Claiming the Evil Dead

by Mary Abshire

  I stepped around the sofa, catching Drake's attention. "Since we have plenty of time before we leave, and I am technically on vacation, I'm going shopping."

  "Enjoy your shopping excursion." His lips curled and eyes fell on my breasts yet again.

  A tickle of excitement fluttered in me. I had a feeling this vamp was starting to warm up to me.

  Chapter Eight

  My arms ached from carrying four bags of clothes and a bag with two boxes of shoes. I strained, holding the bags while I fumbled with Drake's keys and unlocked the door to his condo. The last four and half hours of shopping had apparently juggled a couple of my brain cells. I should have knocked. As it was, I pushed the door open and struggled inside without his help.

  I raced down the hall and into my room. After I dropped everything onto the bed, I collapsed where the remaining space was on the mattress. My arms felt sore, the muscles in my legs felt numb, and my feet were tired. Talk about a workout. I'd exercised enough for one day.

  The quietness in the room called to my exhausted state of conscience. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the serenity. A cool wave of energy passed over me. My skin twitched from the delicate touch. Drake was here, somewhere. I sat up and opened my eyes.

  Dressed in black pants and a black sweater, Drake stood leaning against the wall with his hands wedged in his pockets. After seeing him half naked earlier, I now wondered if he wore anything underneath his pants.

  "I have something for you," I said with a hint of playfulness. Plastic crinkled as I shuffled through my bags. I located the black one, dug inside, and pulled out a T-shirt.

  Drake moved closer to me. His eyes glimmered.

  "Here." I stood and shook the T-shirt to remove the wrinkles. Smiling, I held it up for display.

  His face became as blank as a piece of paper, and the glimmer in his eyes faded as he studied the writing on the shirt. "I don't think I should wear that."

  "What's wrong with it?" I widened my smile. The black tee with red letters spelling "Bite me" couldn't have offended him. And the red streak of blood from the letter B shouldn't have been a problem either. "I like it."

  "Of course you do." His lips twitched as if he fought to hold back a smile.

  "For you." I tossed the shirt to him, and he snatched it out of the air.

  "What else did you purchase?"

  "Just the usual—clothes and a couple pairs of shoes. Oh, I found a great outfit I'm going to wear tonight." I twisted and searched through the bags. "Here's the top," I said, pulling a navy blue, thin-strapped shirt from a bag. I held it over my chest and faced him. "What do you think?"

  "Nice," he said, courteous yet standoffish. Maybe he wasn't accustomed to appraising women's clothing.

  I didn't allow his reaction to discourage me. "It'll look better once it's on me. I have the skirt that matches, and I found shoes too," I added, proud of my findings.

  "We are leaving at ten. Will you be ready?" He clutched the shirt I'd given to him in his hand.

  I checked the time on the clock. "Shit!" I had a little over an hour to get ready. I could do it. I'd just have to rush. "I'll be ready."

  Drake left as I kicked off my shoes. I placed my new shirt flat on the bed and dashed for the bathroom. Post haste, I showered, dried my long black hair, and beautified myself with a touch of makeup. What normally took close to an hour to accomplish, I managed to complete in half the time. Towel wrapped around me, I strolled back into the bedroom.

  The half drawn curtains framed the glowing city nightlife below. Enchanted by the view, I leaned against the window with my palms pressed on the glass. Eighty-two floors below me, tiny, dotted lights streaked by in a single–line formation. Though I couldn't see people walking along the sides of the streets, I knew they were there. And somewhere among them, Alexander prowled, targeting his next meal—or worse, his next victim. I had to stop him.

  I backed away from the hypnotizing view and headed to the bed. After I clipped off the tags of my new clothes, I dressed. The skirt I'd chosen fit loose and drifted mid-thigh. The sleeveless shirt I'd selected fit snug and had a low neckline that accentuated my boobs. As I smoothed my blouse over my hips, I turned toward the hallway. Drake stood in the open doorway.

  "Been there long?" I asked. His split-second materialization routine no longer surprised me.

  "Long enough." Amusement played upon his lips.

