12/27/2020 0 Comments Chapter TwoMonday June 19, 2017 Lilith was, for once, driving through the streets of the city at the required speed limit. She was even using her turn signal and obeying the stop lights and traffic signs! But this was to be expected, of course, because Jason Leeds, her boss and friend, had asked her to. He was sitting in the backseat of her black Chevrolet Camaro with his muscular arms crossed over his chest. He was staring out the window, though he wasn’t really paying attention to the sights outside. For six years, he’d been preparing for this: for the day he’d assemble a gang to fight back against the corruption in Rhine City. But in order to have a gang, he needed to have people. So far, the only two who had joined aside from his younger brother, Valentine, were Lilith and a girl named Rika. Lilith had been easy to recruit. He knew her from high school—they’d had a few classes together—and had run into her in a bar. He was working as a barback, and she had been there drinking. Rika, on the other hand, was a chance encounter. He’d been walking home from work when a lowly thug tried mugging him. Rika, who had been nearby, jumped in to help (even though he didn’t really need it). He’d been impressed and had asked her to join his crew, to which she’d readily agreed. He’d had no luck finding new members in almost a year. He couldn’t figure out what he was doing wrong, though Val liked to tease him about it. “You’re just way to scary, bro!” he would laugh while leafing through a magazine. “Honestly, you should just let me do the recruiting!” “Yo,” Lilith called, breaking through his thoughts. “Do you see that?” She had parked the car in front of a coffee shop and was peering through the passenger side window at something. Curiously, he peeked out his own window and, though it was hard to see from the angle they were sitting at, there appeared to be someone physically assaulting a man in the alley. “Stay here a minute,” he commanded as he quickly unfastened his seatbelt and hopped out of the car. “Sure thing, Boss!” she chirped in reply before he shut the door. He was expecting a typical case of one citizen carelessly beating up another, but as he walked closer, it became obvious it was something else entirely. A thin white girl with cerulean blue hair neatly tied back into a loose ponytail at the top of her head was relentlessly kicking a man, who was curled up in self-defense on the ground. The girl was holding what appeared to be a plastic cup full of iced coffee in one hand while yelling about how much of a pervert he was for daring to touch her butt. Damn, this girl kicks major ass, grinned Jason as he walked over to the scene of the glorious beatdown. He cleared his throat as he approached her. “Hey,” he said, “having fun with this creep?” The girl immediately stopped kicking and spun around, her brown eyes wide with fear. Jason held up his hands apologetically. “Whoa, don’t stop beating him on my account! Hell, can I join in? I don’t like sexual predators myself.” He’d met quite a few during his time in jail and, with next-to-no exceptions, they were all unrepentant sickos. She visibly relaxed and gave him a huge grin. “I mean, yeah, sure. If you want.” Now that she was facing him, he noticed she was wearing a black t-shirt with a logo identical to the one on the coffee shop’s window. His eyes widened. “Damn, was this guy creeping on you at work?” He delivered a swift, powerful kick into the man’s ribs. “That’s even worse, harassing minimum wage workers like that!” He kicked him again for good measure. “People like you are what’s making this city such a shithole!” “Damn.” The girl raised her dark brown eyebrows, clearly impressed. “Who are you again?” Do I tell her my real name, or do I use that moniker Lilith came up with… In a split second, he made his decision and went into full actor mode as he grabbed the hapless pervert and dragged him over to a nearby dumpster. “You might not have heard of me quite yet,” he intoned, “but pretty soon the whole city will. For far too long, this city has been a breeding ground for the worst sort of criminals possible, and I’m sick of it! I’ve grown tired of watching parents go home to find their kids missing. I’m tired of senseless murders and gang violence. And I’m tired,” he slammed the pervert against the dumpster, “of creeps who take advantage of girls.” With a mighty heave, he tossed the guy face first into the foul garbage of the dumpster and slammed the lid shut. “Too many people in this city love crime, but me?” He turned and gave the blue-haired girl a suave, dramatic look. “I’m Loveless.” Nailed it, Jason. There was an amused smirk on her face. It almost appeared as though she might start laughing at him, but instead, she simply said, “I’m pretty sure you’re my hero, now.” He smiled. “Shit, really?” His acting skills were a bit rusty, so he was worried he wouldn’t have been able to pull the monologue off, especially since he improvised everything but the last line. Yet, it seemed he’d managed to get a fan. “Uh, yeah?” She took a sip from her coffee before continuing. “You have no idea how many times us women are told to ‘deal with it’ when someone makes a nasty comment about our chest or ass. I feel like I just found a unicorn or something.” “My mom raised me to respect women, and some of my best friends went through this same sort of shit. Hell, my friend waiting for me in the car has one hell of a story about this subject,” he said, crossing his arms. “I just don’t see any damn sense in being a creep with no morals.” He turned and shouted back to the dumpster, “She ain’t gonna like you if you’re acting a fool, my man!” “Not that I needed saving or anything,” the girl remarked, “but, like, I can make an exception for you, I guess.” She grinned as she continued slowly sipping her drink. He held up his hands again. “No, no, I know that. You were giving this guy one hell of a beatdown before I decided to check things out. But I meant everything I said: I hate perverts, and I especially hate the crime in this city, so I wanna do something about it.” “Color me impressed.” She shifted from one foot to the other. “You’re off to a good start, I’d say.” He grinned, but it immediately faltered. “I don’t think I’m off to that good of a start when I’m too much of an ass to even ask your name.” He’d been so caught up in the euphoria of someone thinking his Loveless persona was cool that he’d forgotten basic manners. His mother would be ashamed of him. “It’s Ah-na. You know, spelled like Anna, but cooler.” “Cool as a popsicle.” He gave her an awkward thumbs up before almost immediately realizing he looked and sounded like a huge dork. Before he could say anything else, a voice called out from the entrance of the alley. “Hey, boss, you gonna introduce me to your girlfriend or what?” Lilith shouted. Jason sighed. “You know you don’t gotta call me ‘boss.’ We’re friends.” “But calling you ‘boss’ makes us sound like cool big shots instead of a mixed bag of nuts!” “Boss?” Anna lifted a brow. “Yeah!” Lilith said, skipping down the alley. “I’m his driver! Ever see that one movie where Ryan Gosling drives people around? You know, Drive? That’s me. I’m Ryan Gosling, but I don’t have a cool scorpion jacket. I do have a way nicer ass than he does, though.” She held out her hand to Anna. “The name’s Lilith.” “Anna Eckehard.’” The blue-haired girl shook Lilith’s hand briefly before tucking a loose strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear, which was decorated with several small silver hoops and two circular white jeweled studs. “Oooh, we’re doing last names too? Mine’s Crowley, like that crazy bald wizard guy. I might be related to him, honestly. That guy did fuck a lot…” Jason sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay Lilith, what are you doing down here?” Lilith shrugged. “I wanted to see if you were roping this girl into our crazy schemes or what.” “Crazy what now?” Anna instantly stared at her suspiciously. Lilith jerked her thumb at Jason. “Did he not give a speech to you about fighting crime and saving the city? He’s been practicing in front of the mirror every morning for weeks! Come on, man!” “Oh, yeah, no, he did.” She glanced at Jason and gave him a small, playful grin. “I guess I didn’t realize he was like, you know, actually doing it on a regular basis or anything.” “Are you kidding? This guy has me drive him around on his days off to look for criminals to kick the shit out of!” Lilith grinned and spread out her arms. “So, anyway! You wanna come on our crazy cool crusade against crusty creeps and crooked criminals?” Anna snorted. “Try saying that five times fast.” Without missing a beat, Lilith did so with perfection. “How’s that?” she smirked. Cocking her head to one side inquisitively, Anna asked Jason, “Is she always this fun?” Jason shook his head. “No. Sometimes she forces me to listen to Madonna in the car while driving fifty above the speed limit.” “Well I think that’s fun,” Lilith pouted. “Sounds more fun than what I usually do after work.” Anna shrugged and grinned. “I’m in.” Holy shit, Jason thought, his eyes widening. They’d actually managed to finally get someone else in on this. Lilith seemed to share his excitement. “Hell yeah!” she cheered, “Now there’s five of us!” “There’s more than just you two?” She resumed sipping her drink. “Yeah, my younger brother and a friend of ours we met a few months back,” Jason answered. “We’ve been doing good with just us four, but we’ve been kinda stuck trying to figure out how to break it big. Our endgame is to get in good with Ms. Mathers.” “Jemima Mathers: Hero of the City!” Lilith said dramatically as she struck a pose. “She’s tough on crime like Scruff McGruff, she’s unmatched in philanthropy, and she looks pretty damn fine for an old lady if I do say so myself.” “She’s only in her forties, girl,” Jason laughed. “Forty is the new fifty,” Lilith retorted. “Maybe. Probably not. You don’t pay me to think; you pay me to drive.” “Wait, do I get paid for this?” Anna’s eyes lit up with excitement. Jason nodded. “My brother will pay you whether you like it or not.” “Even better. So, what do I have to do?” “Help us kick the asses of people like dumpster boy over there.” He pointed back at the groaning, injured man who had finally crawled out and was covered in filth. “And I get paid for that?” She looked skeptical, but the grin on her face made it obvious she was sold on the idea. “Look, you’ll get it when you meet Valentine. You’ll take one look at him and be like ‘Yeah, this dude is crazy enough to pay me to kick the shit out of people,’ mark my words,” Lilith laughed as she headed out of the alley. “Now come on! We’re gonna take you back to the Batcave so you can get the grand tour, newbie!” Anna shrugged and started following her. As she walked out of the alley and into the sunlight, Jason noticed something on her face that hadn’t been visible in the dim shadows: a two inch long horizontal scar just under her left eye. “You got a scar too, huh?” Jason asked. “Everyone in this gang’s got one. It’s hard to miss Lilith’s or my friend Rika’s. Yours is kinda sneaky, though. I didn’t even notice it until just now. How’d you get it, if you don’t mind me asking?” Confused, Anna reached up to touch her face with her coffeeless hand, almost as though she’d entirely forgotten she had it. “Oh,” she started slowly, “this? It’s just from a stupid fight. I thought I knew what I was doing, but I didn’t, and the guy got the advantage on me. He had a knife, and I had nothing but my fists.” He nodded in solemn understanding. He’d had his fair share of injuries, though less from not knowing what he was doing and more from underestimating just how tough some of the thugs on the street could be. He’d picked up pretty quickly that if you were gonna fight crime in this city, you had to expect anything. “It probably makes me look way less attractive, right?” she pouted. “What? No, you look great, popsicle.” Did you really just call her that, Jason? Lilith snorted. “Popsicle? What, did you give her a lick and find out she tasted like blue raspberry?” “No, it’s cuz she’s cool,” Jason sighed. “You had to be there, I guess.” Lilith just shrugged. “Whatever you say, big guy. You wanna ride shotgun, Anna?” With a playful glint in her eyes, she answered, “Is it okay if I ride in the back?” Lilith gave her a wink. “Of course, girl. But make sure you buckle up.” Jason was beyond confused by this little exchange, but he seriously hoped Anna would heed her advice. If she didn’t buckle up, she was going to regret it. They got in the car and, almost as soon as their seatbelts were on, Lilith took off. Less than five minutes later, she screeched to a stop in the driveway of 1991 Loomer Street. “Well,” she said as she shut off the car, “here we are.” The house was seemingly normal, albeit slightly worn down and in need of light repairs. The grass in the front yard was a little overgrown (since Val was too lazy to mow the lawn), but overall their home had a charm to it that was more obvious on the inside. “Do you all, like, live here?” Anna asked as she stepped outside of the car. “Yeah,” Jason replied. “All four of us so far, though Lilith sometimes stays at her parent’s house or her sister’s apartment depending on what she’s up to. This house here belonged to my grandparents. They left it to my mother, but she never got a chance to obtain ownership, so it ended up being passed on to my little brother, who was next-in-line according to their will. This is where we run this operation from.” Anna didn’t look entirely impressed, but she smiled politely anyway. “Well, come on,” Jason said, gesturing for her to follow him, “I’ll show you around.” “And I’m going to look through all the unanswered texts from my sister!” Lilith exclaimed. “I bet she’s sending me pics of this male stripper from the club she goes to. She thinks I would totally be into the guy.” She paused for a short moment before adding, “And she’s absolutely right. I might have to ask her to bring me with her when she goes to ogle her friend so I can get at this man.” Anna rolled her eyes with an amused grin and followed Jason inside. “Yo!” he called out as they entered the house, “I’m back, and I got a new member for our team!” Rika, the young, fit Japanese woman he called his friend, dashed out of the living room. She was wearing a faded pair of jeans and a red T-shirt covered by a jean vest. She was stroking her long, spiky, fire engine red ponytail as she approached Anna. Standing in front of her, she tilted her head to one side curiously. “Oh, hello! Guess I’m not the newest member anymore.” She held out her hand to Anna. “I’m Rika.” Jason glanced at Anna with slight concern. He noticed her looking at the pale scars covering Rika’s left arm—she didn’t do too much to hide them. Thankfully, she didn’t say anything, opting instead to simply shake her hand in return. “Nice to meet you,” she smiled. “I’m Anna.” Rika gave a small, reserved smile in return. “I like your hair. It’s kinda funny... My hair’s red, Lilith’s is white, and yours is blue. We’re finally an All-American crime fighting team!” Before Anna could even open her mouth to reply, Jason’s little brother came cartwheeling down the front stairs like the colossal showboating dork that he was, finishing off his stunt with a flip through the air to land a foot away from Rika. “Howdy! I’m Valentine!” Jason shook his head in amusement. It was hard for him to believe, but Val had really stepped up his game with his gymnastic tricks; those classes he took seemed to have really paid off in the end. It wasn’t exactly what one would expect from a perpetually-smiling young man who looked like Michael Jackson did in the 80s, right down to wearing a jacket that appeared identical to the one in “Thriller,” but it was just one of the many things that made him unique. “Holy shit,” Anna exclaimed. “That was awesome! Where did you learn to do that?” “I took some classes! My brother said I was not fighting crime if I couldn’t handle myself!” “Yeah, yeah. Wish you didn’t know how to handle yourself. Would be one less thing to worry about...” Jason snorted. “Hey!” Val exclaimed. “You can’t expect me to not want to be Robin when you’re off playing Batman!” “Ooh, are we superheroes now?” Anna piped up. “Can I be Poison Ivy?” Val put his hands on his hips and looked at Anna as if she had just grown another head. “Um, excuse me? Poison Ivy is a villain, and we beat those up around here!” “Let’s just be random characters,” Lilith chimed in as she walked past, staring at her phone hungrily. “I wanna be Garfield. I fucking love lasagna, dude.” “I’m hopping on the cat theme! Let me be Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat!” Rika added. “Guys,” Val whined, “we’re supposed to be superheroes, not a bunch of cats!” “No, wait, I think they’re on to something,” Jason teased. “I wanna be a Thundercat; those guys were pretty ripped. What was the main guy’s name? Lion-O?” Val groaned loudly in response. “Wait, Catwoman is a superhero, right? Can I be her?” Anna laughed and glanced in Jason’s direction. “Bro, you suck. Stop encouraging everyone to be weird.” Val ran his hand through his hair and sighed. “...Okay, fine, I guess I’ll be Hello Kitty. Happy now, Jason?” Anna turned back around to face Val. “Aw, you’d make a cute Hello Kitty. I think a bow would look really nice in your hair!” The tone of her voice sounded playful and friendly, thankfully indicating she was being genuine and not teasing him. Val’s smile brightened. “I changed my mind, I like this girl. She knows what she’s talking about!” Jason tapped Anna’s shoulder. “Well, now that we’ve determined we’re all cats, want me to show you around?” “Yeah, sure,” she nodded, turning back around towards him once again. The front hallway wasn’t the best place to have a conversation, especially since she was caught in the middle with Rika and Val on one side and Jason on the other. “Alright guys, let’s spread out so I can show our new friend around!” Jason stated. Val and Rika moved out of the way and left Jason free to give her the grand tour. He showed her the cozy living room with its old, but functional, TV stand, the well-stocked kitchen (the only place in the house that was totally clean since he loved to cook), the backyard with its old tool shed, and, finally, the upstairs bedrooms. “That one’s Rika’s, that one’s Val’s, that one is where Lilith stays, and that one’s mine,” he said as he pointed each one out. “We had to repurpose a few rooms, but our grandparents were pretty well-off, so they’re all pretty spacious. Wasn’t too hard to set things up, and we even have a few rooms to spare.” “Dang, that’s really cool,” Anna admitted. “Your house is really neat, honestly.” “Thanks,” Jason grinned. “I have a lot of good memories here from when I was a kid. Making gingerbread cookies with Grandma at Christmas, watching the Shaft movies with Grandpa, playing out in the backyard with my sister…” He trailed off as the memories hit him with the strength of a freight train. God, did he miss his sister. He hadn’t seen her since the day he was released from prison and she’d told him that Val should go with him since he’d be better at keeping their little brother safe than she could (which was total bullshit since she was tough as nails and stronger than he could ever hope to be). Anna’s concerned voice cut through his pain. “Are you okay?” Jason shook his head. “No, yeah, I’m fine. Anyway... You, uh, wanna see my room? Can’t show you the others but I guess I can show you where I sleep.” The corners of her mouth curved upwards in a sly grin. He wasn’t entirely sure, but it almost looked like she was blushing. “Yeah, sure.” He led her