Blood Vice (Book 4): Blood Dolls

by Angela Roquet

  I opened Mandy’s cheap makeup kit and smeared my eyelids with shimmery, black shadow. I used a dark, charcoal color on the undersides of my cheekbones, giving them a sharper look. Then I pulled the elastic out of my hair and moved my ponytail up high on the crown of my head.

  The look had to be wild enough that I’d blend in with the extravagant mix of patrons, but not so outlandish as to draw unwanted attention from the eyes in the sky. I had a bad feeling that the security staff would be watching anyone who showed interest in Lydia, too.

  Damn. This would be some magic trick if I managed to pull it off.

  I finished fine-tuning my hair and makeup before tucking all of my firearms under the back seat for safekeeping. I left my badge and cellphone in my blazer and stuffed it out of sight, as well. Then I climbed out of the Bronco and slipped in behind a small crowd moving down the sidewalk. With their leather pants and spiked chokers, their destination was no mystery.

  On the human police force, we’d all heard rumors of underground clubs and raves. The culprits often turned out to be cheapskate owners who wanted to evade taxes and the hassle of legally obtaining a liquor license—or drug dealers who wanted a place to draw in droves of buyers with the promise of privacy and the option of using out in the open.

  Bleeders was a horse of a different color. They didn’t serve alcohol or illegal drugs. From what I’d seen, they made bank on nothing more than door fees and seriously overpriced fruit juice. The few guests who caused trouble were taken care of in-house, and no police—human or vampire—were ever called in for assistance.

  I caught a glimpse of the doorman as my party neared the entrance. His unfamiliar face was a relief, and it gave me the confidence to continue putting one foot in front of the other.

  The lot I’d tagged along with each requested a white wristband. I doubted they were part of a harem, but it was an easy way for timid humans to get their feet wet in the club without having vampires actually approach them to request a bite. The doorman didn’t seem convinced either, until I requested a black bracelet. I gave him a sharp smile and briefly extended my fangs when he hesitated.

  “Can I join my harem now?” I asked sweetly.

  The humans had already moved inside the belly of the club, so they weren’t there to spoil my cover with their surprise or denial. The doorman nodded and slapped the wristband on me before turning to the next guest in line.

  I kept to the outskirts of the main floor, pausing every so often to dance up against any random stranger who happened to flash a grin my way. A straight line for the juice bar would be too obvious, too desperate. I needed to exercise patience tonight. I would have to take my sweet time tracking down Lydia.

  The music lapsed for a split second, and then a new song started up. It boomed in my ears, the bass making the floor shudder as if a train were approaching, the electric squeal of a guitar playing the part of the conductor’s whistle. A spinning strobe light overhead froze and then cut a slow sweep across the mirrored wall.

  The effect made the crowd squeal with delight, and it was the perfect opportunity for me to steal a glance up at Lydia’s usual perch.

  She was here. There was a man with her—a human, from the red bracelet he wore. Lydia seemed uninterested in whatever he was saying, but she didn’t blow him off. She wasn’t making waves. Her yellow bracelet glowed under the black lights above the bar. It clashed with her red and black rockabilly dress, though the fifties look suited her.

  My heart rattled in time with the music as it took off in a more dance-worthy direction, and I spun around as Lydia looked out at the crowd. I couldn’t let her see me yet. She was far too likely to report me to a bouncer or slip out the back door to avoid the confrontation altogether.

  My hip accidentally knocked into someone on the dance floor, and I offered a playful smile when they looked up. The man was wearing black jeans and a spike-studded vest over a white dress shirt. One foot on solid ground, and one tapping gently on the lid of a casket. Just my speed.

  “Shake it, baby fangs,” he shouted to be heard over the crowd.

  The pet name was one Sonja had called me. I struggled to hold my smile in place, and then my eyes snagged on the man’s red bracelet. I shimmied closer to him, lifting my chin over his shoulder.

  “Are you thirsty?” I asked. His eyebrows shot up, and a flirty grin lit his face.

  “The question is, are you?”

