Roaring Midnight (The Gardella Vampire Chronicles | Macey #1)

by Colleen Gleason

  ~*~

  “I can’t keep coming after you and saving your arse,” Chas said as they got out of a cab.

  After leaving Grady’s, Macey had gone with Chas to The Silver Chalice to make sure Sebastian hadn’t returned. To their increasing concern, he hadn’t. So she’d changed into clean, comfortable clothing, and she and her partner prepared themselves to venture into the den of vampires—a place known as The Blood Club.

  Rather than call attention to herself by wearing men’s clothing—which would have been very comfortable and provided excellent range of movement—Macey had chosen to wear a frock. But it was short and light of weight, and would allow her to be as active as she needed. No heeled Mary Janes for her tonight; she’d chosen comfortable flats for footwear, and without stockings that needed to be pulled up or kept in place with a garter.

  “I don’t expect you to keep coming after me, Chas.” Macey looked around. She didn’t recognize the street they were on.

  He gave her a dark look. “Obviously.” He gestured for her to turn the corner. “You can’t see him again, you know.”

  Not that Grady would want to see her again, even if she could. She gritted her teeth. “My private life is my business.”

  He laughed. “Not when you’re a Venator. Not when there are lives at stake. I told you—it’s a hell of a lonely life. If you want…companionship, it has to be with someone who understands our world.”

  “That sounds suspiciously like an invitation, Chas.”

  “It’s not—”

  “And like someone sticking his nose somewhere it definitely doesn’t belong.”

  He shook his head and made a sound of disgust. “Have it your way. You’re as stubborn as your father was.”

  Macey faltered, but kept walking. “Stubborn. I wouldn’t think that’d be a liability for a Venator.”

  “There’s stubborn, and then there’s blindly stubborn. Max Denton made the tragic mistake of thinking he could have it all—a wife, a family, and a life as a Venator. And you know what happened.”

  “My mother was killed. By the vampires.” And he sent me away. For the first time, Macey felt a twinge of sympathy for her absent father, a glimmer of understanding. She’d seen firsthand what violence the undead could visit upon someone she cared for. How much worse would it have been for him?

  “They were unusually vicious and brutal with her.” Chas’s voice was flat. “And Max…well, it might have been just as well he sent you away. For a number of reasons. And here we are.”

  Macey looked up at the neat sign. Rico’s Tailor Shop. “So this is where the Tutela congregates.”

  “Among others. Those who are part of the society frequent this place, sure, but The Blood Club caters also to those who wish to dabble in the pleasures of the fanged. And it’s a way for the undead to find their prey. Alvisi is the proprietor, and he runs it as slickly as Capone runs his saloons. He employs mortal and undead, men and women, in order to provide a wide range of entertainment.” He stopped. “It’s best if we aren’t seen together. I’ll go first; you circle the block then come in.”

  She nodded, for that was the plan they’d discussed. But when he went into Rico’s, leaving her to continue on, she felt a spike of apprehension and fear. Walking into a den of vampires and vampire lovers was a daunting prospect.

  But she was well prepared, with stakes and other tools hidden all over her person, and Chas would be there as well. Plus Temple had seemed confident her student was capable of protecting herself, and was actually eager to let Macey employ the skills she’d learned in the past weeks. Infiltrating The Blood Club was the best and easiest way to find out what had happened to Sebastian—for if he’d been abducted or killed, surely all of the undead and their Tutela would be talking about it.

  Still. Macey had only staked one vampire. And her most recent experience—that horrifying interlude in the back of Iscariot’s limousine—had left her shaken more than she wanted to admit. Not to mention the haunting sight of Mrs. Gutchinson’s ruined body.

  But when it was time for Macey to go inside Rico’s and make her way into the dim club, she did so without hesitation. Even before she was inside, the icy chill at the back of her neck was nauseatingly strong, sending eerie prickles down her spine.

