Victoria nearly stood back up until she noticed something small on her neck. She gently tilted Emma's head to the side to get a closer look. Her heart sank when she realized what it was.
Very faint scar tissue.
"Oh, Emma," she said sadly.
She covered Emma with the sheet. Emma let out a contented sigh and turned on her side. Victoria assumed her full height and stood next to Tony. He waited patiently for an explanation.
"She's weak, probably missing a lot of blood," she said. "She's addicted."
"Addicted?"
"We secrete an enzyme when we feed. It toys with the pleasure center of the brain. Makes our job a lot easier in keeping a mortal still, and makes the orgasm pretty strong too, if we go that far." She scowled. "Not like the shit I dealt with earlier." Casting him a sideways glance, she gave him a half-smile. "I've fed from you before. You enjoyed it, right?"
His cheeks turned red at the memory, and his scent changed slightly.
"Uh, well, yeah. I mean…it was okay. I was a little younger back then and everything. So, you know…."
Victoria said nothing, simply enjoying watching Tony squirm. He met her gaze, then looked away, staring at an imaginary spot on the floor.
She pointed out the scar tissue on Emma's neck.
"Our saliva heals the puncture wounds. We shouldn't leave any evidence behind we were even there. But that scarring…someone's feeding from her too much. And she's craving it."
She didn't want to jump to conclusions and assume a vampire was taking advantage of Emma. Mortals and vampires both sometimes took things too far.
"I don't have time to hunt anyone down right now, Tony," she said. "But I can make some calls, get Emma the help she needs. You treat it just like any other addiction…."
She trailed off as she watched Tony's face. The concern was still there, his jaw tense. But there was one element that seemed to be lacking.
Surprise.
"Tony? What aren't you telling me?"
He sighed. "Let's put it this way. There's not really any hunting involved."
She said nothing while he paced, gathering his thoughts.
"You know the dance club down the street? Right after the 7-11?"
She nodded, but frowned. "Do I really need to be involved in this?"
"Trust me, you're going to want to see this."
"Damn." She could tolerate a night club. She often went out with her friends, even met Alex in one. But they weren't her favorite. "Those places kill my ears."
"Wear some earmuffs," he said, smiling. "Go to the back of the place, near the stairs. Tell them you're there to see the Vermilion. And do not tell them you got all of this from me."
Victoria wasn't sure she wanted to get dragged into whatever was happening, but another look at Emma convinced her otherwise. She'd always felt responsible for the supernatural underworld of Baltimore, and at least wanted to be aware of what was going on, even if she wasn't involved.
She turned to leave, but stopped when Tony called her name.
"And Victoria, look, no more bi-annual visits. Stop by more often."
She nodded. "You got it." She remembered one more thing before opening the door. "Ah, Tony. You might want to have a talk with Claire."
"Claire?" he said, confused. "How the hell do you know Claire? She's only been here a week."
"I only heard her name about fifty times, in booth two. Let's just say she has a funny way of dancing on someone's lap."
His cheeks flared in anger.
"Goddamnit. This is a gentlemen's club. Not a brothel."
"Yeah, well, you'd better tell her that."
"Believe me, I will. Thanks, Victoria. And remember. More visits. Not all of us live forever."
She laughed and winked at Tony before leaving the office.
*****
Victoria didn't bother driving the Porsche. The nightclub in question was a five-minute walk down the street. The nightlife was still going strong. Groups of men and women littered the sidewalk, laughing and having a good time. The street was also packed with cars. Her nose and ears picked up a couple making out deep in the bowels of one alley, while a man vomited in another. In the next alley a homeless man was searching through a dumpster.
Her spirits sank as she approached the nightclub. Her ears started to hurt even as she waited in line outside. She passed the time talking with a group of twenty-somethings ahead of her. They invited her to join them for a night of fun, which she politely declined. One of the couples in the group continued to drop hints about getting together, how gorgeous she was, if she had a boyfriend. The hints of a threesome-in-waiting were there. She continued to dodge the subject, all the way up until it was time to pay and get a ridiculous-looking stamp on her hand.
