by E. S. Moore
My eyes skimmed over them as I checked the rest of the bar. As far as I could tell, Mikael was the most dangerous person in the place, myself excluded. Thankfully, I counted him amongst my friends in an odd, “don’t talk, don’t tell” sort of way.
Mikael is a snitch. There is no glossing over it, and he would be offended if you tried. I got all my information on the vampire Houses from him. While he might look and act like scum, he was pretty loyal to his paying customers. He would never give me away, even if he really knew who I was.
I returned his nod, though he was too engrossed with the three girls’ tongues to notice. I gave him a disgusted look and then headed to the bar where my beer was waiting.
I usually sat at one of the booths in the darkest corner of the room, but The Bloody Stake was crowded tonight. A pair of young couples were sitting at my usual table, laughing and rubbing up against each other like they were somewhere a lot more private. One guy was working his hand up his girl’s skirt and she was doing nothing to stop him.
“I can move ’em,” Bart said, leaning on the bar. “They’ve been here long enough, distracting anyone with a pair of eyes.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I just want to sit back and relax for a little bit. It’s been a rough couple of nights.”
Bart grunted and moved off to wait on someone at the far end of the bar. He favored his right leg as he moved—the result of yet another encounter with a less than friendly vamp. It was a wonder he could walk at all with as many fights as he has broken up over the years.
I turned in my seat so I could get a better look around the room. There was a mix of vamps, wolves, and Purebloods, though I couldn’t pick the supes out just by looks. It was usually pretty hard to tell unless someone was going hairy or teeth were sprouting.
There was an old guy sitting at a table against the wall who had a certain look about him that screamed supernatural. He was trying to hide the hunger burning in his eyes, but he was having a hard time of it. From the awkward way he moved and the way he couldn’t hide his desire to feed, I guessed he either was pretty damn hungry or was new. He had probably been a bum some young vamp or wolf had turned on accident.
I watched him a moment, wondering if he would give in to his hunger, before finally turning away. If he did, he wouldn’t be the first to do so, though it would be in the world’s worst place.
While The Bloody Stake catered to everyone, regardless of blood, there was one big no-no that everyone had to follow: There was to be no fighting within the bar or within sight of Bart’s property. I had seen more than one vampire lose his head when he couldn’t control his hunger.
And that went for the Purebloods as much as it did for the vamps and wolves. Bart had no qualms about putting someone down who threatened the peace of his establishment. If you came here, you had to be prepared to behave, or else you would be leaving in pieces.
It was part of the charm of the place, really. It was somewhere I could go without having to constantly look over my shoulder. Sure, fights did happen, but Bart usually ended them before anyone got hurt. It might not make much of a difference if someone was to plunge a silver knife through my heart or blow my brains out through my eye sockets, but at least whoever did it would end up with their blood splattered on the opposite wall a second or two later.
Besides, most of the people knew each other by sight here. Rarely were names exchanged; but if someone new were to come in, they were watched by the regulars well enough so that the risks were relatively low. No one here knew my name, knew what I did by night. Not even Bart or Mikael knew anything about me, aside from the fact I was a vampire. They were the only two in the place who knew that for sure.
I finished my beer and set it down, tapping it twice on the bar to let Bart know I was ready for another.
One of the girls at my old booth rose, her voice rising in anger. She slapped a hand from her hip and started for the door, ignoring the whine of the boy she had rejected. Her other two companions were still hanging on to each other like they were glued together. The boy’s hand was so far up the girl’s skirt now, I knew her sudden jerks and giggles weren’t caused by a sudden chill.
A middle-aged woman sitting close to the door grabbed the fleeing young girl by the arm and yanked her into the chair next to her. She leaned forward and said something to the girl that sounded harsh and demanding. The girl paled, looked around the room at all the eager faces, and then stood, thanked the woman, and sulked back toward the booth. She sat down next to the oblivious couple, well away from the boy she had been sitting with originally.
Just because it was safe inside the bar and within sight of it didn’t mean someone wouldn’t follow you home when you left. It was one of the dangers of the place. A Pureblood wanting to risk coming to The Bloody Stake was best served to do it near first light or plan on a long stay. Leaving too early meant you were willing to risk getting attacked the moment you were out of sight of Bart’s watchful eye.
I picked up my fresh beer and drained the bottle in one long pull. It was surprising how refreshing just coming here and people-watching could be. I was still worried about Ethan, of course. He might be resourceful and inventive, but he was still a Pureblood. He wouldn’t stand a chance if the rumors of late were true and an actual werewolf was a part of the Luna Cult.
“Well, hello there.” The young man whose date had left him sat down next to me. He had long, dark hair that cascaded around his shoulders and framed his youthful face. His eyes twinkled from the lights above the bar. They were stunningly blue.
He smiled and gave me one of those looks that said he was now available and looking. His eyes raked me from head to toe, lingering on my chest, before settling in somewhere below my chin. “Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be drinking alone,” he said. “I could make sure you go home happy tonight.”
“Piss off,” I said, slamming my empty beer bottle down on the bar twice to get Bart’s attention. He raised a hand and frowned at me as he filled someone else’s order.
