He was having trouble caring about any of that, though.
Nick’s chest was starting to hurt.
More than anything, he wanted to tell Wynter to come down here.
He wanted to call her, and tell her to come to Queens.
Or, better yet, he wanted to tell her to meet him at his apartment in Washington Heights––even though the thought of her in his building, where there was some chance one of the vampires there might smell her for what she was, also turned him borderline homicidal.
He had to bite his tongue to not ask her to come when he left his last message.
Turning his headset back on, he sent her another message, a verbal one that time.
When it clicked through, he was silent for what had to be a few seconds.
“We’re at a club,” he said after that silence. “They’re trying to recruit me.”
He winced, knowing how angry this would make her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, gruff. “I’m really sorry about tonight, Wynter. And I want to see you so fucking badly, it’s all I can think about. I hope the fight didn’t freak you out…”
Trailing, he struggled, briefly at a loss for words.
He glanced up at the VR light display, watching the stars swirl overhead, seeing nebulae explode out of the darkness, doing strange things to the half-naked humans and vamps dancing in cages over the stage. The DJ on that stage wore a wolf-like mask, also lit up with VR enhancements, his glowing teeth flashing in time to the music.
“Tomorrow,” he said into his headset. “Tomorrow, okay? I can’t talk to you right now, or I’ll do something stupid. Something I shouldn’t do. I’m sorry I’m leaving you these fucking messages, but it’s all I can do right now, honey.”
Not wanting to clarify that to her, he clenched his jaw.
“Tomorrow,” he repeated. “I don’t think I can wait any longer than that. But call me if I have to… if you want us to wait. Call me if you don’t want me there. If you don’t tell me not to come, I will come, Wynter.”
Pausing, he added, gruff,
“I’m sorry. About tonight. About all of it. I fucking miss you. Tomorrow, okay?”
Before he could second-guess that, or think about trying to explain it, to her or to himself––and before he started to apologize again––he disconnected the line.
Leaning against the bar behind him, he exhaled like a human.
Forcing himself to calm down, realizing the fight might still be affecting him, not to mention how long it had been since he’d seen her in the flesh, he looked out over the dance floor, finding Kit with his eyes.
She was still dancing with the female human.
He saw a few vampire eyes on both Kit and her dancing partner, but nothing that alarmed him, at least not overly.
Like he’d expected, she was more interesting to a lot of them than the groupies. Her muscular arms and tats didn’t hurt, or the fact that she was obviously a fighter.
They were keeping their distance so far, the vamps he saw, so obviously there was some awareness of the rules here. That, or they knew she’d come in with him.
Either way, they appeared to be watching only, without entering her physical space, or even circling closer. Nick saw no one who looked like they were hunting her.
It should have reassured him, but it really didn’t.
He was trying to decide if he could bow out of there, take the kid with him so he could stop worrying about her, make sure she got home safe before it was fully light out––
––when a voice spoke up from by his elbow.
“You aren’t feeding tonight?”
Nick stiffened, then turned.
He already knew it was a vampire.
No human could get that close to him without him hearing it.
Even with a vampire, he should have felt them before they got that far into his personal space. If he hadn’t been in crowds all night, if the club hadn’t been so damned loud, if his head wasn’t still throbbing from the drug, if he hadn’t been thinking about Wynter––
He met the crystal eyes, and realized he recognized the person who stared back at him.
He didn’t know them, but he recognized them.
It was the vampire with the brown, spiked mohawk, from the first fight he’d seen that night. The vampire who wore the same Farlucci-sea-monster tat Nick wore during his fight, who’d beaten the tall, green-haired vamp and nearly ripped his face in half.
Remembering that fight, and remembering the tattoo on the mohawked vampire’s back, Nick realized the other vamp’s tattoo was likely as fake as Nick’s had been.
He hoped it wasn’t the same tattoo Nick himself wore.
If it was, there was some chance this vamp knew who he was.
“No,” Nick said, belatedly, as he saw the vamp studying his face curiously. “I’m exclusive,” he explained.
There was a pause as Nick’s words sank in.
Then the male vampire shrugged. For the first time, those crystal-colored eyes shifted away, losing some of their intensity.
“You can order it fresh from the vein at the bar, brother,” he said, his voice indifferent. “Most of us are hungry after the fights.”
His full lips curved in a faint smile as he glanced back at Nick.
“…of course, your fight was pretty short. Maybe you didn’t work up much of an appetite, compared to the rest of us.”
Nick stared at him, his expression unmoving.
Still, he got the distinct impression the vamp wanted something.
“Can I help you?” he said.
He was still thinking about that damned tattoo.
He wondered if there was any way he could ask, without the other vamp asking him the same thing.
The vamp gave him a shrewd look. “Can I help you?” he countered. “You seem like you want to ask me something, brother. What is it?”
Nick hesitated.
Then he decided, what the fuck.
“Your tattoo,” he said. “I noticed you wore the Farlucci tat. In the ring––”
But the other vamp was already smiling knowingly, nodding.
“Ah, yes. Of course. I should have known you’d ask.”
