by Sarah Piper
Get your shit together, Desario.
Standing up straight again, I took a deep breath and forced the tremble out of my limbs. Scared and snackable? Definitely not a good look for me.
“Does coven know about your… extracurricular activities?” Darius asked, still facing the wall.
As if I’d tell those witches anything.
“No one knows. I didn’t even know I had that kind of juice until last night.”
“Juice?” At this he turned around, his eyes still smoldering but slightly less terrifying. “If that was witchcraft, it’s not a magic I’ve ever encountered among your people.”
So I’m not just any old freak. I’m a super freak! Awesome.
“Okay, let’s assume you’re right,” I said, clinging to the possibility that that the darkness hadn’t come from me after all. “If it wasn't my witchcraft, what was it?”
“Now that is the question, yes?” Darius considered me, his lips twisting into a calculating smile. I could practically hear the gears turning in his head, all the possibilities playing out in his hyper-logical mind. “A witch with a new toy. Imagine if you also had my strength? Speed? Immortality? Ah, the things we could achieve.”
Even if I wanted to be an immortal, superstrong bloodsucker—and that was a big if—I wouldn't take the risk.
Witches were human, so turning vamp would require a blood swap—he drinks mine, I drink his. But we also had the added complication of magic in our blood, whether we used it or not—and no one knew how vampire blood affected us long term.
Because short term? No witch had ever survived the change.
"Perhaps we can come to an arrangement,” Darius said.
“Thank you for the invitation, but that's a hard pass.”
“Regardless…” The hunger in his voice sounded especially menacing out here in the alley, with no one around to hear me scream. “The invitation remains."
“Noted.”
“Come.” Darius opened the door to the service entrance and gestured for me to enter ahead of him. “It seems we have some things to discuss.”
I took a step backward and raised my hands. “Again, thanks for the invitation, but I—"
“Apologies for giving you the wrong impression, love.” Darius clamped a hand over my shoulder, eyes blazing once again. “But that was not an invitation.”
Six
Gray
For creatures of the night, October in the Pacific Northwest usually meant shorter days and more time outdoors. Yet an hour after sunset, Black Ruby was already packed with vampires.
The windowless club was an elevator ride two stories down from street level, dimly lit and cool as a cave. With its exposed brick interior, wooden booths, and mahogany bar, it felt more like a friendly neighborhood pub than the sleek vampire hangout, but the things that went on here were anything but friendly.
Sitting alone in a high-backed stool at the bar, I scoped out the room. Most of the fang-bangers were huddled in dark booths with their blood slaves—some so pale and emaciated it was hard to tell if they were still human. The whole scene turned my stomach, but it wasn’t surprising. The port city of Blackmoon Bay was a hub for runaways and transients, which meant easy pickings for the powerful vamps.
Hell, I’d been there myself. Guess it was just dumb luck that when I’d washed up on these shores at eighteen, barely alive after two years on the run, I’d managed to avoid the vamp welcoming committee.
I’d gotten Ronan instead.
Calla would’ve called that a far worse fate, but then, she’d never trusted demons.
Darius set a cocktail napkin on the bar in front of me, bringing my attention back to the present. “Allow me to buy you a drink.”
“Is that an invitation, or a demand?”
Darius’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Depends on whether you tell me what you’d like, or force me to choose for you.”
I leaned forward across the bar and lowered my voice. “What exactly are we discussing tonight, Mr. Beaumont?”
“Darius. I insist.”
“Yeah, I’m beginning to sense that about you, Darius.”
His brow quirked, but the vampire didn't answer my question—just grabbed a glass from the rack above the bar and poured me a Jameson, straight.
He was making me sweat. Fine. As long as he didn’t make me bleed, I could wait him out.
I downed the drink, enjoying the burn of the booze.
Darius poured me another, then glanced toward the entrance, where a group of particularly menacing vampires had just emerged from the elevator. Rich menacing vampires.
He cursed under his breath.
“Problem?” I asked..
“Only in keeping my schedule straight. If you'll excuse me a moment—I’ve got a meeting.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
Darius shot me a warning glare. “I won’t be more than twenty minutes. Don’t leave, Gray.”
“Fine, fine. But if you’re not back in twenty, I’m out.” I shrugged and left him to it, nursing my second drink and trying to gather my thoughts.
Damn. The vamp had something on me now. Something major. Not that he’d use it—around here, the freaks might not like each other, but we damn well kept each other’s secrets. Our survival depended on it. Whether it was human cops poking to closely around our haunts, or other supernaturals looking to take over new territory, none of us wanted to bring scrutiny to the Bay.
Still… I didn’t like the fact that knowledge about what I’d done was out there. Vampires were immortal, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be tortured.
Everyone had a breaking point, and everyone had a price.
“Hello, sexy.”
I turned toward the slimy voice just as the vamp it belonged to slithered into the chair on my right, a muscle-bound blond with a nasty scar cutting down his cheek. He eyed me with obvious hunger.
I opened my mouth to tell him I was with someone else—anyone else—when I sensed another vamp taking the chair on my left. This one was a skinny, emo-looking dude with greasy black hair and way too many piercings.
