Each newspaper report Stefan showed her made Julie grew sicker...more terrified. She read the chilling accounts about women dying, reported in English and Spanish and French and Russian, and other languages neither she nor Stefan could translate. Murder victims depicted in stark black and white photography needed no translation, though. Twenty women, young, tall, blonde, and voluptuous -- all found naked, and all very, very dead, their throats slashed. Of the accounts they’d been able to read, none indicated the victims had been sexually assaulted, although from the newspaper accounts, they’d put up varying degrees of resistance to their killer.
It was all too terrifying to believe, yet the pattern was too clear to dismiss as coincidence. The work of a killer vampire. Or vampires. Julie tamped down on her terror. After all, how many of their numbers roamed the earth? Julie pictured that vase of white roses on the table in her townhouse, shuddered, then made a mental note to call the florist and learn for certain who had placed the order.
She didn’t have to do it. Not really. Stefan had convinced her Louis Reynard was a serial killer. A killer who’d singled her out to become his next victim.
Suddenly it hit her. The next gory newspaper write-up might be about her. Would almost certainly be if they didn’t do something quickly to thwart the bloodthirsty creature who almost certainly had sent her those roses.
Julie grasped Stefan’s hand, spoke softly so other library patrons wouldn’t overhear her. “What if I took copies of these articles to the police, told him you’ve been chasing this killer for months, pointed Mr. Reynard out so they could keep an eye on him? Surely they’d listen.”
Stefan shook his head. “Just how would you link these murders to Reynard? They’re not likely to accept the signature of the rose, or to give credence to the latest note Reynard sent to Alina. They’ve given them no credence in the past. No, Julie, as much as we might like it otherwise, our only chance to defeat Reynard is to stick together and stop him when he makes his move.”
When they walked out of the library, Julie thought Stefan looked drawn, tired. “I’m hungry. Shall we stop and get a bite to eat?”
Stefan took her hand, brought it to his lips. “You wouldn’t happen to know where there might be a vampire bar or blood bank, now would you?”
“A vampire bar?” She’d heard whispers of such places on Rush Street, shrugged them off as the fanciful imaginings of mortals who embraced the Goth lifestyle. “Not really. Well, every hospital has a blood bank, but I doubt they’d sell blood for human -- or vampire -- consumption. As far as vampire bars go, I never accepted until this morning that vampires existed outside horror movies. Do many humans know about -- people like you?”
“More than you’d expect.” He cocked his arrogant brow, grinned. “Vampire bars can be found in most major cities if one knows where to look. The mortals who know about them are typically on the fringes of society, into alternative lifestyles, fetishes. They tend to be more accepting of...the unusual.”
“Like a tattoo and body piercing shop owner, maybe?”
“It’s possible. Do you know such a mortal?”
“I have a friend who owns that kind of shop. I do art designs for him. He’s...somewhat like the type of person you described.” She recalled some of Giorgio’s tattoo designs, one in particular of a fearsome looking vampire with blood dripping from his fangs. “What do you think? Is it worth a try?”
Stefan looked down at her, and his expression brought a flush to her cheeks. “You’re an extraordinary woman, Julie, for believing me. Trusting me. Being willing to help me sustain myself for the fight ahead. Yes, let’s give it a try.”
She nodded, tightened a hand on his, and a grip on her fear. “Let’s go, then. If I get my own personal vampire bodyguard, I want him in top form.” She slanted him a half smile. “If not, I’ll cut your benefits.”
Stefan’s grin became slow and sexy. “I’d like to see you try, cherie. I’d like to see you try.”
* * * * *
Shiny black and white and chrome accented with red Chinese symbols gave an upscale retro look to the tattoo and piercing salon. The sound of dishes clattering downstairs at the sushi bar clashed with soft classical music piped in through speakers mounted near the ceiling in all four corners of the reception room, where a receptionist had indicated they should wait.
“Giorgio is doing a piercing, Julie. He should be finished in a little while,” she said before disappearing, apparently to tell her employer he had guests.
“Thanks, Mary.” Julie squeezed Stefan’s hand. “Come on, let me show you some of Giorgio’s work.
