“You’re getting pre-menstrual, aren’t you,” Brenna said more than asked.
Raina tried not to look surprised. “So what?”
“The only time you get this self-abusive and even mention your scoliosis is when you’re about to get a visit from Aunt Flow. And just an FYI, your belly is as flat as can be, but you probably feel bloated because you’re retaining water again,” Brenna informed her. “Anyway … it’s not like anyone can see the whole crooked spine issue in the first place.”
“I’m good at hiding it with my clothes.”
“Are you saying it’s more obvious when you’re naked?”
“Yeah, actually, it is. My boobs don’t sit evenly.”
Brenna grinned at her. “Oh really?”
“And no, I’m not going to show you,” she chuckled, shrugging away Brenna’s arm. “You can tell I’m bent up all funny. I don’t really stand up straight. One of my shoulders sits a little lower than the other. If I bend over and touch my toes, one shoulder blade sticks way farther out than the other. I’m all kinda lopsided. On an X-ray, my spine looks like that super-twisty street in San Francisco.”
“Okay, so your tits aren’t perfectly level, and if you date a radiology tech, he’ll find out about your secret defects if you start playing around with an X-ray machine. Big fucking deal,” she persisted. “Besides, hasn’t anyone ever told you beauty is only a light switch away?”
“Oh, now that’s reassuring.”
“It’s better than the other phrase I was thinking about.”
“What’s that?”
“Happiness is a big package of batteries and a brand new vibrator.”
Raina laughed and turned away. “That is just so wrong on so many levels.”
“Wrong? Don’t let Mr. Purple hear you say that.”
Raina finished her drink, struggling not to choke on another giggle as she did so, and jabbed a finger into Brenna’s shoulder. “Let it be known from this night forth that the subject of my friend, Mr. Purple, is never to arise again in a public setting.”
“What about Mr. Pink, then?” Brenna teased with an impish, fang-flashing grin. “He’s a much smaller and softer subject…”
“Enough, already! My sex life, or lack thereof, is off limits for discussion tonight,” Raina said. Her smile faltered as she noticed one of the men seated next to her quickly looking away with a knowing smirk. “Great. Since we’re airing our dirty secrets for the whole world to hear, why don’t we just start telling everyone what kind of underwear we’ve got on, shall we?”
“Sorry, but I wouldn’t have anything to talk about,” Brenna responded with a wink. Something caught her eye just then, causing her smirk to fade as she leaned back to look past her friend. “Well, now. Looks like you’ve got another celebrity customer.”
Raina didn’t even bother to look. She was barely beginning to feel the effects of her first drink, and she was anxious for the blonde to return so she could order another. She was having fun, but not enough to keep her mind off of everything else. Quite frankly, she didn’t want to bother performing another draw that night. If she became sufficiently intoxicated, she could excuse herself from the task. It might cost her a client, maybe hurt her reputation a bit, but if she became drunk enough, she just might get out of having to deal with that one inevitable, surely regrettable conversation with Brenna for one more night.
“Let me guess,” she sighed, “another big shot from Scottsdale with a groupie on his arm.”
“No, not from Scottsdale,” Brenna said, now looking a bit concerned, “but maybe a big shot from Scotland.”
* * * *
Chapter Three
A High Court vampire was something (or rather, someone) that was seen on the cover of a magazine or a newspaper, an image on a television, or perhaps a voice upon the radio. There were only so many of them in the world, after all, and barely a handful of them in the Southwestern portion of the United States, all in Las Vegas and Beverly Hills. They were demigods of the modern day, the kind of super-celebrities that nobody even tried to claim that they had personally met – usually a story of a friend’s friend that ran into one by chance. True to the self-bestowed name of their race, they were in a social echelon far, far beyond any Commoner. They negotiated multi-million dollar affairs. They made headlines on a whim. The words that left their lips were whispered directly into the ear of the Grand Duchess, herself, and would often shape global vampiric law. They set trends in style, public perception, morality … even in religion, at least as far as other vampires (and their human following) were concerned.
They did not, however, randomly stroll alone into lowly sports bars just beyond the eastern city limits of Mesa, Arizona.
The sort of hush that fell over the conversations in progress throughout the bar was not of the cinematic instantaneousness that might have been expected, but it was nothing less than obvious. The High Court vampire seemed oblivious to the occupants’ focus upon him – likely a consequence of having been spoiled to always being a center of attention – as his eyes swept discerningly over the many faces in the bar. Being a Wednesday, it was not an especially slow night, but certainly not a very busy one, either. There were only perhaps twenty people in the room, and only two of them (including Brenna) were vampires … and, especially in this place, that was an unusually high number.