She closed her eyes as she stepped inside, trying to adjust to the sensations. The entire building felt like it was shaking. The music was so loud mortals had to shout to talk to each other. Those shouts found their way to Victoria's ears, along with the music. Conversations about the music, how hot the DJ was, why did Angelique break up with Brian, was Mindy ever going to get over Chuck, all those words assaulted her. Then there were the drum beats, the electric guitars, the singers she could barely understand.
Victoria breathed slowly, focusing on each breath. It had taken a long time to learn how to control her senses. After nearly a minute, the sounds started fading. They didn't go away completely, but she managed to move them to the back of her head.
A tap on the shoulder brought her back to the club. She opened her eyes to see the couple from the line. They had one more pass at a threesome in them. Before the girlfriend could say anything Victoria leaned in and kissed the boyfriend quickly on the lips. She gently caressed the girlfriend's hair, offering a sad smile.
"I'm really sorry," Victoria said. "But you both couldn't handle me."
She left them behind to retrieve their jaws from the floor. Nimbly and gracefully, she moved and even danced her way through the crowd. She was headed for the rear of the place, not far from the bar, where a large man leaned against the wall next to a set of stairs leading down.
"Oh, wow," she said, approaching the guard. She reached out and playfully squeezed his bicep. "You are a big one. I have to ask. Is everything proportional?"
The flirtation had a simple purpose. Throw the man off-guard. Take his thoughts elsewhere, even if just for a moment.
There was no such luck, which impressed Victoria. She wasn't lying when she called him big. He easily rivaled Dave from Gentlemen's.
"Can I help with you something?" he asked curtly. "Are you lost?"
"I'm here to see the Vermilion."
She suddenly felt foolish. She didn't have a clue what the Vermilion was. A person? Place? Name of a cocker spaniel?
He blinked and held up a finger. "Just one second."
With curiosity, she watched as he turned and bent his head low, talking into a radio. She tried to focus on his words, but could only hear his voice, muttering low. He turned once, eying Victoria up and down, before giving her his back again and continuing his conversation.
Finally, he turned and offered an apologetic, although fake, smile.
"I'm very sorry," he said. "But they're telling me there aren't any appointments scheduled for tonight. You'll have to leave."
His tone took a rough, almost bully-like air near the end. He crossed his arms, trying to show off his muscles. She opened her purse and stared deeply at its contents, so he wouldn't see her laughing.
"I'd really like to see the Vermilion," she said, keeping her voice even and sweet. She pulled out another of her stacks of money. "Maybe a little extra allowance?"
She grabbed his hand gently and set the stack in his palm. With a smile, she closed his fingers around the money and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. His eyes grew large for a few seconds, but he reached out and deposited the stack back into her purse.
"Sorry, but the Vermilion is closed this evening." He put a hand on her shoulder,
trying to force her to turn around. "You're going to have to leave—"
He didn't even see Victoria move, but he certainly felt her. She snatched his hand and twisted it violently. Ligaments popped as his expression took on a look of pain. Before he could scream Victoria's free hand covered his mouth. She forced him to his knees, her eyes never leaving his. The thirty-year-old illusion was gone.
"I'll be going downstairs now," she said.
Her manhandling of the security guard went unnoticed, with the dancing and drinking around them. She gently applied more pressure to his wrist, sending him lower to the ground. He nodded vigorously. He would have agreed to anything she said.
Leaving the man to nurse his wrist, Victoria descended a flight of stairs. At the bottom was a set of double-doors, with red lighting on both sides. A professionally-made sign hung above the door. The Vermilion, in fancy, cursive lettering.
She expected the doors to be locked, and was surprised when the handles turned without resistance. She stepped into what reminded her of a doctor's office waiting area, although with much less light.