down to the end of the hall and pushed open the door to his room. He didn’t think it was anything particularly special; he had a king-sized bed, a bookshelf filled with all sorts of classical literature, some posters of his favorite plays from high school hung up on the wall, and a black dresser with a cute blue stuffed poodle perched on top facing towards his bed. “Well, I don’t think it’s anything super special, but it’s still my space,” he admitted. “I like it,” she complimented. “It looks cozy.” He nodded in agreement, then gave her a curious look. “So, I get you probably deal with a lot of shit being a woman working in a city like this, but I gotta ask: What makes you want to fight crime so much you’d just jump in with me and the team like that? Cuz I got a feeling there’s something more to this than some creepy pervert trying to grab ass at the coffee shop.” The smile faded from her face, and she shoved the hand that wasn’t holding a now-empty cup in the pocket of her jeans. “It’s… complicated, really.” “Well, I’m willing to try and untangle what you throw at me if you’re willing to talk.” He moved over to his bed and sat down on the edge, patting the spot next to him as a sign for her to sit down as well. She pulled her hand back out of her pocket and did so. “You’ve probably never heard of him, but my dad used to be a pretty well-known lawyer. He was my hero, honestly. He helped put away a ton of criminals, and everyone at the law firm he worked at loved him. He got along pretty well with the police, too. Like, he was one of the best. “But, I mean, he pissed off quite a few people too. I can’t even tell you how many times someone would throw a brick through one of our windows or leave notes with threats on his car. I was always scared for him, but he always told me he’d be okay. And he was. Until he wasn’t.” “What happened?” “I don’t know.” She lowered her head and stared at her empty cup, absentmindedly playing with the straw. “He pissed off the wrong gang, I guess? Locked up someone pretty important to them? I was only twelve, so how could I possibly begin to understand what he did to deserve getting attacked? I still don’t know what they did. Dad never told me. But it had to have been pretty bad because he’s blind now. He was forced to retire, and now he stays at home with a live-in caretaker.” Jason clenched his fists. It was the sort of story he’d heard so many times before. “I’m sorry, Anna. That’s beyond fucked.” “That’s not even the worst part.” She lifted her head and stared at him with a furious expression on her face. “All his friends in the law firm? All the police he got along with? Not a single one even bothered to try to find who did this to him. They all turned their backs on my dad when he needed their help the most.” “It’s always shit like this, isn't it? Everyone working in law is too self-serving…” He could feel his anger rising too, and then, through the anger, an idea began to form. “These lawyers… Are you telling me they just threw your dad under the bus? That they might be in on this shit? Her eyes widened, and she looked completely dumbfounded. “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about it. Do you think they might have been?” “Maybe. I dunno. But with how shit the cops and lawyers in this city are…” He turned towards Anna and grinned. “You wanna find out? And if they are behind what happened to your dad, you wanna kick their asses?” A mischievous smirk appeared on her face. “Damn right I do.” “Well then, guess I’m gonna tell Lilith to go talk to her little Italian buddy with the connections and see what he can dig up.” Anna lowered her head again, the loose strands of her hair falling around her face. “You’d really do that for me? Even though we just met?” “Hell yeah, girl!” Jason exclaimed. “Someone’s gotta bring some justice to this damn city! And if this is really something, if there’s really a bunch of crooked lawyers… this might be just the thing to put this team on the map. And once we’re on the map, it’ll only be a matter of time before we can team up with Jemima Mathers and really be productive at kicking crime out of the city!” ****** Nothing was more satisfying to Jemima Mathers on a lovely Monday morning than punishing an incompetent mercenary. She’d given such simple directions, but he couldn’t manage even that. “How hard is it to keep track of one person?” she barked before backhanding the man, who was tied tightly to a wooden chair in the middle of her basement. He yelped in response. “Dozens more before you could, so what the hell is your excuse?” Behind her stood two men she trusted more than anyone else in Rhine City: Macavity, her personal bodyguard, and Ryo Amano, a wealthy restaurant owner who she’d befriended over the past few years. Ryo had loaned her one of his men for this job as it was a rather easy one and her own mercenaries were all tasked with jobs to accomplish over the weekend. She’d been extremely displeased to discover that morning that the man had failed to keep tabs on his target. Perhaps it was the person in question that ignited her fury further. Minerva Bright had been a thorn in her side for the past ten years. Miss Bright had once been an employee of hers, but she’d quit after refusing to do a very simple job. Ever since then, Jemima had been trying to run her out of town, particularly since she was afraid the woman would attempt to soil her reputation in the city. Jemima was, without a doubt, the richest and most powerful woman in Rhine City. She was seen as a guardian by the citizens; she was a protector who punished the criminals running amok and assisted the police department. The mayor of the city was useless, and the people deserved someone who was going to keep them safe. Yet all the money in the world was worth nothing when there was someone out there who threatened her good name. “Don’t go easy on him!” Ryo called out in a sing-song voice. “He knew what he was signing up for here! Very, very disappointed in him.” “Not exactly my place,” Macavity spoke out in his even British accent, “but considering who he was tailing, might want to cut him a little slack. Been ten years and we ain’t caught Minerva yet. How’d we think this stringbean would get her?” “I didn’t expect him to apprehend her,” Jemima explained. “I expected him to watch her. She was on the move again, and now we have absolutely no idea where she’s hiding.” Ryo let out a frustrated sigh and moved forward to the tied-up mercenary, grabbing his cheeks. “What is it I ask of all the people in my employ to do? Follow my orders and follow Ms. Mathers’ orders to the letter. And what, exactly, have you done? The exact fucking opposite,” Ryo hissed. The mercenary whimpered as Ryo squeezed his cheeks even harder before finally letting go and backhanding the man himself. “Fuck! I think I sprained my wrist, you little shit…” The Japanese man whirled back towards Jemima, a pleasant smile on his face. “I have no idea how you handle this sort of thing day in and day out, Jemima.” “Lots and lots of wine,” she joked with a light-hearted laugh before turning her attention back to the mercenary. “Whoever trained you should be absolutely disgusted with your abysmal performance. This is certainly not the quality I expect. You will find her location before the sun rises tomorrow morning, or there will be hell to pay. Do you understand me?” “I can tell you one thing for certain,” Ryo chuckled. “Kenzo sure didn’t train this guy. Where the hell even is he, Macavity? Is he still in the bathroom?” “Must be,” Macavity replied. Her bodyguard, a tall black man with impressive muscles that often intimidated almost everyone he met, stepped forward and looked down at the hapless mercenary, who shivered in genuine fear as the man peered at him from behind his dark glasses. “What you want me to do with this one, then? Get ‘em cleaned up and ready to work? Or we just leaving ‘em here for now?” “Leave him there for now. Perhaps he can use that time to ponder his next course of action. I believe my breakfast is waiting for me upstairs. Shall I have the table set for four, Mr. Amano?” He gave her a playful, casual shrug with a charming grin on his face. “How can I refuse such an offer?” "You can’t,” she answered with a laugh. “Especially not with the delicious ham and eggs I had the chef whip up. Shall I meet you in the dining room, then?” “Sure, sure, I think I just need a minute to make sure my man here is explained in crystal fucking clear terms what to expect if he messes this job up again,” Ryo politely waved to her. “You go on ahead, Jemima. And tell Kenzo to get down here if you see him. I promise, I won’t keep you waiting long.” She stared at him with a stern gaze. “Keep in mind my one rule, won’t you?” She smiled sweetly. “We never kill. Ever.” “Right, right, of course! I’m a sucker for rules, you know! Promise!” He pulled out an ornate gold pocket watch emblazoned with the letters “RA” with detailed depictions of thorny vines carved into it. “I’ll set this for just two minutes. That’ll be plenty enough time to talk sense into him.” “Very well.” She, with Macavity right behind her, turned towards the thick concrete staircase and ascended to the main floor. Waterfall Springs Villa was a massive three-story mansion that sat in one of the richest neighborhoods in the city. She had few neighbors, all of whom owned large homes of their own. The privacy was perfect for a woman of her status, and there was more than enough room for her to house a full staff and yet still have plenty of space for unexpected guests (not that she generally had any). “Please see to it that the table is set for the four of us, Macavity,” she instructed, waving a hand dismissively as she made her way to the small first floor bathroom. With the door closed behind her, she quickly washed the blood from her knuckles, which had started to swell and bruise, an unfortunate side effect of the discipline she’d dished out. With a sigh, she gazed at her reflection in the gold-rimmed mirror hanging on the beige sandy bathroom wall above the white porcelain sink. Her older age was quickly catching up with her, likely because of the stress her work brought. Soft wrinkles had begun to set into the almond brown skin on her face. Though she was able to cover them up with foundation and makeup, she knew they were there. Her hair was beginning to grey as well, turning the lovely chestnut brown color into an ashy bistre. It wasn’t as noticeable when she tied her hair into a neat bun at the top of her head fortunately. That’s life, I suppose, she thought to herself sadly. Whether she liked it or not, she was going to continue to age. She pushed her grey-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose and straightened her black pantsuit before leaving the bathroom and walking towards the dining room. A thin, tall Japanese man with a very serious face nearly bumped into her. “Ah, forgive me, Ms. Mathers. I expect you are done with your guest?” “Indeed,” she replied. “Mr. Amano is still in the basement and wishes to see you.” “Very well.” With a slight bow, he headed in the direction of the lower floor, leaving Jemima alone once more. Macavity, as expected, was already in the dining room, standing behind his seat and waiting politely. “I know what you’re going to say,” she sighed as she entered. She’d known him for ten years now, during which they’d become friends (though she’d never admit it out loud). He was, without a doubt, the best member of her staff. She’d met him while dining one evening at Ryo’s restaurant. At the time, Macavity had been a cook. It wasn’t typical for the kitchen staff to be in the dining area of the restaurant, but Jemima was quite glad he had been. Apparently, a newer server asked him for help delivering a large order to one of her tables. Coincidentally, at the same time, someone tried stealing her purse. As Jemima had been wearing heels, pursuing the thief was nearly impossible, but Macavity quickly chased him down and retrieved her bag. She’d been so impressed that she demanded he work for her as her personal bodyguard. Naturally, spending so much time together meant they grew quite close. While this had its benefits, as he was able to anticipate her needs before she was even aware of them, he also became her voice of reason (often when she really didn’t want it). “Which thing?” he asked with subtle amusement. “‘Boss, you really shouldn’t have busted that guy up so bad if you want him working the next day,’ or ‘Bloody hell, I’m glad I don’t work for that guy anymore?’” She contemplated these answers before admitting, “Both.” He snorted. “Think you might have psychic powers, boss. Or maybe I’m just too predictable these days.” “I’ve known you for nearly a decade, Macavity,” she pointed out as she took her seat at the head of the rectangular oak table. “You’re too predictable as far as I’m concerned.” He simply shrugged. “Long as I can keep you safe, don’t much care how predictable I am.” Ryo marched into the room shortly after, Kenzo by his side, and slammed his pocket watch shut. “Ah, just in time! The gang’s all here now!” “Excellent.” She smiled and gestured to their seats, inviting them to sit. “I’m starving.” She turned her head towards the swinging white oak door that led to the adjoining kitchen. “Breakfast please, Juan.” Almost immediately, a middle-aged Hispanic man, dressed in a classic white chef’s outfit, entered through the door with a younger man following behind him who looked almost identical. His teenage son was working as his apprentice during the summer to learn culinary art skills. Jemima had been quite happy to take him on in a summer position. She loved fine food and was quite glad to provide the youth with such opportunities whenever possible. Juan and his son dished out seasoned scrambled eggs and pieces of honey-glazed ham onto each plate and filled their glasses with passion fruit juice before returning to the kitchen. The food looked and smelled divine. Juan was an amazing chef and excelled at his job. But, of course, her staff contained only the best of the best. She deserved nothing less than that. Lifting her glass, she gazed at her guests and said, “A toast to our success in finding Minerva Bright once again and driving her from this city for once and for all!” “Hear, hear,” Ryo grinned, lifting up his glass, followed by Macavity and Kenzo silently doing the same. They all took a sip of their juice before digging into their food. It tasted as delicious as it looked, and Jemima lost herself in the exquisite flavors. I will accept failure no more, she thought with a satisfied smile. I will find Minerva, and I will ensure she leaves. I will not have my name tarnished by such a selfish woman. ******
Victoria Akdemir was often lost in memories of the past; today was no different. Though she appeared to be standing by the floor-length windows in her bedroom watching something outside, her mind was elsewhere. Today, she was reliving a memory of a dinner she and Dracula had shared. It was shortly after he asked for her hand in marriage. They had celebrated with the finest wine and their closest friends. The happiness she’d felt at the time and the smile on his face made her chest tighten in pain. It had been exactly 127 years since he had been killed in front of her, and, yet, she still was unable to move on. Many members of the coven whispered behind her back where they thought she was unable to hear them. Many believed she was too lost in her grief and needed to put him to rest, so to speak. It was so easy for them to say considering almost all of the current members did not even know him personally; they’d merely heard stories. But she’d known him better than anyone else, and now he was gone. Or that’s what most believed. Deep down, she knew he would return, but how and when, she did not know. And every day since his death, her very soul ached to be near him again. A gentle knock at the door drew her attention back to reality. “Miss Victoria?” came Macheath’s voice from the other side. “I brewed you some tea.” She hastily wiped the tears, which she hadn’t been aware had fallen from her hazel-colored eyes, and turned towards the door. She quietly cleared her throat, then announced, “Enter.” Macheath entered the room dressed in their uniform from the bar they worked at. They were one of the few who still remembered the old days and understood Victoria’s pain. They had been in Dracula’s school, joining shortly after their turning. Macheath Sharpe had once been a roguish highwayman who had robbed and plundered travelling nobles. Eventually, however, their misdeeds had caught up with them, and they were thrown in jail. As a result, they were disowned by their family. The jailor had apparently been a vampire who turned them for unsavory purposes, but she and Dracula had managed to rescue them before anything untoward had happened. Being turned, however, was quite beneficial for Macheath as their power allowed them to shapeshift. Prior to being turned, they had struggled with their identity. Though it hadn’t been an immediate discovery, eventually, they had found a form they were comfortable with (the one they currently wore). Watching Macheath gain self-confidence over the years brought a smile to Victoria’s face, albeit a small one considering her constant state of misery. “Figured you might want something before I head out to work, and all…” they said, gently placing the mug of tea down on her bedside table. “Also, uh. Might want to go downstairs soon. Matt and Sakura are at it again, her sister is scared, and Eric’s trying his best but it’s not doing much, to be honest.” She, quite honestly, did not have the energy for this. Then again, she never did. Though she knew deep down this was not the life Dracula would want her to live, it was hard not to be trapped in a never-ending state of sorrow. Without him by her side, she felt lonely and lost. Regardless, she picked up the mug and took a sip. Macheath had prepared her favorite: warm chamomile tea with honey. “I will see it is taken care of. Thank you, Macheath.” She offered them a smile, though she knew it likely wasn’t very convincing. Macheath gave her an understanding nod in return, then politely backed out of the room. For the next few minutes, Victoria sipped her tea slowly. It felt comforting and would likely give her the strength and patience she needed to deal with Sakura and Matt. She was, after all, the leader of the coven now in Dracula’s absence. It was her duty to ensure the members behaved. Once her tea was gone, she set the mug on her bedside table and began walking through the house to the living room. Hawthorne Manor was not her first choice of a home, but it provided just what the coven needed: safety. The house was old and decrepit; the mortals of Rhine City barely gave it a second glance. It’s location, in a small, quiet neighborhood, and the rumors that lingered about the manor being haunted kept most mortals away. Still, she would have rather had a much more elegant setting. She knew this house was not what Dracula would want for the coven, but Victoria opted for safety over beauty. They’d been here for several decades already without incident. Unlike previous homes they’d had, the coven had yet to be discovered in Rhine City. Hawthorne Manor was safe, and it was, unfortunately, home. The sounds of an argument echoed down the hall; even from this distance, she could tell it was Sakura and Matt bickering as they often did. Both Matt and Sakura joined the coven about a decade ago. Sakura Himura and her sister, Yuriko, had apparently wandered the Earth doing as they pleased for quite a long time. Sakura often spoke of the Satsuma Rebellion with the bitterness of someone who