NYC VAMPS (The Italians): Vampire Romance (Book Book 2)

by Sky Winters

  How did he know? she wondered but said nothing.

  “Anyway, we can talk more about that later. And we will. But for now, no, I’m not a murderer. But those men were.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “In New York City, there lives a society of vampires, fittingly called the society, by those in the know. We’ve been here for around a century and a half. Though the society, the European vampires, have been around for much longer.”

  Simone fidgeted against her straps and listened.

  “Be good, and I can take those off,” he said, gesturing to the fabric binding that held Simone in place. “Anyway, in the nineteenth century, several vampires made the decision to come to the new world to escape the traditions of the European vampires. Not to mention the rampant vampire hunters, and those of our kind that have gone more-or-less-feral.”

  “We settled in New York, for the most part, and after coming to an arrangement with the higher-ups in the city, have lived, mostly, harmoniously. But,” he said, sticking a finger in the air, “one of the stipulations, possibly the biggest stipulation, is that we only drink the fresh blood of humans during one ceremony during the year. And only a select number of humans that we feed on and preserve blood from for the coming year.”

  “That’s monstrous,” said Simone.

  “It’s not pleasant, but it beats the alternative. And what you saw tonight was the first step back into that alternative. Those men were illegally drinking the blood of that man, and his body has likely been drained dry and disposed of by now.”

  Simone shuddered. She didn’t care for Eduardo, but no one deserved that fate.

  “So what were they trying to do,” she asked, her voice tinged with skepticism, “summon a blood god or something?”

  Vincent rolled his eyes. “You watch too many movies. Sure, there are a few among us who are a little more superstitious than others and may be inclined to believe in nonsense like that, but the ritual is mostly a symbolic one, a way of saying that the old ways are back.”

  “And now the vampires are hunting people again?”

  “Some are. I’m a member of the Italian vampires. There are the Irish, the Ukrainians, and the Polish, besides us. Over the last couple of decades, the Italians have been growing more independent and rejecting of the rules, and after a recent incident with the Irish over a human woman, the rift has only grown wider.”

  A log shifted in the fireplace, causing a booming rush of flames to rise and fall.

  “Do agree with them, that people should be…hunted?” asked Simone, her voice catching on the last word.

  Vincent narrowed his eyes and thought again before speaking.

  “The idea of independence does have its appeal, and there’s no blood like fresh blood, but no, I don’t agree. Which is why your arrival was…rather fortuitous. At that moment, I would’ve either had to mark myself as a member of the dissenting vampires or dissent myself and likely have been killed on the spot. The excuse to chase you down has given me a moment to breathe, so to speak.”

  “Well, what are you going to do?” Simone asked, not sure if she should be worried for her life.

  “I spoke to a contact of mine in the Irish society, who informed me that the Irish are, in fact, moving towards war, possibly hoping to kill the Italian independence movement in the crib. And I know that the move towards independence is far from unanimous.”

  “This little vampire civics lesson has been extremely interesting and all, but can you please untie me? This chair is killing my back.”

  “What did I tell you?” he said, shaking his head, “that’s a Louie XVI chair you’re suffering in, by the way. I guess they didn’t make them for comfort back then.”

  He walked over to Simone and kneeled down, then placed his hands on her wrist.

  “Now, if I untie you, do you promise to be a good girl?”

  Simone’s eyes drifted own to the sight of Vincent’s hands resting on her wrist, and the sensation of his cool, rough skin against hers distracted her for a moment. His scent, musky but elegant, wafted up to her nostrils and filled her stomach with a hot, tense feeling.

  “Um, yes, I promise to be a good girl,” she said, snapping back into the moment.

  “Excellent,” he said, pulling the fabric knots undone with quick, deft tugs.

  He stepped away, and Simone rubbed the sore skin of her wrists.

  “Now, can I offer you something to drink?”

  Part of Simone felt like a drink as the last thing she needed, and the other thought it was the only thing she needed. The battle waged for less than a second.

