The Red Circle: A Seven Sons Novel (Bad Moon Rising Book 2)

by DB Nielsen

  Cole gave two thumbs up behind Mia’s back to Cooper and shouted enthusiastically as he jumped up and down together with her. “Yass! She is the GOAT! Aislinn is the GOAT!”

  And then Aislinn was surrounded by the mob, celebrating her victory with shouts and claps and cheers and slaps on the back. Benjamin, Caleb, and Varya were already off to collect their winnings.

  “A fine drinking game,” said a large shapeshifter whose body odor was quite offensive to the vampires nearby. It made Aislinn want to puke, but she simply stopped inhaling, since she didn’t need to breathe anyway. “Pity there wasn’t any blood spilt on neutral ground but satisfying all the same.”

  Aislinn was carried on their shoulders back into Styx for more drinks in celebration of her success. Over the heads of the immortals holding her up, Aislinn saw Marcellus moving through the crowd, invisible to all but her since no one was paying him much attention at the moment. Later perhaps, those who had lost enormous sums would be, wanting to find him and exact retribution. He was safer staying here, but he was now an outsider.

  Halfway to the top of the spiraling marble staircase, Marcellus paused and fixed his gaze on her. Their eyes clashed across the length of the antechamber. He had her in his sights. His dark eyes were glacial like black ice. They promised danger and retribution ahead.

  Caleb who had returned with his winnings, looked curiously up at Aislinn and followed her gaze toward the stairs. His mood turned foul. “I’ll deal with the little weasel.”

  “Not yet,” Aislinn said in a low voice directed toward her friend’s ears alone. She leapt lightly down from the shoulders of the crowd. She joined him, falling into step as they crossed the antechamber to where Cooper stood with the others. “Varya’s got rights. She’s been waiting a long time. Besides, Marcellus used to hang with Dorian’s hunting pack in the coven. I’d like to see what alliances are forming in the coven and the Underground after the Zooarian uprising. Don’t worry, old man. I’m not afraid of a rat like Marcellus.”

  “But?”

  “Marcellus I can handle. He’ll go to ground for a while. His reputation’s shot. He won’t be returning to Styx anytime soon. Not until things cool down. Forget him. I want eyes on Styx’s minion, Thirteen.”

  The burly Malum nodded, his expression somber. “That can be arranged.”

  As they approached the others, their voices all mingled into one.

  “You go, girl!”

  “That was awesome!”

  “The Millennia Club! That’s legendary! Goals AF!”

  Caleb laughed, shaking his head at the awe in Mia’s voice. “Not so much. Aislinn’s been a member of the club since the beginning. We needed to entice customers when we first opened Nocturne with something different, something not offered by all the other clubs around. Turns out the key was the Millennia Club. The daughter of Kayne may look like ice wouldn’t melt in her mouth, but who do you think started the Millennia Club?” He gave them a wink. “Why do you think I was so confident in betting my half of the Nocturne tonight? Damn straight.”

  Aislinn was taken aback. She looked at her partner askance. “Caleb! What the Vlad? Seriously? Remember the part where I told you that you’ll be begging for an hour in Styx’s basement when I’m through with you?”

  He shrugged. “I thought you meant if I lost. Well, I didn’t lose now, did I?”

  “If I’d known that Aislinn started the Millennia Club, I would never have taken your bet,” Benjamin grumbled good naturedly.

  Aislinn’s cornflower-blue eyes went wide. “You bet against me?” she asked.

  “Not exactly,” Benjamin said, a slow, faint smile curving his mouth. “I took a gamble on ownership of the Nocturne, and I also placed a sizeable bet on you beating Marcellus with Styx.”

  “Styx bet against me? What the Vlad?” Aislinn was stunned. Then her eyes lit with dark fury. “Exactly what was your bet?”

  “Oh, something of mine I wanted back from him if I won. My soul if I lost.”

  “Your soul? Didn’t you already give that up to your maker?”

  “That burdensome, intangible, insubstantial thing that’s a paradox in itself and makes for a great bargaining chip? Yes, my soul.” He smiled with grim satisfaction. “My maker never asked for my soul. He had other plans. Besides, other than angels and demons, who would want souls?”