  She curled her fingers around the small pocketbook that held nothing but a stake, a vial of holy water, and a few dollars for cab fare. The place was just as she’d pictured it: dim, smoky, and filled with tables of people. But there was the scent of blood in the air, and when she looked more carefully at some of the patrons in the booths, she saw kissing and sexual petting, as well as wrists and throats being fed upon. The facial expressions of the victims ranged from ecstatic to pained to bored. She didn’t spot Chas yet.

  “What a pleasant sight,” said a voice next to her. “What brings such a lovely being in to The Blood Club tonight?”

  Macey turned to see a young man with his hair slicked back, wearing a provocative smile. It took her a moment to confirm that he was a vampire—and that was fine with her. “It’s my first time,” she confessed, trying to appear wide-eyed and hesitant. “A friend of mine told me about it. She said the sensation is…”

  Her voice trailed off as she noticed the man who could only be Count Alvisi. He sat at a small table that was surrounded by women, and he was deep in conversation with another man. His entourage of females were all dressed in blue with matching headdresses. Silver and white feathers erupted from the round, blue emblem on the front of each headband, and they were dusted with something glittery.

  “Who’s that?” she asked, suppressing a sickly shiver. Even from this distance, she could feel the strength of pure malevolence.

  “That is the boss.”

  Macey widened her eyes. “Oh. I thought…” She leaned closer, pitching her voice into a low whisper. “I thought Al Capone was the boss here.”

  Her companion laughed in derision. “Capone? Not at all. In fact, Big Al has been angling to join us—for, you realize, he’s nothing without his machine guns. Alvisi wields the true power in Chicago—power that will soon be greater than you can fathom.” He took her hand and raised it to his lips, pressing them against it in a soft kiss. Soft, dry lips: one cold as ice, one warm, in an awful, strange sensation. When he looked up, his fangs were just barely visible and his eyes burned soft ruby, tugging at her with their thrall. “Perhaps you might someday be asked to join us. Alvisi prefers blondes, but he would likely make an exception for one as lovely as you. I’m certain I could convince him. And then you would be young and beautiful forever.”

  “Oh.” Macey fluttered her lashes and tried to appear flattered. “Do you truly think so? He would make an exception for me? How would that happen?”

  He tucked her hand around his arm. “Permit me to show you, my lovely.”

  Macey allowed him to lead her off, but when he attempted to sit her at a table, she remembered the warning Chas had given her. Don’t do anything in sight of anyone else, or we will be discovered. “I…isn’t there somewhere private we could go? I don’t think I want my first time to be here.” She gave him a shy look. “In front of people.”

  “Why of course.” His eyes gleamed with pleasure, leaving her uncertain as to whether it had always been his plan to get her alone, or whether he was merely delighted with an unexpected turn of events.

  Conscious of the extra stake strapped to a thigh beneath her skirt, and of the long chain holding a silver cross beneath her frock, Macey went willingly with her escort. When they neared Alvisi, she angled her face down in order to keep from being recognized. Her slick vampire guide led her through an exit at the far end of the club, and beyond it was a small hallway studded with more doors.

  A brothel for the undead, where the customers—or, more accurately, victims—might or might not be left alive.

  He opened a door and bowed her gallantly through, then closed and locked it behind him with an ominous click. When he turned, his fangs were at full extension, and
his eyes burned unholy red. “Now then.” He advanced on her, no longer smooth and easy but openly intent. “Did you say this was your first time?”

  “Yes.” Macey already had her stake in hand, clutching it behind her back as he shoved her toward the large bed in the center of the compact room. She tumbled onto it, keeping her gaze averted from his powerful, enthralling one as he surged onto the mattress next to her.

  He held her by the throat, his body wedged onto one side of hers. “You surprise me, my lovely. I thought I’d captured myself a frightened flower. But I see no fear in your eyes. This could be even more enjoyable than I expected.”

  Macey’s stake was hidden beneath her hip, cloaked by the bedclothes mussed from her fall. He was intent on her bare throat and neck and didn’t notice when she inched it free. “I don’t think it’s going to be very enjoyable for you at all,” she said, and whipped her hand around to jam the stake into the center of his back. She stopped short of shoving it home, but definitely pierced through cloth and flesh. Precisely above the location of his heart.