was there, which would mean she and her sister were over 150 years old at least. Not that she would admit it, but she preferred the shy, devout Yuriko to her brash, loud-mouthed, and more bitter sister. As for Matt Black, he was a much younger vampire who had more humble roots. He had been a wanderer and a hitchhiker, traveling America to hang out at various bars and attend a number of concerts. His turning occured in the 90’s, and he had wandered about until he had found the coven and settled for the safety of Hawthorne Manor. Unfortunately, much like Sakura, he had a tendency to be foul-mouthed and raucous and doubly unfortunate was his long-standing rivalry with Sakura. The two frequently butted heads over the most inane of subjects. Dracula, grant me strength from wherever you rest, she thought to herself as she reached the ground floor and entered the living room. With the loudest and most authoritative voice she could muster, she asked, “What is going on in here?” Sakura whirled around, her glassy, clouded eyes sightlessly fixating on her. She gave Victoria an overconfident grin. “I was just trying to politely inform Matt that a samurai could take out a cowboy any day of the week.” Victoria was silently thankful she was unable to see the sheer exhaustion that was, no doubt, etched on her face from having to deal with this. On the other side of the room was Matt, silently fuming while his face turned red with irritation; standing closer to the wall behind Matt was Yuriko, who was nervously tapping her fingers together with awkward discomfort on her face (a common sight when she became stressed due to her sister’s belligerent tendencies); and finally, standing with his arm wrapped around Yuriko’s shoulders in a comforting manner, was Eric Madden. Eric was another younger member of the coven, having voluntarily joined in the late 90’s so that he could be around others of his own kind and ensure the safety of his mortal family. He had been rather distant at first, but, eventually, he warmed up to the other members and became a more active and popular member. Victoria sighed in irritation and rubbed her temple. “We have discussed your anger management before, have we not? It is possible to have a debate without shouting. Need I remind you we all have heightened senses and can hear the two of you from several rooms away?” “Do you know how irritating it is to hear your life’s passion be so disrespected? Some punk with a gun could not beat a samurai!” Sakura grumbled. As usual, Sakura’s anger stemmed from her irritation at Western culture. It had always seemed like there was some underlying heartache to her bitterness towards the West, but Victoria had never had the emotional capacity to try and understand it in all the time she’d known her, something she was rather ashamed to admit. “Maybe I wouldn’t need to disrespect it if it wasn’t lame as shit!” Matt snapped. “Both of you will refrain from further outbursts or I will be forced to take unwanted action.” She stared at both of them sternly, though she knew only one was likely to be affected by it. As expected, Matt took a few deep breaths and muttered a sheepish, embarrassed apology. Sakura, meanwhile, continued her tirade. “I’m always the damn villain around here. Where’s your best pal, Roarke? Can’t you pick on him instead? He probably did something wrong.” Roarke’s very existence was wrong, but she wasn’t about to voice that. She’d taken on the same principle Dracula had whenever a vampire wished to join the coven: So long as they weren’t untrustworthy, they were welcome in with open arms. This applied to even the most intolerable vampires, like the pretty boy who was infamous for sleeping with as many women as possible. “Fuck’s sake, Sakura, leave Roarke alone,” Eric snapped. “And can you maybe just accept you’re being a bit of a hothead and apologize? Whatever, Matt doesn’t like samurai, there’s no damn reason to be causing a huge fucking scene over it!” Sakura’s entire face fell, any ounce of confidence she might have had vanishing. Eric was one of the few people Sakura actually liked in the coven, and hearing such anger in his voice was clearly not enjoyable for her. “A-Alright,” she mumbled. “I’m… I’m sorry, Queen Bee. Sorry, sis, and Eric… and… Matt.” She said the last bit through gritted teeth before holding out her arm and staring down at the floor. “Sis, can you take me up to see Carlos, please? I think I need to cool down for a bit.” Yuriko gently pulled herself from Eric’s grip and took her sister’s arm. She gave Victoria a polite bow. “I’ve got this from here, Victoria. I’m sorry Sakura was such a bother. She’s a bit too excitable sometimes.” She gave her a sweet smile before leading her cantankerous sister slowly out of the room. With that settled, Victoria quietly left the living room and started up the stairs to return to her bedroom. This little interaction had taken up all of the patience and energy she had. However, upon reaching her bedroom door, she was stopped by a voice calling to her from further down the hallway. “Hey! Mom!” She turned to see Dahlia, her youngest daughter, skipping towards her. The dark cloud that lingered over Victoria’s head lightened ever-so-slightly. With her freckled face, lightly tanned skin, and blonde hair that cascaded down her shoulders, Dahlia was like a sunflower given human form, always ready to clear away the darkness with a warm smile. Victoria had greatly appreciated her daughter for sticking by her side, even as she kept to herself and, unfortunately, neglected to spend much time with her after Dracula’s death. “Hello, dear,” she answered her, aware of the fatigue in her voice. She really did try to appear cheerful for Dahlia. The last thing she wanted was to worry her daughter anymore than she likely was. Within a moment, Dahlia embraced her. “How’re you doing today? Cuz, honestly, you sound beat as all hell.” Victoria wrapped her arms around Dahlia and held her close. “I am, my dear. It is... not a good day for me.” This was really a moot statement as no day had been good for her since she lost her beloved, something Dahlia knew well, but she attempted a smile regardless to put on a brave face for the girl. Victoria had borne two children in her old life before she was turned, but she never felt an emotional connection to them. It was simply part of her duty as a slave; she’d had no choice in the matter. But her relationship with Dahlia was different. They weren’t that different in age, with Victoria only being a year older at an eternal age of 20, but that didn’t stop her from taking on the role of her mother. “Well, it might seem tough right now, but I promise you, things will pick up! I can feel it in my heart!” Dahlia beamed. Dahlia’s eternal optimism baffled Victoria, but it was also one of the things she loved most about her. Dahlia had been the daughter of plantation owners in the American South. She did all she could for her parents’ slaves, even making sure to look the other way and aiding some of them when they escaped. And even when she found out that her family had been selling slaves to feed the vampiric Confederate slave master, Cyrus Lovelace, she kept a brave face, helping as many as possible escape from that grisly fate before Lovelace caught her, turned her, and planned to sell her off as a slave herself, an immortal and indestructible one who could be used for the most depraved of purposes. Even when confronted with such horrors, she stayed defiant and strong, a strength rewarded when Victoria and Dracula saved her from Lovelace and drove him into hiding. Her willingness to stay brave in the face of adversity often gave Victoria comfort. Victoria smiled softly as she released Dahlia from their hug. “My days are always better when I see your smiling face.” “You know what would make your day even better than that? Going outside!” Dahlia gently tugged at her hand. “Come on, come on! Get some fresh air with me!” “I don’t have the energy for an outing, my dear.” Truthfully, it would probably do her some good as she hadn’t left the manor in years. Dahlia pouted. “But it’ll be fun! And you need some of that for sure! Come on, we can at least walk around the yard a bit or something!” She really wanted to tell her no and return to the safety of her room, where she could hide and be lost in her memories for as long as she wished, but it was quite difficult to refuse Dahlia when she was so insistent. With a small sigh, she gave in. “Very well.” Dahlia leapt into the air with joy. “Some fresh air’ll help clear your mind! Come on!” She practically dragged Victoria through the hall, down the staircase, and to the back door, which she flung open with unbridled excitement only to be greeted by a peculiar figure standing right in front of them on the porch. It was a woman who appeared to be in her mid-twenties. She was dressed in a strange arrangement of items: a green top hat with a purple ribbon tied around it rested atop her messy brown pixie cut; a dark green vest covered her top with a white dress shirt underneath, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows; a black and green checkerboard-patterned thigh high skirt; black fingerless gloves on her hands; and a pair of knee-high vibrant green boots. She seemed to be humming something to herself, rocking back and forth on her heels happily. It almost seemed as if she had been waiting for them to appear. It took her a moment to process exactly who she was seeing, as she had last seen the woman in 1887. Any doubt this was who she believed it to be was eradicated when she saw those blue-green eyes, with the left pupil being smaller than her right. “Rose?” Dahlia and Victoria exclaimed in unison. “‘Ello!” Rose chirped. Rose Millner was not a coven member Victoria particularly liked, though she didn’t like most of the current members. However, it wasn’t her disdain towards the woman that made her appearance on the Hawthorne Manor doorstep odd. Rather, it was the fact that she’d been missing since Dracula’s school was destroyed. “Sorry I didn’t call ahead of time! Would’ve been dangerous, it would! People on my tail, people on my trail... I had to come in person to deliver this news, I did! You want the good news first, or the bad news first?” Victoria didn’t want any news, really, but saying such would be irresponsible. With a sigh, she crossed her arms over her chest and stared expectantly at the woman. She was in no mood for Rose’s games. Rose continued to rock back and forth on her heels and hum happily, watching Victoria with increasing curiosity. “Well?” she finally demanded. “You didn’t tell me what you wanted first! I ain’t a mind reader! Wait! I am!” She giggled hysterically at this. Rose could indeed read minds, being a powerful telepath among other mental powers. In fact, she often heard other’s thoughts involuntarily, gleaning details most would not wish known by accident. This was something that could only be ameliorated (but not cured) by keeping her well-fed and in good spirits. Yet another reason she was not particularly happy to see her; she did not need anyone prying into her private thoughts. Immediately, she steeled her mind to attempt to prevent Rose from intruding on her constant sorrow. “I apologize, Dahlia, but it appears we will need to postpone our outing. Please come inside, wouldn’t you, Rose? This is, after all, your home too, yes?” Rose looked stunned. “It… It is? You’re okay with that?” “You’re a member of this coven, aren’t you? Unless, of course, you’ve joined another since we’ve last seen you.” “Course not! Who else would want me?” Her joking tone was betrayed by a sad look in her eyes. Victoria and Dahlia stepped back to allow the woman to come inside. She led them to the living room, which had emptied since the argument just moments before. Exhausted all over again, she sat down on the couch. Dahlia joined her, and Rose sat in an adjoining chair that, unfortunately, didn’t match the couch whatsoever (something that irritated Victoria, but she’d never been in the right mind to acquire a matching set to replace them). “Rose,” Victoria sighed, “please just tell me whatever it is you need to tell me.” “The snake’s got the last amulet,” Rose replied quickly. “Stole it from Raz, she did. I wouldn’t have known if she didn’t have some vampire killers try and tail me.” Closing her eyes, Victoria inhaled a deep breath slowly. This was not what she wanted to hear at all. Possessing the amulets of each member of the last Order of the Black Orchard would allow Eve to regain her full power, as it had been trapped and divided among the seven amulets by Dracula and Yefim Rasputin shortly before the former’s death. “But I got some good news too! Ain’t all doom and gloom from Rose! Raz found this down in Hong Kong, in the hands of some old killer who he liberated it from!” Victoria opened her eyes in time to see Rose remove her hat and reach inside it. She rummaged around for a moment before her face lit up, and she pulled something small and dark out. “Ta-da!” she exclaimed, using her telekinesis to levitate the item across the room and present it to her. It was a pitch-black ring inlaid with a shining ruby, undoubtedly the work of Rhiannon Rhydderch, a covenless Welsh blood mage and jeweler. She recognized it instantly, but she was too afraid to touch it. Was it real? Was it just a cruel joke? Could the legends, rumors, and hushed tales really be true? In a breathless whisper, she asked, “Is this...?” Rose nodded excitedly. “Take it! Take it! Put it on!” With a trembling hand, Victoria reached out and picked up the ring, her heart aching as she slipped it onto her finger. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, in the back of Victoria’s mind, an unmistakable voice rang out, the voice of her beloved Dracula who so many had long presumed dead. “...Victoria...” Her ringless hand rushed to cover her mouth, muffling a gasp, as tears rushed to her eyes. It couldn’t be... could it? She knew that voice very well, and she missed it dearly. Dahlia looked at her, startled. “Mom, what happened?” Rose smiled brightly. “There’s a way. A way to get him back, there is.” “What?” she breathed in disbelief. They were the exact words she had waited what felt like a lifetime to hear, but she couldn’t believe it. Was she really right all this time? Next to her, Dahlia gasped in disbelief, understanding dawning in her eyes. “Holy shit…” “Probably got a lot of questions, you do. Ask away! I got lots of answers! Raz gave me some!” Rose chirped. “How?” she whispered. “How do we bring him back?” Rose sighed. “Well, that’s the tricky bit, it is. Raz told me we need the blood of those who killed him in the first place! We need blood from a Moore, a Starr, a Quincey, a Carter, a Lovett, a Dangerfield and, um…” She paused nervously. “...Marianna.” All hope she’d had just a moment ago shattered completely. How in the world were they going to accomplish that? Finding one from each of the families of vampire killers and extracting blood from them was tricky enough, but Marianna Cross, the one who had dealt the final blow to her betrothed, as well? In her opinion, that wretched woman was as bad as Eve. Pinning her down long enough to get even a drop of blood would be nearly impossible. She hated how weak she felt in the presence of anyone, let alone Rose, but she couldn’t fight back the oncoming tears. She’d never be able to embrace him again and feel the warmth of his body, would she? The black ring on her finger seemed to warm for a moment and then fade; an odd feeling passed over her, as if someone had just gently caressed her cheek. Faintly, in the back of her mind, quiet as a whisper, came Dracula’s voice yet again. “Do not... give up... my love.” She knew he was right, and his quiet encouragement made her nod her head slowly. It wasn’t impossible, but it would take very careful planning. Dracula had chosen her because he believed in her. She lifted one hand to wipe away the tears, then mentally steadied herself. There was more information she needed from Rose. “What happened to Grigori?” Victoria asked. “I do not believe for one moment he’s truly dead.” “He... He covered for me when the snake came. Gave me time to escape with the ring, but I heard fighting back up the mountain when I fled, and since the killers were on my tail...” She shook her head. “I know he’ll be back, but it’s not fair. He should be here too now, he should.” Victoria nodded her head slowly as she processed this. Rasputin was alive somewhere, and he likely needed their help. Unfortunately, the coven was in no state to search for him, so all she could do was hope he could survive long enough to find them. “Is there anything else I need to know?” Rose nodded. “Yep! You got two extra rooms? This bit’s important for what I’m gonna tell you next.” There was a very excited smile on Rose’s face. “We have plenty of extra rooms,” she answered cautiously. “Well, to get out of Europe, had to go to a Silverwing base, and I figured, why not stop by the one where Teach’s old school was? Francis and Winston say hi, by the way! But I think there’s someone there you’d rather hear about, you would! And when I told her all this that I told you, she said she was going to come and help!” “Who?” she asked, completely perplexed. “Nadia!” Rose exclaimed. “Surprise! She’s on the way here!” Tears rushed to Victoria’s eyes again. “Nadia…?” She hadn’t seen her eldest daughter since Dracula died. Nadia had hidden away for reasons similar to Victoria: heartbreak. Though she had received the occasional letter from her daughter, it simply wasn’t the same as being able to speak with her, hug her, and spend time in person with her. Dahlia leapt out of her seat with excitement. “Sis is coming back?!” “She is, she is, she is! And she has ideas, and schemes, and…” Rose looked at Victoria and gave her a gentle smile. “And she feels awful ‘bout leaving you. She wants to make it up to you by doing this thing here.” For the first time in a very long time, Victoria felt a genuine smile on her face. “I believe I owe you a sincere apology for my poor behavior, Rose. No matter what state of agony I may be in, it is no excuse for the way I treated you when you finally came back to us.” “I… I’m just happy to have a home again,” Rose said, her eyes shifting downward to avoid looking her in the eyes. “It’s been too long, it has. I just hope we can save Teach. Maybe my brother, too. I got hope again cuz of all this.” “Dahlia,” Victoria started as she slowly rose to her feet, “can you please help Rose settle into a room? I… I would like to retire to my room.” “Of course, Mom.” Dahlia gently took Rose’s hand. “Come on, hun. Let’s find you a nice little room to call your own!” Her daughter dragged Rose off, leaving her alone once again. And yet, she was not truly alone. Dracula was there, even in a small way. They would be together again soon. After living in sorrow for so long, they would finally be reunited. She absentmindedly rubbed the ring as she made her way to her bedroom. I promise you, my love, I will do everything I can to ensure you’ll be with us again.
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12/22/2020 0 Comments PrologueSunday April 23, 2017 It had been a long time since Grigori Rasputin had entertained guests, though not just because of the amusing little incident in 1916. For the past 13 years, he had been on the run as his worst enemies had finally caught up with too and had been pursuing him ever since. Moving from place to place, never staying anywhere too long, he had spent over a decade in hiding. As frustrating as it was for a social man like himself, he had to hide to protect his surviving friends and family. It was too risky to get close to anyone.
