Dark Wine at Midnight (A Hill Vampire Novel Book 1)

by Jenna Barwin

  She turned to look at Zeke. His voice was friendly, but his pupils had turned solid black. He stared at the ponytailed vampire and curled his lip in a snarl, the same way Blanche had. Another territorial display—she really wished he’d stop doing that.

  “I’ll be right there,” she told Zeke. She looked into the deep brown eyes of the ponytailed vampire and tried one more time to be charming. “Gaea is going to hold events so I can meet other Hill residents. I hope to see you at one of those.”

  “I’m sure you will,” he replied, looking puzzled. His tone wasn’t exactly warm, but at least it had lost its disdain.

  Zeke grabbed her hand and pulled her back into the casino. The sliding door whooshed closed behind her. “Slow down,” she said, barely keeping on her feet. “Zeke, stop.”

  “You shouldn’t go outside alone.” He came to a halt and glanced over her shoulder toward the ponytailed vampire. “It ain’t safe. Ya never know what’s lurking out there.”

  “Can I have my hand back?”

  He looked down at the vise grip he had her in.

  “Ah, sure,” he said, letting her go. The wild look began to fade from his eyes.

  They stood in the aisle between slot machines, halfway to the private room. She rubbed the red mark on her hand. “Who was that?”

  “Him? Ah, his name’s Henry. He’s business partners with Rolf, the vice mayor. They own the Vasquez Müller Winery.” Zeke looked down at her hand again. “Hey, sorry ’bout hurting ya. Sometimes I don’t know my own strength.”

  The dossier for Enrique Bautista Vasquez popped up in her lenses. Born in Veracruz, Mexico, he was a founder—one of the five vampires who formed Sierra Escondida in the late 1800s. The only photo she had of Henry was blurry and taken at an odd angle, with his hand held up in front of his face, like he didn’t want his picture taken. Not surprising—older vampires avoided social media and rarely allowed themselves to be photographed.

  Damn. The face-recognition software in her lenses was good, but it couldn’t overcome bad data.

  Anger started in her throat, crawled down her windpipe, and lodged in her stomach like a burning ember. Because of Blanche, a founder now hated her.

  But how could I have handled things better?

  The answer shot through her mind before the question finished forming: she should never have tried to impress them. Dread quashed her anger, putting out the fire and replacing it with a lump of singed wood. She needed the founders’ support as well as the council’s.

  I’m an incompetent idiot. First I screw up at the card table, and now an important Hill vampire hates me. What am I doing here?

  She clenched her fists. Giving up wasn’t an option. Not only would Leopold be pissed, but her mission for the Lux was too important to abandon it now. Not to mention she’d lose her chance at gaining some freedom, some independence from her family’s interference with her daily life. She had to find a way to turn this around.

  Zeke rambled on with his apology, attempting to reach out for her again, but she carefully avoided his touch by walking ahead of him to the table. Liza had switched places with Blanche, taking the chair next to Cerissa’s. When she sat down, Zeke kissed her on the cheek before her lenses could even warn her. His smooch felt like a dog marking his territory. She wanted to swipe at her cheek to remove it, but instead increased the sensitivity on her lenses to warn her sooner. No one would own her. Ever.

  Chapter 9

  Henry slid behind the wheel of his Dodge Viper and sped out of the casino’s parking lot, irritated by his conversation with Dr. Patel. What he saw at the blackjack table suggested Rolf was right: she wasn’t a good influence and she didn’t belong on the Hill.

  But something else was bothering him. He rarely felt this riled up by one person—or by much of anything anymore. Why had she gotten under his skin? Why her?

  Tapping the button on his steering wheel, he phoned Yacov. “Are you free?” he asked. “I could stop by. I would like to hear what happened.”

  “I can only give you a few minutes. Shayna is asleep and I have diamonds to cut. My client shipped them to me.” Yacov chuckled lightly. “I have a wife who has threatened to chain my coffin shut if I so much as step a foot off the Hill until Tig solves this.”

  He laughed politely at Yacov’s joke. Lucky for Yacov they didn’t sleep in coffins, because Henry had no doubt Shayna would do it.