  Benjamin winked at her playfully, but his eyes held a cunning look. She and he both had heard Thirteen and Styx’s conversation. Angels and demons weren’t the only ones interested in souls.

  Aislinn’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, who would? And what would they do with them?”

  “Interesting,” muttered Varya under her breath, glaring at her ex. “I would have made a bet you didn’t have one. Along with a heart.”

  The atmosphere in the club was even more raucous than before, zinging with a wild energy. As usual, there were more rounds of blood cocktails being served, and Aislinn’s stomach felt like it was going to revolt. She didn’t feel lightheaded or in a blood stupor, but the bloated feeling wasn’t very comfortable.

  Discreetly, when she had the opportunity, she handed Benjamin the packet of Black Magic pills, giving him instructions to find out as much as possible about the drug, its origins, and its composition.

  “Ooh, pretty red circles.” A drunken Mia giggled as she spied Benjamin placing the packet in his pocket. She tapped Benjamin’s nose with every word. “Pretty. Red. Circles. Benji.”

  “Maybe we should take her home,” murmured Cole. “She’s had way too much.”

  But Aislinn was frozen. A sudden tension in her body. Pretty red circles. Black Magic. Sorcha. Life force. Living energy. Druids. Souls.

  What the Vlad were the dark mages up to?

  At that moment, the cocktail waitress appeared beside them, carrying an uncorked magnum bottle and three glasses. The smell of young blood was extremely potent. “One magnum bottle of our finest New Zealander ABO 2018. Sorry about the delay. We’ve been insanely busy tonight. I can’t remember when we were quite this busy, possibly the rebirth of Elvis. But it’s on the house, courtesy of the owner. He’s given me a message for you too. ‘You’re welcome in his club anytime since you’re so good for business.’”

  Caleb laughed, accepting the gift. “Brilliant. Good old Styx. Shall I pour?”

  It was all too much for Aislinn. The blood. The excitement. The anxiety. The knowledge. The confusion.

  She leaned against the Ionic column and threw up, just missing his polished boots. Caleb looked down at the floor and back up at Varya.

  “Vlad’s tits!” the Sanguis spat, checking the time. Twice. Just to be sure.

  Sighing, Varya reached into her pocket and passed over a small leather bag. She also handed a similar one to Benjamin, whose hands grasped it reflexively. The sound of clinking coins was clear and distinct.

  “You made bets?” Aislinn looked up from where she leaned over, clearly distressed, her hands on her knees as she supported herself against the column.

  “Of course, we couldn’t miss the opportunity,” Caleb stated with relish. He was already toasting his success.

  Aislinn’s eyes narrowed dangerously. This time when she puked, she didn’t miss.

  Chapter 24

  “Aislinn? Vlad’s balls! What the fuck are you doing?” Caleb took in an unnecessary deep breath, then let it out. “I’m trying to run a nightclub here! We’re not a not-for-profit charitable organization!”

  “Funny about that,” she tossed back over her shoulder. “Because you seem intent on gambling it away.”

  She was still pissed with him, he realized. He thought that after several days, she would have calmed down, but he forgot that female Malums could hold on to their grievances for years—sometimes even centuries—and he’d badly miscalculated the depth of her anger and indignation. No doubt she’d be reminding him of his shortcomings for the next fifty years or more. And with the daughter of Kayne, it was worse than marriage.

  “Aislinn,” he tried
reasoning, running a large hand over his bald, bronzed head. “We’re vampires. There’s no tax deduction on charitable donations.”

  “Tough. Suck it up, Caleb.”

  Caleb lowered himself onto the back step, rested his elbows on his knees, leaned forward, and buried his face in his hands. It was going to be a long fifty years. Starting with tonight.

  There was a twisting, undisciplined queue of vagrant vampires and panhandlers waiting to be fed. Mostly Nubes who had been abandoned by their sires and others who couldn’t conform to the rules of a coven and had gone rogue, banished from the safety and security of the manor house or vampire-organized crime syndicates.