But on his last excursion down the mountains to acquire the liquid all vampires needed to sustain themselves—that is, to say, blood—he saw someone for the first time since his days in school in the late 1800s: a woman named Rose Milliner. He was so shocked by her presence that he had almost accidentally severed the artery of the purse snatcher serving as his meal. She was standing at the entrance to the alley he was in, and he might have thought she was a mirage if she hadn’t called out “Raz?” in a tone that sounded as surprised as he’d felt. When he finally stood up and approached her, he knew for certain it was her as her left pupil was smaller than her right. It was medically known as mechanical anisocoria, a physical trait that carried over from her mortal life. He had not considered inviting her back to his cabin at first as he was content to quickly catch up before she fell into danger due to his presence; the absolute last thing he wanted was for her to get hurt, especially since that would invoke the wrath of her brother (someone far scarier than any of his enemies). However, during their chat, Rose let slip a bit of information that gave him pause: she was in contact with what remained of Dracula’s coven and knew their whereabouts. And just like that, for the first time in one-hundred years, Rasputin had felt a joyous wave of hope wash over him. He invited her back to his cabin to continue talking. After a long trek up a snowy mountain, he made steaming hot tea for both of them, which they slowly sipped as he prepared to tell her extremely good news. “Why’d we have to come here, Raz?” Rose shivered. The poor girl was not used to the cold like he was and, even bundled up by the fire, she seemed a bit uncomfortable. “It’s too chilly, it is.” “Because, I must give you something, and I leave it in this cabin, for obvious reasons.” “Give? You have a gift for me?” Rose asked curiously. “What is it? You haven’t thought about it yet, you haven’t.” “That is because I do not wish for our serpentine friend to find it,” Rasputin said quietly. “Though I am certain she will catch up to me soon. Which is all the more reason I give you this. Wait here, alright? I will be back in but a moment.” Rasputin stood up and quickly made his way down to the cellar. He shimmied past various barrels and crates filled with food until he reached a shelf resting against the back wall. He quickly shoved the shelf to the side and pushed what appeared to the unsuspecting eye to be a loose brick. On the contrary, however, this was not a brick but a button to open a slab of fake wall, which gave entry to his hidden study. Through the years, he had collected many mysterious and magical objects of varying degrees of impressiveness: crystal balls, ouija boards, golem activation scrolls… Yet, he had always thought the crown jewel of his collection was the severed head of his father’s old colleague, Gordon Ruthven, which, even now, was glaring at him from behind the glass case he was trapped in, surely wishing he could curse Rasputin out. But he had recently found something far, far more amazing than even the head of a member of the last Order of the Black Orchard. While visiting Hong Kong, he had come across an old vampire killer and discovered, in his possession, an item legends said had been crafted over a century ago by the blood mage jeweler Rhiannon Rhydderch. It was the ring of Dracula. He had always thought it to be nothing more than a desperate hopeful rumor that the Silverwings had concocted as they tried to save face in the wake of their most dismal of failures, but there it had been, guarded by a miserable old miser and his two sons. Rasputin had managed to walk away not only with the ring, but with a fresh new body as well, which his power had slowly transformed into his normal, bearded self within the month. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the pitch black ring, complete with a dazzling ruby. He slipped it on his finger and concentrated, praying that he wasn’t insane and that this was exactly what he thought it was (something he had done many times by now because he could scarcely believe the truth). The weak, but familiar, voice of his old teacher rang out in his mind. “Grigori…” whispered Dracula. With an ecstatic grin and an extended middle finger to Ruthven’s severed head, he ran back upstairs, though not before carefully covering the secret entrance back up. Rose’s eyes immediately widened as he approached. Her powerful, involuntary telepathy most certainly heard exactly what he was thinking. She extended a nervous, quivering finger and pointed to the ring. “T-Teach…?” Rasputin nodded enthusiastically. “Dracula yet lives! And there is a way to revive him to his full form!” Rose leapt from her seat, her chills seemingly forgotten as a big smile came to her face. “We gotta tell Vicky! She’ll be so happy, she will!” Rasputin laughed. “We will! Or you will, at least! I should not leave so long as I hold father’s amulet, lest I attract undue attention to the coven. Ah, but still! It is a stroke of luck I even found you, Rose! I suppose it is truly as Amadeus would say, ‘everything happens fo—’” A knock on the door caused him to freeze instantly. No one ever came this far up the mountain besides him, which is why he had made his base here. This could only mean one thing: they’d found him. He grabbed Rose’s shoulders. “Listen to the instructions in my head. You must run, do you hear? Get this ring to Victoria, wherever she is, and tell her everything.” He thought the information she needed to know as hard as he could, then pointed to the cellar. “There is an escape tunnel hidden behind the barrels on the left-hand side. Use it!” With a frightened nod, Rose dashed down to the cellar while Rasputin straightened himself up and slowly headed to the door. He prayed he could buy Rose enough time to escape. He pulled the door open and quickly stepped back. If it was who he expected, they would not be able to enter. Peering out the open doorway, it was just as he expected. Standing outside in the snow were two people. In a classy blue-and-white winter ensemble was a sad-looking woman with short blonde hair and tired, beautiful blue eyes that he remembered once sparkled with youthful energy and joy, joy that was now muted by years of service to the fallen angel, Eve. Next to her, clad in a dark purple coat, was a man who had always mystified those who saw him. His dark hair, neatly trimmed facial hair, caramel-colored eyes, and brown skin made him seem as though he were Middle Eastern or Egyptian… and yet, at the same time, he clearly was not. There was a fleeting sense of familiarity to his features none could truly place, and he had a name as equally mysterious as he, himself, was. Rasputin grinned and spread his arms wide. “Marianna! Amon! It has been far too long! I would invite you in, but, well… I do not want either of you in my house!” Amon smirked at this. Marianna, meanwhile, stepped forward, wringing her hands nervously right at the edge of his doorway—as far as a vampire could go uninvited. “Rasputin, please,” she said softly. “We don’t want to fight. Just give us the amulet, and we’ll go.” Rasputin shook his head. “No can do! But, perhaps, I could interest you in the head of Lord Ruthven? He’s in my basement. Shall I fetch him?” “So that’s where he went,” Amon chuckled. “Grigori, you are quite the sly dog. Like father, like son, I suppose.” “Rasputin, she’s here. She’s going to come, and she’s not going to… She won’t be lenient. Please, I can’t bear to see you die,” Marianna pleaded. “We were friends once.” Rasputin shook his head. “Still are. I do not give up on my friends, no matter how misguided they become.” Marianna seemed utterly taken aback by this, stepping backwards with her hand over her chest until she bumped into Amon. The man put gentle, reassuring hands on her shoulders as her eyes began to water. She opened her mouth to speak, but was immediately cut off by an all-too-familiar greeting. “Why, hello there!” A chill ran down Rasputin’s spine as the source of the voice slithered into view. Eve, or Samael as she had been known once. The creator of vampirism, who had orchestrated Dracula’s death when he dared to oppose her wicked ways. “Ah, Sammy!” Rasputin exclaimed, trying his best to quell his fears as he faced the demon. “You look lovely as ever!” This, of course, was a lie; she looked absolutely rotten and corroded, as if she were a zombie. Patches of her skin were missing, revealing bones and a purple glow from within her body, and one of her eyes was missing. Her rattle, once gleaming and silver, was now crumpled and dull, and the crown of horns on her head was chipped and cracked. Perhaps the only parts of her that were remotely the same was the long, silver scar that went down her belly and her massive fangs, which glistened with one of her potent venoms. “Oh, you flatter me!” she hissed, her tone pleasant but her voice ragged and hoarse. “You also lie. You’re absolutely terrible at it. I know I look dreadful right now. That’s why I need you to hand over your father’s amulet, Grigori. You heard Marianna. Give it to me, and we’ll leave in peace.” He didn’t believe this for a second. Thankfully, Eve could not come in the house uninvited either, thanks to the curses his father had placed on her. So long as he didn’t speak her true name, she had to sit out in the snow with her cohorts. He was “safe”, relatively speaking, but he was sure she had a few tricks up her nonexistent sleeves. “I don’t know, Sammy, I am quite attached to it. It’s a gift from my father, after all. You understand, right?” “Not at all,” she replied. “But, you know, I suppose I can’t blame you for wanting to cling to your past like that. Cling to a better world, one where your precious little teacher walked about, defying my will... Thankfully, Marianna put an end to that, hm?” She wrapped her decaying tail around the woman’s legs. Marianna shivered in disgust, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “And why would she do such a thing?” He pointed at Eve. “You. And this is why you don’t get the amulet. You, Sammy, are a mean old bitch.” Eve stared at him for a moment, then threw back her head and let out a raspy, hissing cackle. “Oh, you are too funny! Say, do you want me to tell that joke to your little friend fleeing down the mountain? Or would you rather me just kill her and save the jokes for someone else?” Shit, he thought, sweat coming to his brow despite the cold weather. “You… Your issues are with me, not her. Leave her be.” It was a dumb thing to ask, but it was worth a shot. Eve tapped her chin with her tail. “Hmmm, well, that’s the thing, isn’t it? You can either let her die and keep the amulet, or you can give me the amulet and let her live. The choice is yours!” “And why should I trust you?” “You have my word, Rasputin,” Amon stated clearly. “I would think this girl is more useful to us alive, anyway. If that was who I think it is, she might very well lead us right to Dracula’s coven. Perhaps I’ll send the big vampire killer families to tail her…” Internally, Rasputin smirked. Unbeknownst to them, this was exactly agreeable enough for him to acquiesce slightly. “Well, I guess I cannot argue with that. Which of you wishes to go and get it? Oh, right, you can’t!” Eve was muttering something quickly and quietly, then gave Rasputin a cheerful look with her good eye. “Oh, we have someone who can.” Rasputin looked at her, confused. “What are y—” The sound of glass shattering behind him caused him to turn. A woman with brown, frizzy hair with scars extending outward from the corners of her mouth and violet eyes that appeared glazed-over was standing behind him. She was clad entirely in black leather. In her hand was a long, jagged whip made of pure silver that bore a resemblance to a human spine. Rasputin sighed. “Ah. A Lovett.” He leapt out of the way just as her whip cracked in his direction and he fired a lightning bolt at her, sending her careening into some shelves against the opposite wall. He knew it wasn’t going to do much good; Lovetts were bred to be anti-magic supersoldiers. He hoped, at the very least, this might slow her down. His hopes were dashed rather quickly, however, when she almost immediately got back up on her feet, cracked her whip, and wrapped it around his hand. The burning sensation from the silver touching his skin was absolutely agonizing, more so than anything else he had ever felt. With a quick jab of his fist, he smashed his own wrist and watched as the whip severed the damaged appendage. I will definitely have to get a new body after this, Rasputin sighed internally as he leapt out the nearby window. A crashing sound followed as the Lovett woman chased after him, her boots crunching through the snow as he made a mad dash for the nearby cliff. Blood dripped in the snow from the bleeding stump where his hand used to be. Searing pain came from his ankle, stunting his progress. He twisted his head around to see the Lovett woman forcefully dragging him back towards her with her silver whip. Cursing under his breath, Rasputin fired a spell at his ankle, blowing his foot off and sending the woman flying back yet again. As quickly as he could, he dragged himself through the snow over to the edge of the cliff. As he got closer, he turned to see the woman approaching him once again. This time, though, he knew she wouldn’t be able to catch him in time. “Dasvidaniya,” Rasputin spat out before pulling himself over the side of the cliff with one quick motion. As he fell down the mountain, he thought of Rose and prayed Amon would keep his word. It would be quite a long time before he could see her again, that much was certain; he’d need to find a new body first. But even more than Rose, he thought of Eve, who now had the final key she needed to restore herself to her full power. The work that Dracula and his father had accomplished all those years ago was about to become undone, and who knew what could happen from there? He prayed things would be alright before he finally hit the ground below. For that body, it was the end of the line. A red, spider-like membrane detached itself from the corpse and skittered off into the wilderness. Rasputin was unkillable; his vampiric ability was the secret to that success. Now was the time to hide and await a new body to turn into his own. Until then, he could only hope that Rose would deliver the good news to Victoria and that, against all odds, the coven might be able to restore their former glory. 12/21/2020 0 Comments Chapter OneSunday June 18, 2017 If Aiden Edley’s mother knew he was roaming the Rhine City Park late at night, she’d likely have a panic attack. It wasn’t the wisest option, especially considering the park was a breeding ground for violence once the sun set. The city had been plagued by crime for as long as anyone still living could remember. There was an unspoken rule in the city, however, regarding the park. During the day, violence was off-limits; at night, it was anybody’s game. It was a ridiculous rule, really, considering the Rhine City Police Department was, to put it simply, worthless, but the criminals were notorious for being overly superstitious. Though he was afraid, walking around in the public park in the dark made him feel more alive than he’d felt in years.
Ever since his sister died eight years ago, his mother had been too afraid to leave the house. She hadn’t stepped foot outside the door since the funeral. With his father being out of the picture since before he was born, Aiden became the man of the house, so to speak. The responsibilities of grocery shopping and paying the bills had been his job. Unfortunately, as time went on and his mother’s mental health deteriorated, it also meant he was her unofficial caretaker. He cooked, cleaned, and made sure she kept up with good hygiene. Though as much as he loved his mother, it was exhausting. It was only these moments, once she’d finally fallen asleep, that he was able to feel like his life was his own, even if it could end at any moment if he ran into the wrong person. As he walked, he passed by a young man sitting on a bench, presumably listening to music as he had a pair of bright white earphones in. He seemed to pay Aiden no mind, so, assuming he wasn’t a threat, he continued on. However, as he walked past him, the man called out to him. “Pardon me. Can I ask you something?” Aiden’s muscles tensed as he slowed down and turned his head towards the man. His brown eyes glanced at him with suspicious hesitation. He said nothing, but watched him with caution. He’d been coming to the park occasionally for two months, but not once had anyone attempted to talk to him. The man didn’t seem dangerous, but the number one rule in Rhine City was don’t trust anyone. The man peered at him from behind the dark frames of his glasses and smiled. “Yes, yes, I know, very weird that someone at this time of night would bother someone with a question, but please, humor me: are you familiar with Prince?” Aiden’s brow furrowed. He assumed the man was talking about the artist since he appeared to be listening to music, but the question was so odd. Was it a method of distraction? He slid one hand into his jeans pocket and wrapped it around his switchblade. It wasn’t wise to go out alone in the city without some sort of protection. He learned that the hard way years ago. “I know of him,” he answered quietly after a short moment of silence. The man’s face seemed to light up, and he sat up on the bench. “Really! Have you heard of his album Gold Experience? I think it contains his best song by a mile: ‘Pussy Control.’ The song is a magnificent story about a woman taking charge of her life and not allowing herself to be walked all over or disrespected by anyone with a final verse that, while still showing Prince getting with the titular woman, still maintains a respectful and almost reverent tone. It’s such a wonderful song, and I’d argue it’s one of his most danceable songs as well. I definitely feel it deserves more recognition.” Aiden stared at him blankly. Was this man seriously raving about a Prince song at 12:22 A.M. in the middle of one of the biggest crime zones in the city? The hand in his pocket tensed around the handle of his blade. This had to be a trap. His eyes darted around the area, looking for anyone who might be hiding and waiting to attack. The man watched him curiously, seeming to pick up on Aiden’s tension and frowned. “Look, you don’t need to worry. I’m not trying to trick you or anything. I’ll let you be on your merry way shortly. I just wouldn’t feel right watching a man as handsome as you die.” The compliment caught him completely off-guard, and he felt his face warming up. He couldn’t possibly be serious. “See? You can’t possibly expect me to let you walk into danger when you do something cute like that.” The man winked at him. He sheepishly admitted to himself that this man was, in fact, serious. But why? Why him of all people? He’d spent many days staring into the bathroom mirror, observing his features, wishing they looked less feminine and more masculine. The only thing he liked about himself was his short, black hair. His mother often told him how much she wished he kept his natural hair color, but it was the only real choice he had when it came to his appearance. He, really, was absolutely no one special, yet here was this random man flirting with him in the middle of the park where, somewhere in the distance, loud swearing and a gunshot could be heard. The man breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank God that’s finally over. I still wouldn’t recommend going that way. Your face is a lot cuter without a bullet hole in it.” He stood up, putting away whatever he was listening to music on and brushed off his dark blue jacket. Adjusting his glasses, he said, “The name’s Eric, by the way. Eric Madden.” He seemed honestly genuine, though Aiden didn’t know much about how criminals generally acted. He decided to keep his hand wrapped around his blade, but offered up his name. “Aiden Edley.” “You know, That’s a lovely name. It suits you. You definitely look like an Aiden.” Guilt formed in the pit of his stomach. If it had been the name his mom had given him, that would be one thing, but this was his chosen name. Regardless, he mumbled a quiet, “Thanks.” Eric held out his hand. “I think you’ll be safer if we walk together. I seriously doubt any of those thugs will mess with you if you’re with me. I’ll take the hand not on your knife if you’ll feel safer that way.” Aiden immediately stepped backwards and pulled out his knife, pressing down on the button on the handle to open it. Any trust he might have had for Eric disappeared immediately and his eyes narrowed at him. “How did you know about my knife?” he growled. He held up his hands in surrender. “Body language. I am very good at reading movements and stuff like that. You, ah, might want to adjust your posture, though. If you stabbed me right now, you’d be way more likely to hurt your wrist than do anything to me.” He kept his position, even if he felt a bit embarrassed. “We’ll both be fine if you keep your damn distance.” He hoped he sounded much tougher than he felt right now. Eric certainly didn’t seem like a threat, but he definitely didn’t trust him. “Ok, I’ll stay at a distance. But will you please walk out of here with me? Even if you want me ten feet behind you the whole time, they’ll leave you alone if they see me.” “Why? Who are you?” Did he just meet some big crime lord by accident? Who, exactly, was Eric Madden? It’s not like he, himself, was very accustomed to names involved with city crime. “I’m… a friend, as hard as it is to believe.” He sighed sadly. “I really can’t say more, and you wouldn’t believe me even if I told you the truth. I just don’t want to see you die. Again, hard to believe considering the city, but… ” He took off his glasses and gave Aiden a pleading look. It seemed genuine. “Why does what happens to me matter to you?” he asked. He was nobody, yet this guy was pleading with him to ensure his safety. What possible reason would make him want to help a complete stranger? “I… honestly don’t know if I can explain. I just—” His eyes shifted to something behind Aiden, widening in surprise. Immediately, by