Chairs were lined up against the walls. A water-cooler was in the corner. The lighting was low, like that of a fancy restaurant. She wasn't sure of the intended mood. Relaxing? Seductive?
A desk with a computer sat adjacent to another set of double-doors. Leaning over the desk was a young Asian woman, wearing a short black dress. She was tidying and cleaning as she hummed a tune. Her jaw hung open when she saw Victoria.
"Uh, ma'am," she said. "I don't think you're supposed to be here."
The doors shut behind Victoria, and silence replaced the chaos of the club upstairs. Sound-proof doors and walls. She was definitely curious, and her ears were thankful for the reprieve.
"What is this place?"
The woman stood upright and straightened her dress. She tried to appear confident, stern.
"This is a private business," she said. "I'm sure you paid for the club, upstairs. Ma'am, really—" Her voice cracked a bit. "This place is off-limits, without an appointment."
Victoria nodded, continuing to take in the waiting area. There were empty picture frames hanging on the walls, serving as placeholders. She wondered what art they had in mind.
"I've heard that twice now. An appointment for what? How do I make one?" Her gaze fell on the second set of double-doors. "What's back there?"
She walked past the desk and gripped the handle. A delicate hand fell on her shoulder from the side. Victoria could feel the young woman trembling.
"Ma'am—"
"Stop," Victoria said. "First of all, please, stop calling me ma'am. I'm old enough as it is without you adding years. Now, what's your name?"
"K-Kate."
Victoria was tiring of people thinking they could touch her, bully the petite, tiny redhead. Unlike her brother, Jack Kursed, she liked to be touched. But on her own terms, in her own bedroom.
"It's nice to meet you, Kate. I can tell you're a sweet person, a little out of your depth here. Please, take your hand off my shoulder."
It took everything Kate had not to break down crying.
"But…I'll lose my job."
"No you won't. Don't worry. I don't want to ruin your beautiful dress, Kate."
Kate removed her hand, and Victoria pressed forward, past another mortal obstacle.
She stepped into a long hallway. It had the same low-lighting theme as the lobby. On both sides of the hallway were rooms, half the doors closed. She peered inside one of the open rooms and saw what resembled a hotel room, but not quite. There was a bed, freshly made, with a couch against the wall. A dresser with a mirror. No television, no refrigerator. She inhaled deeply, and was surprised to pick up the faint scent of blood, along with generic air freshener.
A door directly at the end of the hall opened. Out walked two men, one human, one vampire. The mortal had a radio similar to the door-man. He whispered a quick thank you. The man upstairs had done his job, and warned them.
"Lady," the mortal shouted. Victoria preferred lady to ma'am. "Turn around right now, and walk away."
"I tried to stop her," Kate said, standing in the doorway.
"She did," Victoria said. "So, don't get mad at her. Who's in charge? I just want to talk."
The mortal leaned closed to the vampire. His voice was low, but Victoria heard clearly.
"Consider this an audition."
The vampire stalked forward, a smile on his face.
Victoria sighed. She was getting tired of beating people up.
"Talk," she said, her sarcasm obvious. "With words. C'mon. We can accomplish so much more by talking."
The vampire said nothing. He clenched his fists in an attempt to be imposing. Victoria lowered her head in an attempt to hide laughter. She didn't know how old he was, but he didn't move like a newborn, like Thomas Sanders. They were both aware they were vampires, but the toddler moving toward her insisted on using his fists.
"Kate, go back in the lobby. Shut the door."
Kate didn't need to be told twice.
Victoria tried one more stab at diplomacy.
"Let's not do this," she said. "We both know fights between our kind can get messy. Look, I'm Victoria. What's your name?"
The vampire said nothing, with the mortal watching intently.
"Stop with the silent, brooding crap. It doesn't help you. Listen to me—"
He drew into striking range, still saying nothing. His right shoulder twitched, and there might as well have been a huge blinking light, telling Victoria when to move. She ducked the punch easily.