  Aislinn took pity on them. Ever since she’d first met Psychic Seth, she realized that Harry and Dorian were responsible for his predicament. And not only for his madness. There were certainly enough humans in the world to feed on, but many of the abandoned vampires had never been taught how to hunt properly, nor when to stop. Of course, there were those who were too far gone to be able to learn how to control their basic instincts, but those like Seth, Aislinn felt she could help since she realized there was a real social issue in the vampire community, and no one was taking any accountability for these poor creatures.

  Caleb heard sirens and looked up hopefully. There was an ambulance approaching the service entrance of the Nocturne. It was the Blood Bank.

  Finally, someone who might be able to talk some sense into Aislinn.

  Caleb watched as Nikolaus jumped out from the driver’s seat, exuding a strength and steadiness that was instantly calming. The older Malum felt every confidence that Nikolaus would have things well in hand within minutes.

  “Hey, Nik. Glad you could be here.” Aislinn gave him an approving smile.

  “No problem. Happy to help. Where do you want this lot?” Nik removed the chilled ice boxes from the back of the ambulance.

  Caleb paled, looking at the younger Malum in shock. “Wait. What? Not you, too, Nik!”

  Nikolaus gave a wave. “Want to help me with setting these up, Caleb?”

  “Hell, no!” he protested automatically, his expression frustrated.

  Damn Nikolaus wanting to bed Aislinn!

  But he still dragged himself up from his sitting position and took one of the large ice boxes across to where the shapeless queue began in front of Aislinn. “Oh, for Vlad’s sake, this is ridiculous. You there, get in line. The Nubes with the bird’s nest on his head. No, not you, the other one. I don’t give a damn if it’s your actual hair. Join the queue, soldier, or you don’t get any blood.”

  Caleb, in full metal jacket mode, put his experience as a drill sergeant to good use by intimidating and threatening the vagrants into some semblance of order. From an unruly rabble, they suddenly recognized the authority in Caleb’s voice and organized themselves into a neat line, without jostling or backbiting.

  They were a ragtag group. Some were like Psychic Seth, with matted hair and layers of grime caked upon their bodies, mad as hatters with no one to care for them, while others were living tough on the streets but still maintained their dignity.

  One middle-aged panhandler approached the front of the queue, gratefully accepting a blood bag from Aislinn’s hand. He was dressed in a dove-grey T-shirt that matched his eyes, baseball cap, and black pants. His boots and coat were army-issue, and he looked expectantly at Caleb, as if waiting for the Malum to recognize him.

  Aislinn elbowed Caleb to look up. He did, and his eyes narrowed.

  He stared as the dark Mark of Cain flared up on the panhandler’s fair forehead.

  “Ford?” Caleb’s question brought a smile to the Malum’s face, which made Aislinn realize he was much younger than she initially thought. A smattering of freckles covered his fair skin, standing out in relief against his short, ginger hair.

  “Sir.” He saluted Caleb as one would a higher-ranked officer.

  “Vlad’s tits! Ford!” Caleb leapt over the ice box and grabbed the other Malum by the arm, pulling him into a bearhug. “Where the hell have you been? And what happened to you?”

  “Well, sir, it’s a long story—”

  Nikolaus gave Caleb a slight push aside, urging him to sit down and catch up with his old army friend while he took over handing out blood bags next to Aislinn. It was evident that Nikolaus had been waiting for his chance, and now that it was here, he wasn’t going to let it slip by.

  As Caleb and Ford moved away, the attractive Malum cleared his throat and asked, “How are you, Aislinn? You’re looking well. I understand you’ve been busy. The Underground Russian mafia. Styx. Next, I’m sure I’ll hear that you’ve been to Demura.”

  “Yeah, that might be the case, Nik. I’m afraid I’m always finding myself in trouble.” Aislinn smiled at a timid Nubes as she handed over a blood bag to her.

  “That’s one of the things I like about you, Aislinn.” Nikolaus unpacked another ice box and began passing her blood bags to hand out. “We immortals live forever, and a vampire can become pretty jaded and world weary, but you? You continually prove to be unpredictable.”

  “Oh good,” she said, shooting him a look. “Then you won’t be surprised when I ask if you know of any ancient vampires who would willingly give their blood to a dark mage.”