  He stilled, his eyes wide. His fangs retracted, then surged forth again. “Who are you?”

  “Never mind who I am. I need information, and if you give it to me, I might not turn you into a cloud of dust. If you don’t, I definitely will.” She pushed harder.

  “Yes, yes, all right. Don’t do that. What do you want to know?”

  “First, get off me. And don’t try anything,” she warned, pulling the long silver chain from beneath her dress. The sight of the large cross had him rearing away, his movements slow and awkward. “Very good. Now, back up slowly.” She followed his movements, sitting as he eased away, all the while aiming the cross at him.

  While the holy object wouldn’t kill or maim him, its presence would slow and weaken the vampire. And although its effect would wear off eventually, it gave her the opportunity to pin him against the wall with her stake.

  “Where’s Sebastian Vioget?”

  His eyes popped wide. “Vioget? I don’t know.”

  She drilled the stake deeper, and blood began to seep from beneath his shirt. “Remember when I said this was my first time? I lied.”

  “Who are you?” He shrank back against the wall. His fangs had all but disappeared and his eyes were a flat, frightened brown. “Are you the new Venator? The woman?”

  “I’m asking the questions. And I won’t repeat this one. Where’s Vioget?”

  “I don’t know.” He winced and his voice squeaked higher. “By the fates, I don’t know.”

  She eased up a little; didn’t want to accidentally explode him too soon. “Sebastian’s missing. Either dead or abducted. If Alvisi had him, where would he put him?”

  “He’s not dead—or if he’s dead, Alvisi doesn’t know. We’d all know if Sebastian Vioget had been fried. Come to think of it, I’m certain we’d know if Alvisi had captured him too. Not the sort of thing he’d keep to himself. The boss likes to brag.”

  “Has he been after Sebastian? Trying to find him?”

  “Who hasn’t? Everyone wants the rings.” He shook his head. “But believe me, if Vioget was under Alvisi’s control, we’d know it.”

  “Great. Thanks.” Macey shoved the stake home.

  His eyes widened, his mouth gaped in protest…then he poofed.

  She stepped away, a little shaky but exhilarated now that it was over. Her second vampire, slain. Easy as pie—well, as long as she was in control and had a weapon in hand.

  Dusting off the ash from her clothing, Macey considered her next move. She didn’t know where Chas was, but they had a time and place to meet up in order to exchange information and decide on their next steps. She had time to try and find more information—or at least, remove a few more vampires from Alvisi’s clan.

  She and Chas had discussed the fact that they’d be walking into a club filled with the undead they were supposed to kill, but that it was foolhardy and impossible to try and slay them all. They would be outnumbered, and their identities would be discovered. So the plan was to be low-key and get as much information as possible without being discovered.

  Macey decided not to return to the club but to do some snooping around here, in the back rooms of Alvisi’s joint. Just as she reached for the knob, the door flew open.

  Three vampires blocked the way: red-eyed, long-fanged, and clearly very angry.

  FIFTEEN

  ~ Our Heroine Unleashed ~

  Macey didn’t even need to think about it. She simply reacted, slamming her stake into the heart of the undead closest to her.

  Her fighting arm jackknifed back, and she twisted away and down as his ash exploded. Temple’s instructive voice singing in her head, Macey sprung back up, shoving the second vampire into the third one, and lashed out with her stake once more.

  This time she missed, stabbing a shoulder, and her would-be victim caught himself and lunged toward her. On his impact, Macey flew through the air, crashing into the bed. Her breath knocked out of her, she rolled to the side and off the mattress, stumbling to her feet as she gasped for air.

  The other vampire caught her by the arm and yanked her toward him. Macey lost her balance and fell against him, then hooked her foot around the back of his ankle. As he grabbed her by the throat with one hand and held her arm with the other, she used her stable foot to pivot her insubstantial weight into him. He staggered, but the hand around her throat was tightening and he remained upright as they twisted around in a macabre dance.