Stefan let her lead him past the black and white photos, apparently of Giorgio’s piercings, that adorned one wall. The opposite wall featured pen and ink drawings of intricate tattoo designs, including a couple that depicted fearsome looking vampires with bloodshot eyes, their mouths curled into snarls, huge fangs dripping blood. One sported the high-collared black cloak with red lining, the epitome of Hollywood cliché. Stefan grimaced when he looked at the half-closed coffin in which the other vampire was ensconced. “Yours?” he asked.
“Some are. Not the vampire ones, though.”
He shot an arch look her way. “Now I know where you got your mental image of vampires.”
“Not really. I never looked closely at these designs before.” Julie stepped closer to the wall, pointed at one. “That one looks like the actor who played Dracula in all those old horror movies they play on late night television. The ones Christopher Lee starred in.”
Stefan recognized the actor. He and Alex had spent several pleasant evenings laughing over Lee’s portrayals of Vlad Dracul. “Those movies give us vampires a bad name.”
He’d seen as much as he wanted to see of the tattoo artist’s renditions of his kind. More. His hand on her hip, he guided her further along the display wall, stopping to examine some designs that inspired awe, not horror. “I like these much better.”
“So do I. I’m afraid the ones we just looked at are meant to appeal more to people who like tattoos for shock, not for their artistic value.”
“Which ones are yours?” he asked, amazed at the fine detail evident in the designs.
Julie gestured toward an elaborate Maltese cross near the center of the display. “I created this one. One of Giorgio’s clients wanted something different from the stock designs, yet nothing too outrageous. Giorgio’s own original designs, like the ones of the vampires, were more elaborate than what the woman wanted on her shoulder.”
The cross, in stained-glass colors that reminded Stefan of a window in a church not too far from his home, was breathtaking in its beauty and simplicity. He imagined running his fingers over the design once it was etched onto a woman’s skin, experiencing silky living flesh beneath the muted jewel tones. “It’s beautiful. Like you.”
Julie laughed, a nervous sound. “I’m afraid I have a strong dislike of needles. Giorgio has never been able to persuade me to let him use me as a canvas for his art.”
“One of my cousins once tried to get a tattoo. Apparently they don’t work well on vampires. Though I assume we could become candidates for your friend’s other specialty.” Stefan glanced at the photos depicting jewelry on various body parts he preferred to keep private. “Not that I have an overwhelming desire to have metal stuck through my flesh.”
“Neither do I. Come on, let’s sit and relax. Giorgio takes his time when he’s doing a new piercing.”
An array of body jewelry lay in display cases built into the tops of lacquered tables someone had grouped artfully between black leather and chrome sofas and love seats. The heavy silver rings brought to mind his last meal -- and the similar adornment he’d felt in his victim’s cock. “Hmmm,” he said, his attention drawn to some smaller pieces. “Those look suspiciously like cufflinks.”
“I thought that, too, when I first saw them, but Giorgio said they’re navel rings.”
“Ah, yes. Like the harem dancers wear.” A large round sapphire winked up
at Stefan, making him wonder how it would look on Julie. “Have you ever...”
“No. As I said before, I’m afraid of needles. The only parts of me that I’ve had pierced are these.” She tossed back her pale curls, calling his attention not only to the inviting column of her throat but to the small diamonds that pierced the lobes of her small, beautifully shaped ears. “I thought about doing my navel, but Giorgio says it’s one of the most difficult piercings to heal. Basically, I’m a coward.”
“Yes, you are.” A little man, shorter than Julie and naked but for gym shorts and a body full of tattoos, beamed at them when he emerged from a treatment room with a seemingly satisfied customer who kept looking in every mirror, apparently admiring a fresh piercing through his lower lip. “Don’t tell me you’ve brought me a new client,” he said to Julie, giving her a big hug.
“No, Giorgio. This is my friend Stefan. Stefan, Giorgio Campione.”
Stefan found Giorgio’s handshake amazingly strong for one so small. “My pleasure,” he said. “You do some interesting work.” It was damn hard not to stare, for nearly every visible centimeter of Giorgio’s body bore intricate, interwoven designs -- and chains. A lot of flashy gold chains, connecting a nostril with an eyebrow, an earlobe with a loop pierced into the top of his ear...and most remarkably, dangling from rings in his pierced nipples and disappearing into his shorts...
