Blood Dreams 03 Endless Night

by Mlyn Hurn

  “It’s only Club Hell Fire, Pete.” Blue said quickly. “You’ve told me lots of times that you have been here. We’re going to dress like a couple of skanky vamps to see if we can dig anything up. Metaphorically speaking, I’m sure.”

  “Like hell you are going in there!” Pete tried one last shot over their metaphoric bow.

  “No cursing, darling. Remember, you’re supposed to be practicing for when the baby gets here.” Chey leaned forward and kissed him.

  Chey glanced at her reflection in the small-mirrored compact the three women were passing around. Her short black hair stood up in spikes on top of her head, and combined with the super-heavy eye makeup and dark bluish-red lipstick, she knew that she made one hot-looking pregnant vampire. “Hush, lover.” Chey winked at Pete. “It would look suspicious if you went into the bar with Blue and Taryn. We are less likely to call attention to ourselves this way.”

  Pete shook his head. “You’ve got to be kidding!”

  Blue nodded, patting Pete’s arm. “She’s right, Uncle Pete. No one would believe two hot babes like Taryn and I would be doing the club scene with an old geezer like you!” Blue didn’t wait. She threw open the back door of the black van and hopped out.

  Chey followed quickly, smiling at her husband. “Sorry, darling. And we’ll hurry so you can get back to your nice, warm bed.”

  “Hey! I’m only fifty… ish.”

  “I know, darling, and you are one hot-looking stud muffin!” Chey paused to tap the side of the van. “We’ll start going inside, Taryn. Once you have the van parked in a good reception spot, follow us.”

  Taryn watched the two women strut in their high heels across the street and begin the half-block walk towards the Club. Hopeful patrons were already strung out for a hundred yards or so. Easily she tracked the tall, sexy women’s progress up the line, bypassing those waiting, in spite of protests and catcalls.

  Chey was dressed in a tight mini-dress, which barely covered her to mid-thigh. Cut low in the front, it strained to contain her pregnancy-enlarged breasts by the lacing that ran from where her belly button used to be.

  Blue’s red hair was pulled up into a super-short ponytail and spiked to stick out in all directions. She was wearing a miniskirt and a halter-top, which endeavored to confine her large breasts with tight spandex.

  They were stunningly beautiful women, in spite of Chey’s pregnancy. Taryn had little doubt the doorman would admit them.

  Still, Taryn wasn’t one to take chances. While getting ready, she had put a small pot on her stove and mixed a special potion. All Blue had to do was remove the tiny atomizer from her bag and spritz it like perfume, and they’d be instantly admitted.

  From the rear of the van, she heard Pete announce their arrival. “Damn! If that guy gets any closer to Chey’s tits, I’m going to pull out his eyes and stomp on them.”

  She next heard Jordan’s suppressed chuckle. “They’re in!”

  Starting the van, Taryn drove it around the corner, circling back until she found a fairly close spot to the entrance that was perfect for their surveillance and reception. Using the front-mounted camera, they’d have input covering the front door besides what they got from the mini-cameras on both women inside.

  She left the keys in the ignition and turned to glance back at Pete and Jordan.

  “Don’t worry, Uncle Pete. I’ll be covering their backs.”

  Pete groaned as he took in Taryn’s appearance. She knew what he saw didn’t please him. Winking at him and Jordan, she murmured as she hopped out, “Don’t fret! There’s more here than meets the eye, fellas!” With a jaunty salute, she almost skipped towards the front door to the club.

  * * * * *

  “Do you have a full house again tonight? With this kind of take, you could open a decent place!”

  Damon did not turn away from his view overlooking the club’s patrons below. He heard what his father was saying, but half-tuned him out. Like most fathers, his liked to sputter and complain. Since assuming control of the place, Damon had done extensive remodeling of the club. His office and living quarters on the third floor only covered half the length of the building, which allowed for the reflective glass all across the front wall. This way he had an excellent view of the first and second floors of his business.