  Black spots danced before her eyes, and Macey found herself weakening. She couldn’t breathe. Another hand grabbed at her stake arm—the second vampire—and she felt the sharp, unexpected pain of brutal fangs in her wrist. Her grip loosened and the stake fell from her fingers. She couldn’t breathe. Her knees trembled.

  She was losing.

  No.

  She wouldn’t.

  Gathering all her strength, dragging in the little air she could, Macey jammed up with a knee, then, when the grip at her throat lessened, she rammed her forehead up into the nose of the undead. He howled and released her. She swooped down with her free hand, yanked the stake from beneath her skirt, and spun like a dancer in the arm of her other attacker.

  Slam.

  Into the heart of the undead who was feasting on her wrist. Gasping, still weak with polka-dotted vision, she pivoted just as the third one recovered from her attack. He lunged, but she was ready and the point of her stake found its home—right in his gut. Blood spurted.

  Damn. Missed again.

  He grunted with rage and pain, but he was still moving a little slow. She ducked when he swiped for her, diving for his knees. Macey hooked her arm around him and pulled him off balance as he grabbed a handful of her hair. They tumbled to the floor, pain roaring at her scalp as he held on. But as he rose up over her, using his grasp on her curls to slam her head to the ground, Macey twisted to the side, jamming her knee into the side of his gut. Her arm followed and she slammed the wooden pike into the back of his torso…

  And he froze.

  Thank God.

  She collapsed on the floor, tears streaming from her eyes, completely out of breath, room spinning. Then he exploded.

  It was another moment before she dragged herself to her feet. Her head pounded. Knees and hands trembled. But she was filled with grim satisfaction. I did it.

  The air was thick with ash-scent, and it clung to her eyelashes and arms. Some still filtered through the air like dust mites. Oh, damn.

  She vaulted toward the door, flinging the bolt. In the midst of the fight, she hadn’t had the chance to wonder what had happened—why the vampires had suddenly shown up—but now she realized. The scent of ash in the air had drawn them to investigate, just as the sound of gunshots would warn mortals of a threat.

  I have to find Chas.

  She listened, waiting. The only sounds were distant—laughing, cries of pleasure, conversation. The chill at the back of her neck was present, but not insistent or foreboding. She opened
the room’s small, high window, hoping some of the heavy smell of vampire dust would disseminate before any others noticed it.

  After a moment, she unlocked and peered around the door. No undead in sight. Before leaving the room, she replaced one stake in her garter, the other in her pocketbook, and tucked the silver cross back down into her dress.

  Now to locate Chas. And maybe do a little snooping. It was safer, now that she wasn’t in the room with the remains of a vampire, waiting to be found.

  And she’d slain three of them. All at once. All on her own.

  Macey couldn’t help the thrill of excitement and relief at her success. I can do this.

  Listening for the sounds of anyone approaching, Macey went down the hallway, stopping at each door. Silence, silence, silence. But behind one there was the unmistakable sound of pleasure and pain. She hesitated at the door. It would be easy to break in and kill the vampire—particularly if he or she was in the throes of feeding, or other erotic play—but Macey wasn’t certain if it was the best thing to do: making more noise, sending more ash in the air.

  And then there would be the mortal left behind, who might shout or call warning, or worse, need an explanation if he or she had been a willing participant. Because, yes, there were those Tutela members Chas had told her about. They desired to be fed upon. They craved it, sought it out.

  Still…what if the mortal was in danger? Unwilling?

  Macey had no way of knowing, but her job, her calling was, above all, to protect and save.

  She made the decision and, hand inside her pocketbook, ready to yank out her weapon, she carefully tested the doorknob. It turned soundlessly. Carefully, she pushed it open a crack. The deep sounds of pleasure sent a little shivery twinge in her belly, but then she recognized slurping and suction, and the flutter turned into an uncomfortable twist.

  Neither occupant sounded in distress, but Macey peered through the crack anyway. The sight that met her eyes was disturbing and, shockingly, erotic.