  Yacov’s ranch-style home sat at the valley’s base on one acre of land, near smaller homesteads leased by other vampires who weren’t in the wine business. Yacov was outside, waiting for him on the back porch swing, wearing a fedora.

  “Why have you begun wearing a hat?” Henry asked, walking up the porch steps and taking a seat next to Yacov on the porch swing. It bounced, swaying a little.

  “Keeps the sun off my head,” Yacov replied with a mock grin. He cocked his head to one side, posing in the moonlight. “Makes me look distinguished, don’t you agree?”

  Between the beard and the hat, Yacov looked like an advertising image from an old bottle of patent medicine. “The real reason?” Henry asked.

  Yacov rolled his eyes toward the night sky. “Shayna. She feels my kippah makes me too recognizable.”

  “And a fedora does not?”

  “I’ve learned not to argue over the small things, and being right is a small thing.”

  Henry shook his head—he prided himself on being right. “Has Tig figured out why you were attacked?”

  “Not yet, my friend.”

  “Could it be Zeke?”

  “I know where you’re going. Tig already asked.”

  Henry crossed one ankle over his knee and turned to face Yacov. The motion started the swing moving again. The whole contraption felt like a threat to his dignity. He uncrossed his legs and planted his feet firmly on the ground to stop it.

  “And what did you tell her?” he asked.

  “That Zeke smuggles in jewels occasionally, but I no longer help him dispose of them. I gave that up shortly after Shayna married me. She is devout and believes if we are going to live the righteous life, we need to abide by the laws of the land in which we live, unless those laws are themselves unethical.” Yacov fell silent for a moment. “I was very fortunate to find Shayna. A good woman is a good influence on the likes of us.”

  Henry had heard it all before. Yacov had been married many times over his long life and believed in “until death do us part”—he never abandoned a wife simply because she grew old. In spite of Yacov’s prodding, Henry had never married. His conscience wouldn’t let him.

  Yacov rolled his eyes skyward. “Tig asked me about Leopold.”

  “Leopold? Why?”

  “I think the envoy’s arrival sparked her concern. I told her we ended our business on good terms with Leopold. She doesn’t need the whole history.”

  “Everyone profited when I sold the restaurant.” Henry started to play with his crucifix, and then stopped himself. “Leopold wanted to keep it going longer. I told him what I told everyone else—I was tired of New York, and with the Civil War just starting….”

  “The very reasons I voted with you on the sale,” Yacov said. “But I wasn’t the only one who supported selling out. We made a sizeable return on our investment—it was time to move on.”

  “Leopold still carries a grudge over it,” Henry said. The last time he visited the New York Collective, Leopold had made a point of snubbing him. “And don’t forget, you were the driving force behind the prohibitions against creating new vampires—a second reason for Leopold to be angry with you.”

  Yacov frowned. “But it’s been over forty-five years since the treaty was signed. Why wait until now if that’s his reason?”

  “Still…” Henry said, and let the thought remain unspoken. At the time, Leopold had railed against them both, claiming they were doing it on purpose to stop him from siring any new vampires. “Tell me, how do you feel about having Leopold’s envoy on the Hill?”

  Yacov shrugged. “Doesn’t
bother me. I’m sure Tig has checked out her background, or she wouldn’t still be here.”

  “Background check or no, she doesn’t belong on the Hill.” Henry clenched his jaw, and then added, “I saw her at the casino, gambling with Liza’s group. She was the only mortal in the room.”

  “So? No harm in that.”

  “No harm?” Henry said, his voice rising. “Zeke kissed her and Blanche challenged him—an open challenge in a crowded casino.”

  “Are you sure they were fighting over Dr. Patel?” Yacov asked. “I’ve heard Blanche is more than a little hotheaded. Perhaps Zeke insulted her.”

  Of course he was sure. His own eyes had witnessed the challenge. “What if mortals had seen her bare her fangs? I can well imagine the trouble it would cause us.”

  “I don’t know, it sounds harmless enough.” Yacov waved his hand airily. “All these mortals running around, pretending to be us with their fake teeth—easily explained away.”