instinct, Aiden spun around. A gun was almost immediately pressed into his chest. A very greasy, twitchy man with a crooked nose was giving him a wicked grin. “Hey there, buddy! What’re you and your boyfriend doin’ out in the park so late, huh? Don’cha know that this ain’t no place to be having night time picnics?” Aiden’s eyes widened in fear and he was immediately reminded of the day his sister died. There had been more people, and it was less intentional, but both boiled down to the same cause: petty street crime. He held out his knife protectively even though he knew very well that bringing a knife to a gunfight, as they say, was not a good idea. “I could ask you the same thing,” he muttered. There was no way he was going to admit to this thug he was afraid. “You could, but me and my buddy asked first, ain’t that right?” A click came from behind Aiden and a deep, unfamiliar voice said “Sure did.” A long, tired sigh from Eric followed. “Really? You two really want to do this?” This is it, Aiden thought, his heart sinking. There was no way his mom would recover from losing both of her children; her only family. He narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him and held his hand firm. Even though he really wanted to close his eyes so his last moments weren’t spent staring at the man who killed him, he kept them open and glared at him instead, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Well,” he heard Eric say from behind him, “it’s your funerals.” He heard grunting and a heavy slam against the ground behind him. The man pointing the gun at him shifted, pointing his weapon instead at something behind Aiden, but his shoulder soon burst open as a small hole appeared in it, spewing blood out. The thug screamed and dropped his gun to the ground, clutching his shoulder as he backed away fearfully before finally turning and running away like a frightened puppy. Aiden stared in confused disbelief for a moment before turning around. There was a second man, presumably the other one he’d heard, unconscious on the ground. “What… just happened…?” Eric was holding a gun, but lowered it as Aiden glanced at him. There was a knife sticking out of his chest and a very annoyed look on his face. He gestured down at the unconscious thug with a level of casual irritation that was downright baffling. “This guy ruined my favorite shirt.” The casualness of the aftermath of this situation confused Aiden to no end. “You… have a knife… Um… .” He frowned and lifted his knife-free hand to point at Eric’s chest. “You should go to the hospital right away. That could be really serious.” “Hm? Oh, right, this thing.” Without a second thought, he pulled it out. Despite a slight wince of pain and a bit of blood seeping onto the t-shirt he wore under his jacket, he seemed otherwise nonplussed by the whole situation. “This looks… really weird, I bet. Can I… maybe buy you a drink? I guess I kind of have to explain this now, and a drink might make it easier to swallow.” He lifted his blade again. “Explain now.” He felt his brave façade starting to fade, made mostly obvious to him by how his arm was trembling. This was the most excitement he’d ever experienced during his nightly walks, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about it, especially with how nonchalant Eric was about being stabbed. “Can we please go to a bar first? I know one nearby, it’s called Rhyme or Reason Karaoke Bar. I promise you I’ll explain everything there, okay? I owe that to you.” He gave him a charming, flirtatious wink. Heat rushed to Aiden’s face again, and he fought to keep the brave glare on his face. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t know you, and I definitely don’t trust you.” “Not even after I saved your life?” “No.” Well, maybe a little after that, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “Aiden, if I seriously wanted to hurt you, I could have already done it easily. Just ask this guy,” he said as he tapped the thug on the ground with a black boot. “I just wanted to help you, I promise. Now please, can I buy you a drink? It doesn’t have to be alcohol.” “Explain why you didn’t hurt me, then,” he demanded. There had to be a real reason besides him supposedly having a cute face, which he wasn’t entirely sure was sincere. “I meant what I said: I wasn’t going to let a boy as cute as you die. And with that being true, why would I want to hurt you? I don’t think I could live with myself if I hurt a face so handsome.” He ran his hand through his messy brown hair, his voice stating this with a confident certainty. “That… That isn’t a real reason!” “There’s not enough beauty in this city. Is it really such a bad thing I’d want to protect a little bit of it from harm?” He gave a slightly embarrassed smile. “It’s unbelievably corny, but it’s my reason.” “I wouldn’t have nearly been killed if you hadn’t started bothering me,” he grumbled, immediately realizing how unfair and rude that was. But if Eric knew the truth about him, he probably wouldn’t be so quick to flirt with him. He shook his head, amused. “You’re right! You would have certainly been killed! You would have walked right into the Firelight Gang’s little execution they were holding tonight, and I wouldn’t have been able to fight through a dozen armed thugs to save you in time!” He shook his head again. “If you really don’t want to come with me, I won’t force you. But if you want answers, it has to be in Armstrong’s bar.” Did he really want to know that badly? He hesitated as he thought about it. He had been certain he was going to die in that moment, yet this complete stranger had saved him. This complete stranger, who was oddly charismatic, was the friendliest person he’d met in a long, long time. Even the cashiers at the grocery store barely managed a smile anymore. Slowly, he lowered his knife, though he still kept a careful eye on Eric. “Fine.” Eric gave him a tightened grin, though it seemed anything but insincere. “Alright,” he said cheerfully, “follow me.” With the switchblade still open and ready if needed by his side, he walked next to, not behind, Eric. As much as he didn’t want to trust a complete stranger, he felt much safer next to him as they walked through the dimly lit city park. After a short and surprisingly quiet, yet somewhat pleasant, stroll down a few city blocks, Eric pushed the door to the bar open. “Hello, Armstrong!” he called out cheerfully. An absolutely massive man stood polishing the counter of the bar. He was well over six feet tall with wavy red hair cascading down to his shoulders. He looked like he could have been a barbarian warlord in a past life. The man, who Aiden gathered was Armstrong, was whispering something to a very tired looking black woman with long curly blonde hair sitting at the end of the bar, throwing a glance to a couple over at a corner table before turning to Eric as the two walked in. Armstrong gave him a polite wave. “Hey, Eric,” he grumbled. “Been a while since I’ve seen you. You having the usual? And who’s your little buddy?” “Sure thing, sure thing, and this here is Aiden! I met him in the park!” Eric turned to Aiden. “So, uh… I forgot to ask, but are you legally allowed to drink?” “I’m 20,” Aiden stated. Technically, he shouldn’t be allowed inside, but it was too late for that now. Eric turned back to Armstrong. “So, my friend can’t drink, but I’m sure he’ll eat some buffalo wings or something! And I know you make a mean punch, so hook him up with one of those, please.” Armstrong held up a massive fist and smirked. “I sure do.” He gave a hearty laugh at his own stupid joke, the woman at the end of the bar rolling her eyes in amusement, as he headed off to yell their food order into the kitchen. Aiden watched Eric curiously as they stood just inside the bar. Maybe he really wasn’t that bad after all, but he still wanted an explanation. He tucked away his switchblade, then crossed his arms over his chest and stared at him expectantly. Eric glanced over at him. “So. Where do you want me to begin?” His eyes moved to a nearby table, which he quickly discovered was empty. Without a word, he sat down in one of the wooden chairs. “You tell me.” Eric slid into a seat across from him and silently looked him over for a few quiet moments. Is he… checking me out? Aiden thought anxiously. As soon as Eric finally opened his mouth to speak, a pretty woman with light purple hair wearing matching lilac lipstick and eyeshadow came over and placed their food and drinks on the table. “Thanks Mack,” Eric mumbled. The woman gave him a small smile, then spoke in what was clearly a male voice. “You’re welcome.” Aiden immediately looked closer at the woman. Was she… like him? It seemed rather ridiculous to be so comforted when it was a complete stranger, but in that short moment, he felt much less alone in this aspect. Maybe he wasn’t the only one. Or, maybe he completely had it wrong. Aware that it probably appeared he was staring, he offered the server a small, nervous smile. Mack smiled back at him before speaking with a very light British accent. “Been a while since you’ve brought anyone in here, Eric. I thought you were done with all that.” Mack glanced down at Eric’s chest. “Oh dear. Again, eh?” Eric nodded. “It’s not a big deal.” Mack sighed. “Well, you definitely need a pick-me-up to close that… I brought some with me from the mansion. I can also see if the prick in the corner might be able to whip something up real quick so I have enough to get me through my shift. You need anything, don’t hesitate to ask, alright?” Mack glanced at Aiden. “That goes for you, too. This dumbass tries anything, let me know. I’ll spank him silly for you.” Mack laughed before wandering off back to the bar, swinging their hips as they went. “Well, guess I can cross ‘Meet Mack’ off of my to do list with you,” Eric shrugged. “Didn’t think I’d do that on the first date, but oh well. Life is full of surprises!” “Date?” Aiden frowned, feeling slightly panicked. Is that what he had agreed to? His knowledge about the dating scene was limited to what he saw in movies and on tv shows. He hadn’t ever actually been on a date before. Sure, he had crushes when he was in high school, but he had been way too self-conscious to ever act on them. Though, if this was a date, it wasn’t particularly a bad one. He quietly observed Eric, who he could see better now that they were in good lighting. His brown hair framed his face just perfectly, and his green eyes seemed honest behind his glasses. And his smile… As much as he didn’t want to admit it, that smile was making his stomach flip. Yeah, as far as first dates went, this could be much, much worse. Eric frowned. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t have to be a date if you really don’t want it to be, but, you know, I’m certainly not unhappy with our time so far.” “I thought you brought me here to give me answers.” “Ok, I did, I did. I’m sure you’re wondering why I don’t seem particularly bothered that I have suffered what should be a fatal chest wound. And yes, it definitely would have been fatal. I’m pretty sure I felt it hit my heart.” Aiden lifted his brows expectantly. Anyone else would probably have collapsed on the ground by now, so how did Eric shrug that off? “Well… ” Eric gave him a cocky grin. In the better lighting, Aiden noticed his canine teeth were much larger than most humans’. He shouldn’t have been surprised by what Eric said next, but he definitely wasn’t mentally prepared in the slightest. “I’m a vampire.” His heart immediately started racing, and he stood up suddenly, taking a few steps backwards. He accidentally knocked over his chair, which loudly thudded on the thick wooden floor behind him. This seriously couldn’t be real, could it? This had to be a joke. Eric’s grin faded pretty quickly, and he looked at Aiden sadly. “That’s about the reaction I expected, but I kind of hoped, maybe, you’d handle it better.” “Do you seriously expect me to believe something like that?” Somehow, he knew this was actually the truth, but admitting that vampires are real would immediately make his life much more complicated than he wanted it to be. “Do you think I filed my teeth just so I could weird people out in bars? I can think of ten easier ways to do that. And, need I remind you: I survived a fatal stab wound.” He pulled down his shirt a bit to show the spot where the knife wound had been; it was nearly fully healed. All that was left was a bit of blood. “See?” Aiden’s hand slipped into his pocket to grip his switchblade again. There was irrefutable evidence that Eric was telling the truth, and he knew not letting himself consciously believe it wouldn’t make it any less real. Still, he took a few more steps backwards, bumping into a nearby table as a result. Mack rushed over to Aiden. “You doing alright?” They glared at Eric. “You scaring this poor boy? Fuck’s sake Eric, have some class.” Aiden looked at the server warily. “Are you… Are you one too?” They sighed and gave Eric a tired look. “You’re really in it deep for this one if you’re running your mouth like this, aren’t you?” They turned back to Aiden and nodded. “Yeah. But don’t worry, you’re not in any danger here, alright? Armstrong has a zero tolerance policy for tomfoolery in this bar. “ They glanced over their shoulder at the massive bartender, who was behind the bar again talking to the woman, and smiled at him lovingly. As kind as they were about it, it didn’t do much to reassure Aiden. He stepped away from Mack and glared, hoping his tough exterior masked how terrified and cornered he felt. “How many of you in here are…?” He didn’t finish his question verbally, but it was obvious what he was asking. Mack tapped their chin. “Hmm… Just about everyone but Armstrong and that bird-of-the-night Roarke brought in. This place is a pretty common spot for the few of us in town to get drinks safely. And, uh, I don’t mean it like that, either,” they added, tapping their neck. “We like booze as much as anyone.” His eyes quickly scanned the bar. Other than Eric, Mack, and Armstrong (who was apparently not a vampire), the only other three in the place were the woman sitting at the bar itself and the man with the “bird”. Still, however, four was too many for him. He decisively pulled out his knife and opened the blade. His hand was trembling and immediately betrayed the tough guy act he put on. Mack nodded sympathetically. “Probably sounds scary as hell to a mortal. But sit down, listen to Eric, and maybe you’ll relax.” They gestured back to Armstrong, who was staring out across the bar at them with a steely gaze. His massive arms were folded, and he had a no-nonsense look etched across his face. “Like I said, Armstrong doesn’t let tomfoolery go down here. Put down your knife, and if you’re really scared, go to him, alright? He’d be damned before he let anything happen to you.” Aiden hesitated. He didn’t expect a vampire to be so sympathetic. If what Mack had said was true, then he could trust Armstrong. But was he fast enough to save him if someone in here decided they were in the mood for blood? He glanced at Eric, who had taken his glasses off and set them down on the table. His face was buried in his hands, and his drink and the chicken were sitting untouched. He reluctantly returned to his seat, though he kept his blade out, his hand on the table in front of him protectively, just in case. “Okay. I’m listening, so make it quick.” “I’ll leave you both to it for now, then,” Mack said as they slipped back off towards the bar. Eric looked up at him. His eyes looked sad and exhausted. “What do you want to know? I told you the big thing already. From there, I need to know what you want me to explain about all this because boy, oh boy, is there a lot.” Aiden realized he wasn’t actually sure what exactly it was he wanted to know. It didn’t seem like Eric had any ill intentions, which was rather different than he would have expected from a vampire. He actually seemed, in fact, normal. After a short moment, he shrugged. “Why? Why exactly did you go out of your way for me? I’m nobody.” Eric ran his hand through his hair, seemingly frustrated. “I can’t answer that because I’m not sure yet. But when I know, you’ll know. Just know, for now, that to me you’re somebody. Somebody I think is really important.” “And I’m supposed to just… believe that?” The only person he was somebody to was his mom. As freaked out as he was, though, a part of him was starting to believe Eric. After all, he did fight two thugs in order to save him. Aiden’s muscles tensed as he realized he could have actually died tonight, but this man, vampire or not, saved him. He stared down at the wooden table, feeling awkward. He noticed someone had carved a small “C & L Forever” into the surface and wondered if they were vampires too. “Yes,” Eric stated simply. “This city is a terrible place, but there are good people in it. I’m not sure if I’m one of them… but I try to be.” Aiden was quiet for a long moment. As difficult as it was to trust this complete stranger, he was surprised to discover he already did. Was he still scared? Yes, without a doubt. But he walked through one of the most dangerous parts of the city at least twice a week, so how dangerous could it really be to trust a vampire who had saved his life? “Thank you,” he said softly. “For… you know, saving me.” “You’re very welcome.” Eric finally took a sip of his drink, downing almost half of it, before finally setting the glass back on the table and giving him a warm smile. His fangs poked out playfully. A cold chill ran down Aiden’s spine. He wasn’t sure if it was the oddness of Eric’s fangs or his smile. Personally, he hoped it was the former as he wasn’t really ready to deal with having feelings for someone again. He felt completely awkward now. What was this really? Was it still a date? Did he really want to be on a date with a vampire? Did it really change things because he was a vampire? So many unknowns were buzzing in his head, so he reached for his glass, which he had yet to drink from, and took a few long sips. Eric hadn’t been kidding; the punch was fantastic. The fruity flavor was so lifelike and crisp. This alone silenced his unanswered questions for the moment, and he felt much more relaxed now. “It’s good, right?” Eric said, pointing at the glass in Aiden’s hand. “I don’t know how that man does it, but one sip of that and it’s like Armstrong himself has punched all your problems away. And trust me, you do not want to be on the receiving end of those fists.” Eric winced. “I’ve seen what those things can do.” He nodded in reply, taking a few minutes to finish the glass. It was so heavenly that putting it down seemed like a waste of time as he’d be likely to pick it right back up again. Finally, when he’d finished the last drop, he placed the empty cup on the table, already missing the taste. He probably could drink a gallon of it and still not be completely satisfied, but he still had burning questions. “What is this, really?” he asked. “And just be honest. You can do that, can’t you?” “I take you here, promise to answer any questions, and tell you I’m a vampire—which I don’t do for anyone, by the way, except one girl who figured it out herself a few years ago—and you’re still going to ask me if I can be honest? I’m hurt.” He gave him an overdramatic, scandalized frown, then laughed. “I’m not going to bite you, at least, if that eases your mind a bit.” Admittedly, it did. “What is this? Is it a date? Or is it just you giving me an explanation in a safe place?” Eric’s carefree, playful demeanor was probably charming in normal circumstances, but right now, he just wanted a straight answer. He wasn’t really sure how to feel about the night’s events. Was this a one time thing? Were they friends now? Was this more than that? Eric gave him a sly smile. “Do you like men?” He stared down at the table, feeling ashamed as this was something he was insecure about. He nodded once in reply. “Well then, why can’t it be both?” “But you don’t even really know me,” he admitted in a nervous whisper. If he did, then he certainly wouldn’t be interested. “You’re right about that, so tell you what: every time you ask me a question, I’ll ask you one. Then I can really know you! Sound good? Here, I’ll start. What’s your favorite color?” It was such an innocent question, but Aiden couldn’t stop himself from looking up at the man across from him, his lips forming into a small smile. “Blue.” “See, you have good taste! That’s my favorite color too, though I specifically like sky blue. I’ll give you that one for free. Now go, your turn!” He searched his brain for a question, though being put on the spot like this made his mind go blank. “Uh… ” A more serious question probably wasn’t the best idea since right now since the mood was easygoing. Why ruin it? “Okay, um, what’s your favorite thing to drink?” Eric gave him a devious smirk. “Oh, I think you already know the answer to that question.” He leaned across the table and whispered, “Fruity cocktails.” Why this made heat rush to his face, he wasn’t entirely sure. “Fruity cocktails” didn’t exactly seem flirty, so maybe it was the playful glint in his eyes as he leaned closer. Damnit, was he really attracted to Eric? Was it just a vampire thing? He’d never been big into supernatural fiction, but it seemed to make sense to him that vampires would be overly charming and charismatic. How else would they be able to find victims to drink their blood so easily? Even if Eric had promised he wasn’t going to, it probably was second-nature to him. Eric reached over the table and tapped Aiden’s nose. “You’re so adorable. You have a vampire sitting across from you and instead of asking anything about that, you get my drink order down. How are you single? Oh, um… ” He leaned back a bit. “You are single, right? I’m not about to steal you from another lucky guy, as much as I’d love to.” He frowned. “Yeah, I am.” He wasn’t embarrassed, so to speak, but still felt ashamed. He’d never had a boyfriend before. Eric breathed a sigh of relief. “Good! Though if you’d like, you won’t have to worry about that much longer… Oops, I guess that was a question. Your turn.” Aiden lifted his eyes and curiously watched Eric’s rather attractive face in surprise. Did Eric want to be in a relationship with him? They’d known each other for, at