Scarface wrapped a hand around my thigh and leaned in close. “I never tasted witch before,” he said.
His eyes glinted with ice, colder and more deadly than the eyes of any vamp I’d ever tangled with. It was a struggle not to cower or turn away, but showing weakness now would activate their predatory instincts faster than an outright threat.
Darius was nowhere in sight.
I was stuck.
“How about joining us for a little fun tonight?” Emo asked.
“You’ll like it,” Scarface said.
“No,” I said, calm but firm. “I’m waiting for someone else.”
“Well, I guess dude’s gonna have to learn to live with disappointment.” Scarface grabbed my arm, forcing me out of the chair. “Remember where you are and don’t make a fuckin’ scene.”
Emo vamp closed in on my other side, digging his fingers into the flesh on my upper arm.
Panic surged, my mouth going dry. Where the hell was Darius? And worse—what if this was totally acceptable behavior at Black Ruby? Letting the customers get a little carryout for the road?
My skin prickled, and low in my belly, something dark and strange sparked to life. Ignited. Burned.
“Let me go.” I tried to jerk free, but even with the magic roiling inside me, I wasn’t strong enough.
“Shut up.” Emo clamped a hand around my neck, squeezing so hard it made my eyes water. They dragged me away from the bar and into the back of the club, shoving me down a dimly lit hall of what looked like offices and storage rooms. But halfway down, Darius stepped out from behind one of the doors, his eyes blazing.
Clearly, carryout was not Black Ruby policy.
I’d never been so happy to see a vampire in my life.
“Out of the way, Beaumont,” Scarface said with a sneer. “This bitch is—”
“Not on the menu, Mr. Hollis.” Darius stepped betwe
en us, and Scarface—Hollis—let out a low growl, the air around him crackling with electric tension. The two men were about the same height, but while Darius was lean and lithe, Hollis was a tank.
Still, my money was on the Brit.
“Are you alright, Miss Desario?” Darius asked over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off Hollis and Emo.
“I’m fine,” I said. My arm muscles throbbed from the rough handling, and my neck would definitely be sporting a few finger-shaped bruises tomorrow, but I was still in one piece.
“Your little pet could use a lesson in manners,” Hollis said. “Teasing us like she did.” His threatening glare sent a chill down my spine.
God, I really hoped I’d never meet him alone in a dark alley. Something told me he wouldn’t soon forget the witch who’d refused his invitation.
Darius continued to stare him down, the picture of grace and elegance. Despite his cool demeanor, raw power emanated from his body, sending a different kind of chill down my spine.
“I presume Miss Desario has not given her consent to this arrangement,” he said. “Carrying out your plans would place you in a precarious legal position, would it not?”
“This is bullshit,” Emo said.
“If you’d like another legal opinion, Mr. Weston,” Darius said. “I’d be happy to place a call to the Council and let them sort it out.”
I wasn’t sure what kind of legal trouble they could be in—everyone knew the Council wouldn’t bother with something as trivial as vamps taking a witch blood slave, even if it was against the rules. But Black Ruby was Darius’s club, and the warehouse district was Darius’s territory. Council or not, he had every right to intervene.
“I’m outta here.” Emo shook his head, pushing past us and continuing on to the service elevator exit at the end of the hall. “You’re on your own with this bitch, Hollis.”
“Excellent,” Darius said, clapping his hands together once. “Now that we’ve got that sorted.” He stepped back and took my hand, holding it close.
I sucked in a breath. I wasn’t super clear on vampire hierarchies and politics, but I was pretty sure Darius’s actions—touching me, standing by my side—sent the message that I was under his protection. That no other vamp could touch me without serious consequences.
Judging from the rage in Hollis’s eyes, my assessment was probably correct.
“You sure you want to do this, brother?” Hollis asked.
“It’s already done.”
“Since when do you side with witch whores?”
Anger flared in Darius’s eyes, but other than a slight tick in his jaw, he didn’t move a muscle. He was silent so long I was beginning to think he might just implode.
But then he raised his chin, straightening the suit coat over his shoulders. “I’m not your brother, vampire. You’d be wise to remember that.”
“Oh, I will.” Hollis pushed past us, knocking against my shoulder on his way out. Pinning me for just a moment with that icy, terrifying stare, he leaned in close and whispered, “I remember everything.”
Seven
Darius
The challenge was over almost as quickly as it’d begun, but I’d be a fool to think I’d seen the last of Clayton Hollis. Tonight’s victory would certainly cost me.
The question was… how much? And when would he come to collect?
I led Gray back to the bar where she reclaimed her chair and polished off the drink she’d left.
After everything I’d just witnessed, I couldn’t blame her.
Hollis and Weston. Bloody hell, Ronan is going to stake me for this.
“I’m beginning to understand how the events of last night transpired, little brawler.” I ducked behind the bar and rummaged for a clean dishtowel, filling it with crushed ice. “Tell me something. Do you always pick fights in which you’re seriously outclassed?”
Gray laughed, a sound so warm and soft it melted the last of my lingering tension. “Only on the weekends, apparently.”