  “I’m supposed to meet with Blanche tomorrow evening, to hear her pitch. After what I saw tonight, I may cancel.”

  “Don’t do that.” Yacov patted Henry’s leg. “The young ones need our help. Try to keep an open mind.”

  Keep an open mind? Not likely. He didn’t need to be in business with someone who had no self-control. But Blanche wasn’t what really bothered him—Leopold’s envoy was the bigger concern.

  “While I was speaking with Dr. Patel, something happened,” Henry said. “Something I can’t explain.”

  “Wait a moment, my friend. You spoke to her?”

  “She came looking for me after Blanche’s challenge.” Should he admit what he suspected? It seemed strange at the time. Now, it sounded silly, but he’d opened the door and Yacov was waiting for him to explain. “Have you ever seen a lightning rod work?”

  “Of course. Attracts the bolt and takes it to ground.”

  “I was furious at her when I saw her sitting there, alone, the only mortal at the table. The temptation—”

  “Henry—”

  “Let me finish. She approached me and we exchanged words. By the time Zeke pulled her away, all my anger had drained out of me like electricity through a lightning rod, and I felt this overwhelming sense of peace replace it. A short while later, my anger returned.”

  Yacov pursed his lips and then asked, “You believe Dr. Patel somehow absorbed your anger? Isn’t she mortal?”

  “She certainly smells mortal.” Henry looked down at the palms of his hands. He’d grabbed her arms to keep her from falling—the delicate scent of her human musk still lingered.

  “Perhaps there’s another reason,” Yacov said, smiling impishly. “I hear she’s quite pretty. Maybe she charmed you with her beauty.”

  “I doubt that,” Henry said, scowling. “I’m not like Zeke.”

  Yacov chuckled. “Indeed you are not.”

  He should have kept his mouth shut about Dr. Patel. His imagination was running wild—he was stupid to raise it. A change of topic would put an end to Yacov’s smirk. “Does the chief have any leads on your attackers?”

  “No, and she raised the same questions you did. I had just as few answers. Why would anyone want to hurt a harmless old vampire like me?”

  “I wish I could help you.”

  Yacov patted Henry’s shoulder. “Enough about me and my problems. How are you faring these days?”

  “Business is good.”

  “Business is never enough to make life satisfying.”

  Why couldn’t Yacov leave it alone? He didn’t need to be reminded he was mate-less.

  “The Mordida Bugles are playing a night game in a few weeks,” Henry said. The local baseball team had lost their last four games; they were due for a win. “I’ll get us tickets.”

  “You know what I meant, and it wasn’t baseball.” Yacov shook a finger at him. “Is life itself holding your interest?”

  “For the most part.” Henry looked at his hands. Dr. Patel’s scent wafted off them, distracting him. “I have my moments.”

  “You and I both know boredom is dangerous for the likes of us.”

  “I am far from bored.”

  “You’re approaching a dangerous age. You’ve been vampire more than twice the human life span. It’s easy to miss the signs until the malaise hits with full force.”

  Henry pushed the idea away with a sweep of his hand. “Do not fear, Yacov. I will breeze past two hundred with no problem.”

  Yacov pursed his lips again, a grim look forming. “Let’s hope you are right.”

  Chapter 10

  Cerissa stayed for a few more hands of blackjack, but her thoughts were on her encounter with the ponytailed vampire. Both Rolf and Henry were disagreeable types, yet the gnawing feeling it was her fault kept growing. She’d never been good in social situations, and she’d clearly blown this one. Give her a problem to solve in the lab, and she was on it. But wooing investors? Not her area of expertise. She decided to cut it short and leave before anything else happened.

  She wasn’t sure what to do about Blanche, especially since they’d driven to the casino together in Cerissa’s car. Liza solved the problem for her. “I’ll take Blanche by Gaea’s,” Lisa said. “Zeke, you walk our young friend to her car, make sure nothing happens to her, got me?”

  “I got ya,” Zeke said, standing up.