most, an hour, and he was already certain of that? He decided to play it safe with simple questions for the time being. “Okay, um… You like music, right? What’s your favorite song?” He laughed. “Remember in the park? I already told you that one, ‘Pussy Control’ is my favorite song. Ask another one. I don’t want to cheat you out of a question by answering something you already technically knew.” Somehow, it didn’t really surprise him that much to hear such an odd song was his favorite. “Okay, then…” He trailed off for a moment, a question coming to mind, but would it ruin the moment? It was probably innocent enough, so he decided it was safe to ask. “Why were you in the park tonight?” “Oh boy, so that is one hell of a question… You’ve heard of the Rhine Park Angel, right ? You know, the urban legend where some mysterious stranger follows you through the park one night, disappears, and then later you find out the park was full of criminals who avoided you or were otherwise brutally injured?” He pointed his thumbs at himself and nodded. “That’s me. Sometimes, anyway. Sometimes it’s my friend Yuriko, sometimes it’s my buddy Carlos, sometimes it’s Matt, who you really don’t want to get into a fight with on a good day… But, tonight, it was me.” In any other situation, Aiden would be extremely skeptical, but for some reason, he believed it. “Why did you make yourself known to me?” It was completely out of the ordinary based on the stories he’d heard. “Hey, no fair! You can’t just ask two in a row! Besides… I told you, I genuinely don’t know. I’ve never actually revealed myself to anyone intentionally before. We’re really not supposed to, since we could easily fuck up everything the Silverwings and our leader, Victoria, are doing to protect us. But I got a feeling from you, and my feelings usually aren’t wrong. Now… What’s your favorite movie?” Well, at least he knew what his next question would be. But first, he had to actually figure out a favorite movie. The only ones he really ever saw were what he and his mom watched on TV, and most were just numb entertainment for him. But there was one he remembered watching with his sister when they were still kids that was both funny and promising; one he annoyed his mother rewatching so many times; one he hadn’t seen since his sister died. “Er… The Iron Giant, actually.” Eric got a wistful smile on his face. “That’s a good one, it really is… I remember seeing that with my parents. I cried in the theater. Believe me, it must have been a sight to see a grown man crying at an animated movie.” He looked at Aiden expectantly. By now, he was growing accustomed to their back-and-forth question game, so he picked up on the nonverbal cue. Even though he already had a question ready, he decided to put it off for one more round and ask a different one to follow-up on Eric’s answer. “How old are you, exactly?” “I’m 25. But before you waste a question because I’m being cheeky, I’ll clarify that I’ve been that age since 1987.” “Oh.” Was the age difference awkward? Did it even work that way? Sure, five years was pretty normal, but considering he’d been 25 for 30 years… “My turn. How about you tell me everything you think you know about vampires.” “That’s not fair,” he mumbled, reaching into the basket of chicken wings and eating one stubbornly. He hated how good it actually tasted. In addition to not really knowing anything about vampires, he was also certain everything he would say would end up being untrue or an exaggerated truth. “It is totally fair. I never said the questions couldn’t be broad!” He mentally composed a short list of what he felt confident enough to share while he ate the chicken wing. Once he was finished, he set the mostly meatless bone on a napkin and started sharing his list. “Well, they can’t stand being on holy ground or being around garlic; they can’t go out during the day; they drink blood; they don’t have a reflection in mirrors; they probably seduce their victims to make them more willing to let them drink their blood; and they’re…” He trailed off and glanced at Eric hesitantly. He wanted to say “evil monsters of the night”, but that didn’t seem to be true for him. He was oddly sweet and cared about complete strangers. That didn’t seem monstrous to him in the slightest. Eric nodded along as he listed all this stuff off to him. “Well, you got one thing absolutely on the mark: I do drink blood. The rest is all half-truths and bullshit.” “Can we take a break from the game so you can explain what is and isn’t true?” To emphasize his eagerness to listen, he grabbed another chicken wing. “Of course! But only because I’ve been waiting all night for this.” He cracked his knuckles. “Let’s go down the list, item by item. So the holy ground thing is wrong. My friend, Yuriko, would probably cry if she couldn’t go to church, since she’s a devout Christian. Same thing with garlic, except I’d be the one crying.” He smirked, amused by this. “So it wouldn’t actually kill you if I bought you garlic bread?” It was a hypothetical, of course, but he had a feeling this would be very important information to know, especially if what Eric had said earlier ended up being true. Eric smirked back. “No, I’d just like you more for being so thoughtful. Next, the whole day thing… As far as I’ve been told, that was a deliberately created lie made to lure mortals into a false sense of security. Nosferatu was propaganda, and it just spiraled from there. We can go out during the day just fine. It just so happens that discreetly drinking blood is easier to do when there are less people around.” “Don’t tell me there are vampires out getting groceries on a Monday morning,” he groaned. “Don’t be silly. We usually go on the weekends! It’s easier since most of us have those days off!” He laughed again. It was odd how relaxed he was starting to feel with Eric, which was obvious to him by how he was now laughing along with him. How exactly was it that an hour ago, he had almost been shot in the head, and now he was here eating chicken wings and learning about what vampires, who were apparently real, could and couldn’t do? Had someone told him exactly how this night would go, he probably would have been seriously concerned and might even have stayed inside. What if I had? he wondered to himself. Would I have ever met Eric? Am I glad I did? He pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind, determined to sort through them later. For now, he wanted to enjoy this moment, especially because it was the first date he’d ever been on. “Alright, alright,” Eric said as he calmed down, “where was I? Oh, right! So, yes, we do drink blood. It helps us heal quicker and use our abilities at full power. So, it’s basically a battery recharge more than anything; we still eat and drink regular food.” “Wait, so… you don’t really need to?” That was definitely not what he’d always heard when it came to vampires. He shook his head. “Well, yes and no. If we don’t drink blood, we end up weak, frail, and unable to heal until we get a bit of the red stuff in us. But the coven I’m in doesn’t actively hunt people, for the most part. And even if we do need to, we target people like those thugs, and we go out of our way to not kill them. We also have plenty in storage thanks to Mr. Duplication over there.” He jerked a thumb towards the handsome man previously identified as Roarke. “Mr. Duplication… .?” His brows furrowed in complete confusion. “That’s his power,” Eric stated as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. “He’s almost single handedly kept the coven stocked up on blood since they found him.” “Wait, so you have, like, vampire powers, then you have bonus powers?” This, honestly, sounded really cool. Was this why teenage girls were head over heels for fictional vampires? Eric nodded, then let out an exasperated sigh. “So we go outside during the day, most of our weaknesses are phony, and we each get a special power on turning… This means that out of all vampire fiction of the past few centuries… Twilight is the closest to reality.” Aiden snorted. “You’re joking, right?” The vampire romance novels were realistic? “Please tell me you don’t sparkle, too…” “I do not sparkle, don’t worry. My teeth, on the other hand…” He grinned again, showing off that his teeth really were shiny and well taken care of. “Oh, right! The mirror thing… It’s bullshit. Do I look like the kind of guy who can’t see his own reflection?” Aiden glanced away, feeling mildly sheepish, and mumbled, “Uh, well, no, not really.” He had a suspicion Eric was well aware at this point he was attracted to him and had asked him that on purpose. “And for your last one, the seduction powers, some can have powers like that… I don’t. I’m just naturally this charming and cute.” “Really?” he asked sarcastically, though he was shyly grinning at him now. “If that’s not your power, then what is?” “I read people’s subtle body movements, which makes me really good at dodging and even better at reading how people are feeling. It probably seems a bit tame compared to, say, doubling items or shape shifting,” he said, glancing over at Mack, “but it does help me out a lot!” He looked down at the hole in his shirt. “Usually.” “… huh.” He was, quite honestly, too nervous to ask Eric whether he was picking up on some kind of body movement Aiden was subconsciously making. Eric just smiled innocently. “I believe it’s your turn for a question, now that Vampire 101 is over.” It was time to hit him with the question he thought of earlier. He quietly inhaled and mentally steeled himself as he worked up the courage. “What feeling did you get? When you saw me at the park?” He stopped for a moment and considered. “I felt like… if I didn’t talk to you then and there, I was going to regret it for a very long time.” Aiden was quiet as he considered this, working on a rather meaty chicken wing, trying to eat it as neatly as he could so he didn’t look like a gross mess. Eric helped himself to some of the wings, biting into them with gusto. “Sorry if that was too intense for a first date. What I just told you, not the… biting into the chicken.” He shrugged. “It’s… a lot of information to process, but I’ll work through it later.” “So, you know you can’t tell anyone, right? It’s not like we’d kill you or anything, but you might get a very angry group of Silverwings at your door. They’re sort of like supernatural cops, or the Men in Black, except sadly Will Smith is not among their ranks. As far as I know, anyway.” He nodded. “I… don’t really have anyone to tell anyway. Well, except my mom, but… she would not handle it well.” Eric nodded. “Well, if you want more friends, I could introduce you to my family. My best friend, Prim, would love you I’m sure. Yuriko would like you, though I’m not entirely sure her sister would. Bach gets along with just about everyone. Carlos would like you. Mack seems pretty fond of you already…” His curiosity about Mack returned, and he lowered his voice. Trying not to sound insensitive, he asked, “Um, is Mack…?” He left the question open, hoping Eric would pick up on what he wanted to know. To his relief, the man read him perfectly. Giving him a small smile, Eric answered, “Mack is interesting. They were born a man, but they chose to keep a female body when they got the hang of shapeshifting. It’s what makes them happy, and we’re all just glad they’re comfortable with who they are. That’s what everyone deserves, isn't it?” Both this knowledge and hearing how accepting Eric was about it made Aiden relax, though he was still afraid to have to tell him the truth eventually. That can come later, he told himself, even though he knew he was really just putting off the inevitable moment when whatever they were building up here would be utterly destroyed. ****** Rhyme and Reason Karaoke Bar was one of Roarke’s go-to locations for bringing his dates. Armstrong, the bartender, knew him pretty well by now, so he usually didn’t bother him too much. Seated at his preferred booth in a back corner of the bar, he was doing his usual song and dance with a cute redhead. He’d met her on the dancefloor of a nearby club. They hit it off pretty quickly, and after a few dances, Roarke was able to convince her to go somewhere quieter with him. Molly was a sweet girl who had a passion for baking, which was quite obvious based on how she was gushing about her favorite cupcake recipe while she worked on her third Tequila Sunrise. Roarke, who didn’t care much for baking, now knew more tips for making sweets than he ever needed to know. It was hard to be irritated, however, because the way her face lit up when she talked was rather cute. On the bright side, at least she was more intelligent than his usual conquests. His blue eyes glanced at the old analog clock hanging on the wall by the shelf of expensive alcohol bottles. Despite how run-down the bar was, Armstrong still stocked the good stuff. About twenty minutes more, he thought to himself. Molly could hold her alcohol better than most of the girls he met, but every mortal had their limits, and Roarke had no interest in taking advantage of a drunk. Not anymore at least. The members of the coven he was a part of often looked down on him for being so promiscuous, but this was how he coped with the parts of his past he didn’t want to think about. When it came to women, Roarke didn’t want to get too attached to anyone, so he chose not to. It was much easier to find a cute girl to spend an evening of passion with and leave the next day. As far as the coven’s leader, Victoria, was concerned, Roarke was a sleazebag who seduced and slept with women. In her eyes, he was only good for replicating blood bags. In fact, that was probably the only reason why she allowed him to join. His power was limited, however; he could only replicate one item every twelve hours. Still, it benefited the coven greatly as their blood storage was as full as it was thanks to him (and it had only taken a few months after he’d joined). “I can’t wait until autumn, though,” Molly sighed, grabbing Roarke’s attention again. He smiled at her reassuringly, hoping to convey that he was, in fact, listening, even if he had spaced out for a few minutes. “I found this really yummy recipe for maple buttercream frosting, and I want to try it on pumpkin spice cupcakes!” “I think that will work great,” Roarke grinned. “You could probably make good money on those. You know how girls are about their pumpkin spice.” “Oh my gosh, good idea!” Molly’s face lit up with excitement, her dazzling green eyes wide as she nodded at him. “My friends would definitely pay for some! They’re, like, addicted to pumpkin spice. I could even save the money for a new car!” “See, there you go!” He winked at her. “You could even start your own bakery if you wanted!” “Honestly, Roarke, you’re so smart.” Molly blushed and tucked a loose strand of her curly red hair behind her ear. The sapphire heart-shaped studs in her earlobes sparkled in the low light of the bar. “So I’ve been told,” he admitted. Sure, not recently, but there was a time in his life that people he considered friends had praised him for his intelligence. “I’m so lucky to have met you.” The alcohol must be making an impact on her since she was now giving him “bedroom eyes”. This was, more or less, the moment Roarke had been waiting all night for. All the attention and compliments he showered her with would finally pay off. “Are you? I’m just an average guy. I’m no one special.” “That is so not true,” Molly argued. “You’re super cute and so smart. How do you not have a girlfriend?” He smirked. He’d definitely heard this before, usually from the girls he slept with. “I’m more of a free spirit.” “Maybe you just haven’t met the right girl.” She smiled sweetly at him. This itself was a red flag, but it was too late in the night to back out now. He’d dealt with worse, though. There were plenty of clingy girls out there. “Who knows,” he shrugged in reply. “Why, would you like to try?” This was all he needed to say to convince her as her next response was, “Want to go back to my place?” And there it was: the magic seven words. “That sounds like a great idea,” he grinned brightly. Two and a half hours later, both Roarke and Molly were satisfied, though Roarke in more ways than one. Molly had been pretty great in bed, proving that the conquest was well worth the effort. She’d fallen asleep shortly after, and Roarke had taken his second reward: blood. While there were plenty of blood bags in the coven’s walk-in cooler he could drink, he hated using them to stay fed. As far as he was concerned, he duplicated the full bags for the others. He was barely a real member anyway, so he didn’t feel like he had the right to use them. This is where his flings came in. He was used to feeding from real people anyway; it was what he’d always done to survive. Once they fell asleep after wearing themselves out with sex, he would lightly bite them, taking only what he needed. He never left them with an open wound, however. He always cleaned up after himself. Light bruising was already appearing around the wounds in Molly’s neck, so hopefully she would assume he’d bitten a little too hard during foreplay (which he had actually done since it apparently really drove her wild). He’d fetched a washcloth, which he got wet and rubbed soap into, and bandaids from the bathroom. He wiped away any stray drops of blood and carefully cleaned the bite marks, then applied the bandaids over the wounds. “There we go,” he whispered in satisfaction. “Thanks, sweetie.” Even if they were just flings, they were still people. He gently patted her head. She was a sweet girl, really. With a sigh, he threw the bandaid wrappers in the trash and dumped the used washcloth in the hamper, burying it under a lacy red tank top. He fetched his clothing, which had been haphazardly tossed on the floor in the heat of passion, and got dressed. Then he left her apartment. As soon as he was back on the street, he could hear what he suspected was a gang fight just down the road. The city never slept, and that included the never-ending crime. Rolling his eyes, he turned in the opposite direction. The only real good thing about being a vampire in Rhine City was that walking around late at night wasn’t dangerous. Unless a lowly thug was carrying around silver to attack with, they weren’t going to do any lasting damage. At most, they’d mildly inconvenience a vampire with a stab or bullet wound. Roarke had definitely been shot at a few times, so it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. He’d only made it two blocks before his phone chirped, indicating a new text message had arrived. He didn’t even need to pull it out to know it probably was from Victoria, but he looked anyway. He didn’t feel any satisfaction knowing he was right. “Please duplicate a fresh bag when you return,” was all it said. Of course. That’s all he was good for after all, wasn’t it? He was just a tool for the coven in return for a place to live. “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered as he shoved the phone back into his pocket. How nice to know he was a valuable member of the team. ****** Armstrong stared out across the bar at Eric and Aiden with his massive arms folded across his chest, still sitting at a table and chatting quietly. “I give it twenty minutes more, max. If they don’t kiss by then, you win.” “I’m surprised they haven’t already,” Sierra muttered before pouring the rest of her beer down her throat. They’d been sitting at a table talking for over two hours already, and the chemistry between them was undeniable. That was, of course, ignoring the fact that Eric hadn’t brought anyone into the bar in a long, long time. However, the guy he was with didn’t seem like the kind of person to freely kiss in public. And, of course, the fact that he wasn’t actually drinking alcohol helped her case: they were not going to kiss tonight. That was the $20 bet she’d made with Armstrong, who had been so sure the second they walked in the door it was going to happen. “Think this one might be different, Goldilocks,” he mumbled as he polished yet another glass to sparkling perfection. