by K. E. Radke
We enter through the emergency exit near the bathrooms.
“Thanks for coming!” Sherry hugs me enthusiastically. She has a septum piercing and black, smoky eyes. Both her eyebrows are pierced and earrings are lining both ears. The black crop top shows off her belly button ring and I know for a fact there’s one more piercing I can’t see.
She holds my hand and tugs me along behind her until we stop at the bar where a man with a hairnet over his beard is filling a pitcher with beer.
“Sundog, take care of her for me, please. She had an asshole throw an entire hot plate of food at her.” Sherry wraps her arm protectively around my shoulders. Lyle told me a while ago she has a huge crush on me.
“Who’s her chaperone?” Sundog asks. Lyle raises his hand. “Fine, one drink. What will it be?”
“Long Island Ice Tea,” I say immediately.
Sundog raises his brows. “This one’s smart.”
“Lyle will get you another one if you want,” Sherry whispers loudly, brushing her lips against my earlobe.
“Stop flirting and go set up,” Sundog gripes at Sherry. He finishes the drinks ahead of mine and then slides a Long Island in front of me. “Please be careful and stay with Lyle.” He gives Lyle a beer and we both head toward the stage.
Club Hazard is nothing special. It only exists in my life because Sherry plays here often. Her band, Dark Matter, brings in a decent crowd. The neon skintight outfits help. There’s only one bar in an open room where people can sit and chat over the music or play pool. Every once in a while, they hold a pool tournament.
The stage is in an adjoining room toward the back. It’s the furthest room from the bar and people tend to hoard drinks on their way back there so they don’t miss the band. By the end of the night, your feet will stick to the floor and you’re lucky if no one has blessed you with a beverage.
I bet it’s still cleaner than Lyle’s apartment.
We push to the front of the crowd and someone touches my arm. “Hey Jazzy, I’ve been look—,” the cute guy stops talking. “You’re not Jazzy.”
“Nope.” I sip on my drink and turn away from him.
“Sorry about that, have you seen a girl in a leather jacket about your height with black hair?”
“Yea, I have!” I say sarcastically with enthusiasm and gesture to myself.
I feel bad for crushing the hope laced through his face.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. This hasn’t kicked in yet.” I hold up my Long Island. “And I had a shitty night at work.”
He clinks his glass with mine. “Bet I can beat you on that shitty night.”
“Oh? By all means, do your worst,” I challenge.
“Blind date. Met up with her, and apparently she ditched me and called in a doppelganger to distract me.”
My drink is on the verge of spilling I laugh so hard. Cute guy holds it for me until I catch my breath. “I still think I got you beat. I had a whole hot plate thrown at me and then,” I pause for effect. “A drink.” I bow like I’m on stage. Maybe the Long Island has hit me now.
He has a pained expression. “Well, I—I got nothing. You win. My date left me high and dry.” A grin spreads across his face at his own pun. He’s wearing the same thing as Lyle, only his jeans are cuffed at the bottom, and he’s wearing sleek, black boots. And he’s so much cuter than Lyle.
I relieve him of my drink and take a sip. “As your date’s evil twin,” I decree and flip my hair behind my shoulder, “I’m Amelia.”
“Ferris.”
“Like the—.”
He interrupts me, “Movie.” Bronze curls bob as he somberly nods, ready for any jokes headed his way.
“Now I know why she ran away,” I tease and make a wow-I-can’t-believe-your-parents-did-that-to-you face.
“Not all of us can have pretty names like Amelia.”
“There are ways to make fun of my name. You have to be a reader in the age group 4 to 8.”
“So if I ever get angry with you, I should hang out at an elementary school to get some real nasty jokes about your name.” He nods his head as if he’s taking internal notes.
Almost choking on my drink, I thank everything holy when the liquid doesn’t pour out of my nose. Coughing and giggling at the same time, I say, “Are you going to offer them candy too?”
“Should I?” he asks in a serious tone while the corner of his mouth tilts upward.