  Smiling, Damon looked from the first floor to the third-floor ceiling. The open, cavernous appearance only added to the ambience of the club. It fed the need of the wannabe vampires to fit in, and provided a safe place for true ones. He rarely worried about damage because he employed the very best of New York City’s club bouncers and door guards. Only the most elite, fashionable and hot-looking patrons gained admittance into the world-famous Club Hell Fire.

  “It was good enough of a place for you, Father,” Damon replied softly. “Don’t tell me you think I should leave the family business?”

  Simon Ruthven rose from the desk where he had been reviewing his son’s account books. He had given over the management of this club to his younger son, by five minutes anyway, Damon nearly twenty years ago. His elder twin son preferred to stay in Europe, or at least that was where they thought Darien was at the moment. “Don’t leave, just a change of venue. What is so fascinating that it has caught your attention so that you ignore your poor old father?” Simon asked as he approached the wide bank of windows.

  Damon turned for a second to look at the black-haired old vampire who was his real father, as well as the one who had “sired” him. “A redhead, Father. Perhaps I’m beginning to feel your inclination towards them myself.”

  Simon crossed the room immediately, coming to stand beside his son. “Where? Perhaps I’ll hurry down and beat you to the bite.” He chuckled briefly.

  Damon pointed with his nearest hand. “See the pregnant woman in black, seated at the bar. Right next to her is the hottest redhead I think I’ve ever seen. Or at least, from the rear, she’s amazing!” Damon chuckled as he continued to stare at the two gorgeous women. “I’m not into foursomes, Father, so I’ll let you meet the women on your own.”

  Damon was seventy years old this year, but he knew he didn’t look a day over thirty. His twin Darien looked quite a bit older, but then he’d lived a wilder life the last forty years than Damon had. Ever since being turned, Darien had seemed as if he was on fire, and constantly running might be the only way to put it out. Damon often worried about the frenetic pace his brother lived.

  Turning his head, he saw Simon was staring through the glass, most likely at the redheaded woman he had mentioned. Simon was remarkably well-preserved for a vampire his age. His blue-black hair showed no true sign of turning gray, beyond the minimal silver strands at his temples and they only seemed to attract women. Most likely, he never would have more gray on his head, or look any older than his early forty-something appearance. Neither he nor Darien knew their father’s exact age, but they had guessed it was at least two hundred.

  They knew little of Simon’s history beyond what he had revealed to them. Long before Simon “sired” his sons into vampirism, he had educated them on the subject of vampires and their history. He had taught both his sons the psychic way to subvert the bloodlust long before he converted them, and thus introducing them to it. As he had since learned, for both of them it had been an easy conversion without any mishaps. Not many vampires would be as considerate, even in these modern times.

  Darien had taken the wilder path all of their lives, increasing Simon’s difficulty in keeping their presence secret many times in the face of encroaching civilization and vampire hunters. In fact, there had been the one time when these tourists literally had come knocking on the castle doors—

  “Hell! It is her!”

  Damon jerked his head around at Simon’s unexpected shout and saw that his father had jogged across the room. Only a minute or two passed before he saw his father approaching the redhead with the ponytail. Obviously, this redhead was one his father already knew! Things just might get interesting, he mused quietly and let his
gaze move back over to the main entrance.

  Once inside the main door of his club, patrons descended an amazingly wide marble staircase to the below-ground level. This amplified the immense cavern-like impression, from three stories high aboveground and descending about eight feet underground. In the daylight, it wasn’t anything special besides being a building whose design was a remnant from bygone ages, but at night the dark woods and marble accents enhanced the ambience of what New York City’s elite required.

  Club Hell Fire’s clientele consisted of approximately ten percent pure vampire, and then an even division between wannabes and people who just wanted to be seen at the most popular and chic clubs, restaurants and bars. Damon’s success was phenomenal, and he was completely aware of his good luck. He had been in the right place at the right time. All in all, he had only one problem in his life and that was his brother, Darien. Luckily, he had not heard from him for quite some time, come to think of it.