A punch. She smiled while dodging to the side. A vampire punching a human could go a long way. A vampire balling up a fist at any other supernatural creature was just plain silly.
They had more effective weapons.
"Last warning—"
Another punch. Another miss.
Victoria dropped low and raked a claw across his knee. Then his thigh, ripping through jeans and flesh. Her other hand went down his torso, starting at the top of his chest down to his stomach. He grimaced, showing surprising control of his pain, and tried to bring his fists down on her. She nimbly rolled behind him and raked across his calf, working her way up with blinding speed. The back and shoulders, and when he finally fell to his knees, the back of his neck.
"Stop!" the mortal shouted. He ran toward them, waving his hands frantically. "For fuck's sake, stop!"
Victoria stood over the quivering vampire, who lay in a growing pool of his own blood. She didn't leave any damage a delicious drink wouldn't cure, except maybe psychological. He took slow, deep breaths. His eyes were wide as he felt the various wounds all over him.
"Ahhh, son of a bitch," the mortal complained. "This is brand new carpet."
She glanced at the spots of crimson on the walls, dripping slow streaks, but decided to say nothing. She also ruined another nice shirt, but her pants made it through unscathed.
"Just…who the hell are you?" he asked.
"I'm Victoria. I actually said that, before your friend took a swing at me. Are you ready to talk now?"
"Yes." His patience was barely under control. He looked at the vampire on the floor. "Back in my office, that tiny fridge in the corner. It's full. Knock yourself out."
The wounded creature of the night pulled himself to his feet and limped away. Blood continued to drip on the brand new carpet. The human waited until they were alone before speaking.
"I'm Frank. Now that that's out of the way. What do you want? I wasn't telling my people to feed you lies. We really have nothing scheduled for the night. And busting up my place isn't the best way to get an appointment."
"An appointment for what? What is this place?"
"If you don't know what we are, then what are you…?" Understanding flashed through his eyes. "Ah. You've heard about us from someone else. I knew you'd show up eventually."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, did you, now?"
"Of course. Every city has someone like you. A
vampire that thinks they control everything, that everything has to go through them. Okay, what number are you thinking? Three percent? Just to leave me the fuck alone?"
"I don't want any of your business. But I would like to know what you're business is."
Frank gestured for her to follow. He grimaced at the carpet, and opened the first door he came to. Inside was another room set up identically to the one Victoria had seen before.
"The Vermilion provides a service to vampires and humans both." With that one sentence, everything clicked. Frank didn't need to say another word, but he did anyway, going into full-blown salesman mode. "Believe it or not, I know a thing or two about vampires. They need blood. It so happens there's a small culture of people out there more than willing to give it. For their own perks, of course. We're kind of like a matchmaking site. The vampires don't have to hunt. There's no risk of getting caught. The regular people, well…I'm sure you know what your fangs do to us common folk."
Indeed, Victoria did.
"Everybody wins," Frank went on. "And, I won't lie, we do too. We charge humans and vampires both. We've only been up and running a few weeks, but it's definitely been a hit."
Of that, she was quite sure. She wondered how many bodies crossed the beds in the Vermilion already. Emma had obviously graced the sheets more times than was healthy. The entire concept set her on edge. It was essentially an underground site for the supernatural. But she'd done many questionable things in her life. She wasn't one to throw moral darts at others.
The idea also was an old one. A consensual, social feeding ground. She'd seen them before. Some worked out rather well, for a time, while others devolved into mere animalistic orgies.
In the end, they all failed.
The secret to a long life for a vampire was quite simple. Keep a low profile. It was also good advice for a witch, and she'd been trying to constantly beat the message into Kevin's head since they first became friends. Social feeding was many things, many of which were pleasurable. But low profile was not one of them.
Still, it was not her place to tell Frank or anyone else how to live their life. If they wanted to rent a room in the basement of a dance club, feed, and have sex, that was their right.
Damned and Cursed (Book 7): Four Centuries Page 4