I can’t stop laughing and the liquid sloshes out of the glass and splashes his boots. There’s not enough air in my lungs to gasp, but I manage it, and we stare at his boots silently before making eye contact. “I’m so sorry.” Not really. I’m feeling fantastic right now. “If it makes you feel better, your curls are adorable.”
If he answers me, I don’t hear him because Sherry’s suddenly on the microphone. Nothing out of her mouth makes sense, but I jump to the beat and try to finish what’s left of my Long Island.
Between dancing with Ferris and stepping on several other people’s feet, I lose my Long Island. No one’s bothered if I accidentally bump into them. There are so many people here tonight, it’s hard not to grind against one another if you’re dancing. Hopefully, Ferris isn’t getting the wrong impression.
Not that I care.
And then my arms are around his neck and I’m using his legs to hold me up more than I’m using mine. Hands are on my shoulders and I’m pulled away from Ferris. Lyle’s voice is in my ear, and he’s keeping me steady because all I want to do is sway to the music. “You good?”
“Hell yea!” I scream—or I think I scream it. Lyle’s leg becomes the next victim I grind on because he’s so tall. He goes with it and lets Ferris cut in when he’s had enough of me.
“You wanna get another drink?” Ferris yells in my ear. He pretends to hold a drink in his hand and tips the imaginary glass to his mouth just in case I can’t hear him.
I nod and set my forehead on his shoulder to catch my breath. His fingers slip through mine and he guides me through the dancing crowd to the bar. The sound of Sherry’s voice fades out and a roaring crowd takes over.
My legs feel heavier every time I lift them. The moving floor doesn’t help. I struggle with my fumbling feet and convince myself I’m stuck in quicksand.
Suddenly, the ground becomes closer than it should be. Arms catch me before I hit the floor.
“Maybe not another drink.” Ferris’s voice goes in and out. “Fresh air?”
Underneath me, my legs feel like jelly and I can barely keep my eyes open. Ferris’s arm is around my waist and he encourages me to keep walking, but I can’t tell if they’re moving. The bright lights and faces surrounding me meld together and turn into a giant wavy glob.
All the music, voices, and smells make me dizzy, and Ferris keeps talking, but all I can focus on is putting one foot in front of another. Until I realize my feet are missing. I try to turn my head because I’m positive I left them behind.
I open my mouth to relay everything to Ferris, but my lips will barely move. The words aren’t forming and I can’t tell if Ferris is listening to me because my eyes won’t stay open. Damn you face! Cooperate!
Why do I feel like I’m yelling?
The noise is gone. No music. No chatter. And no people smells. Sweat slides down my face and I notice I’m a lot cooler than before. My hand refuses to leave my side to wipe the perspiration off my forehead. What if I left my hands with my feet…
Sand. There’s sand between my fingers. Where am I? My eyelids won’t open so I can search for Lyle. Is sand normally in a club? A new strain on my arm makes me groan. It’s aching, and I can’t figure out how to make the pain go away.
Something pricks my cheek. Tiny little somethings annoy my face and I can’t get them off me. Where is Lyle? Am I on the ground? Lyle’s name is on the tip of my tongue. Can he hear me? Lyle, I need you.
Where’s my phone? If he can’t hear me, I can call him. He’ll come get me.
I concentrate to figure out which hand should
grab my phone.
Without my thoughts to keep me company, I hear a voice. The words are muffled and I try to focus on the sound to figure out if it’s Lyle.
The voice wavers in and out until my brain names the noise.
Ferris.
“You aren’t going to hurt her, are you? What did you make me put in her drink?” Ferris’s concerned tone gives me goosebumps. Someone else is with him.
Another voice is too low for me to hear. I try to turn my head to follow the sound to find out who it is, but my eyelids are so heavy, I can’t lift them.
“I’m done. I don’t like this.” A hand is on my arm. “I’m taking her back to Hazard.” Ferris is close. An icy shiver slides down my back even though I’m sweating profusely. Someone help me take off my jacket.