  Out of the corner of his eye, something flashed and caught his attention. Walking down the wide entrance steps, where patrons clustered along the banisters on each side, was a woman dressed in pink. Not just pink, but a multitude of pastel pinks in a plaid jacket and skirt. Her hair, which appeared to be black, was coiled at the nape of her neck, and she wore a white shirt that had a long white self-tie, which was in a bow. Completing her outfit was a pair of horn-rimmed glasses. How the hell she got past his door guards was something that would require looking into!

  To say she was atypical would be a vast understatement. If ever one of his patrons looked like the proverbial sheep waiting to be shorn, this woman was it. Either she was lost, or perhaps a librarian doing research? Whatever reason, she was too sweet for his less savory visitors to ignore.

  For now, Damon knew that he had to get down there before one of the ten percent of his club chose this pink flower for dinner. Of course, she seemed so petite that she should probably be considered tasty hors d’oeuvres, or a bedtime snack. The way that suit fit though, it was impossible to tell her shape. Everything about her shouted trouble and set his nerves on edge. Damon turned from the window and started downstairs to prevent a disaster in the making.

  Simon was sure the redhead was Blue. More than nine years had passed since they last spoke and he felt as if several hundred years had passed. He received confirmation of her identity when she turned to look at the bartender. He wouldn’t be approaching her now if she were any place else but Club Hell Fire. His gut reaction was to reach out, grab her and drag her out into the street. Then he would leave strict instructions with the door guards to never again admit her!

  “So, what are you fine ladies drinking tonight?” The bartender leaned forward and smiled at Blue.

  Blue leaned over the bar, flirting shamelessly. If she leaned over one more inch, he’d bet he could cup her—

  “I’ll have whiskey on the rocks,” Blue replied.

  The raven-haired woman beside her spoke softly. At first, Simon had to strain to hear. “I don’t imagine you have any decaffeinated or herbal tea? Hmm, milk?”

  “Milk we got, lady. I’ll be right back.”

  “Drinks are on the house, Dave, and then the ladies are leaving,” Simon spoke loudly.

  Blue spun around, eyes wide and brows raised.

  Simon felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. To say Blue had grown up over the last decade would be an understatement, and a gross error in judgment… on whoever’s part had let her leave her house looking like she did. His gaze took in her near-perfect face with its full, pouting lips. Her eyes looked just as blue as ever. The halter-top barely contained the full breasts that demanded attention. The damned skirt was so short Simon had the distinct impression if he stuck out his hand, he could cup her pussy and the skirt wouldn’t be in his way at all.

  Where that illicit thought had come from, Simon had no idea. Thoughts and ideas like that were out of bounds when it came to Blue Dampier. He’d known her since she was three and a charmer of the sternest and coldest of men and vampires. That had not stopped her, though. She had gravitated to him, always smiling and friendly, whenever he had come to visit Fauster. After that visit when she was sixteen, he had lectured himself for weeks to stay away from this girl. She was forbidden fruit. Typically, a vampire never acknowledged anything he desired was out of bounds. For almost too many reasons to count, Blue was precisely that.

  He had too much respect and concern for both Fauster and Iain to do anything that would jeopardize the thin veneer of friendship and family that still remained over the centuries. Even though anger had initially driven his quest to create a dynasty, probably like Fauster’s, once his twin boys were born, his attitudes had begun to change. By the time he met the precocious and utterly charming three-year-old Blue, she had easily won his heart.

  He felt Blue looking him over as she propped her elbows on the bar behind her in a sexy and deliberate move. He hoped no other males, vampire or human, decided to take up her unspoken offer, or a fight would definitely break out tonight.

  Blue shook her head. “No, we’re not leaving right away. And… what a surprise! Simon Ruthven and you’re here in New York City. You don’t write, you don’t call… no word at all and then whoosh! Suddenly you are here, in my little hometown. Is there a vampire convention going on?”

  “Here are your drinks, ladies, on the house courtesy of the Count.”