  “Jesus, just some vodka or something.”

  Vincent hoisted himself off of the arm and walked over to a large globe painted with oceans of light tan and landmasses of dark brown. Grabbing onto an unseen handle, he lifted the top half open, revealing a small cache of liquor bottles.

  “Listen,” he said, looking away as he made a pair of drinks, his voice a low, reassuring purr, “I know this is all insane-sounding, a lot to take in. But this is how the city works. Thousands of us live here, and it’s better for all of you if we stay hidden. The last thing those who moved here wanted was to bring the same millennia-old battle of vampires and hunters to the new world.”

  He walked over to Simone and handed her a crystal glass filled with a measure of clear, chilled liquid.

  “But, why should we even want you here at all? I mean, we’re just supposed to accept that…things who drink our blood live here?”

  Vincent cocked his head to the side and raised his eyebrows, a gesture that conveyed “fair point.”

  “True, and if that’s how you feel, I suggest you tap into your entrepreneurial side and do the honor of starting the first vampire hunter’s guild in New York. Though, you might want to do a little combat training first. Maybe a few years in special forces.”

  Simone narrowed her eyes as she sipped her drink.

  “Trust me, we’re here to stay, and this arrangement has been the best working thing that anyone’s come up with. Less of us dead, less of you dead.”

  Simone considered Vincent’s words.

  “Does this mean you aren’t, on board, or whatever, with what those men were doing?”

  Vincent crossed his drink arm across his chest, looked away, and took a slow sip.

  “I suppose that’s the million-dollar question.”

  Vincent opened his other hand, which held a small, red capsule. In a swift motion, he dropped the thing into his drink, where it landed with a pop that turned into a frothy fizz. Within seconds, the fizz settled, and the amber color of his whiskey was now a faint red.

  “Is that…” asked Simone, pointing at the drink.

  “Blood, yes. Don’t worry, no humans were harmed in the making of this drink, as they say. No unwilling humans, that is.”

  Vincent’s expression turned grave.

  “But listen, there’s more to the story. There’s something special about you, and I think you know that I mean.”

  Simone froze in her seat. She knew right away that he could only be referring to one thing: her strange ability to read minds that made another recent appearance.

  “It’s important that we get a handle on you and your…abilities. They could be just the thing to put this whole conflict to rest before it gets out of control. First-“

  But before he could finish his sentence, a low ring echoed through the study. Vincent held up his hand and listened.

  “Someone’s here,” he said, rising to his feet. “And I wasn’t expecting guests.”

  Chapter 8

  Vincent stayed put for a moment, considering his next move.

  “Who is it?” asked Simone, now worried.

  Vincent shook his head.

  “No idea.”

  Another low ring sounded. Then another.

  “Hey, Vincent! I know you’re in there. It’s Chaz! We gotta talk!” the voice was muffled through the front door.

  “Shit,”
said Vincent, about to move. He stopped himself and turned to Simone.

  “Stay here. Don’t make a sound unless I say so.”

  With that, Vincent strode from the study, shutting the doors to the room behind him.

  Simone felt her stomach work itself into a newer, deeper state of tension.

  She considered Vincent’s words as she sat alone in the study.

  How does he know about my “powers,” or whatever it is they are? They sure don’t seem like powers to me, just a huge pain in my ass.

  She took a small sip of her drink, letting the chill of the vodka hang on her lips for a moment before bringing it down with a swallow. She heard the low creaking of a heavy wooden door open in another room, followed by the echoing clop of several pairs of shoes on a wooden floor, then the low murmur of chatter. Simone found herself leaning forward in her chair, struggling to listen to what they were talking about. But she couldn’t hear a word through the door.

