And with that, I finally gave in and slid into the back seat. In a flash, Mallory was back in the front seat and we were maneuvering through the parking lot, leaving Hot Coffee behind.
As quickly as I could, I tried calling Matthew, but the call refused to connect. I couldn’t even leave a message. I looked at the screen and found I had absolutely no bars.
“I’m getting no service,” I said.
“Because your phone probably sucks,” Mallory said.
“Can I borrow yours?”
“Umm… no. You can talk to your vampire boyfriend soon enough. Calm down.”
There never seemed to be a time I didn’t want to strangle her, but now I knew she could kick my ass if I actually tried, which was even more frustrating.
In the seat next to me, I noticed a fancy department store bag. With nothing else to do, I opened it and found a new pair of dark blue jeans, a thin black top, and a box of shoes. The price tags were still attached, and I almost released an audible gasp when I read how much these clothes had cost. I’d never spent so much money on myself for anything, not in my whole life.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Aaron said. “Clothes for tonight. The training tonight involves a little field trip. You won’t want to stand out too much for where we’re going. The clothes are classy, yet inconspicuous. Go ahead and get changed.”
“Where?” I asked, offended by his implication.
“In the back seat; where else? I’m not stopping. It’s dark, so don’t worry, no one’s gonna see anything.”
I momentarily saw his eyes in the rearview mirror, then his attention returned to the road ahead.
“Where are we going?” I asked as I quickly removed my jeans and tugged and shimmied on the new pair of skinny jeans, having to suck in my stomach to button them up. I could barely breathe.
“I don’t want to ruin the surprise,” Aaron said, a hint of amusement in his voice, which only made me more nervous.
I tore the tag off the jeans, hugging my lower body, then unfolded the top, which turned out to be a black short-sleeved turtleneck with an upside-down triangle cutout on the front and three more going down the back. The material was incredibly soft and felt wonderful on my skin. I watched Aaron and Mallory for another long moment before removing my T-shirt and sliding on the luxurious turtleneck. Lastly, I removed the lid of the shoebox and found a pair of black leather ankle-high boots with icepick thin heels. They looked dangerous—in more ways than one.
“You expect me to wear these?” I asked, holding one up.
“I expect you to dress the part,” Aaron said as he turned onto the highway.
We took the five freeway north. It was past rush hour, but the freeway was still busy.
After a half hour of driving, I couldn’t help but ask again. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”
“Okay; it’s an exclusive club in the industrial district of South LA called Fangloria. It’s not overly advertised. You probably haven’t heard of it.” He glanced into the rearview mirror.
“And why are we going there, exactly?”
“What does the name imply?”
“Vampires,” I said.
“Correct. The candidate gets a gold star,” he said with a hearty laugh. “There’s a whole subculture of people fascinated by and obsessed with vampires, witches, the occult, bondage, and a whole slew of other darker fetishes. The supernatural stuff is all fantasy to the masses—but you’ve had your awakening. You know what lurks in the dark. Tonight, you’ll get to see a little bit more of what the Society is up against—what society as a whole is up against. Have you heard of Vampire Nation?”
I thought back to the conversation with Matthew just last night. “Yes,” I said.
“Good; then I don’t have to explain it to you. What about the vamp stamp?”
“The what?”
“The tattoo of Vampire Nation—a red “VN” with a circle around it.”
“Oh, yeah. Matthew told me about that too. And that it can also be a plus sign.”
“Well look who’s acing her midterm,” Aaron said sarcastically. “Contrary to popular belief, the Vampire Nation movement was not started by a bunch of delusional goth kids. It was created by vampires—a select few interested in starting a new world order. Their leaders are helping vampires better infiltrate mainstream society at its highest levels—much like the True North Society has done. For now, they’ve intentionally kept their numbers low and most of them follow the guidance of the High Order, which is the primary governing body of their kind. They are inconspicuously adding value everywhere you can think of—from scientific advancement, technological advancement, and corporate growth to various levels of government and special interests. What do you know of Damien Galt?”
“I’ve seen him on the news,” I said. “He’s some futurist billionaire, right?”
“He’s also hailed as being the founder of the Vampire Nation movement. Of course, he’ll never admit to that publicly.”
“He’s a vampire?”
“Like I said, those nasty bloodsuckers are all around us,” Aaron said, and there was absolutely no sarcasm in his voice this time. That was how he truly felt. “When the movement finally decides to emerge from the underground—into the mainstream—it’s believed he will be the one leading the charge.”
“How do you know that’s what he’s planning?”
“We’ve got a pretty good track record of predicting the future too.”
I could now see the towers of Los Angeles looming in the distance. Aaron turned onto the 101, and a few miles later, exited by the LA River. Concrete buildings, graffiti, and chained-linked fences topped with barbed wire were everywhere I looked. Vagrants sprawled out on the sidewalks, many bedding down in multi-colored tents, and many cars looked like they were junked years earlier. Streets lay in equal, or greater disrepair than nearby buildings. Unsavory characters gathered around old vehicles and leaned against storefronts. I really hoped Aaron knew where he was going because I didn’t want to be driving around there any longer than we had to.