“Feisty,” the young man said. He was little more than a boy, his features still soft, unmarred by time. “I like that in my women.” His hand snaked across my waist.
Without thinking, I caught his wrist and leaped to my feet. I twisted the arm to the breaking point and with my free hand, caught him by his lustrous hair. I slammed his face down hard on the bar, pushing his already tortured arm up even farther. He let out a little squeak and stood on his tiptoes to keep as much pressure off his joints as he could.
“I said piss off,” I growled into his ear. I pushed hard against his head, slamming his face into the polished wood once more, before letting him go.
The man’s eyes were just about popping from his head as he backed away. He rubbed at his sore wrist and stared at me like I had just tried to kill him. His nose was bleeding, but it didn’t look as though it was broken.
The girl who had so recently rejected him was on her feet as soon as he got back to the booth. She started touching him, making sure he wasn’t hurt too badly. They both glanced at me repeatedly, as if they expected me to come over and finish him off.
I turned back to the bar to see Bart standing across from me, his shotgun in his hands. “I think you might want to call it a night,” he said, his voice cold and hard.
I glanced around the room. The place had fallen deathly silent. Only the music blaring over the speakers marred the near-complete silence.
Everyone was staring at me, waiting for the moment when Bart would level the gun and blow me into next week. Some even looked excited by the prospect. Why else would so many Purebloods frequent a place that catered to vamps and wolves if not for the chance of violence?
“I guess you’re right,” I said with a sigh. I pushed away from the bar and tossed a fifty down next to my empty bottle. “A little extra for the trouble I caused.”
Bart took the money and tucked it away in his apron. He grunted something under his breath and nodded toward the door, but at least t
he shotgun wasn’t pointed my way. I had seen others killed for less.
Eyes followed me as I moved to leave. I could feel them watching me, and it did nothing to help my mood. I had come to The Bloody Stake to ease my mind, to put things in perspective. Instead, I was in an even fouler mood than before.
The night had grown chill during my brief stay. The door swung closed behind me, cutting off the sound of music and rising voices. A couple was leaning against the wall of the bar next to the payphone, making out. They didn’t seem to notice me as I swept past them on my way to my Honda.
The sound of the door opening and closing behind me caused me to tense. I slowed my pace and turned to look up and down the road as if trying to judge the traffic before crossing. I caught a glimpse of a hooded figure out of the corner of my eye. The figure was making its way toward me, acting as if it were simply out on a leisurely stroll.
I could tell by the stiffness of the hooded figure’s shoulders that it was out for something else. Namely, me.
I squinted up at the sky and took a deep breath. It was clear the figure was coming after me, and it pissed me off to no end that I would have to do something about it. This was definitely not how I had envisioned my night out.
5
I turned and started walking down the sidewalk, away from The Bloody Stake, leaving my motorcycle in the parking lot. I walked slowly, listening for the sound of my follower’s footsteps. Sure enough, my stalker altered their course to follow me.
I had no idea if my tail was after me because I seemed an easy mark or if they knew who I was. The Luna Cult came to mind, of course. I wouldn’t put it past them to send someone to watch me, to make sure I didn’t do anything rash while I considered their invitation. Hell, if they had sent someone to follow me, they could just as likely have me killed. I mean, I had killed their first messenger. I’m sure they knew that by now.
Then again, I didn’t recall seeing anyone with a shaved head in the bar. Nor did anyone have the Luna Cult tattoo cut into their forehead. It’s always possible they could have been in the bathroom or hiding when I came in.
Still, it just didn’t make any sense. If the Cult had sent someone to follow me, they would have entered the bar after me, not before. There was no way they would have known I would have come here tonight.
Right?
No matter who my tail was, I wasn’t about to let them catch up to me in the parking lot of The Bloody Stake. I had already caused enough of a ruckus there for one night. Any more and I wouldn’t be going home.
I quickened my pace and my pursuer did likewise. I was pretty sure by the sound of his steps and the squareness of his shoulders that the tail was male. His boots hit the sidewalk hard enough to echo off the sparse trees lining the walk.
I turned down a deserted side street. I took a few steps before quickly ducking into an alley between two abandoned buildings. The shadows didn’t hide me completely, but I didn’t need them to. I only needed my little friend to blindly walk around the corner and into my waiting arms.
The footfalls neared the corner and I tensed. There was a moment’s hesitation before my tail turned down the street, as if he wasn’t quite sure he should follow.
He cursed under his breath and his steps faltered again. He was just out of sight. I could hear him breathing but a handful of steps away. If he took those last few steps, I would have him.
For a moment, I thought he had given up. I could imagine him standing there, scanning the empty street ahead, wondering where I went.
A second passed, then two, and finally, he started walking again.
He stepped into view, huddled in a leather jacket, a hood concealing his face. Before he could so much as think about looking down the alley, I reached out and caught him by the front of the jacket. He cried out in surprise as I yanked him toward me. With a practice twist of my wrist and a sudden shift of my weight, I sent my pursuer tumbling head over heels to the sidewalk. He hit hard.