  I wondered what he meant. Since I hadn't paid any attention once I got out of the shower, I had no way of knowing if he had watched me dress or not. Maybe I needed to be more aware of my surroundings since I was staying with a vampire.

  "How do I look?" I asked.

  "Exquisite." He gave a small nod.

  The word rolled off his tongue and added a beat to my heart. Yep, the vamp was warming up—or rather, warming me up. God, I hoped he didn't notice. I turned away from him and shuffled through the bags in search of my new shoes.

  "When you're ready—"

  "I'm ready now." I slid on the three-inch-heeled shoes.

  "Bring the cell phone I gave you. You're going to need it."

  Spotting the phone on the dresser, I snatched it. "Got it."

  Drake turned down the hall and I followed him. My accelerated pulse fueled the excitement flowing within me. Yes, I was overly eager to find an evil vampire and put an end to his time on earth.

  ****

  Drake parked a block away from the busy club we didn't get to visit the night before. My pulse sped with anticipation while I peered through the tinted windows and watched the hustle and bustle of activity. The street was crowded with parked cars and taxis pulling off to the side. On the sidewalks, clusters of young people were moseying in the direction of the club. I tapped my hand on my lap to ease some of my nerves, but it wasn't helping. I was ready to get inside the club, have a few drinks, and find an evil vampire.

  "Text me the moment you are inside. If you sense him in there, notify me at once. Otherwise, I want a text message from you every fifteen minutes. If I don't get a message, I'm coming in after you," he said, using an overbearing, fatherly tone. He had the look down pat, too.

  "Can you give me a hint of what he looks like?"

  "He is a little taller than me and thinner. Blond hair, longer than mine. Sometimes he ties it back."

  "Pale complexion or bad breath?" I asked with a straight face.

  "Both."

  I smiled. "You don't have bad breath."

  "Thank you for noticing. Now, if he is not there, we have at least ten other clubs to visit before they close. Timing is critical."

  I wanted to chuckle, but we had pressing matters at hand. Not to mention my feet would not hold up well in high heels if I had to visit ten other clubs. Eager to get inside, I pushed the door open and slid out of the car.

  I strode up to the club with the anxiety of a single white female out on the prowl. Past the doors, two bouncers greeted me. I couldn't help but notice their tight-fitting shirts that displayed their bulging muscles as they checked my identification. While one briskly patted me down, I couldn't help but stare at their large frames.

  Having passed their inspection, I went through another set of doors, then entered a dimly lit club. A wave of electronic music swept past me. Upon finding a secluded area, I stepped aside and sent a two-word text message to Drake—I'm in.

  Phone in hand, I went straight to the oblong white bar located in the corner past the entrance.

  "What can I get ya?" a young man asked, wiping his hands on a towel. He had a cute smile and spiky blond hair that reminded me of Billy Idol. Earrings in his bottom lip and ears—along with the two-day-old shadow—added to his rough guise.

  "The strongest shot you've got." I slid a twenty on the counter.

  He looked at me hesitantly as he placed a shot glass on the bar. The cautious look bothered me. I had a hunch he was about to give me the opposite of what I ordered.

  Waiting for my drink, I held the bill on the counter and surveyed my surroundings
. The long, rectangular club had a vibrant and cheery feel. Bright pink, yellow, blue, and green neon lights lit up the long dance floor. Mirrors decorated the walls. Small, round, white tables were located in front of the mirrors, each one occupied. At the opposite end of the club was another round white bar next to a set of stairs. Another level, I presumed.

  The money under my hand moved and I shifted my attention back to the bartender. A shot glass filled with a dark liquid sat on the counter in front of me. Thirsty, I picked up the glass and poured the dark liquor down my throat. The bartender handed back my change as I clinked the glass on the counter.

  "That was your strongest shot?" I asked, not impressed. The sweet liquor would give me a one-minute buzz—tops—before my metabolism kicked into gear.

  "No offense, honey, but I doubt you can handle anything stronger."

  Lips pressed tightly together, I collected my money, then stormed away without tipping. As I passed through the crowd quickly, I bumped a few shoulders. No, I didn't pause to apologize. The bartender had pissed me off. I hated people like him, who made assumptions about me based on my looks or my gender, and I really hated strangers calling me honey.

