Dark Whiskey (Short Story)

by Emma Meade

cheek with a sharp nail. "You have lovely skin." She licked her fangs. "I don't think I'll share you."

  Her mouth pressed against my neck. Her teeth scraped my skin.

  My legs buckled.

  How was this happening? Where was Tasha?

  The only thing keeping me from sliding to the ground were her hands, grasping my sides.

  Slight pressure as her teeth pressed harder. Any second now, they would puncture my skin. Oh God, oh God.

  And then—freedom. I no longer felt her cool hands on my body, or her icy breath caressing my neck. She careened through a stall and landed on a toilet, facing me. It would have been comical were it not for the saliva dripping from her fangs.

  Eli's face filled my vision.

  "She's not for you, Vanessa."

  The thing called Vanessa growled, actually growled, low and dangerous. She sprang to her feet.

  "Easy," Eli said, his eyes still on me, his words directed at the bitch behind him. Or perhaps at both of us.

  I looked over his shoulder to see Vanessa's fangs retract. She smoothed her hair first, then patted down her dress. "No problem, Boss. Enjoy."

  "Why don't you go see what's available outside."

  "Will do."

  She vanished from the bathroom in the time it took me to release a breath. The door swung shut behind her. I reluctantly turned my attention back to Eli, my breathing ragged. I leaned against the counter, shivering. He took a step forward, then another. I moved to my right, inching closer to the exit. He matched every step.

  "I watched you downstairs, you know,” he said, his voice soft, romantic even.

  My fear cranked up a few notches.

  “Couldn't take my eyes off you. Every other woman was having a good time. Not you, though. You were looking after your friend. I liked that. Saturday night and everyone else is out to get twisted and laid. I saw you shiver, just like you are now. You felt the cold. It always surprises me why so few people question that. But you did. I watched you trying to figure it out."

  I wrapped my arms around myself. He stepped forward, and I stepped back. Unfortunately, there was no place left for me to go. My back pressed against the wall.

  Eli stood in front of me, too close. He exhaled, breathing arctic air on my face. My knees knocked together.

  Familiar chords from teenage memories thrummed, the sweet music making its way under the bathroom door. Gomez.

  "I requested it for you."

  "Where's Tasha?" I blurted.

  "Outside."

  "I need to get her."

  "No."

  "We're leaving."

  "No, Jesse. You’re not."

  My eyes shifted to my phone lying a couple of feet away.

  "It's useless up here, I'm afraid," he said.

  He bent to retrieve it, and I bolted for the door, yanking it open. The sombre notes of “We Haven't Turned Around” hit me full force. The door slammed shut in my face. I gasped. Swivelled around.

  Eli's palm lay flat against the door. He leaned over me. "You don't want to see what's going on out there."

  My chest heaved. "Let me out. You can't do this."

  "Oh, Jesse."

  "Who are you? What is this place?"

  "You already know."

  I shook my head wildly. "Tasha. I want to see her. Now."

  Seconds passed, maybe a full minute while he stared at me, and I at him.

  "Okay then."

  He opened the door. I scurried out. Ten feet later, I came to a sharp halt, trying to comprehend the horror film the VIP floor had become. Regular Joe lay on the couch, surrounded by monstrous beauties feasting on him. Three sets of lips latched on to his neck, arms and chest. His shirt lay in shreds on the floor. Another two sucked at his thighs. They’d clawed his jeans clean off him. The poor guy was still conscious. He stared at the ceiling as moans of ecstasy filled the air around him.

  A cold chest pressed against my back. Eli.

  My eyes shifted to the left. Miss Red no longer cackled. Her body lay half on/half off a low table. Vacant eyes looked my way. Three of them stood beside her, talking with blood-stained mouths. Red splotches marred their previously immaculate designer shirts and dresses.

  Monsters. Killers. Vampires. I was surrounded.

  I didn't want to see anymore. I was afraid, so afraid of what—no, who I'd see next. Time slowed down. The room expanded. I saw double of everything.

  Dying sounds filled my ears. A scream, female. A cry. Pleading, begging. The two party girls. One already dead, the other, soon to be. Two monsters held her arms while another chewed her neck. They laughed when she prayed for her life.

  I took a step in her direction, a white burn crackling in my veins, replacing the dullness of shock.

  Vampires, everywhere, feeding.

  In the VIP section.

  Eli held my arms. "You can't stop this," he whispered, pressing up against me, his mouth at my ear.