After a few dilapidated blocks, we turned into a driveway blocked by a chain-linked gate characteristic of the area; two women loitered either side of the driveway in dark, provocative outfits. They looked like high-class escorts, definitely not representative of the industrial neighborhood.
Aaron pulled up to the gate and rolled down his window. One of the women sauntered up to the driver’s side. “May I help you? You look lost,” the woman said in a rather deep voice.
“Fangloria,” Aaron said without turning to look at her.
The woman bent down to rest her forearms atop the door, giving us all an eyeful of cleavage. Her gaze vacillated between the three of us—a predatory, hungry gaze. “Are you sure?”
I knew what I was looking at and the realization of being in such close proximity to another vampire turned my blood to ice.
Aaron turned to face her for the first time and provided a confident, “Yes.”
“Then you should know what to do,” she said and held out a delicate hand with long carmine nails. “Key and IDs, please.”
I dug my license out of my purse and passed it up to Aaron, and Mallory did the same. The woman stepped back and straightened to full height with our IDs and some other card Aaron had added to the stack, then began saying something I couldn’t hear. I glanced at the woman on the passenger side of the SUV who didn’t look interested in us whatsoever. The woman with our IDs was not talking to her.
A few moments later, the first woman leaned back through the window and handed us the cards. Then she said, “You three have yourselves an eventful evening.”
When she stepped away from the vehicle, the gate blocking the driveway rolled to one side, allowing us passage. It was a narrow drive between two concrete buildings. Another seemingly abandoned building directly ahead forced us to make a sharp left turn into an equally narrow space, but within a few hundred yards, th
at space opened to a large, half-empty parking lot.
“What was the key?” I asked.
But instead of answering my question, Aaron simply said, “Here we are.”
“Where is it?” Mallory asked.
“Like I said, it’s not advertised.”
On the far side of the parking lot, a man and woman were standing by an open nondescript door. A small group of women was approaching it, all dressed for an expensive night on the town. Tight clothing and hooker heels. I peered down at the clothing I was now wearing and realized I was in no place to judge.
Many of the cars parked around us were as expensive-looking as Aaron’s Land Rover, some of them more so. A limousine was even parked lengthwise against the building over to the right.
“Now your total immersion training begins,” Aaron said after he’d turned off the engine.
There are more of them in there. The sentence kept repeating in my head, on the verge of hyperventilating.
I checked my phone again, but still there was no service. “Where’s Matthew?” I asked. “Or the other candidates?”
“If they’re not already in there, then they’ll be arriving soon. Not to worry. We’re not going to start any trouble and the vampires aren’t going to, either. If anything, it’s other humans we may have to worry about, but the vampire employees of the club will defuse any situation before it gets out of hand. They want to avoid bad press. Now, they won’t allow phones inside, so I’d leave them here if I were you. I don’t trust my phone in their possession.”
“Fine,” Mallory said and stashed her phone in the glove compartment.
I stowed mine in my purse, which I then slid under the front seat. I couldn’t help but feel naked without it. I was so anxious to see Matthew, desperate to get out from under Aaron’s alleged protection.
We exited the SUV and made our way to the open door. Techno music from inside the club could be heard clearly from the parking lot. I stepped carefully, trying to avoid any holes or cracks in the concrete that might catch a toothpick heel. The last thing I needed was to break an ankle.
Once we reached the two attendants at the door, we were asked to show our IDs again. The man who examined mine must’ve been nearly seven feet tall because he towered over Mallory and me even in our high heels. He had long limbs, a rugged, angular face, and long brown hair. He flexed my driver’s license back and forth a few times before returning it.
“Any weapons?” he asked in a gruff voice.
“No,” I replied.
“Cellphone?”
“No.”
“Arms out. Legs apart.”
I did as I was told and he proceeded to pat me down. I flinched when his strong, exploratory hands grazed some of my more intimate areas.
“Turn around.”
Again, I complied, and he repeated the process from the back.
“You’re clean,” he said, drew a large X on the back of my right hand—the one without the bandage—in permanent marker, then stepped aside, allowing me to pass.
Aaron and Mallory were already waiting for me at the mouth of a dark hallway. Mallory had a similar marking on her right hand, her left still bandaged like mine. Black lights lined the ceiling. The tunnel we were entering amplified the thumping bass and synthetic soundscapes from inside.
We stepped up to a box office, where Aaron paid the cover charge for himself; apparently Mallory and I were getting in free. Next, we passed a coat check closet where a blonde woman in a top hat, tuxedo jacket with long tails, white shirt with bowtie, and black tights sat patiently on a stool, awaiting her next customer. It wasn’t that cold outside, but there were more coats lining the wall than I would’ve guessed.
Aaron noticed my inquisitive look and said, “To conceal what many of these women are not wearing.” And after my expression didn’t change, he added, “If you came wearing only lingerie, you’d bring a coat too.”
My eyes widened in shock and embarrassment.
“What? Not an exhibitionist?” Mallory laughed. “Maybe you’re a voyeur.”
“I guess we’ll find out,” Aaron said, joining in on the laughter.