  I linked my fingers with his and pulled him deeper into the club, in the direction of where Lydia waited. Maybe a little liquid courage would pacify me until I made it that far.

  Drinking from strangers didn’t sound as unbearably awkward as it had before my training at the bat cave, when I’d had a loaner harem of misfit blood dolls—one of which had been killed by an accomplice of Scarlett’s. Another painful memory plucked at my heartstrings.

  All the kind, fragile souls who befriended me in this new world seemed to eventually find themselves on the altar of my shortcomings. I was dangerous to be around.

  You make yourself dangerous to be around.

  Collins’ accusation came back to slap me in the face. Here I was, proving him right. But what else could I do? Tuck tail and run? That wasn’t my style, and it wouldn’t keep Vanessa from coming down on the people I cared about in her quest for revenge.

  No. There had to be a better way.

  The man attached to my hand flagged a waitress and requested a mango and dragonfruit concoction while I selected a booth with a clear view of the bar. I handed the woman a twenty and told her to keep the change.

  “Are you new to the area?” the man asked as I pulled the curtains closed, dimming the light show and cutting the music down to a more conversational volume.

  “No,” I answered truthfully. “I’ve been here once or twice before.”

  He sat on the bench that lined the inside of the booth and ran a hand over the leather upholstery. My eyes immediately went to the mirror above us, first checking for bouncers, and then taking note of Lydia’s position.

  “You sure?” the man said. “You seem extra fascinated with the place for a repeat visit.”

  “Just enjoying the show.”

  “It’s something, huh?” He folded his hands in his lap. “What’s your preference? Neck, or wrist?” Jumping right to it then. I liked this guy already. If I weren’t so desperate to stay under the radar, I might’ve asked to interview him for my harem.

  “Wrist. At least, for our first time.”

  He smiled at that. “You haven’t even tasted me yet, and you’re already making plans to turn me into a regular?”

  “It’s our first time either way.” I shrugged. “Then we’ll see who wants whom as a regular.”

  A slender arm parted the curtains just long enough to deposit a hurricane glass full of juice and floating fruit onto the table. Then it was gone, as if a ghost had delivered the beverage. The service at Bleeders was flawless. It made me wish I hadn’t worn out my welcome so soon.

  “How about heat level?” my one-night donor asked next.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Friendly touching only? First base? Let’s get a room after?” he clarified.

  “Uh…” I swallowed and thought of the room I’d shared with Roman. Then I tried to remember the platonic dynamic I’d had with my harem at the bat cave. “Let’s go with friendly for now. First time and all.”

  First and only time, I silently added. I didn’t need to scare him off with the cock-block just yet. Not until I had a strategy in place for Lydia.

  The man shrugged as if it didn’t matter to him one way or the other, though the corners of his smiled sagged slightly. He picked up the glass of juice I’d bought for him and took a long gulp from the rim, coming away from it with a cherry between his teeth.

  “You’re in for a treat,” he said, slowly chewing the piece of fruit. “I’m vegan, and I haven’t donated blood in three weeks.”

  I grinned and sat down beside him. “I’ll have to buy you another
juice before I leave.”

  I’d learned my lesson with Lydia and wouldn’t be tipping again. The taboo nature of exchanging blood for money had escaped me. Even Mandy had spoken with censure about the girls in Spero Heights charging for blood lattes at the bistro.

  The man pushed back the sleeve of his dress shirt, revealing a handful of small puncture scars. They were smooth, hardly noticeable until they caught some fragment of light. I took his arm in both hands and rubbed my thumbs over the stretch of skin between his wrist and the bend of his elbow, massaging the veins.

  He could play it as cool as he wanted. I could feel the giddy beat of his pulse.

  Over the past two months, I’d grown used to drinking blood from a cup again. My misadventures with Roman had been fueled by passion and were none too gentle. It took me a moment to remember that delicate middle ground I’d shared with Natalie and her friends.

  Just thinking her name probed some broken thing inside of me that I hadn’t fully addressed since returning from Denver. For now, it was just one more death I blamed Scarlett for—just one more reason I wanted to make her suffer.