Nick frowned, puzzled by that, but the vampire was already lifting his shirt. Pulling it up to his neck and shoulders, he swiveled around on his barstool so that his back faced Nick. He flashed the dark blue, implanted tattoo at Nick, giving him a faint smirk over his shoulder as he did.
“What do you think, brother?” the other said.
Nick stared at the symbol there.
Before he could fully wrap his head around what he was looking at, what it meant displayed on the back of the male vampire sitting in front of him, the other vampire was lowering his shirt back down, grinning at Nick, a cigarette balanced on his lips as he swiveled the stool around so they once more faced one another.
“You like?” the vampire said, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and smirking as he ashed the glowing end in an old-fashioned crystal ashtray.
Nick frowned. “Isn’t that the symbol of that racist? Dimitry Yi?” His frown deepened. “Why the fuck would you wear that shit? You’re a vampire.”
The vamp shrugged.
“Can’t let humans own the symbols, brother,” he said cryptically. “The mark predates Yi. It predates humans. Purity is something all the races should care about. It’s only natural we should all cleave to our own kind. It’s nature.”
Nick’s frown hardened. “Bullshit.”
The vamp blinked. Then he laughed, raising the cigarette back to his lips and inhaling smoke, letting it pool out in liquid wisps around his full mouth. He smiled at Nick, looking him over more overtly.
“You sound human, brother,” the vamp said, still smiling that subtle smile. “Is it true you’re a Midnight?” His voice grew slightly harder. “I hope you use that job of yours to hunt them… not your own people, brother.”
Nick frowned, watching the other vamp look him over.
/> No wonder Farlucci had his people obscure that bullshit, racial purity symbol while this asshole fought. It likely would have offended a fair-few people otherwise, human and vamp. It was like wearing a damned swastika or iron cross back in the pre-war period.
Nick hated that racist b.s.
Even so, he didn’t walk away.
He didn’t know why he didn’t walk away, not at first. It might have been because it felt like this vamp wanted something from him––something specific, that is, something other than simply to kick his ass in a fight.
Of course, based on what he’d just said, it was more than likely the other vamp’s agenda with him was purely political. He probably wanted to know where Nick’s allegiances lay, whether he was race-loyal, how much of a lackey he was to his human owners, how much of a lackey he was to the NYPD, how much of a lackey he was to the racial authorities, the I.S.F. in particular. Or maybe he wanted to recruit Nick to his bullshit Dimitry Yi trip.
Nick noticed a lot of vampires tried to suss out his loyalties once they found out where he worked. He supposed it made sense.
Being a Midnight meant he worked for the enemy, in many vamp’s eyes.
It put him in a strange category, vis a vis others of his race.
He couldn’t help noticing the liquid mannerisms of the other male, or the way his eyes took in the rest of the club. He couldn’t miss the predatory look in those eyes, or the faint bloom of scarlet around his pitch-black pupils.
Nick remembered what the other vamp had done to the green-haired vampire.
Clearly, racial-purity boy here wasn’t so pro-vamp he’d minded nearly decapitating one of his own with his bare hands.
“She your exclusive?” the vamp said then.
Nick followed his eyes.
Realizing the vampire was staring at Kit, Nick felt his muscles tense.
“No,” he growled.
The vampire glanced at him, smiling.
“Don’t get offended, brother. A lot of our kind grow attached to cubs.”
He languorously exhaled more smoke.
“Anyway,” he added casually. “I only wondered if the two of you wanted to fuck.” He glanced over Nick’s body, looking over the edge of the bar to deliberately take in the length of him. “Really, I mostly just want to fuck you. But if you’re exclusive, I thought perhaps––”
“No.” Nick’s voice came out harder than he intended. “No… thank you, brother. But no.”
That faint smile returned, an amused flicker of the crystal eyes.
“‘Thank you’?” The vampire chuckled. “Brother… no offense, but I think you should take my offer. If not mine, someone’s here. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a vampire so hungry.” He exhaled more smoke, still smiling. “Whoever your ‘exclusive’ is, she or he is a stingy fuck––”
Nick scowled, but the other wasn’t finished.
“––All of us saw it. Even in the ring,” the mohawked vampire added, giving him another faint smirk as he took a drag of his smoke, leaning deeper into the bar. “I thought perhaps it was the Midnight rules about feeding… but if you really have an exclusive, they have a lot to answer for, brother. I’m quite cross with them, truthfully, for treating a brother of mine so. Particularly given how utterly tempting my brother is––”
Nick didn’t wait to hear the rest.
He walked away.
Chapter 11
Fresh Blood
It was something that would have been inexcusably rude to do to a human.
It was less rude to do it to a vampire, but still got Nick’s point across.
He made his way around the bar to the next empty space.
He avoided looking around or making eye contact with anyone until he was sandwiched between two groups of humans, both of them talking amongst themselves and utterly indifferent to him. Staring down the length of the semi-organic counter, he noted the positions of both Charlie and Kit, then found himself turning over what the vamp had said.
Not the sex part.
The blood part.