  My senses were on high alert as I walked around the clusters of young people socializing. Many clasped beers in their hands. My gaze darted from one body to the next so fast I thought I might go cross-eyed. After I completed a thorough sweep of the first floor without a single tingle in my bones, I proceeded upstairs.

  The second level resembled the first level except it had black tables, black bars, and darker shades of neon lighting. Since the shot I'd had downstairs hadn't affected me, I headed for the bar and hoped the female bartender wouldn't treat me as the male one had.

  "You're strongest shot, please," I said, holding cash on the counter.

  The woman walked away, but reappeared a minute later. She set a glass of clear liquid in front of me. I smiled.

  "Keep the change," I said.

  After I downed the drink, I casually strolled around the second level looking for a man with long blond hair and pale skin. Two rounds later, I had a slight buzz and I still couldn't find a body to match that description. My Spidey senses hadn't picked up anything either. I checked the time on the phone and noticed I needed to check in with Drake.

  While I waited in line at the bathroom, I sent him a message—no luck yet. But I wasn't giving up either. I wanted to make one more sweep of the first floor. If I didn't feel a single vibe, I'd move on. I hurried to finish my business in the lavatory, then I headed down the stairs.

  Once again, I meandered around the main level. Bodies swayed on the crowded dance floor, smelling of sweat and perfume. The ones who weren't moving gathered around the tables. I skimmed over heads, looking for a man with long blond hair. When I'd spotted one, my heart jumped a beat. I narrowed my eyes and studied him. The man had tanned skin and he wore long khaki shorts with a T-shirt. I sighed, realizing Alex wasn't around. Without a single chill in my bones, I knew he couldn't be. I sent Drake a text message—I'm coming.

  I reached the car a few minutes later. Emotions down in the dumps, I sank into the passenger seat and shut the door. "He's not in there."

  Maybe I shouldn't have felt bad for not finding Alex, but I did. I wanted a quick resolution so further lives wouldn't be lost. The fact that I would rather be home instead of with a vampire played a small role in my motivation as well. As usual, I was overly zealous.

  Without saying a word, Drake started the engine and zoomed out of the parking spot. Ten minutes later, he stopped outside another club. The neighborhood was dark, quiet, and not as populated. A large man with arms bigger than my thighs stood outside the tinted-glass entrance.

  I opened my door and leaned forward to step out. Drake's cool hand touched my shoulder, and I stopped fast, spinning around to face him.

  "This one is different," he said, his voice deeper, hinting caution.

  "Different how?" The cool touch of his hand soothed my hot skin.

  "The crowd is rougher. If anyone—"

  I held up my hand up. "I can handle it. Don't worry, Dad."

  He pressed his lips together. Maybe calling him Dad was a bit much, but then he shouldn't have acted the role.

  Overlooking his displeasure, I held out my palm in front of him. "I need some money."

  Drake shifted in his seat and withdrew a wad of cash from his back pocket. My eyes grew large, and my smile widened at the thickness of the bundle. I guessed he had hundreds of dollars, if not more. Without hesitating, he removed two bills and put them in my hand. I blinked several times, unsure if my eyes had played a trick on me. He'd given me two one hundred dollar bills.

  "Thanks," I said, chipper. Having a vampire as a friend might not be a bad idea after all. I folded the bills separately and tucked them into my bra.

  "Same rules apply." He shoved his cash into his back pocket.

  "Aye, aye, Captain." I exited the car before he could respond.

  The obnoxiously big bouncer at the door gave a wide grin that sickened me. Faking a smile, I handed him my identification. The large man glanced at it and then glided his lusty eyes down my body. Thinking I could bypass any sly remarks, I snatched my ID from his hand and reached for the door. In one swift stride, he stepped in front of me, blocking my way.

  "What?" I asked, irritated.

  "I have to check you out first." He stepped toward me, gesturing for me to raise my arms.