  My new friend sucked in a nervous breath as my fingernails bit into his flesh. His dark, caramel-colored eyes widened, and I caught a glimpse of uncertainty in his stare. I wondered how long he’d had red-bracelet status.

  “Sorry.” I gave him a bashful smile and resumed massaging. “New blood jitters.”

  “Right. Sure,” he said, an uneasy laugh whispering in behind his words.

  Once the tension in his shoulders released, and he didn’t look so much like an alarmed cat about to bolt, I extended my fangs. His breath hitched again, but it was the good kind of anxious this time.

  I closed my eyes and pictured Natalie before wrapping my mouth around the curve of his arm, letting the weight of my fangs do the work of breaking skin. The gentle touch drew a relieved sigh from his lips.

  Warm blood trickled onto my tongue. I let it accumulate before swallowing, taking my time and resisting the urge to suck at his vein. I wasn’t especially hungry. I’d had Arnie’s and Roman’s blood already tonight. Even with the silver injury that Roman had healed, I was satiated. More sated than I’d felt in some time.

  This third meal was a bonus, and it went a long way to soothing my hopeless anxiety. That is until something jabbed the side of my neck and lit up my world with hot, electric misery.

  My fangs ripped out of the man’s arm, but I was in too much pain to manage a scream. My fingernails dragged over his skin, and he made a startled noise as he struggled to get away from me. I collapsed sideways onto the leather bench and rolled onto my back, blinking up at the lights dancing overhead.

  “Well, if it isn’t the little party trick.” Zane, the wannabe vamp manager of the club, grinned at me from the booth’s parted curtains. He held a stun gun in one hand. When he noticed me looking at it, he pressed the button, and the device lit up with a crackle of blue electricity.

  “Well…” I rasped. “If it isn’t Count Denturla.”

  He went for my stomach this time, pressing the business end of the stun gun to the strip of exposed flesh between the waistband of my pants and the hem of my see-through top. I gritted my teeth and groaned through the pain.

  “What’d I tell you?” Zane said to one of the bouncers standing behind him. “A glutton for punishment. Let’s take her upstairs. The boss is waiting.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The two bouncer flunkies following Zane’s orders all but dragged me into an elevator tucked along the wall between the row of booths and the juice bar. We caught a few surprised looks, but no one tried to stop them or demanded to know what I’d done to deserve such treatment.

  Zane stepped inside with us, shooting me a cocky grin before he gave me his back. I had half a mind to kick him in the ass, right through the gap in the doors as they slid shut. My feet hadn’t been restrained. It would have been easy. Instead, I searched the bar outside, taking in the curious faces. I didn’t see Lydia among them.

  Once the elevator doors had closed, Zane swiped his arm in front of the control panel. The watch on his wrist beeped, and then we began to move. It was similar to the tech used at the bat cave. I wasn’t sure why, but that put me on edge.

  The elevator climbed slowly, giving the illusion that we were going up higher than we actually were. I’d assessed the building well enough to know there could only be one or two floors above the main level. The vaulted ceilings with their flashing lights and industrial ductwork were too high to allow for anything more than that.

  The elevator doors opened into a dark lobby. On one side, a long row of glass windows revealed a room crammed with monitors. They were anchored to the walls and set along the length of a desk that stretched around the perimeter of the room. Red dots blinked in the corners of the screens, confirming that the scenes playing were live—various angles of the dance floor, parking lots, back alley, and more.

  Half a dozen people moved around the room, watching the footage, searching for any signs of misconduct. I hadn’t stood a chance.

  It was the door opposite this room that Zane and his goons escorted me through. There were no windows to give me a preview of what or who waited inside. So I assumed the worst.

  Maybe some big, foreboding godfather-type. Perhaps I’d be sleeping with the fishes by morning, concrete blocks tied to my ankles. I wondered if the sun would relieve my suffering. Would I burn up if I were surrounded by water? Didn’t light only penetrate so deep? Who on earth could I pester with all my vampire trivia?