27
Fiona
Aaron guided us the rest of the way inside, which opened into a dark, sprawling underground-looking lounge with multiple bars and half-moon sofas. From the flashing lights coming from another tunnel, it seemed the dance floor was on the opposite side. The floor was nearly concealed with a low-hanging fog. Up higher was merely hazing, making the LED lights on the open industrial ceiling look like lasers shooting down into the fog.
Many of the people filling the couches—women and men—were in various stages of undress. And as Aaron had said, several women I could see were dressed in nothing but lingerie, enticing their suitors with more than just a little extra skin.
As we wandered deeper into the lounge, I spotted my first Vampire Nation tattoo, exactly as Mathew had described it—a red VN with a circle around the acronym—prominently displayed on one woman’s collarbone. That told me the woman was human… and most likely the man she was conversing with was a… vampire. I shuddered as he glanced up at us while we walked by.
It soon became a game of how many more tattoos I could spot, and they began to pop up everywhere like a new blouse you just bought that seemed so unique at the store.
“I don’t see anyone familiar,” I said, when Aaron stopped to scan the room.
“You’re right. I’m going to make a few inquiries. Hold tight,” he said and walked away from Mallory and me.
I nervously glanced around the room, at the not-so-subtle debauchery taking place in every darkened corner of the lounge. “What are we supposed to do now?” I asked Mallory, who was focused in another direction.
“I’m gonna get a drink while we wait,” Mallory said and headed for the closest bar.
I never thought I’d be in a situation where I’d rather follow her than be left on my own, but this turned out to be it. As much as I loathed Mallory Fiennes, I was petrified to be left alone in this precarious club of vampires and fanatics—whom Aaron at one point had called vanatics. I hurried after Mallory, careful to remain steady on my heels, something she seemed to have no issue with. She was obviously a lot more practiced than me in a great many things.
She approached two empty stools as they were vacated by a sinister-looking couple. I refused to look the leaving couple in the eyes as I took the stool beside Mallory.
“Let me see your hands,” the bartender demanded when Mallory got his attention.
“Seltzer water with lime,” she said.
He nodded and glanced at me.
“I—I’ll take the same,” I said.
“So typical,” Mallory commented under her breath, not bothering to look at me.
I wasn’t about to fight with her here, but also wasn’t about to engage her in small talk. So, once we received our drinks, we sat at the bar in relative silence.
On the wall behind the bar, I noticed a framed picture of the man Aaron had mentioned on the drive here—Damien Galt—shaking hands with the President. The thought of what he really was, chilled me to my core. How could someone so popular and influential be one of them? I was still trying to get used to the fact that some of these supernatural beings existed. It was one thing to have them lurking in the dark, but so much more terrifying to know they were seamlessly interwoven into our society. The fact that this club existed served as one more reminder that they were all around us.
“There’s no need to be nervous; we don’t bite.”
I gave the man seated beside me a sidelong glance and he greeted me with a wide, disarming smile. He had icy blue eyes and short black hair and was wearing a violet dress shirt with the top two buttons undone. He didn’t flash his fangs, but the hair standing up on the back of my neck told me exactly what he was—not to mention the glass of crimson liquid set before him. He was as striking as the others in the club, with his age just as deceptive. My throat was instantly dry, but I couldn’
t move to take a sip from my water.
“Without permission, that is,” the man said, leaning into me, his smile widening on his porcelain-skinned face.
“I’m…umm…not one of those girls…” I stammered.
“Just because you’re not marked doesn’t mean you’re not curious,” he said.
My hands shook against my cold glass. “I… uhh…”
“I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, sweetling. This is a magical place where everyone can be themselves—a place where you can escape, indulge, explore...” He picked up his glass and brought it closer to me. “Cheers. May you find what you’re looking for.”
“Thank you,” I said, weakly. “Same to you.”
“I’m certain we both shall.” He took a sip. “I noticed you looking at the picture on the wall. I’m assuming you’re familiar with the man with the President. Am I right?”
“I know of him. Damien Galt,” I said. “I hear he’s not who he appears to be.”
“Indeed. But which of us is…?”
“Let’s go, ladies.”
I was so relieved to hear the voice of Aaron. I instantly spun in my stool to face him.
“You can take your drinks with you,” he said.
“Is Matthew here?” I asked, stepping down from the stool.
“On his way,” Aaron said.
“Enjoy your evening,” said the man who’d been sitting next to me.
I glanced back and gave him a weak smile as he once again raised his nearly-drained glass to me.
Aaron led us through the crowd, into another room serving as a dancefloor. Several scantily-clad women danced on raised podiums. Glitter and gems on their skin made them sparkle, multi-colored light refracting off their bodies like seductive disco balls.
“Already making friends, I see,” Aaron yelled as we made our way around the perimeter of the room.
“He was talking to me,” I clarified.
“Sure,” he laughed as we entered another tunnel, then an adjoining lounge.
On the far side of the lounge was a closed door with the backlit words, “The Cellar” above it. Aaron headed straight for it and held the door open, ushering us to continue down the dimly lit staircase. Mock torches with flickering LEDs hung on the stone walls like we were entering a medieval dungeon.
Angeles Vampire Page 14