His gaze fixed upon the male vampire across the room from them – Tony, although he preferred his assumed name of Maximus – and the Commoner sat up in his booth seat rather abruptly, slightly pitching forward the potential female bloodspawn he’d been courting here for the past couple of weeks. Maximus was a wannabe to the fullest, a self-styled Don Juan of the blood-sucking variety, as he seemed only to have taken on the Change for the hope that his very race would have helped him score more often, and with more women. He was aggressive, pushy, and woefully inept at playing either trait to his advantage. He’d only tried his approach on Brenna once, having waited one night until she’d clearly been drunk enough that he had thought she wouldn’t mind being groped in the parking lot. Even though she’d been thoroughly intoxicated, or perhaps because of that fact, Brenna had broken his nose, split his lip, and threatened to rip his arm off at the shoulder. He had since wisely kept his distance from her and anyone of her social circle. His reputation among vampires was poor, yet his status among humans was still strangely reputable – the two women at his table were proof – and it seemed to take the High Court vampire only three seconds to comprehend this.
And so, his gaze fell upon Brenna. Surely, his eyes had fallen upon her first when entering the establishment, being that she was not only eye-catching but also seated directly in line with the entrance, but Raina hadn’t observed this, herself. It was perhaps the only reason why she did not feel quite so surprised when he at last began to step forth and approach her friend first. It had always been one of Brenna’s pick-up strategies to be the first woman any man saw upon entering a room, and thus the first to capture his attention.
The High Court was taller than Brenna by a few inches, easily putting him over six feet in height, and he was built solidly, but not bulky. His attire was impeccably professional, even wearing a black suit jacket over a red silk shirt in spite of the temperature outside. His light brown hair was very long, as those of the High Court and most vampires, as a whole, tended to wear theirs, but it looked a bit more frizzy than Raina might have expected of such an individual’s commonly spotless and photogenic appearance at all times. He strode up to Brenna with a strangely blank expression upon his face.
“Pardon me, m’lady,” he addressed her quite formally with, surprisingly, an obvious Scottish accent, “but I wonder if perhaps you might be able to help me locate someone.”
“Oh, absolutely, m’lord,” she beamed at him, though she visibly forced her lips to properly minimize the sight of her fangs. Brenna swiveled in her stool and offered her hand to him. “I’m Brenna Douglass. You must be…”
“Duke Sebastian Fal
lamhain, yes,” he answered hastily but politely as he took her hand and gave it just a light tug of a handshake. “You’ll have to forgive my rudeness if I seem abrupt with formalities, madam, but I’m in a bit of a hurry. Do you know where I can find The Phlebotomist?”
Raina’s heart had grown light in her chest upon seeing him, but now it suddenly thumped. He had made the title of her occupation singular in such a way that it sounded more like the name of an action hero. Tune in again next week as The Phlebotomist joins forces with Doctor Tran and braves the horrific sight of Final-Stage Kidney Failure Man. He didn’t know her, obviously, but it was as close to as he could have come to asking for Raina by name. His eyes were upon her even before Brenna could reply.
“Oh,” she said after a moment’s hesitation, “you must mean Raina.”
“Raina,” he echoed, looking directly into her eyes as he spoke her name. She didn’t know if he were repeating for clarity, or if he were actually addressing her.
Brenna assumed it was a question. Putting an arm around her friend’s shoulders, she said, “Yes, Raina Delgado. That would be this lovely young lady right beside me, here. Say hello, my sweet.”
It took her two tries to successfully force out the word, “Hi.”
She almost timidly began to extend her hand. Duke Sebastian Fallamhain, consort to none other than Grand Duchess Duvessa Fallamhain, took her one hand into both of his. She was surprised not only by the heat of his flesh, but the dampness of his palms. Only now did she notice the beads of perspiration upon his brow as she continued to hold his gaze unblinkingly. Though a vampire’s pupils were typically quite enlarged as a consequence of their nocturnal nature, his were blown to a point that they almost completely obliterated all but the very hint of an outer ring of the ice-blue color of his irises. His grip was careful, but firm enough that she knew just from the feel of it that he could have crushed the bones of her hand with ease if he’d wanted. The look he gave her and the hushed tone of his voice, however, told her that it was surely the last thing he’d ever do, though.
“Your services were very highly recommended to me by one of my associates,” he told her. “I realize that you typically prefer to see your clients by appointment. I sincerely apologize for imposing upon you like this, but my need for your skills is quite urgent. I am willing to pay quite handsomely for the inconvenience.”
“Um … how soon do you need…?”
“Now,” he interrupted, “if that is at all possible.”
She stared dumbly at him. “Now?”
“Yes, please,” the Duke confirmed with a nod. “Again, I am sorry to come to you upon such short notice, but this is a very, very urgent matter, I’m afraid.”
Raina was practically paralyzed where she sat. The whole event seemed surreal to her, the kind of thing that happened in a dream. Had she already drank more than the one glass of rum and cola that she’d just finished? Had she forgotten the rest because she had already passed out, blacking out as she had upon Halloween, and this was just imagined? It certainly seemed impossible enough to be her imagination at work. But then she remembered the special news bulletin she’d spotted a few minutes before – either a coincidence, or her mind pulling up a random memory and expanding upon it exponentially?
She wanted to (and almost did) explain that she had been drinking, that she never drew blood while she was under the influence of alcohol because it impaired her accuracy and her ability to feel for a good vein. It normally took at least two drinks, however, before she even began to feel the warmth of a buzz coming on, and her body hadn’t even been given enough time to soak up the first drink she’d downed, even as large and potent as it had been. It was nothing she could use as an excuse to get out of the request, and it was a confirmation of the fact that she was not, after all, dreaming this whole scenario. The pinch of Brenna’s nails as she dug them into her arm and gave her a light squeeze also assured her that this moment was entirely a reality. She shook her head a little and forced herself back into the moment.