  Nikolaus halted, frozen. Then he began to laugh. “You’re serious? That’s insane. Vampires are inherently selfish creatures.” He looked around, realized that she was handing out blood bags to the homeless, and said, “With a few exceptions. But no vampire willingly gives up their own blood unless they intend to procreate or, like the members of the Atum Council, ensure the purity of our currency. Let’s face it. Blood is life. It doesn’t come cheap.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” she said carefully. The wheels were already turning in her head, and he could see it. “Why would an ancient vampire give up their blood? And who would want to?”

  Nikolaus watched her very steadily, uncaring if he was holding up the line. “Look, I can do some digging. If I find out anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  Aislinn looked at him gratefully. He really was solid and dependable. “Thank you, Nik.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated and confused. “You know, if you need anything at all—”

  “I know, Nik.” She gave him the kind of smile that was guaranteed to bowl him over. It was stunning in her pixie-like face. “You’ve been so good to help out with the blood donations. I can’t thank you enough.”

  Nikolaus looked at her with an intensity, his unusual blue-grey eyes stormy with passionate longing. “Aislinn, I—”

  “Nik or whatever your name is,” muttered the panhandler at the front of the queue who’d been silently waiting with the others for his next meal. “If you squeeze that blood bag any tighter, it’s going to erupt all over your girlfriend here.”

  Nik swung around in shock, instantly dropping the blood bag which he was unconsciously squeezing, and stared at the panhandler, who was still glaring.

  Another vampire in the queue commiserated. “It’s all right, mate. We all know what it’s like to go hungry.”

  Aislinn laughed because she couldn’t help it. “Here you go. Enjoy your meal.” She handed the homeless vampire a blood bag and continued passing them down the line.

  But down the line, there was some commotion happening.

  There was a female Nubes standing in the middle of the queue, vague and disoriented and stark raving mad. She was well dressed in a cashmere twin-set and cat’s eye sunglasses, her voice musical and aristocratic like a duchess. She could be heard asking, her voice becoming more strident, “My daughter? What have you done with my daughter? Come to me, my child. Pretty girl. Come. Where are you? Come to me.”

  Aislinn handed the blood bag to Nikolaus and told him to continue passing them out as she walked toward the woman.

  The blonde-haired woman was still speaking as if she was holding court or performing on a stage. “My sweet little girl. My pretty one. My babies, my beautifu
l babies. Hurry home. Hurry home. Come to me, and all will be forgiven. Come to me in the darkness.”

  She held her arms open to the vagrants. A gesture of maternal invitation. She moved languidly like a lily in the breeze, touching their faces softly, stroking their matted heads like they were children. Some suffered her touch. Others beat her hands away, shrieking in anger. “‘I have given suck and know how tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me. I would, while it was smiling in my face, have plucked my nipple from its boneless gums and dashed the brains out.’ Mama will feed you. Mama will take care of you—”

  Aislinn approached her carefully and in her gentlest voice, asked, “Are you hungry?”

  The woman removed her glasses, and her gaze was vacant and glittering wildly. Her face was youthful, striking. Her skin the color of milk and as flawless. She looked at Aislinn and smiled in a strange manner. “You’re a naughty child. Why did you run away? My sweet princess. Don’t you see? It’s better this way. But you shouldn’t have run away. I’m your mother—”

  Aislinn tried to appease her. “Why don’t we get you something to eat?”

  “I’m your mother. How dare you disobey me? You’ll be punished. All the pretty flowers. The little children. They won’t wake up. They were naughty. You know why I did it. Why I had to—”

  The other vagrants were becoming restless now. The woman was creating a scene that had them muttering, remembering fragments of their own past, confused, frustrated, anxious. The situation was swelling to grotesque dimensions.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Ford said calmly, pinning the woman’s arms behind her as Nikolaus plunged a needle into her neck and injected the nightshade-derived sedative. “It’s for your own good.”

  “Hey, they’re trying to kill us!” one of the homeless men on the line shouted, his eyes flashing dangerously. He was wary of the needle and suspicious of their intentions. “You’re all government agents, aren’t you? You want to capture us and dissect us! You’re going to experiment on us!”