  I struggled in his hold until I faced him, vaguely aware of the chill of his hands curled around my waist. “Where’s Tasha? I want to see her right now.”

  He sighed. “With Davis.”

  I fought him. “Let go of me.” I heaved, finally freeing myself, and ran to the booth we’d shared just moments before. Tasha sat unmoving, propped up against Davis, his arm around her. Her eyes were closed, her face deathly white.

  No, no, no. “No! No!” I choked on my cries. I didn’t see any wounds. Her hair obscured her neck. Her hands rested in her lap.

  The sight of Davis casually sucking blood from his thumb broke me. I yelled out, snapped up the empty champagne glass bearing Tasha’s lipstick and cracked it against his face. It shattered, leaving little pinpricks on his cheek.

  He growled, pointy teeth bared and bloody.

  My stomach turned.

  I tried to step away, but he was right there, snapping rank fangs in my face.

  “Take it easy, man,” Eli said, appearing by my side. “I’ll take care of her.”

  Vitriol filled my mouth. I thought about spitting at Eli. The tiny cuts on Davis’ face healed, right before my eyes. My mouth snapped shut. I glanced at the other champagne glass.

  “You won’t be fast enough a second time,” Eli said.

  Davis leaned in. The blood on his teeth, Tasha’s blood, was starting to congeal. “Just try it, girl.”

  “You can go now,” Eli told him.

  He and Davis stared each other down.

  My feet took off in the direction of the ivory staircase. Past the bar, closer to the steps leading to the ground floor of the club. I reached the landing, grabbed the banister and descended, my heels clicking on each marble step.

  Something rushed by me. I ground to a stop six steps from the bottom, biting down on a scream. Eli stood a couple of feet below, his hands resting casually in the pockets of his jeans.

  “I admire your spirit.”

  The rush of pumping blood filled my ears.

  “You have something special.” He took one step up. “It’s rare to find someone who fights back.”

  My hand clutched the banister.

  “You’d be surprised how many simply freeze.”

  Another step, and his face hovered before mine. I swivelled around, focused on the landing above. I didn’t think. My feet pounded up the stairs. He caught me under my knees and swung me into his arms. I screamed. We rose higher. The bar, the tables, the vampires flew by. No time to focus on any of the awful sights. For that I was grateful. Though I did hear their carefree laughter.

  Down the corridor from the bathrooms, stood a door marked Staff Only. Eli punched in a code. I took the opportunity to struggle in his grasp, trying, fruitlessly, to wriggle free.

  "Easy, Jesse."

  “Fuck you.”

  He raced with me down a starch-white hallway. The lights flickered. As I focused on that faulty bulb, time slipped away. We came to a door leading to a stairwell. Eli kicked it open. Pitch blackness engulfed us. The suffocating darkness stole m
y breath.

  Eli's voice roused me. "Almost there, sweetheart."

  My heartbeat slowed as my fear increased. Blood roared in my ears, and as he climbed the stairs, four at a time, I became dizzy. I willed myself to pass out, to not be conscious for whatever was going to happen. Because I knew. No one made it out of his VIP section alive. Poor Tasha. All she'd wanted was to get laid.

  I giggled and immediately wished I hadn't. The sound was ugly, hollow.

  "Shh," Eli whispered, his face near mine.

  Though I could do nothing about him holding me, I kept from touching him as much as possible. My arms hung limply. Whenever he leaned closer to speak to me, I drew back.

  We emerged from darkness into a dimly lit short hallway. A single door stood to our right. Eli swiped a card. “Welcome to the penthouse,” he said, crossing the threshold. He set me down inside and locked the door behind him, hitting a switch on the wall.

  Soft light illuminated polished wooden floors and sheepskin rugs. A leather couch and matching armchairs marked it as a single man's home. Morbid curiosity lured me forward across the living area. I placed clammy palms against the spotless floor-to-ceiling window and stared at the city below.

  Must get quite sunny in here during the day. A hysterical laugh bubbled up my throat.

  I took in the reflection of the wide-eyed staring girl. Raven-black hair, carefully straightened a few hours earlier, lay tangled around her shoulders. A sheen of sweat shone through her make-up.

  Though mine was the only reflection in the glass, I sensed him behind me. He brought the cold with him.

  Don't ask. Don't ask him anything. If you don't ask the question, it will all be okay . . .

  My fear betrayed me. "What happens now?"

  His breath caressed the back of my neck. "Look at me, Jesse."

  I stayed as I was, facing the dark-haired girl, my palms flat against the