  Looking down at the glass in her hand, an idea crossed her mind. She threw the last dregs of the liquid back and winced when the astringent taste flooded her mouth. She swallowed and sprang from her seat. Stepping out of her heels, walked with careful, quiet steps towards the study door. Upon reaching it, she put her glass on the door, and pressed her ear against the bottom, the cool glass wet against her ear. She focused, and the words of the conversation became clearer.

  “…exactly, are you planning on doing with the little Bella?” the voice was unfamiliar.

  “I could ask you the same thing.” Simone recognized this voice as Vincent’s.

  “Listen, Vincent, I don’t know what you’ve got in mind, but you can’t just keep her here. I was there during the whole ceremony, and you weren’t. As soon as you left, they all knew.”

  “Knew what, exactly?”

  “That she’s the one they were looking for. You know how it works- they get a vibe, and then another, and another, then the girl shows up. I got friends in the Irish, they found their girl the same way.”

  “What, just going on ‘vibes?’”

  A moment passed. Simone was frozen in place- she knew they were talking about her.

  “Listen, I’m here to get her. The elders are glad that you grabbed her before she ran out of there, but they’re, well, a little curious as to why you brought her home instead of coming right back. It doesn’t look good, you know? And trust me, this is the wrong time to be giving any of the elders reason to question our motives about anything.”

  Another moment passed, the fire still cracking.

  “No,” said Vincent.

  “No? Are you kidding me? ‘No?’ What the fuck are you talking about, ‘no?’”

  “I mean ‘no.’ This is insanity. You know this, I know it. Do you want to play an active role in what the elders are doing? Undo over a century of building a society here, for what? A power play? More wealth than we already have? How big of an apartment do you need, Chaz?”

  “It’s not about money,” said Chaz, Simone hearing the anger seeping into his voice, “it was never about money! It’s about not having to live like animals, not having to buy our food once a year, at some auction, not having to live under the rules of the humans of this city, not having to take our blood in fuckin’ pills! If we’re going to live in the shadows, we might as well run things from there, instead of fuckin’ cowering in them.”

  “So what’s your plan, then? Go to war against the rest of the society?”

  “You know the plan, and you know these girls are the key. With them, we can have the Irish, Ukrainians, and the Poles right there, under our thumbs. And if we help the elders, we’re right up on top with them! Think about it, we could run this whole fuckin’ town. And once we run New York…Hell! Who knows what’s after that. And it starts tonight.”

  “No, it ends tonight.”

  Another moment passed. Simone’s eyes widened.

  “Vincent, I don’t know what’s going on here. I don’t know if you’re sweet on this girl, if you got some power play of your own cooking, or if you actually like living like a goddamn dog, but I don’t care. I love you, but you got one more instance of me asking nicely before things turn real bad real fast.”

  Another moment.

  “I’m telling you, buddy,” said the other voice, “you’re outnumbered. Not just here, but in the rest of the society. Most of the other Italians are with us, and everything’s getting held up just ‘cause of you. So, last warning.”

  “You can take her when you kill me.”

  A low, uneasy chuckle sounded from the other man.

  “I didn’t want to have to do it this way, buddy, but if you insist.”

  With that, Simone heard two pairs of feet walk with slow steps away from each other, then come to a stop. Then a whoosh, then the thud of a body slamming into a wall. Paintings on the wall of the study shook with the impact, and Simone staggered back from the study door. Another thud of a body against another wall, then the crash of something wooden being smashed under the weight of something. More feet squeaked against the wooden floor. There was the wet, fleshy impact of fists against flesh, and the grunts of air rushing out of lungs, forced by the impact.

  Simone continued to step backward, until she walked into the coffee table in front of the leather couch, stumbled over it, and fell onto the leather couch. There, she froze, unsure of what to do. She felt that she couldn’t possibly help, but she knew that Vincent, whatever his motivations were, was the only thing standing between her and whatever fate the other vampires had for her.

  The question of whether or not she should intervene in the fight was answered when the doors to the study burst open, the body of Vincent flying through them and smashing with a sickening crack into a bookshelf on the opposite side of the wall.