“Here. This might help.” I handed her the ice pack, wishing I could do more to ease the angry red welts on her skin—not to mention the scrapes and bruises she’d collected last night.
How could someone so small cause so much trouble?
“Thanks.” She blew out a breath, pressing the towel to the back of her neck. “I’m sorry you had to get involved.”
“It’s alright, love.” I grabbed the bottle of Jameson and topped off her drink.
Gray wrapped both hands around her glass, staring so deeply into the amber liquid I thought she might fall in.
After a beat, she finally asked, “Should we be worried about them retaliating?”
Would they retaliate? Probably. Should she be worried about that? Absolutely not.
“I’ll put in a call to Emilio Alvarez tonight,” I said. “See if he can have someone keep tabs on them for a bit.”
“Alvarez… the wolf cop?”
“Detective, actually. You’re not acquainted?”
“Just by name. Ronan says he’s good people, though.”
I nodded. Decades ago, when I was still practicing law and he was up-and-coming on the police force, we used to consult together on criminal cases.
More recently—seven years ago, to be precise—Detective Alvarez and I had come together with Ronan and another demon on a more important matter:
The arrival of an extremely powerful young witch in Blackmoon Bay.
Thinking about that night still made me ill. Gray had been so lost, so broken. Not even old enough to drink legally, she’d turned up under a tarp in one of Waldrich’s old boats, malnourished and badly wounded. Even with our round-the-clock care, she was in and out of consciousness for weeks.
Of the four of us who’d brought her back from the precipice of death, Ronan was the only one she seemed to remember now. It made perfect sense—he’d stayed with her long after her wounds had healed, helping her make a home here in the Bay. The rest of us had agreed to keep watch from a distance until she was ready to bring us back into her life—this time, on her own terms.
It wasn’t the sort of thing one brought up in casual conversation. But it still stung to look into the depths of her blue eyes and find not so much as a spark of recognition.
“We’re in good hands,” I assured her now.
With fresh tears glittering in her eyes, Gray slid her hand across the bar and took my hand, her touch tentative but warm. Genuine. “Thank you, Darius. This weekend has been… insane, to say the least.”
Words failed me.
Not one hour ago, I’d forced Gray to accompany me into Black Ruby when she’d clearly wanted to leave. I’d left her alone in a bar full of vampires, where she’d been assaulted and nearly kidnapped by two of the worst of our kind.
She should despise me.
Yet here she was, offering me genuine gratitude.
I was finally beginning to understand why Ronan had always believed she was so special. That the day would come when she’d need—and deserve—our loyalty and protection.
He’d never told us what, if anything, he’d known about her origins, or how she’d come into our lives on that storm-tossed night, or why he’d been so certain she’d ultimately need us in her corner.
Only that he was certain. The young witch had a purpose, he’d insisted. A destiny larger and more important than any of us.
Like the others, I’d given him my allegiance simply because he’d asked, though his ominous words had felt too much like prophecy for my liking—notoriously unreliable things, in my experience, and prone to gross errors in translation.
But last night, just outside Black Ruby, our mysterious little witch had called upon her dormant magic and resurrected a dead child.
And though a single-minded vampire like Hollis may not have sensed it, that same magic had surged again tonight, just before they’d taken her. It’s what had called me out of my meeting, alerting me that something was very wrong.
Perhaps I needed to rethink my sta
nce on prophecies.
Covering her hand with mine, I looked into Gray’s eyes and frowned, wishing I truly could protect her, that I could promise her that the fights she’d endured this weekend were the very last of her troubles.
Unfortunately, something told me that the darkness for Gray—for all of us—was only beginning.
Eight
Gray
“We need to talk about last night, Gray.”
The vampire fixed his honey-eyed gaze on me, and the mood between us shifted.
After everything that’d happened, I’d almost forgotten the real reason I was here tonight. Why he’d all but dragged me inside Black Ruby.
“It doesn’t matter.” I pulled away from his touch and repositioned my ice pack. “It’s in the past.”
“Gray, I—”
“Could I get some water?”
That muscle in Darius’s jaw ticked, but he filled a glass for me and set it on the bar, watching me with a calm detachment that told me he was in no hurry.
Immortal beings rarely ever were.
“You claim it was your first time, yes?” he asked.
“First time?”
“Bringing someone back from the—”
“Don’t say the D-word.”
“Alright.” He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the shelving behind him, his muscular forearms flexing. “First time calling on your mag—”
“Don’t say the M-word, either.” I ditched my ice pack and grabbed the glass, chugging it down in a few swift gulps. “You said it yourself—it wasn’t witchcraft.”
“No, I said I’d never encountered anything like it among your people. That leaves room for a host of other possibilities.” His eyes never wavered from mine as he waited for my response.
It felt like being dissected.
And I couldn’t hold up under the scrutiny.
Tears pricked my eyes, my throat tightening.
“Her name was Bean,” I said softly. “She hit her head, and she just…” I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose, forcing the tears to stay put. What was done was done. I could no more bring her back than I could my mother, and I’d already cried an ocean of tears for her. “Something took over inside me. Honestly, I doubt I could do it again, even if I had to.”