A fierce, low growl makes all the hair on my body stand up. I want to raise my head and scan the area. I want to get up. I want to run away from whatever made that noise. Instincts are screaming at me to open my eyes.
My eyelids flutter, but they don’t open any wider than slits.
It’s the most action I can get out of them.
A muffled scream.
Warm liquid trickles over me. I hope it doesn’t start raining.
Maybe the water will wake me up. My eyes finally close at the same time I float into the air.
Chapter 7
Gabriel
S uch simple things I forgot about when humans sleep. The rise and fall of their chest. The peaceful breathing. A steady heartbeat, unaware of the danger lurking beside her. Even the soft snores are amusing. Sounds you fail to recall when you’re not required to sleep.
Patience comes naturally to a vampire. Immortality allows time for everything we need to accomplish. I’ve been watching Amelia for hours. But at this moment, I want to shake her awake. Drain the drugs from her system and listen for the exact second her heart stammers in her chest. The rush of adrenaline that will lift her right off the bed, wondering where she is and how she got here.
Allow her fear to saturate the room until she feels safe again with the person who brought her here. Faith in humanity. A good deed in a situation that could have been far worse. Gain her trust. Make her believe I’m the white knight in shining armor.
Humans are so vulnerable asleep. It’s the worst time to attack. There’s no fight. A low, primal growl rumbles, and I have to remind myself I’m not drinking the delectable girl on the bed.
If she disappears, I will be the first to question in the Boogeyman’s eyes. As the official watchdog of Sunshine Boulevard, the shadow man has never been known for his mercy. Even if he’s playing on the wrong side—protecting humans instead of exacting revenge for his master. Trouble with the demon isn’t worth my time.
But she’s the one that got away with the Ruger boys’ help.
Sometimes satisfaction isn’t easily attained, substituting one meal for another. I had her first. Amelia was mine to drain.
The living is not worth fighting over. There’s plenty of blood to go around. Try telling that to a predator fixed on a meal.
Amelia didn’t just getaway. She was saved by a hunter. A hunter interested in her in more ways than one. Which makes her memorable.
Is that why I can’t seem to forget her face?
The fight began before I was made. Vampire VS hunter. Centuries of battles. But only one is on my mind. They won the last skirmish. And he came back for her. Took it upon himself to claim my prize. The start of a love story that I helped make possible.
My hand almost slams against the wall, it’s inches away from waking her up. Instead, I quietly embed my nails into it.
This love story will end the way I want it to. She is mine. And if everything goes according to plan—there will be one less hunter in the world.
Last night I only meant to visit Steak N’ Bake for a few minutes. Maybe be the shoulder Amelia cried on when she heard the news about her missing friend. To my surprise, she took it rather well and got straight to work without so much as a tear.
Maybe I should have left the body where I drained it. The news would have Rica’s face plastered on every station. Young girl dies, cause unknown. But then someone out there would start breathing down my neck. Witnesses would point to me. A pale, good looking man lured her away from Sipsys. A giant mess that can cause me trouble is not worth the risk.
There’s always the possibility Amelia needs a little time to let the horrible news sink in. But she went about the evening like any ordinary workday. Miserable human doesn’t even have the decency to be upset when a friend goes missing.
And to make it worse. The Ruger boys showed up. Their unmistakable scent wafted inside and I spied them from the bar. It’s a straight shot to the exit, something I prepared for just in case I needed a quick getaway. Gage dragged Rowan to the restaurant, and I thought I’d surely be stuck inside until they left if they didn’t notice me first.
Very few in the supernatural community know what Gage is capable of. Humans can’t detect it. He’s physically stronger with heightened senses. Born from a human mother and an incubus father made him powerful enough to kill his father. And vampires.
Naturally, I tuned into their conversation since they appeared to be arguing. Rowan stood outside, refusing to enter the restaurant, adamant about Amelia’s disinterest in him. He longed to come inside to see her. Tried to get a glimpse of her from where he stood, hoping she’d see him and force him inside. His emotions were so mixed up, it was truly eye-opening how easily a woman could cause so much internal trouble for him.