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen Eric look at anyone like that as long as he’s been coming here.” “Ugh, don’t tell me he’s found ‘the one’,” she grimaced, using her fingers for air quotations. She didn’t understand what the appeal of being in a relationship was. Putting yourself at risk of getting hurt was too dangerous. She’d seen it happen firsthand, and she wasn’t keen on putting herself in the same situation. “Kid deserves it after what he told me he went through.” He gave a slight, matter-of-fact nod that no one with any sense would dispute. Thankfully, Sierra was not one with much sense. “Right,” she snorted. She’d had her share of shit in the past, but life wasn’t really rewarding her for her struggles. Unless, of course, its way of rewarding her was offering her nightly meals of buffalo chicken wings that always tasted fantastic. Armstrong just scowled at her and turned to grab some bottles off of the top shelf, which was incredibly easy considering he was well over six feet tall. “You know, maybe I’m a hopeless romantic and want to believe there’s some good left in this crappy city. Or maybe I’m just tired of losing bets to you, Goldilocks. Either way, fact remains that I promise you I’m not losing this one.” “Uh-huh.” She smirked and glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well, you’re about to in nineteen minutes. That mortal over there is not gonna kiss him. You don’t pull a blade on someone and kiss them two hours later. Come on, man.” He chuckled. “Shows what you know. That’s how I met my ex-wife.” “Somehow, I’m not really surprised to hear that.” She pushed her now-empty glass across the bartop with a friendly smile. “Fill ‘er up, barkeep.” He nodded and did his job, filling her cup up to the brim once again. “God, I can’t wait to see your face when you finally get lovesick,” he snorted as he finished pouring her drink. “I’m putting a picture of it up on the Wall of Fame for sure.” He gestured over to a wall of photographs of lovey-dovey couples he had hanging above the far end of the bar. “You’re forgetting the most important part of this whole bullshit vampire soulmate thing, you old fool,” she remarked, rolling her eyes. “It only happens if you’re willing to let it happen. And I’m not. So you’ll never get to see it. I win, end of story. Oh, and… ” She glanced at the clock again. “… I’m about to win again in eighteen minutes.” “You gonna count down every single minute like this is New Year’s Eve? And call me an old fool again, and I promise you the next time that glass touches your lips, it’ll be full of warm goat piss.” His tone implied that he was half-joking, but that other half… “Where the hell are you going to get a goat?” Though, for all she knew, he had one out back. Armstrong was full of surprises. “I don’t need to have a goat to transmute what you’re drinking to piss, Goldilocks.” She rolled her eyes again. “Damn magic potion powers,” she mumbled. Armstrong’s secret to success was alchemy. Unlike most alchemists, he didn’t like using his talents to get rich, which is something he always said was cheating. Rather, he applied his natural talents to serving incredible beverages to his customers to make them happier. Oddly enough, it did make his business successful, but he didn’t intentionally make it happen. Unlike most alchemists, Armstrong was content running a small karaoke bar so long as he could make others happy with his concoctions. She’d never admit it out loud, but that was one reason she liked him: he was tough as nails on the outside, but deep down, he had a heart of gold. It was one reason why he let her hangout for hours each night. He knew she had a tough childhood, and though he didn’t particularly agree with her nightly ritual of getting as drunk as possible and eating greasy chicken, he was happy to spend time with her if it meant she was safe and content. Which she was. His bar felt like home to her, more so than her crummy one bedroom apartment did anyway. As she bent over to pick up her glass, her thick hair fell across her face. She groaned in irritation and pushed it behind her shoulders. Sierra had a love-hate relationship with her hair. She hated how heavy and difficult it was to comb (which was one reason she stopped trying to tame it a long time ago), but the honey blonde color was unique. Her mother had always told her it was a rare family trait from her side and that she was very special because she had received it. It was, quite honestly, the only thing she liked about her appearance. She had vowed years ago never to touch it with any sort of artificial hair dye. For as long as she lived, she would proudly sport the rare hair genes her mom gave her. “Uh-oh, your hair’s slipping. You’re usually not that clumsy with those curls, Goldilocks. The alcohol affecting you?” There was genuine concern in his otherwise gruff voice. She peered suspiciously into her glass. She hadn’t realized until he’d said something, but she was feeling warmer and overall lighter than she normally did. However, the contents appeared to be her normal choice of beer: a house special. “Did you spike my drink with something? This shit never gets me drunk.” Armstrong’s own brand of beer was her usual choice of drink, but it never really got her as intoxicated as she wanted, at least not since she’d been turned into a vampire. The dramatic increase of alcohol tolerance was one of the worst parts of vampirism. Drinking as a mortal had helped her forget why she hated her life so much and silenced the night terrors she suffered from almost every day. “You did ask for, how did you put it, ‘the strongest shit you’ve got’ earlier, so I added a bit extra to help you feel something considering, well, you know... You need me to grab one of Mack’s spare thermoses?” Sierra had only been a vampire for a few months, but it was long enough for her to learn she didn’t like drinking blood. The thought of creeping on an unsuspecting victim made her sick, which likely had to do with how she’d been turned. It was a night she’d quickly consumed as much beer as she could to silence the lingering nightmare she’d had the night before. They were usually pretty bad, but she’d woken up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, and she’d been unable to go back to sleep. She had been tired, cranky, and desperate to feel normal for just a few hours. Unfortunately, drinking as much as she had, which was twice as much in half the time, let down her defenses. Some guy, an out-of-town visitor as Armstrong had later told her, had been able to convince her to leave with him. She’d heard the story a few times since that night, though the details were fuzzy. Armstrong had been in the back grabbing an order for another patron, which was the only reason why the guy had been able to quickly lead her out of the bar. As soon as Armstrong had returned to the front and found out what happened, he’d raced outside and had beaten the jerk to a bloody pulp. He never told Sierra if the guy was still alive, but considering how pissed he was about it every time he retold the story, chances were the guy did not survive. Even though he’d saved her from being taken advantage of, he’d been too late. For whatever reason, the guy had decided to turn Sierra. She could never quite figure out why he’d done it. Was it because she’d be completely unwilling to try to stop him if he tried taking advantage of her? The intense pain she’d been in for the two days it took her to finish turning made it extremely difficult to even get out of bed. Her absence at the bar for those two days had actually made the bartender worried about her. She couldn’t imagine trying to fight off a guy who was using her for sex in that condition. On the night she came back, her world turned upside-down. Armstrong, who was well-aware that nearly all his clientele consisted of vampires, told Sierra everything he knew. Luckily, Mack was willing to help as well. It was thanks to those two that she’d been able to adjust to the weird changes. The heightened senses drove her crazy for the first few days, though. She could hear things she’d never been aware of before: the way a chair creaked when someone sat down; the soft clink of a glass that was set on a table; the sizzling of a fresh order of chicken wings. Mack had been rather sweet and brought extra blood from the coven they were a part of now and then to make sure she stayed fed and strong. As necessary as it was, though, she hated it. Since turning, she’d ingested some every other week, but she skipped it the last time, swearing to Mack she felt fine. It was the first time she’d gone this long without blood. Maybe it really was the lack of blood that was making it easier for her to get drunk. Which, in her opinion, wasn’t all that bad. “I’m fine,” she said after a long moment. “Kind of nice to… feel normal for once.” She shrugged nonchalantly, but she knew the bartender would pick up on what wasn’t said: Sierra fucking hated being a vampire, plain and simple. Armstrong closed his eyes. “Look, I can have Mack mix it into a drink or something. But you’re not passing out before you lose this bet.” Though his tone was still playful, the look in his eyes betrayed the fact that he still blamed himself for what happened to her in his bar. Guilt immediately started eating away at the nice buzz she had, so she shrugged and mumbled, “Fine.” But then she cocked a grin when she sneaked a peek at the clock and realized what time it was. “Though… I’m pretty sure I’m about to win. Unless you really think they’re going to lock lips in the next ten minutes.” “I’m telling you Goldilocks, Eric has this look about him. And alright. One Bloody Mary coming up, hold the Mary.” He nodded to Mack, who gave him a reassuring nod back, and then made his way to the back to mix Sierra’s drink. She sighed and resorted to watching Eric and his mysterious guest, only really half paying attention to them. At least mixing the blood into the alcohol would make it more tolerable, but she’d still be able to taste the metallic tang. She tried to enjoy the light, woozy feeling she hadn’t picked up on earlier while it lasted, knowing that as soon as the red liquid was in her system, she’d no longer be inebriated. Maybe Armstrong was right. Eric almost seemed happier, and all he was doing was talking to the guy. But the dark-haired man, though he was clearly into Eric, looked like he was holding back. She briefly wondered what it was that was keeping him from going all in. Mack leaned onto the counter next to Sierra. “Cute, isn’t it? Seeing all the romance that blossoms in this bar is my second favorite thing about this place.” She scoffed in disgust. “Do I even want to know what your first is?” They smiled mysteriously. “Maybe. Maybe not. I think you might be able to figure it out yourself, though.” They looked back out at Eric and his guest. “You wondering the same thing as I am?” “Not exactly.” She glanced at the clock again. Eight minutes left. They smirked at her. “Oh, he’s going to be in a mood tonight, I can tell. Eric’s working his charm, but the cute little mortal is afraid of something… Wonder what?” They let out an amused sigh. “You think he’ll bring him here again?” She lifted her brows curiously as she finished off the rest of her beer. Might as well enjoy it while she can. “Would be the first time since I’ve met him that I’ve seen him with the same person twice. But I think so.” “Huh.” She didn’t know Eric personally, only heard things really, but even she knew enough to know it was probably serious this time. “Well, maybe I can make good money off of them again.” Six minutes and she’d be $20 richer. “Say… No need to answer if it’s too personal, but… do you ever wish someone would look at you like that?” They looked longingly over at Aiden and Eric. “I mean, I was never much of a romantic before working here, was always content with just being happy with myself… but seeing this really makes you think about what you’re missing. Makes you wish someone would take notice.” They shook their head. “Eh. I know you’re not the type, Sierra. I’m just in a mood myself at the moment.” “Yeah, not my thing. Besides, I already found my soulmate: Armstrong’s buffalo wings.” She grinned, the alcohol putting her in a goofy mood now. Mack laughed. “Guess I should push Armstrong to finish that online class to get ordained so he can officiate the wedding . Then you can finally be Mrs. Buffalo Wing!” “It’s got a ring to it, don’t it? Sierra Buffalo Wing. It’s like we were meant to be.” She held up one of the discarded bones, with only a few scraps of chicken left clinging to it, and blew it a kiss. “Love you, babe.” “Oooh, want me to get you an onion ring for it? Make it feel real special?” They were struggling to hold back their laughter as Armstrong returned with a large pitcher. He grabbed Sierra’s glass and filled it right up to the brim with a dark red fruity-scented liquid. “You drink this up right now, Goldilocks. You’re not gonna miss my narrow victory just because you’re making goo-goo eyes at chicken bones again.” She sighed and dropped the wing in the plastic basket, her good mood brutally murdered by the unfortunate need for blood. She grabbed the glass, then swung her stool around so she could lean against the wooden bartop. She started slowly downing the drink while she watched Eric and his date for the remaining time. The blood worked faster than she would have liked. She could feel the hazy daze clouding her mind disappearing, her senses growing sharp again as she heard the soft buzzing of the lights above. If she really wanted, she could probably eavesdrop on their conversation, though her lack of interest cancelled that possibility out almost immediately. Armstrong leaned against the bar, anticipation swelling. Mack kept stealing sidelong glances at him, their eyes going from him, to the couple, to the clock on the wall as the seconds ticked downs towards Sierra stealing the victory. Come on, she thought, the possibility of $20 being knocked off her bill making her giddy despite not being tipsy anymore. Eric and his date chatted away, blissfully unaware of the small crowd watching them. The bartop creaked a bit as Armstrong leaned forward onto it. “Come on, don’t let me down, kid… ” he mumbled under his breath. “You know I’m the winner here,” Sierra stated nonchalantly, even if she was pretty excited about basically getting her chicken and one drink for free. He snorted. “I don’t know any such thing, Goldilocks. Look.” He gestured with his eyes towards the table. Eric had leaned over across it and was dangerously close to the other man’s face. She choked on her current gulp of the cursed liquid. Through her coughing, while her body tried to funnel it in the correct direction, she managed to spit out, “Oh, fuck no!” Was she seriously going to lose in the last twenty seconds? Eric reached up and brushed a piece of hair on the man’s face away, then leaned back and smiled. There was no kiss. Across from her, Armstrong closed his eyes in irritation as the final seconds on the clock ticked away and revealed Sierra as the clear winner of the bet. Mack heaved a long sigh and Armstrong pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well,” he grumbled, “you won. Again.” She spun back around with a triumphant grin. “What an unfortunate turn of events,” she said simply before finishing off the glass. Mack reached over and reassuringly rubbed Armstrong’s arm, their face a bit more flushed than what would have been normal. The massive bartender simply sighed. “Well, deal’s a deal. Those wings are free, and one of your drinks is free as well. And don’t worry, your Bloody Mary was already on the house, so it’s not that one. God, you’re a pain in my ass, Goldilocks. Maybe I should start using that Philosopher’s Stone so I don’t keep losing money on bets.” “We both know that’ll never happen,” she pointed out. “Besides, with as much money as I spend here each night, I’m pretty sure you’re doing just fine.” Thank goodness for the money she’d made in her 20’s, or she’d be flat broke from the amount of alcohol she consumed each night. “She’s got a point,” Mack stated reassuringly. Grumbling, Armstrong picked up the dirty dishes and glasses and brought them to the back. Mack watched him go, then turned back to Sierra. “He mostly does that whole grumbling bit for show, you know? He’s not really so mad.” “Yeah, I know.” She shrugged and unwillingly poured a second glass. “He’s like the big brother I never had, in a weird way, I guess. Do not tell him I said that.” “My lips are sealed,” Mack said, miming sealing up their lips with a key. “Us creatures of the night gotta support each other, right?” “You two are the family I don’t have, you know that?” She knew it was okay to let her guard down just a little bit with Mack. They put a hand to their chest and smiled. “I’m touched, Sierra. I feel the same; you’re both like the family I would have had if they hadn’t disowned me.” “You know what I think about that. If they won’t accept you for who you are, then fuck ‘em.” She put the glass to her lips and tipped her head backwards, letting the liquid run down her throat. Mack nodded “I definitely agree. Though, think they’d be much happier with who I am now than who I was way back when I was mortal.” They sighed yet again. “Ah well. I’m content now, for the most part. I feel like I’m where I need to be, like fate dealt me the right hand even if I didn’t know it at the time. Do you believe in fate, Sierra?” She waited to answer until she finished off the glass. The sooner she was done with the whole pitcher, the better. Once she set the emptied cup on the bartop, she shook her head. “Nope.” They shrugged. “Not surprising. And I don’t blame you. Not a fan of the idea in a broad sense, that everything we do is predetermined. Like free will too much to buy that. But what I do believe is that we all eventually end up exactly where we need to be. As an old friend of mine used to say, everything happens for a reason.” “Right,” she muttered bitterly under her breath as she poured the rest of the concoction into her glass. “Because I definitely needed to be beaten for most of my life by my dad just to end up here.” She paused, then glanced up at Mack. “Sorry, I don’t mean it like that. I love this damn place. I just… You know. Could’ve done without the abuse.” They placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’d never say you deserved that at all. I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances myself. But, I think it is fate that you’re here, now. You went through all that shit, and you found us, and you pretty much have paid for every new bit of furniture and decoration we’ve got for the past few years!” They laughed, then continued, ”What I mean to say is, I’m glad you’re here, Sierra. I think maybe you’re my second favorite thing about this place.” “Oh shit, I bumped romance into third place?” She smirked with amusement. Maybe she wasn’t tipsy anymore, but she was still in a fairly good mood all things considered. “Looks like it! You know… do you want to know what my favorite thing about this place is?” Did she? Yes and no. She wasn’t particularly the nosy type, but the way they asked it had a nonverbal hint: Mack wanted to tell her. Considering how many damn things she’d subtly vented about to them, listening to whatever was their number one favorite thing about the karaoke bar was the least she could do. So, despite the lack of really caring either way, she nodded. “Sure, hit me with it.” Their face got a little red, and they smirked. “Well, you see, it’s Ar—” They didn’t get to finish their thought because, at that moment, Armstrong returned to the front grumbling about the dishes. “You’re gonna eat me out of house and home one of these days, Goldilocks.” Mack, still blushing, took this opportunity to slip off over to Eric’s table to see how they were doing, leaving Sierra alone with Armstrong and an unanswered question. They’ll tell me one of these days, I’m sure, she thought to herself, feeling a little bad about the abrupt interruption. She finished off the rest of the drink and set the glass down for the last time. “So long as you keep making those wings, you’ll be just fine.” She pulled out her wallet and handed over her debit card to pay her bill. “Don’t forget to add the tip, 30% like normal.” “Aww, you spoil me. You’re gonna make me start thinking you actually like me for more than my buffalo wings if you keep tipping like that.” She shook her head with an amused smile. Curiously, she glanced over at Eric’s table again. As far as vampires went, he seemed okay. Relationships and finding love might not be her thing, but she was pretty sure it was Eric’s, and though she’d never admit it out loud, she was glad he might be finding someone to be with. ****** The Den of Sin was, as usual, bustling with activity. The neon lights lit up the stages and cages around the club as men and women danced for the leering patrons watching from their seats with drinks in hand. The bar was loaded with sketchy people doing their best to avoid eye contact as they downed their drinks to prepare for another round of lurid ogling. A few people were surreptitiously slipping out of the doors near the back, some wiping their mouths, some zipping their pants, and some even limping, doing their best to remain unnoticed despite the fact that anyone who glanced at them knew exactly what they had been doing in the private showrooms. And looking out over it all from his second story office, glaring down at the club from behind a thick wall of one-way mirror glass, was Remy Delacroix, the incredibly greasy owner of the club. “You know,” he growled in his stereotypical Kentucky-fried accent, “it ain’t fuckin’ professional for you to be showin’ up this goddamn late, Chastity. Thought we were already crystal fuckin’ clear about this last week.” “I’m sorry, okay?” Chastity Collins crossed her arms over her perky B-cup chest. If Remy thought he was going to intimidate her, then he was sorely mistaken. She’d been working for him long enough to know his bark was worse than his bite. “The stupid bus left early, so I missed it and had to wait for the next one.” Remy turned around, stroking his greasy black goatee that looked like it had never met a comb before, his worn and patched-up top hat slipping down his head a bit as he did so. He readjusted it before speaking again. “Y’know, it seems to me that with the city buses bein’ as shit as they are, you might try an’ plan ahead. Hell, you could always ask Morag for a fuckin’ ride considerin’ you two are… bosom buddies. All this shit just sounds like excuses, excuses, excuses to me.” Geez, he was a buzzkill. Chastity batted her blue eyes and stuck her bottom lip out in what she was confident was a cute pout. “I didn’t try to be late, Remy… You know how much I love it here. Why would I want to miss out on a single minute with the guests?” He considered this, then gave a none-too-pleasant grin, showing off his numerous gold fillings. “Oh, trust me girl, I know how much you like dancin’ here, ‘specially for that daredevil bimbo. It’s my job to watch, after all. Still hopin’ I might eventually be able to promote you to the back room. But how,” he said, stomping his foot to emphasize, “can I do that if you ain’t takin’ this shit seriously?!” Damn. So close. She must have used her puppy dog eye pout on him too many times. “I do take it seriously. Look, I’m sorry if I take a little longer to get ready than you’d like. It takes effort to look this good.” She lowered her arms, placing her hands on her hips and tried a different approach, shifting slightly to jut her chest out. Remy was a sucker for a sexy woman, and she used this to her advantage way too many times. She knew for a fact he’d pick up on what she was doing, so it was a gamble as to whether or not it would work to get her out of the doghouse for the night. The sweat on his brow was rather telling. He pulled off his hat and wiped off his forehead. “… Ugh. Damn it, woman. Y’all know I’m a sucker for a pretty face. Fuck, go see Morag, but you can’t do this shit forever. I’m not an idiot.” She grinned brightly and blew him a kiss. “Love you, Remy.” Then, not wanting to chance him getting grumpy on her again, she picked up her white and pink polka dotted tote bag, which held her work outfit, makeup, her favorite strawberry body mist spray, wallet, jewelry, and hairbrush, and darted out. Morag’s office was just down the hall, and