  Blue turned away from Simon, finding it almost painful to look at him. She tossed back her drink quickly and was very glad that she didn’t choke or cough. Mentally patting herself on the back for that small success, she hoped that had impressed Simon and shown him that she was no longer a little girl who needed protecting from the mean, bad world.

  Simon had not returned for Lamenta’s memorial service, nor had he responded to the initial letters sent by her father, notifying him of Fauster’s subsequent disappearance. Going against her common sense and better judgment, she wrote to him. Just thinking about that letter now caused an embarrassed flush to rush across her cheeks. So much for appearing mature and in control!

  In the letter her emotions had poured out, her grief and her girlish crush on him that quite possibly had still lingered. But once she received his return post, there was no more misguided childhood worship, crush or anything at all she reminded herself sternly. He had quite coolly apologized for not attending the ceremony, but then he had gone on to say he was sorry he had misled her “tender girlish emotions” the last time he had seen her. She could close her eyes and see each and every word—

  “Even an old man like me can get carried away by romantic music and an attractive girl. The sight of your curvaceous body inflamed my senses, and I apologize for flirting so nonsensically. Such a luscious, virgin white neck would most likely tempt even the most jaded of appetites.”

  Blue still had the letter, folded and preserved in the envelope it came in. Someday soon she was going to burn it! Suddenly she turned sideways, pushing her hip outwards to flaunt her legs and twisting to show off her impressive bosom. She tossed her head like a wild mare preparing to run. “I hope you aren’t thinking that just because Fauster is no longer here that New York City is yours for the taking.” Curling her lips upwards into a cold smile, she continued, “Is that cartoon mouse with the fangs not working out?”

  When Simon bristled and stiffened at her mention of his personal demon—the Dracula theme park almost in his backyard—Blue smiled in triumph. “I think you should know my cousin keeps close tabs on the vampire population in the city. And that includes all the comings and goings as well.”

  “Holy hell, woman! Don’t tell me you brought that babe in the woods here! If Hunter doesn’t tan your hide, then your mother certainly will. That innocent has no business in a place like this.”

  Blue looked away from Simon. He was too damned attractive to look at for very long. She denied these odd feelings could be lust.

  “I think you’d be surprised at Taryn. She is quite adept at taking
care of herself.” Chey spoke loudly.

  With a good deal of relief, Blue heard Chey interrupt the conversation.

  And these feelings most definitely couldn’t be anything but a basic drive for sex. Never would she allow herself to feel anything but the basest of desire for this man. No matter his near-perfect profile, with a strong and squared jaw. His broad shoulders and trim waist didn’t make her heart pound, nor did it cause the rush of heat to her loins. There had to be another explanation for the way her pussy dripped in anticipation whenever she thought about Simon Ruthven.

  Simon folded his arms across his chest.

  Blue let her gaze rove across his muscular shoulders and arms. He still wore clothing that skimmed his body, revealing the subtle strength with glimpses rather than clearly outlined delineation. Much sexier, in her book. Quickly, she reminded herself that the way Simon looked wasn’t important. Yes, she repeated in her head, his attractive sexy body had no effect on her, none whatsoever.

  Taryn paused halfway down the wide marble steps, scanning the crowd slowly. Speaking softly, she checked in with her audience. “Are you fellas picking up all this stuff? How is the spectacles camera working?” In her ear she heard Jordan chuckle.

  He replied, “Perfect, Tar. The scan was great.”

  “Just like a pro!” Pete added a second later.

  “I guess that makes me a professional working girl, huh?” she joked pertly, hearing Pete and Jordan chuckling in her ear.

  “We are pretty strict about sticking within the confines of the law, ma’am.”

  Taryn jerked her head sideways to see who had spoken. She’d been completely unaware of the man’s approach. Through her earpiece, she heard raised male voices, but the words were indistinct. She couldn’t tell if it was at her or each other. Quickly, she used her index finger to shove the heavy, horn-rimmed glasses back up her nose.