  Simone’s eyes shot to the space in the wall where the study doors dangled from wrecked hinges. Into the frame stepped another slick-haired Italian man, with the same ivory skin as Vincent, the same red lips, the same fancy dress. But there was something different about his face; it was more pointed and angular, like some kind of rodent. At his sides were two white-skinned men in simple black-and-white suits, both wearing sunglasses.

  “Ah, there she is,” said the man, stepping through the spray of wood splinters from the study doors. “I was wondering when our little belladonna would join the fun.”

  Simone turned and looked at Vincent. He was moving, but barely, and his face was covered in red scratches and dark, blue contusions. His clothes were ripped.

  “Leave me alone,” she said, moving back into the corner of the couch. “I don’t know what your plans are, but I don’t want anything to do with them.”

  “You say that as though you have some say in the matter,” the man said, continuing to close the distance between him and Simone. “Come. Vincent made a noble effort to protect you, and I promise we’ll give him the mercy of a quick death once we have you out of here.”

  Simone heard grunting and heaving behind her, and turned to see Vincent standing, a look of pained anger on his face.

  “Last warning,” he said, now standing straight, his fists clenched.

  “OK, Vincent, it was cute at first, but enough is enough.”

  With that, the man waved his fingers towards Simone with a limp gesture, and the two other men moved in towards Vincent and Simone.

  They closed the distance quickly, with the man grabbing Simone by the shoulders, the other moving in close to Vincent, locking eyes with the other vampire.

  “Careful with the lady,” said the suited man. “And just go ahead and finish the little troublemaker off.”

  The first man held Simone in place, facing Vincent and the black-and-white-suited vampire.

  “Let her watch,” said the first man, “I want her to know right away what kind of world she’s a part of now.”

  The man facing Vincent nodded and pulled his fist back.

  Don’t-do-it-don’t-do-it-don’t-do-it, she thought over and over.

 
Then the man brought his fist into a full swing.

  Stop!

  The man’s fist was inches from Vincent’s face but moved no further.

  “What the hell?” he said in a throaty, startled voice, “I can’t move!”

  “What the hell are you doing? Kill him!”

  “My fist, I can’t fuckin’ move it!”

  Simone looked with wide eyes at the fist, stuck in the same place, as if encased in an invisible cement block.

  Vincent wasted no time taking advantage of this sudden opportunity. He rushed in, grabbed the man’s fist and twisted it back with a crackling rip. The man screamed, and Vincent came in with his other hand, driving it into the man’s chest. Vincent twisted his wrist and gave a quick pull. The man’s face went blank for a brief instant before his body exploded into black ash.

  Simone watched Vincent’s moves with astonishment. Her mind was racing, but one thought rose above the whirling in her mind: that she thought “stop,” and that’s exactly what happened.

  The remaining two vampires stood frozen, their eyes wide and their mouths slacked. The first turned to Simone, his eyes now narrow, his gaze ice.

  “What did you just do, my belladonna,” he said in a whispered, venom-laced tone while walking towards her with slow, measured steps.

  “Get away!” Simone yelled, extending a palm. And as her hand shot out, so flew back the vampire, back through the open entry of the study. He hit the floor with a thud and a shrill squeaking against the glossy floor as he continued moving backward after the impact.

  The remaining vampire alternated between looking at Simone and Vincent. Fixing his gaze on Simone, he rushed towards her, only to be caught by Vincent. Vincent held him by the neck, lifting him up into the air.

  “You OK?” he asked Simone, who could only respond with a quick, fearful nod.

  “Good,” replied Vincent, just before grabbing the vampire’s jaw with his other hand and pulling it apart from the rest of his body, causing the vampire to explode, like the other, into a cascade of black ash.

  “One-on-one, eh, Vincent?” said the first, and now only, remaining vampire who returned to the study, brushing his suit jacket off and slicking back his hair as he walked. “I suppose it’s better this way.”