Chastity knew she was probably in there doing some kind of odd job for Remy. Luckily, the door was open, so she poked her head in with a big grin. “Hey!” The big, bushy mass of auburn hair that was hunched over the desk staring at some drab document or another shot up, revealing the sparkling blue eyes and sweet, dimpled smile of Chastity’s Scottish friend and coworker. “Ah! Dearie, I was worried about you! Remy was about having a wee fit over you not showing up on time. I think it’s the stress, what with all the violence around the area lately.” She nodded solemnly. “Yeah, he wasn’t too happy. But, you know him, he just can’t say no to me.” She walked in and plopped down in a seat in front of her desk. Technically, she should be getting ready to go on the floor, especially since she was already late, but Remy did say to go see Morag, so she was simply doing what he asked. He couldn’t possibly get mad at that, could he? Of course he could, and if she spent too much time chatting with her friend, she’d get a brand new lecture. Still, though, there had to be a reason he sent her down the hall, so she smiled politely and asked, “What am I seeing you for today? Another write-up for being late?” “Pssht, dearie, you know I never write you up, and Remy will forget all about this as soon as he sees you shaking what the Lord gave you out on the stage. The man has the attention span of a toddler when a nice ass is in front of him.” She laughed a bit. “Now, I need to check on Ryker before I head on back to… well, you know. The fine men who frequent the Den aren’t going to pleasure themselves. Or they will, and there will be a whole mess for that poor mopey janitor.” She sighed and glanced at the bottle of mouthwash on her desk. “Another day, another five hundred dollars, huh?” Chastity grinned as she stood up. “You still on for coffee after we get done tonight? I know I really shouldn’t, but I’m craving a huge helping of hash browns, and you know that diner makes them really damn good.” “You only make five hundred dollars a day?” She laughed again. “And I’m always up for a trip to Brightside’s! Need something to wash the taste of these sad men out of my mouth, and I’m not sure this dollar store brand mouthwash will cut it!” She grinned and pointed out her door. “Now get out there and shake your ass, dearie!” “Yes, ma’am!” She winked, headed out of Morag’s office, and pranced to the locker room. It only took her about four minutes. She got dressed, touched up her makeup, applied her body mist, and stored her personal items in her locker. She eagerly rushed to the floor, hopping onto her stage and waving at her coworkers. She noticed her stage neighbor, Ryker, was missing, though she figured he was just on an early break. Without further ado, she started dancing. A late start wouldn’t hurt her tips too badly as long as she gave it her all, which was a given. Almost as soon as she started performing, a small crowd formed around her below. Among the teeming crowd of perverted onlookers tossing her money, a familiar redhead in a bright red biker getup was cheerfully tossing big bills at Chastity without a second thought. Having been an employee at the Den for several years, she had a number of regulars, but few were as cool as Venus was. She met the redhead about a year ago, and the two had surprisingly hit it off fairly well. They eventually started hanging out regularly. Over time, they became friends, and Chastity realized she genuinely enjoyed Venus’s company. She made a mental note to ask if the redhead wanted to join her and Morag later on, figuring the Scottish woman wouldn’t really mind (“The more, the merrier,” or something like that). Flirtatiously, she blew Venus a kiss in return for the tips. Venus responded in kind, batting her eyelashes and putting a finger to her cheek before tossing a crisp hundred dollar bill at her. Chastity grinned brightly and made a show of bending over slowly to pick it up, making sure to position herself just right so Venus could get a teasing peek at her butt beneath her skimpy red plaid schoolgirl skirt. The dancer was a guy’s girl, without a doubt, but she loved the attention from anyone, even friends like Venus. The redhead grinned and leaned back, clearly enjoying the show. She sometimes got the sense Venus was a little more into her than she let on and that some of her flirtiness wasn’t just goofing around. She pondered this for a moment as she continued dancing, but these thoughts were shoved to the back of her mind when she saw Remy storm across the floor to one of the private rooms. Is he mad, or is he going to relieve some stress? she wondered, but figured as long as he wasn’t coming to bitch at her, it was none of her business. A few moments later, her attention was drawn across the club to a pudgy middle-aged man being violently tossed through the door Remy had gone through. He had a black eye and, judging by the blood on his face, Remy had broken his nose. A couple of bouncers rushed over and grabbed the man, dragging him to the door while he screamed “Let me go! I need to fuck her butt!” As several clubgoers turned their gaze to the strange altercation, Chastity glanced inquisitively at Remy, who jerked his head, indicating that she needed to go see him lest she suffer his impotent wrath yet again. Damn, was he trying to mess with her tips? She pouted at the crowd around her. “Mr. Boss Man needs to see me, but I’ll be back in a jiffy. Don’t miss me too much!” She blew a kiss at them, grabbed the bills that landed around her, and stuffed them in the waistband of her skirt before hopping down and making her way towards Remy. He was staring off towards the doors as she approached, barely reacting when she reached him. He gave a deep, frustrated sigh. “I need you to do me a favor.” Well, this was interesting. “Sure thing! What do you need?” “That fuckin’ lard-ass punk was apparently some freaky sex offender, tried to cut up Morag with a switchblade he had up his damn ass when she refused to suck his nasty little cock...” He shook his head in disgust; it was nice knowing he had some standards. “I need you to take her out, calm her down. Figured you were both spendin’ time after work anyhow so just do whatever you were gonna do. Don’t punch out, neither. I’ll clock you two out when your shifts woulda ended. Just… take the fuckin’ night off. I’ll send Jeanne up to cover for you.” Holy shit. Her playful grin turned serious, and she nodded. “Sure thing, Boss. You can count on me. Where’s she at now?” “She’s in the back, cleanin’ up.” He peered over her shoulder and narrowed his eyes. “You want me to let Evel Knievel know you’ll be out soon?” Chastity turned around to see Venus jumping to look over the crowd with genuine concern in her eyes. Venus was too sweet for words some days. “Yes, please,” she nodded. “Thanks, Remy! I’ll take good care of Morag, don’t you worry.” She reached up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek before skipping off to the locker room. He really needs to spring for better razors, she thought. It wasn’t long before she found Morag. She was at her locker dabbing at her eyes with a towel. It was obvious by her pale complexion and the tear streaks on her cheek that she was a bit shaken up, but anyone who didn’t know her would think she was taking it in stride when she turned and beamed at Chastity. “Oh, dearie, what are you doing back here? You needn’t check up on me. I’ve seen it all; I’m perfectly fine!” Chastity immediately gave her the biggest smile she could, hoping to chase away the fright. “Forget work, we’re going out! You, me, and Venus, if you want her to join. My treat. Or, really, Venus’s.” She pulled out the hundred dollar bill the redhead had tossed at her earlier from her waistband and wiggled her hips from side-to-side excitedly. She laughed. “Oh that poor dear, she really must have it bad for you if she tipped you that well! Though I suppose her line of work lets her afford these things! Anyway… I suppose I won’t be able to perform my duties too well after that… ” Chastity’s smile faded, and she sighed. “You know what, I’ll cover for you for a few days. And if Remy has a problem with it, he can kiss my perky butt. Which I’m sure he’d love to do, really.” “Honestly, dearie,” she said with a wink. “Who wouldn’t want to? In fact, I can think of at least one person who’d love to!” She sighed and made show of rolling her eyes. She knew exactly who Morag was referring to. “Come on, let’s get outta here. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, right?” Without further argument, Morag finished cleaning herself up and, within five minutes, the two were heading to the front doors. When they got there, they spotted Venus leaning against the olive green wall waiting for them. As soon as she spotted the two, her face lit up and she waved enthusiastically. “There’s my two favorite hoes!” she merrily chirped. “Is everything okay?” “Just peachy,” Chastity smiled. She figured Morag would fare better if what she just experienced wasn’t recounted. “You coming with us? We’re going for coffee, fried potatoes, and whatever else we feel like eating.” “Hell yeah!” she exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air. “You know I’m always down to hang with you two!” They walked outside and Chastity greedily inhaled the fresh air. There were a few people lingering around, mostly patrons taking a smoke break or calling their wives to swear they were working late and they’d be home soon. Though Rhine City was overrun with crime, there seemed to be an unspoken rule: Don’t fuck with the Den. Whether inside or just outside, the Den was one of the safest places to be in the city besides the buses, a public school, or a wealthy person’s house. The diner she and Morag frequented, though, was several blocks away, so walking there at a late hour wasn’t a great idea. “So,” Chastity started, breaking the short silence that fell between the trio, “how are we getting to Brightside’s?” “Well… ” Venus began, “I, of course, have Lady… ” Lady was what Venus called her beloved motorcycle; she got a lot of mileage (and eye rolls) out of her oft-repeated joke that she was always riding a pretty Lady all over town. Sure enough, Lady was chained up in the parking lot, her gorgeous red paint job glistening in the light of the streetlights. “Can’t leave home without her, huh?” Chastity teased. “Well, we can meet you there. I’m sure it won’t take that long to hail down a cab.” Hopefully. At this time of night, it could get difficult since most taxi companies stopped running to try and reduce the amount of incidents to their cars and drivers. “Or maybe we can catch the next bus? What time is it?” Unlike the taxi companies, the buses ran all night long to service the citizens who worked second or third shifts. How they usually avoided violence and criminal activity, though, she had no idea. “Hmmm,” hummed Venus, “I could always bug my sister and see if she can drive you two! I’ll pay for anything she gets to entice her into doing this. I’m good for it!” Chastity glanced at Morag. “Do you have a preference? I don’t care, really. I just want some hash browns!” Morag nodded “That would be lovely, dearie. The more the merrier, right?” She smiled, but it was evident to Chastity she was still shaken up. Nobody was supposed to fuck with the Den, and yet tonight, it had been fucked with. Despite the brave face she put on, Chastity knew Morag’s peace of mind had been badly damaged. She’d be damned if she let some greasy pig make her best friend feel unsafe at the place they called home. Careful not to give any indication that something happened, Chastity casually grabbed Morag’s hand and squeezed it, sending a silent promise of protection and support. “Whatever gets some good, greasy food in my stomach faster!” Venus whipped out her phone and quickly called her sister. A few minutes later, a car came screeching to a park right next to Lady. The window rolled down, and a woman who looked remarkably like Venus but with white hair, a scar across her right eye, and a black spiky dog collar around her neck was sitting in the driver’s seat. She winked at the gathered girls. “Hey.” “So the wild driving is genetic, huh?” Chastity stuck her tongue out teasingly at Venus and excitedly pulled Morag to the car. She was thankful she’d changed out of her skimpy outfit before they’d left so she didn’t end up flashing everyone when she slid into the car (though she was sure her shorts showed a hint of her butt cheeks). She’d experienced plenty of older women in public telling her the way she dressed was immodest, but, on the contrary, she was merely comfortable with her body. So what if her midriff peeked out under her top or she showed too much leg? She liked it. Imagine what those ladies would think if they knew where she worked! “So, Brightside’s, right?” asked Venus’ sister. Morag nodded. “Yes, please, and thank you so much for this, dearie. Oh, what’s your name, by the by?” “Lilith. Now buckle up, girls, we’re about to go!” She hit the gas and zoomed out of the parking lot, her sister zipping after her on Lady as they peeled down the street. Chastity giggled and squealed the whole way, the wind whipping her blonde hair across her face, easily making it a terrible mess. She felt so free in this moment and turned her head to grin at Morag, reaching out to squeeze her hand again. Morag was white as a sheet, but she definitely seemed more exhilarated than fearful. Her hand was a vice on Chastity’s the whole way over, only releasing it when Lilith finally, against all odds, came to perfect, screeching parallel park. Lilith turned around from the front seat with a devious grin. “And they say women can’t drive.” “Girl, I don’t know where the fuck you learned how to drive like that, but I’m pretty sure you could kick your sister’s ass in a race. Just, you know, don’t tell her that. I’m pretty sure it’ll break her heart.” She laughed and got out of the car with her phone and wallet in one hand, leaving her tote bag behind. “Mmm, I can practically smell the grease and salt from out here!” Brightside’s Diner was her favorite restaurant in the whole city. She wasn’t sure what her favorite thing about the place was: the old-fashioned decor that made it look like it came straight out of the 1940’s, the friendliness of the waitresses and the cooks, the fact that they were open 24/7 and were considered one of the city’s “safe” places at any hour of the day, or the delicious saltiness of the hash browns, the best option on the menu in her honest opinion. The restaurant was small but homey, and it welcomed all who came in with the chime of a bell that hung on the front door. Venus pulled off her helmet and rejoined the rest of the group. “Damn, Lily, you got a need for speed tonight! What gives?” Lilith shrugged. “My boss didn’t really have any work for me today, so I was kinda itching to hit the road.” Venus shook her head and sighed, turning her attention to Chastity with a grin. “I have been wanting to come here for forever! Have you heard all the crazy stories about this place?” Chastity blinked at her, completely confused. “What crazy stories?” She’d been eating at the diner at least once a month since she started working at the Den three years ago, but she’d never heard anything weird about it. “You mean you never heard? The old owner of this place, Minerva Bright, supposedly vanished without a trace one day ten years ago, and no one has been able to find her since… but every month the bills are all still paid and the employee’s checks all come on time! Because there are new owners, woooo!” Venus waved her hands about in a spooky manner while her sister shook her head in bewildered amusement. Chastity lifted an eyebrow, skeptical. “So she’s a shy business owner. As long as my food is still good, I don’t care! Speaking of which, I can hear those potatoes calling my name. Can we please go in now?” Soon enough, they were seated at a table with laminated menus in hand. A nervous, skinny girl with dark hair and a name tag that read “IRIS” came out with a pot of coffee. “Hello, I’m Iris, and I’m going to be your server tonight. Can I start any of you off with a drink? “Coffee for me with cream and sugar, please!” Chastity smiled at her, not even glancing at her menu. She already knew what she wanted. Maybe she was a creature of habit, but she liked what she liked. “I’ll have what she’s having,” Morag giggled. “You got root beer?” Lilith asked. When Iris nodded in reply, she said, “I’ll have that, then.” “I’ll just have some water for now!” Venus chirped. Her sister gave her a weird look, but Venus just smirked at her and shrugged it off. “Gotta stay hydrated, Lily. Those rings of fire really get me parched, y’know?” Chastity was amused watching the sisters. Not that she’d admit it out loud, but they made her miss her own sister. She, of all people, understood the special bond twins shared. She and Venery, her twin sister, were similar to Lilith and Venus. They could convey a silent message with just a single glance. Her sister had been her best friend. Until she’d left home, anyway. Iris nodded, then walked off to gather the group’s drinks. After she left, Morag began to leaf through the menu, eventually stopping and sighing. “I’m… Well, I do appreciate being here for all the fun conversation and all, but I’m just not sure I have it in me to eat.” Lilith and Venus exchanged worried glances. Venus asked, “Are you sure you’re alright?” “Shit, I didn’t scare you with my driving, did I?” Lilith asked sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head. Morag shook her head. “No, no… I just… I was attacked at work today. I haven’t had anything like this happen to me in all my years working there, and it just… It’s really weighing on my mind… ” Chastity immediately grabbed her hand again and squeezed it. “You should eat something, though. Even something small. Don’t let that douchebag get to you! You know Remy would never, ever let anything happen to us.” She wasn’t lying; despite how much of a cranky creep he was, at least some of it almost seemed like a show, like he was playing the part of a pimp. He always made sure his girls were comfortable, well paid, and prevented any perverts from giving them shit. He’s still a dick, though, Chastity thought. Morag merely sighed. “I know, I know… Oh, I suppose I’ll get those seasoned potatoes and some scrambled eggs… ” “There you go!” She smiled proudly at her friend. “And at least eat the potatoes. They’re to die for!” “I’d rather not die for potatoes, if I’m being totally honest,” Venus nodded. “It’s a figure of speech, dumbass,” chided Lilith playfully. Venus stuck her tongue out at her sister. They both devolved into a laughing fit over their own bickering. Iris gave them a peculiar look as she came back. She took everyone’s orders, then headed back to the kitchen and called out for someone named Haruhi to put the potatoes down. Chastity stirred cream and sugar into her coffee. Steam rose from the liquid, indicating it wasn’t quite ready for her to consume it yet. “So…” “So,” Venus replied. “So!” Lilith added. “So?” Morag asked. With a snort, Chastity rolled her eyes. “You three are weird.” ”I know you are, but what am I?” Venus childishly retorted, sticking her tongue out at Chastity. “A thirsty bitch?” Lilith suggested. “Lily,” Venus whined. “Why you gotta be so rude to me?” “Because I’m your sister?” Lilith snorted before holding up her hands in a heart shape and blowing a kiss to Venus. “Looooooooooooove you though.” Chastity quietly listened to the three women casually chat while she sipped away at her coffee, which was finally starting to cool down. Morag’s comment earlier about someone wanting a peek at her ass came back to mind, and she curiously glanced at Venus, who was animatedly talking about a new trick she learned on her bike. It wouldn’t really surprise her if Venus was sweet on her. She supposed the redhead was cute, but she’d never really been into girls. She definitely liked men. She’d always been a bit boy-crazy when she was a teenager, often irritating her sister with how much she gushed about a cute guy at school. But she couldn’t really deny that Venus was pretty attractive, even if she didn’t swing that way. Her green eyes were gorgeous, and she had an alluring bad girl aura to her (even though she was actually a rather sweet person). She was particularly cute when she smiled (especially when she did so in her direction). “Earth to Chastity,” Lilith said, waving her hand in front of her face. “You just missed V telling you about how she jumped over three buses once!” “You’re gonna make me cry,” Venus whined in a faux-sad tone. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” she pouted. “I didn’t mean to space out, I swear.” Morag was sitting back and watching all of this go down, clearly at least a bit amused, but she definitely seemed a far cry from her usual cheerful self. “It was a rather fascinating story…” she mumbled. It killed Chastity to see her so distant. It was like she was there, but not really at the same time, and that frightened her. Chastity smiled at Venus apologetically. “Maybe you can give me a ride home and tell me about it before I head to bed? Because I definitely want to hear about this, but I know a story of Morag’s you’ll really like.” Not that she wanted to steal the thunder from Venus, but she figured she’d understand that the woman needed to be cheered up. Turning to Morag, she chirped, “Tell them about the time you nearly made a guy shit his pants for daring to grab Scarlet’s ass while she was delivering drinks.” Morag perked up at this and launched into the tale Chastity had heard dozens of times before. Venus and Lilith hadn’t, though, and both women seemed utterly enthralled. Chastity was happy to see Morag’s smile had returned, her face had brightened, and she was in much higher spirits than she had been just a few minutes before. Was it temporary? Maybe. Morag really had been shaken up by what happened, but she’d make sure to keep it up until she was back to normal. She was like a sister, and Chastity loved her to pieces. She’d kick anyone in the groin if they ever dared to hurt her best friend ever again. |
AuthorsMichael & Tierney Ford Archives
July 2023
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