  With a roll of my eyes, I stretched my arms out in the air as if I were a criminal. I didn't spread my legs. The moment his plump hands touched the sides of my breasts, I shot him an evil glare. As his hands glided down my body—in the least graceful way possible—I dreamed of kicking him in the balls. Then he reached around and fondled my ass. I glanced over my shoulder. Sure enough, Drake stood with his arms crossed as he leaned against his car. He was watching with a lethal look in his eyes.

  "A word of advice," I said. The round bouncer stopped and looked at me with his hands touching my thighs. "The guy back there eats pricks like you for dinner and picks out your muscles from between his teeth with toothpicks. If you value your masculinity, I suggest you remove your hands." I might have exaggerated a bit, but I wanted him to get the point.

  Steroid Man peered past me. Seeing Drake, he promptly removed his hands from my body.

  "Standard policy," he said as he opened the door for me.

  I shook my head in disgust. "Asshole."

  Past the glass door, I entered a world of darkness. As my eyes adjusted, I realized this was indeed a different crowd. Men and women with hair colors in various shades were dressed in black. Each person had body piercings and tattoos covering their flesh. A woman with stressed out red hair strode by me. Dressed in tight, black shorts that barely covered her ass and a thin lace black shirt that revealed her perky breasts, she too had piercings in her brows, lips, nose, and nipples. I half-winced as I thought about the pain involved when a needle went through such intimate parts of the body.

  Emo music screamed from the speakers. Those on the dance floor grooved with their bodies molded to their partners, reminding me of dirty dancing at its finest. With my head high and shoulders stiff, I headed for the bar along the side wall.

  "A shot of something strong, very strong," I said to the bare-chested, nipple-pierced male bartender. I tried not to stare at his nipples, but I couldn't help it. When half-naked man turned away, I remembered I had to send Drake a text. I started typing a message.

  "Twelve dollars." The bartender slid a glass of clear liquid toward me.

  What an outrageous amount for one drink. I would've complained, but the cash I had was from Drake. I slapped one of Drake's bills onto the counter.

  He eyed the bill. "Have anything smaller?"

  "Sorry."

  Frowning, he took the bill and disappeared.

  While I waited for my change, I quickly surveyed the small club. It was half the size of the last one with black walls, a black ceiling, and black fl
oors. Dim white lights were above the bar. The rest of the club shimmered from red and purple lighting. Past the dance floor, on the other side of the room, were a few square tables. A set of black stairs in the far corner were almost unnoticeable.

  "Your change," the young bartender called out over the screaming base music.

  "Is there another level?" I grabbed my change from his hand, tipped him five dollars, and slid the rest of the money in my bra with my ID.

  "Mostly private areas." He took the tip and placed it in a jar behind the counter. His attention shifted fast to the woman standing next to me. She rambled off her drink order.

  Without wasting any more time, I tossed the shot of liquor into my mouth. My throat burned mere seconds after I'd swallowed. The vodka was strong and had an immediate impact. I should've tipped more.

  Smiling, I headed for the darkened stairwell. As I reached the steps, a man thrust his body in front of me.

  "Excuse me." I took a step to the side. He did the same and blocked my path to the stairs.

  "Private area." He stretched his arms out. His punk appearance, with black, spiky hair and metal chain around his neck, reminded me of Sid Vicious from the Sex Pistols.

  "How private?" I gave him a flirtatious smile.

  "Too private." He stepped toward me. "Go play and come back later."

  I stared at him as anger built within me. Fighting words were on the tip of my tongue, but I decided it would be better not to make a scene. I turned around, and he slapped me on my ass. Anger boiled within me and grew as I heard laughter behind me. The devil in me urged me to retaliate, but the better of me knew to walk away. And so I did. I stormed out of the club without looking back.

  "Back so soon?" Drake asked as I shut the car door.

  "I couldn't get upstairs, but I don't think he was there anyway. I would have felt him."

  "Why couldn't you get upstairs?"

  "They had a bouncer at the bottom of the steps. Some guy with spiked black hair."

  "Was it that guy?" His eyes pointed at the club entrance.

  I looked in the same direction. "Yeah." The punk asshole was talking with the steroid-induced bouncer. "That's the creep. He slapped my ass, too. What's he…?" I paused as the two men glanced our way. "Why are they looking at us?"