  I squinted in the bright light of the room we entered, waiting for my eyes to adjust. My blood vision hadn’t flared up yet. I was holding it back, conserving my energy until it was needed most—until I had a half-baked escape plan worth wasting it on.

  The place looked like a ritzy loft apartment. It featured a variety of restored antique furniture and gadgets, including a 1920s radio cabinet and a perfectly polished iron maiden. Maybe this guy was more medieval than mobster in his torture techniques. Lucky me.

  Against the back wall, stairwells led up and down, likely to a bedroom and a kitchen. The main living area we stood in was enormous, with a high ceiling and no divide between multiple sitting areas. A baby grand piano rested in one corner, opposite the iron maiden. Between the two, a small section of hardwood remained unfurnished, as if it might be a dance floor. I could imagine parties taking place in here. It was a bachelor pad if I’d ever seen one.

  A man appeared near the stairwells. He wore a silk smoking jacket that made him look like a young Hugh Hefner. My blood vision throbbed once, just long enough to confirm he was a vampire.

  “Special Agent Jenna Skye.” He had a faint accent, maybe Russian, and he didn’t sound particularly thrilled to be making my acquaintance.

  “Who wants to know?” I asked, earning another love bite from Zane’s stun gun.

  “That will be enough,” the man said calmly, backing off his fraud of a scion. “I’ll take it from here. I need your eyes on the floor.”

  Zane stiffened at the dismissal, but he didn’t say anything as he bowed his head and backed out of the room, taking the two bouncers with him.

  I was left standing alone in the middle of the loft, unarmed yet unrestrained. My eyes took in the room a second time, searching for something, anything that I might use as a weapon.

  “You may call me Radu,” the man said, slipping his hands into the pockets of his fancy jacket. “Please, forgive Zane. He must put on a show for the others. Your encore appearance is no good for our reputation. My scion stands to inherit my business, so he takes it quite personally.”

  “Your scion?” I asked. “He’s awfully…human for that title. Don’t you think?”

  “Ah.” He shook a finger at me. “Dante said you were good.”

  “Dante? The duke?” I folded my arms.

  “Yes,” Radu said. He crossed the room, heading for the piano where a crystal decanter service set rested on a tray atop the glossy
, wooden lid. The dark liquid he poured into a glass was no doubt blood. He held it out to me. “Would you like?”

  “No, thank you,” I said.

  Radu shrugged and put the crystal stopper back in the decanter. He took a sip from the glass before turning back to me. “The duke and I are old friends. This is why he keeps his soldiers out of my house, and I help him take care of…less savory business in our community.”

  “Look, I don’t want to cause trouble.” I let my arms drop to my sides. I didn’t know if I believed this guy or not, but if he wanted to claim that he was pals with the duke, I was going to make him prove it. “I’m trying to locate someone—for the duke,” I added with a pointed look.

  “Yes. Dante has told me of your search for Ursula.” Radu lifted an eyebrow. “So I am curious why you seem more interested in Scarlett. Isn’t that whom you asked my fair Lydia about?”

  “Uh…” I felt my face flush. Quite the busybody, wasn’t he? “Ursula is looking for Scarlett, so my questions about her were relevant.”

  Radu nodded, but the look on his face said he didn’t quite buy my line of reasoning. “Still, your captain should have put your request to question her at my club through the proper channels. My guests expect a certain measure of anonymity. We do not simply sell them a good time and a sip of blood, Agent Skye. They expect privacy and freedom from oppression and discrimination. Nosy federal agents do not promote the atmosphere we vow to provide.”

  “A formal request? Like the one Blood Vice put in for access to your security footage last summer?” I said, folding my arms again. “I was under the impression that you didn’t play well with the authorities.”

  “Were you not granted access?” Radu laughed at my surprise. “My dear, if I didn’t want you to have access to my security footage, you wouldn’t have gotten it. Do not misunderstand. Blood Vice’s tech team is quite adept. Mine is just better.”

  “Then how…” I blinked, trying to figure out just what the hell I was missing here.