I was on him before he regained sense enough to roll away. I slammed the back of his head down hard on the pavement once for emphasis before tearing off his hood.
Yellow eyes stared up at me and a low growl came from the throat of the man under me. The stubble of his cheeks thickened as I watched, and I could hear the sound of his jaws cracking as he began to shift.
I drew my knife and let the moonlight shine on the silver blade. The wolf’s eyes immediately reverted to normal, turning from animal yellow to pale blue in an instant.
“Don’t hurt me,” he said. His jaw resettled and the hair retracted. “Please. I was just curious. I wasn’t going to hurt you. I promise.”
Now that he wasn’t in the middle of a shift, I could tell the man under me wasn’t much more than a kid. He was actually quite handsome, for what it was worth. Not that his looks mattered much to me. He was tainted.
“Curious about what?”
He swallowed and looked from side to side as if hoping some sort of rescue would walk into view. He must have been new to the area because only a fool would expect help here. Anyone in their right mind wouldn’t help a dying man in the street, even if they knew him. Too many dark things lurked in the shadows to risk one’s neck for a friend, let alone a stranger.
It didn’t matter anyway. The buildings on the street we were on were mostly abandoned. No one actually walked down the empty roads. Not unless they were looking for a fight. Or a quick death.
The young wolf looked back to me and tried to smile, though it was severely wanting in warmth. “I saw how you handled that kid in there. I just wanted to see how tough you really were, get to know you better, you know?”
“Satisfied?”
He nodded as best he could. “Yeah. Can you let me up now?”
“No.”
His smile faded, and I could see the animal wanting to spring forth again. While he managed to control his inner beast pretty well, I was betting he was new to the werewolf lifestyle. An older wolf would have been fighting me by now.
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he said, shifting his position under me. I tightened my legs, causing him to wince and fall still.
“I don’t care if I hurt you or not.” I waved the knife in front of his face. “Silver. I take it you know what a silver knife could do to you if I chose to use it?”
He ground his teeth and said nothing.
“So, now tell me, why were you following me? Did the Cult send you?”
He scrunched up his face in confusion. “I told you. I just wanted to check you out. I thought you looked pretty good and figured maybe we could have some fun together. I don’t know anything about any Cult.”
I doubted that. Everyone knew who the Luna Cult was. “Were you planning on feeding on me?”
He blushed and looked away. That was all the answer I needed.
“You would have found my blood to be unsatisfying,” I said. I bared my teeth at him, showing him a hint of fang. My gums were oozing blood.
His eyes widened. “You’re a ...” He trailed off and swallowed hard.
“Now you understand.” I tightened my hand on the hilt of the knife. “Who sent you?”
“No one,” he said, more frightened than ever. All hints of his inner beast had faded. He was just a kid now, a terrified kid of no more than eighteen or nineteen.
“Then why were you following me? I doubt it was by pure chance you picked me out from the crowd. There were far easier targets if you had food on your mind. Are you sure there was no other reason why you chose me?”
He nodded. His head rapped against the pavement as he did. “I swear,” he said. “This was my first night out. I wanted to see what it was like but didn’t want to go all easy like others might have. I wanted a challenge. I saw what you did in there and figured you might provide that challenge. I’m sorry.”
I bared my teeth again and let them push through the gums a bit farther. Blood dripped from the fresh wounds and ran down my lengthening fangs. The werewolf squirmed under me, and by the l
ook on his face, he knew what could happen if he got too much of my blood in him.
I licked the blood from my lip before it could fall free and pressed the silver knife against his throat. There was a slight hiss as the silver burned his flesh, but he did well in not flinching away, or else I would have cut his throat right then and there. He stopped breathing and looked at me with wide, pleading eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I never should have followed you. It was stupid. I’m an idiot. Please, don’t kill me.”
“What’s your name?” I asked, ignoring his gibbering. I eased off the blade so that it no longer burned him.
He took a shaky breath and a tear rolled down the side of his face. Christ, is there anything more pathetic than a sobbing monster?
“Jeremy. Jeremy Lincoln.”
“Well, Jeremy Lincoln, I have something to tell you. Would you like to listen? It might save your life.”
He licked his lips and more tears ran from his eyes. What kind of monster did it take to make another monster cry?
I took his silence as affirmation.
“You say this is your first hunt. Is that correct?”
He nodded.
“That means you haven’t made your first kill, yes?”
“Yeah.” Jeremy spoke so quietly a normal person wouldn’t have heard it.
“I suggest you give up the hunt,” I said. “You might enjoy it the first few times, but after a while, it will change you. There is nothing you can do to keep the hunger from creeping up on you, but you can at least do your best to fight it. Don’t give in to it. Fight for as long as you can. You will never beat it completely. It will always be there, but fight it nonetheless. If you give in to the hunger, you won’t survive the year. I’ll make sure of that.”
Jeremy bit his lower lip and tried hard not to cry any harder than he already was. His lower jaw quivered with the effort, but at least the tears had stopped flowing. I had to give him kudos for that.