  Cerissa swept her chips off the table—six hundred dollars more than she started with. Not a bad night for her pocketbook, but a lousy night when it came to finding prospective investors. She tipped the dealer generously and exchanged her chips at the cashier’s cage. Zeke followed close behind her.

  In the parking lot, she pressed the unlock button and her car lights flashed. Zeke picked up the pace, reaching the car ahead of her. She stood back, assuming he meant to open the door for her by his sudden rush.

  He didn’t. Instead, he stepped closer and reached for her.

  Her lenses flashed a warning: attack imminent. She pushed at him with both hands, using the force to propel herself away from the car, preventing him from caging her in.

  “How did ya do that?” he asked, looking startled.

  Time to lie. “Most people pause before acting. I’ve learned from working around vampires that when they move, I shouldn’t pause.” She took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. “Back away so I can leave.”

  “Wait.” He raised both palms in surrender. “Did I get things wrong?”

  “Yes.” She looked straight into his eyes. He wouldn’t risk the death penalty—any attempt to mesmerize an envoy violated the treaty, even if they weren’t on the Hill. That rule applied everywhere.

  Zeke scratched his head, looking puzzled. “I don’t rightly understand. I heard on the grapevine you were lookin’ for a mate. I thought we got along fine tonight.”

  “Is that what they’re saying about me? I’m here to find a mate?”

  “Yeah. You wanna live on the Hill, you need a vampire mate.”

  She glared at him. “I’m here to make sure the Hill is the right place for Leopold’s project. I’m not looking for a boyfriend.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “Yes.”

  The arrogance fell from his face. “Ah, Cerissa, I’m sorry if I got the cues wrong. Here,” he said, swinging the car door wide open and standing by it. “I’ll hold the door, and you can get in the car.”

  She bit her lip. She could defend herself, but she didn’t want to reveal too much. She glanced around—there were other people in the well-lit parking lot. He wouldn’t do anything here, not with all the rules the Hill lived under.

  “It’s okay, no harm done.” She cautiously walked by Zeke to get in the car.

  He held his hat in his hand, rolling the brim. “Ah, you’re not…you ain’t gonna tell Gaea, are you?”

  “I won’t say anything if you won’t.” The last thing she wanted was more gossip.

  “Deal,” he agreed, then leaned over and kissed her cheek. “But if you ever change
your mind, call me. You smell delicious,” he said, licking his lips.

  Chapter 11

  Vasquez Müller Winery—the next night

  Henry unlocked the door to the private room at his winery and left it open for Blanche. After her display at the casino, listening to her pitch seemed like a waste of time, but he’d made the commitment, so here he was to meet with her.

  He inspected the room to make sure building maintenance had cleaned it after the last party. He and Rolf frequently entertained wine distributors here. A long oak bar occupied one wall, used for pouring samples. The remainder of the space looked like an oversized living room, which allowed their guests to mingle. A fireplace was centered on the wall opposite the bar.

  He opened his briefcase and dropped Blanche’s application folder on the coffee table by the large couch.

  The tik tik tik of high heels on stone announced Blanche’s arrival. He stepped to the door. “Please come in.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Bautista.”

  He offered his hand to shake. “Please, call me Henry.”

  She curled her fingers around his the way women did eighty years ago when men still kissed hands. He didn’t accept the invitation.

  “Okay, Henry it is,” she said brightly. “And I’m Blanche.”

  She had the grace and eyes of a 1930s movie star, enhanced by a generous application of eyeliner and smoky eye shadow. She smiled at him, the smile making her blue eyes shine. He gestured to a chair across from the couch. She smoothed out her short skirt as she sat down, sexily crossing her ankles.

  “Thank you for meeting with me,” she said.

  He took a seat on the couch across from her and motioned to the file folder on the coffee table. “I’ve read your application. You’ve been vampire, what, almost eighty years?”

  “I was turned in 1937.”

  “What I don’t understand is why you haven’t accumulated more capital.” Or why she wasted what little she had on clothing. He hadn’t missed the designer suit, red-soled shoes, or the purse—the outfit had set her back at least three grand. “According to your balance sheet, you only have $100,000 in savings.”