were on their feet, staring up at the hunters, their fangs catching what little light there was in the club. I heard a growing growl, which got louder and louder, and I felt my grip on the microphone increase along with the tension in the room.
I turned to look at Peter. His eye was very wide and white, and I could see a shiny film of sweat on his face now. I smiled at him.
“Thanks. That’s pretty much all I wanted to say.”
Chapter 26
My army of monsters took a collective step closer to the stage. I placed the microphone back on the stand and shaded my eyes from the bright lights. I glanced at Peter again.
“Now, where were we?”
“Smug little bitch,” he said under his breath, but I could taste the fear that covered his words like a candy coating.
The vampires never had thought to fight back collectively against the hunters. They considered themselves victims that were going to be picked off one at a time. They didn’t know what to do except to try to avoid it. Well, avoidance didn’t get you much in life. Except in this case, it might get you dead. I figured, if the hunters thought they were dealing with evil monsters, then let them have to deal with evil monsters. See how long they still found it fun and games.
Peter took a step toward me, but I felt strong arms come around my waist and pull me off the stage. I turned to see Quinn behind me.
“Good plan,” he said.
“Thanks. Worked on it for all of thirty seconds.”
Peter grabbed the microphone. “Yeah, great plan, bitch. Well, we’ve got more than one way to kill you pieces of shit. This was just a small part of it. You’ll all be dead in the next couple of days, and you’ll never even see it coming.”
“Now, how are you going to kill us in your current position?” I asked him sweetly.
“I’m not.” Then he laughed and it sounded just this side of insane. “You’re already killing yourselves. Just being here. Just drinking here. It’s so simple, too. You’re all so stupid to not see it coming.”
I felt Thierry’s hand on the small of my back. I looked up into his eyes; then he turned his gaze on Peter.
“Do you mean how you’ve poisoned the blood supply?”
A gasp went through the club.
Peter raised an eyebrow. “Very smart. Yes, all your blood has been tainted. My idea, might I add. We’ve had the Blood Delivery Guys working with us, under duress, for more than a week. By now, you all have enough poison in your systems to drop dead in agony within days. And there’s no antidote.” He laughed.
I stared at Thierry. Oh, my God. Poisoned blood? Everyone I was aware of got their blood by buying it. Nobody got it the old-fashioned way anymore—it just wasn’t done. Even after finally standing up for
ourselves, we still were all going to die.
Thierry nodded. “It was a brilliant plan. However, I recently stopped using the Blood Delivery Guys. I now use the Blood Drivers—a little more expensive, but well worth it, don’t you think? Perhaps the shared uniforms I arranged threw you off a bit. No, the Blood Delivery Guys haven’t personally made a delivery in over a week. Everyone in the city has also made the change. I personally made sure of it.”
Peter’s face had gone a medium shade of crimson. “You knew. How?”
“Perhaps you are not the only one who has informants.”
“Zelda,” I said under my breath to draw Thierry’s attention away from Peter. “Zelda’s the informant. Well, their informant.”
“I know.”
“You do? What are you, like freaking Kreskin?”
He smiled at me. “No. Simply a good judge of character. Also, she stopped drinking the blood that was delivered here. She’d brought her own supply in and kept it under the bar.
Little things say a lot.”
“Where’s Zelda now?”
“In my office.” He paused. “With Veronique.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Poor Zelda.”
“Indeed.”
“Shut up!” Peter screamed. “Both of you. Shut up! I don’t care what you’ve done. I don’t care how many of you there are. Do you know my kill count? Neither do I, because it’s so bloody high! I can take half of you out tonight with my eyes closed.” He glanced at his friends. They were all looking a little less sure of themselves than they had when they first got there. But each hand held a sharp weapon. A weapon meant to slice, to dice, to kill. And they had the power of desperation and rage fueling them.
Peter leaped out at the audience that rose to meet him. Then all hell broke loose. It was one thing to say to the vamps that they could hold their own, but when push came to shove, a lot of them bailed and ran to the exits, pushing past the petrified, overpowered hunters who blocked their way. I got swept up with the crowd and pulled away from Thierry and Quinn. I tried to fight my way back, but I was pressed on all sides. People were going crazy. Either fighting against the dozen hunters or trying to get the hell out of Dodge. A hand reached out from beneath a table and pulled me under. It was George.