“The body’s a perfect canvas, I keep telling Julie. She won’t even trust me to give her a tiny rosebud where no one but a lover would ever see it.” Giorgio sat down across from them and met Stefan’s gaze. “What can I do for you, if not a decoration for your body or the pretty lady’s? Your lady’s?”
Julie’s cheeks flushed when Giorgio winked at her with one of his too-shrewd eyes. Stefan hesitated a moment, then met the mortal’s questioning gaze. “You can point me in the direction of the nearest vampire bar.”
“Should’ve known. You all have great skin. Would be fabulous to show off my most intricate designs, if only it had a bit more moisture...and elasticity. Still, I’ve had good luck with piercing vamps -- you have remarkable healing abilities.” Giorgio stood, unabashedly examining the laceration on Stefan’s cheek. “Except for this. You’ll be lucky if it doesn’t leave a scar.”
“It’s a vampire bite. The venomous kind. We’re susceptible, as much as any mortal. Would you know of a place around here where I can feed?”
“Ristorante della Rubio, over on Wilding Street, just off Rush. Ask for the manager. His name is Gus. Tell him in Italian that I said he could provide special refreshments for vampires. You do speak Italian, don’t you?”
“Enough to ask a simple question.” It didn’t surprise him that this Gus took the precaution of screening its customers. Proprietors of vampire bars couldn’t be too careful about who they admitted. “I assume the Ristorante della Rubio is a suitable place to take a lady.”
“My vampire clients tell me they always stop in there whenever they’re in the neighborhood.” Giorgio glanced over at Julie. “You know you promised to paint me someday, so keep that in mind if you’re thinking of running off with your handsome friend here.”
Julie smiled. “It will take you months yet to finish tattooing your entire body. You said you didn’t want to pose for me until then.”
“I finished. Want to see?” Giorgio slid his thumbs into the elastic waistband of his shorts.
“No thanks,” Stefan said hastily, putting a firm hand under Julie’s elbow and propelling her to her feet. The man was nearly enough naked already to make Stefan want to rip off his sweater and toss it over Giorgio’s exposed flesh. He didn’t need to see whether Giorgio had tattooed and pierced his genitals to match the rest of his short, stocky body, and neither did Julie. “Thanks for the information. I owe you.”
But not enough to let you show off your body art to my woman.
Yes, Julie was his and his alone.
Until the danger from Reynard was past and Stefan had to walk away and leave her to live her mortal life. He relished the connection as well as the warmth of her fingers when she curled them around his palm, tried not to dwell on the sorrow of their imminent parting. “Shall we check out this Ristorante della Rubio?”
* * * * *
A few minutes later, when they stepped inside the posh entry foyer of the restaurant Giorgio had named, Julie saw a place not unlike every other establishment in the neighborhood. Well-dressed diners enjoyed wine from an impressive cellar while ordering from leather-bound menus she imagined bore steep prices -- if any at all. Subtly sensual music flowed around them, the sounds muted so as not to interfere with intimate conversation. When Stefan asked for Gus, a hostess scurried off to find him, apparently unsurprised at the request.
A small, dark-haired man in a tuxedo strode toward them, a broad smile on his round, pleasant face. “Gus Rubio at your service. How may I help you today, my friends?”
“Giorgio ce li dice serv refreshments speciali per i vampires.”
Giorgio says you serve special refreshments for vampires. Feeling very much out of place and more than a little afraid, Julie laid her hand on Stefan’s muscular forearm, concentrating on the conversation to translate as much as she could of the rapid Italian they spoke. From what she managed to decipher, she knew Stefan had introduced himself and identified his clan, and that Gus had shown great pleasure in meeting what he apparently considered an important guest.
Si. Segualo, i miei amici. Good. Gus had declared them friends and asked them to follow him somewhere. He lowered his voice, speaking now in unaccented English. “Come this way. I have a table for you among our very special guests.”