I tsked quietly as his feelings overwhelmed me to the point of nausea. The little hunter was falling in love. Keeping his distance and sacrificing his happiness to keep the girl safe. To give her the normal, happy life she deserved. Something he’d never have.
Rowan walked away, averting his eyes down the street. Gage easily gave up for the sake of saving the rest of the night.
Amelia passed the entrance seconds too late. Unaware Rowan was right outside, pining for her like a lovesick teenager. I stared across the room with renewed interest in the one that got away. She didn’t just get away from me.
Rowan is trying to ignore a basic human emotion. His heart is already doomed to fail him.
The one he saved…only to find out she died. If only he’d listened to his heart…she might still be alive.
If vampires could vomit, I’d be tempted to do it.
She’ll have to trust me. Such a devious little plan would take some time. The vampire that took out the Ruger boys’ with a simple human girl.
Lyle comes to check on me. The allure convinces him we haven’t met before. I coax him with polite conversation, but he doesn’t give me any useful information about Amelia. He blabbers happily about the plans he has later with his girlfriend. My first mistake was sitting in his section. The other waitress, Maggie, appears to be the closest to her.
Money from Rica’s wallet is left on the table, along with the doggy bag of the house soup I never touched. A couple is on their way in as I’m heading out, and I hold out my arm to stop them.
“How would you like to make two hundred dollars today?” I ask, holding the money in front of them. Money really is the root of all evil. People will do anything for it.
Even throw food at their server.
It’s a gamble when I return to my table. For twenty minutes, I pretend to read the menu and move to a different table when a couple vacates it to get a better view of Amelia’s section. The bartender is the only one who notices my strange behavior. I blame it on the imaginary woman who’s supposed to meet me, and he nods in understanding.
Silence prickles over my pale skin before the old woman—who can’t operate a flip phone—finally comes to Amelia’s defense. I hold my fangs in check, enjoying the show. No one bothers to help Amelia when the food is thrown at her. My poor Amelia. I almost intervene when the woman picks up the knife to stab her steak.
For the first time in decades, my incisors rip through my
gums to defend a human. Amelia can’t be harmed. Not yet. The sharp points scrape lightly against my bottom lip and I pretend to cough into my hand so I can hide them.
My mischief-maker willingly walks out of the restaurant with her head held high. The boyfriend on the other hand reminds me of a dog with its tail between his legs. As Lyle comes back inside after escorting them to the exit, I nod at him to get his attention. “Forgot my doggie bag. Is the waitress okay?”
“I hope so. Sorry about your doggie bag, the busser must have thrown it away.”
I wave my hand in a dismissive nature. “I hope she has a good friend to hang out with tonight. Someone needs to show her a good time after that fiasco.”
Lyle lights up and excuses himself. He goes straight to the back room, where Amelia is hiding. A push in the right direction only takes an idea.
In the heat outside, the woman I promised money to bombards me and hisses, “Where’s my money?”
A charming smile flashes across my face, and I gesture for her to walk with me. “Should I say bravo? That was an outstanding performance.”
“We’re going to be kicked off the Boulevard!” the boyfriend whines.
In a sincere voice, I reply, “I can take care of that minor problem. You’ll never have to worry about it.”
“How?” the woman asks.
Ignoring the question, I glance up and down the street. “Where is your car?”
She hesitates before pointing in its general direction, and I let her lead the way. It doesn’t take much to convince her and the boyfriend to drive to my friend’s house so we can pick up the extra hundred bucks I promised if she impressed me.
At the entrance to the gated community, I roll down the window and greet Ted, the overweight guard. Such a good man. Never a suspicious question about the friend I’ve been staying with for over a week. Or that I only come out after sunset.
The woman follows the long road. It makes sure all the occupants can’t see or hear their neighbors, giving the illusion of a private beach that’s shared among them. At the tenth house, she pulls into the driveway at my request and tries not to gawk at the massive beach house. My new friends are at the front door before me.