Raina was still trying to make a decision in her mind, even as she immediately answered, “Okay, then.”
“You’ll do it, then?”
She hesitated, then nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”
“Excellent! Then let us be off,” he said with obvious relief as he finally released her hand. He reached into the breast pocket of his jacket and withdrew a fold of many dollars held together with a golden clip. He peeled off a pair of twenties and reached behind Raina to the bar, dropping them. “This should hopefully cover the tab.”
Brenna didn’t argue that their current tab probably wasn’t even close to half of that amount. She picked up the pair of twenties with a smile and an almost shy thanks as she let go of Raina, watching her friend slide almost awkwardly off of the barstool and look to her with something between terror and confusion.
“Don’t worry, I’ll save your seat,” she told her friend in an apparent farewell, giving her a wink as she handed Raina’s tiny purse to her.
The Duke led her away from the bar with her hand in one of his, not quite being dragged along but nevertheless feeling a bit reluctant to go alone. Normally, she kept a fairly strict policy about never being alone with a vampire under any circumstances (aside from Brenna), regardless of whether or not the vampire was a client. It wasn’t that she necessarily believed in safety in numbers when it came to humans versus vampires, per se, but rather than if a vampire did choose to attack her in any way, there was a better chance the other human could go running or cry out for help while she tried to fight them off. The fact that she had over ten years of martial arts training did not make her invincible by any means.
Stepping out into the clear air of the urban night, free from the stale atmosphere of the club, she sucked in a deep breath of air and silently prayed that this High Court was an honorable individual. It would be just her luck if it turned out that he had a little-known penchant for luring humans away from public sight and making them conveniently disappear after his thirst was quenched. The House of Fallamhain was not just the most well-known of bloodlines, but the most powerful and wealthy; she had no illusions about the fact that it was entirely possible that he or some others of the Grand Duchess’s bloodline had vices that were immoral and illegal, yet they were always satisfied without public awareness.
That very thought, however, led her to wonder why it appeared that the Duke had actually arrived at this place on his own, completely alone. Not only for social and political purposes but for obvious security reasons, too, a High Court vampire of his standing almost never went anywhere alone. The Grand Duchess, herself, had never once been seen with less than two vampire bodyguards nearby at all times since “coming out of the coffin” in her initial appearance in 1986. She was usually flanked by two of her four consorts … although, after September 11th of 2001, she had been more apt to be with all four. She did not consider her consorts expendable by any means, as anyone of her bloodline was critically important to her standing as Grand Duchess, and so the resultant bodyguards employed to guard her consorts thereby resulted in a sort of “castle and moat” defense for herself.
Duke Sebastian Fallamhain, in particular, was the eldest and most able-bodied of her consorts. He was essentially in charge of all security details of the House of Fallamhain. If something nefarious was afoot in the world, what could he possibly want with her at this time? Why was he not by his Maker’s side? She recalled the scene she’d witnessed on the television earlier, and slowed to a near stop behind him.
“Whoa, hold up a second,” she finally said, quickly removing her hand from his grasp. He spun to face her with a surprised look. “Sorry, I … I don’t mean to sound skittish about this, but … what’s the deal?”
He blinked at her. “I’m sorry?”
“Why me? And why the rush?”
His eyes were darting about the surrounding area as she found him looking around at anywhere but her face. “Because you seem trustworthy enough for the t
ask, considering the circumstances.”
“Trustworthy, considering the … wait, what? I don’t even know you.”
He smiled a bit as he finally met her gaze once more. “You’re a phlebotomist for many of the local vampire populace. I’m sure you’ve heard plenty about me through word-of-mouth. And I’m quite sure you’ve watched television, as well.”
“Yeah, but that’s just it,” she said, clutching her purse in both hands. She had a small canister of garlic-and-pepper spray inside. “I saw that thing on TV earlier. Does this have something to do with whatever’s going on?”
“It does, yes,” he admitted with a hasty nod as his smirk vanished, “which is why I’d rather not be seen standing in the open like this for long. I’ll gladly explain when we’re somewhere private.”
She looked in the same direction he was staring, appearing to see something beyond the chain-link fence of the parking lot that made him uneasy. Raina saw no threat at all, although she did see a brand-new white Lincoln Navigator that she presumed was his, which he had been leading her towards until she had stopped him.
“Should I be worried about getting shot just for standing next to you?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then should I worry about being an accessory to a crime?”
“Why would you be an accessory?”
“If you’re just coming to me because you need a midnight snack, and you’ve got someone handy that doesn’t really want to give up their blood…”
He looked to her again, daring to place a hand upon her shoulder. He appeared genuinely desperate. “Please, Ms. Delgado. I can’t go into detail right now, but I promise you that this is not a matter of feeding.”
“The Communion of Blood, then…?”
He sighed impatiently. “Yes, exactly. I’ll gladly explain as much as I can when we’re somewhere else.”
The Darkest Colors Page 3