Gus escorted them through the public rooms, leading the way through a swinging door to what she assumed led to the establishment’s kitchen. It wasn’t that at all, but a second lounge, just as luxuriously appointed, similar to the public area. Soft blues music wafted through the room from ceiling-mounted speakers, sensual sounds that surrounded and encompassed them. Muted strobe lights bathed the room in tones of red, purple, blue, and green. A few couples swayed on a raised hardwood dance floor while others sat at small round tables or darkened corner booths, apparently intent on enjoying their drinks and engaging in quiet conversation.
“Vampires?” All of the occupants looked perfectly normal to Julie, rather like an assortment of prosperous businesspeople out for a night on the town. Not a single one had blood-red lips, white-white skin, long red talons, or a widow’s peak. Not all of them even sported the raven-hued locks she’d associated with vampires even since she’d accepted Stefan’s tale.
“Every one of them, except for a few mortal companions like you, miss.” Gus smiled broadly, revealing his own needle-sharp fangs as he shifted his gaze to Stefan. “It’s a real honor to have one of the d’Argent clan visiting with us. You just let us know if you or the pretty lady need anything.”
“I imagine Julie would like a more conventional drink than what you serve back here.” Stefan squeezed her hand. “Julie?”
This was too much. Not at all the dark, scary place she’d imagined. Her gaze traveled over the patrons again, men in business suits or casual attire, well-heeled women in their Donna Karan and Valentino creations. Except for an occasional flash of fangs and the universally dark-red color of the drinks they sipped with the same polite restraint as Julie had been taught to consume her own libations, the patrons looked much like those who’d been enjoying the cocktail hour in the main room she and Stefan had just passed through.
The past few hours had broadened her mind on the subject of vampires far more than she would have imagined. Every minute she was finding it easier to accept what Stefan had implied -- that there were good and bad vampires, the same as there were good and bad mortals. It made her proud and happy to realize she was standing next to one of the good ones.
“Julie?” Stefan repeated her name, giving her hand a small squeeze.
“Oh. I’m sorry. I’ll have a glass of red burgundy if it’s not too much troub
le.” At least her drink would fit in, color-wise, with what seemed to be the other patrons’ drink of choice.
Gus nodded. “We just got in a shipment of some fine vintages from the Côte de Nuits region. Fine, full-bodied reds. Perfectly matured to provide a silky-smooth taste. An exceptional quality wine, or so I’m told.”
“The Côte de Nuits produces some of the most exceptional wines in Burgundy. Julie?” When she nodded, Stefan turned to Gus. “That will be fine. I’ll have a large draft of O negative.” Stefan rested his hand along the upper curve of Julie’s buttock, then glanced around the lounge. “You haven’t seen any members of the Reynard clan lately, have you?”
“No, I haven’t. I’m not likely to, either. The Reynards aren’t welcome in my clubs. Vicious lot, throwbacks to times no rational vampire would want to relive. They give law-abiding folks of our kind a bad name, every last one of them. You two relax, enjoy the music. I’ll have a waiter bring your drinks.”
Folks of our kind. Stefan’s kind, but not Julie’s. A frisson of fear -- no, not fear but definitely unease -- niggled at Julie’s mind. She’d gotten caught up in the magic of Stefan’s smile, the heady pleasure of his embrace. The carnal touch of some strange breed of creature, human yet not human, immortal. And she didn’t really know the man -- the vampire -- to whom she’d offered her body, her trust. Though he’d told her where he lived, he’d omitted many of the most basic, immaterial details of his existence. Now that she was getting over the initial shock of learning what he was, she wanted more. More knowledge and more of him. “How old are you?” she blurted, meeting his glittering emerald gaze.
“Chronologically, a little over four hundred fifty years. The equivalent of around thirty in mortal years. Over the years, the older males of our clan have been destroyed, so I’m among the oldest hunters of my clan -- yet a mere youngster compared with Reynard and many like him.” He picked up the frosted mug a waiter had set before him and took a tentative sip of the dark-red fluid it held. “Not quite the quality I’ve come to expect in Paris, but it’s good. Refreshing.”
Dark Knights 1: Eternity of Darkness Page 10