Maybe he was right.
Nick had drunk from nothing but blood bags for weeks.
After what happened to him in the ring, he also wondered if he was repressing more than he’d realized. Hell, some part of him wondered if he should take the fight contract with Farlucci, even apart from helping out Charlie with the case of the dead vamps. He wondered if he needed something more than surfing and his Midnight job to blow off steam.
More to the point, he wondered if he needed more safeguards in place––personally, that is––to keep from snapping when it really mattered.
For roughly the same reasons, fresh blood struck him as not a bad idea.
Anyway, it might help clear his head.
He looked for the bartender. He realized the male behind the lit counter was a vampire only after he caught his eye, and saw it was the color of clear, cracked crystal.
Hesitating only a bare breath, Nick motioned him over.
The vampire glided to where Nick was, as if floating on a cloud of air. The movements were so graceful, so effortless… so vampire-like… Nick couldn’t help but realize again the brown-haired vamp was right, in a sense.
Nick had spent so much time with humans lately, he’d almost forgotten what vamps were like when they weren’t trying to blend.
He leaned over the counter when the vamp got close enough.
“Is it true you have fresh blood?” he said.
He had to remind himself not to shout, not to attempt to compensate for human ears, despite the thumping music.
The vampire nodded, smiling at him.
“You have a type preference?” the bartender said.
“No. Whatever’s freshest.”
He found himself glancing at Kit, then at Charlie.
He didn’t usually eat around his human friends.
Shoving off the thought, he displayed his barcode for the vamp bartender to scan when he handed over the drink.
The bartender waved him off.
“On the house,” he said, voice firm. “Winners get their first drink free.”
Nick quirked an eyebrow at the other vamp, then shrugged it off.
“Okay. Thanks,” he said.
He picked up the morphing, glass-looking container, hit a pressure indentation on the side to make it switch from transparent to opaque… then took a long drink.
His fangs extended at the first swallow.
It wasn’t just fresh; it was still fucking warm. Not re-heated warm, either. Nick could definitely taste the difference when blood had cooled and been reheated artificially, no matter what heating mechanism was used.
He didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes until he opened them and saw the vamp bartender smiling at him.
“Good?” he said.
“Fucking amazing,” Nick said truthfully.
He glanced ruefully at the bottom of the glass.
“I guess I needed that,” he added, hearing the disappointment in his own voice.
The bartender smiled, holding out a pale hand.
“Hand it over if you’ve finished, brother. You’ve got several waiting for you, in addition to the house drink. Pre-paid.”
Nick frowned, licking his lips after he took the last few drops from the bottom of the container. He couldn’t believe how fast he’d drunk that. He hadn’t realized how much he’d drank until it was gone.
“What do you mean, pre-paid?” he said, putting the cup back down on the bar and sliding it towards the bartender.
The bartender gave him a sideways smile, lifting Nick’s drink container and dropping it in the sink. Grabbing a clean cup, he filled it from the same heat-capture carafe under the counter.
“You have admirers, brother,” the vampire said with a shrug. “After tonight, does that surprise you?” Still smiling, he placed the new cup on the counter in front of Nick. “I can’t say I blame them. But I heard you tell that other vamp you are exclusive.”
Seeing Nick’s eyebrow go up, the vampire added apologetically,
“…Entirely incidentally, my friend. I will say, the news will spread fast in here. It will also sadden a number of our brothers and sisters on this night.” The blond bartender winked at Nick. “Myself included.”
Nick grunted, glancing down the bar.
He caught the vamp with the brown mohawk staring at him.
When Nick didn’t look away immediately, the other vampire smirked at him, running his shockingly-red tongue over a shockingly-white fang.
“Did he buy the drinks?” Nick said, tilting his head in brown mohawk’s direction. “The one I was talking to before? Who showed me his back?”
The bartender followed Nick’s gaze, eyes narrow.
After a pause, he shook his head.
“No,” he said. “Not him. I saw and heard you talking to him… but he isn’t the one who paid for your drinks. I had three vamps give me their barcodes. None were him.”
Nick grunted, finishing off the last of the second glass of blood.
He felt clearer already.
“Fresh meat?” he said, glancing at the bartender as he placed the glass back on the bar. “I suppose a new face is always fair game.”
The bartender chuckled, plucking the container out of Nick’s fingers.
“Something like that,” he said, leaning down to fill it again.
Nick watched him drop it in the sink, and pluck a clean one out of a rack.
On a whim, he spoke up.
“Hey. You heard I’m a Midnight, right?” Nick grunted, glancing around the room. “I’m assuming everyone in here knows everything I told Farlucci by now.”
The vamp bartender gave him a cautious look, then seemed to make up his mind.
“Yes,” he said. “We all heard.”
“I figured,” Nick muttered.
Talking a few long swallows of the warm blood, he closed his eyes again briefly as they slid down his throat. Lowering the glass, he looked at the bartender.
“Such a small group in here, I figure everyone knows everything… all the vamps, at least.”
The bartender nodded. “You’d be right. More or less.”
Eyes of Ice Page 13