Roman (The Clutch Series Book 1)

by Heidi McLaughlin

  Finding the tattoo concealer was like hitting the lottery. It was like happenstance when Lana and I were out shopping, and we passed by a parlor. She mentioned getting a tattoo and grabbed me by the arm to pull me inside to inquire about the process. The woman behind the counter was a vampire and laughed at our ridiculous attire, scarves around our necks in hundred degree plus weather. She handed me a tube of cream and a mirror, speaking the unspoken language between women, alive and dead, makeup. Lana and I quickly went to work on our bite marks, completely taken aback by the cream and how it adequately covered the evidence of my lover biting me in the middle of our lovemaking session. “Let it dry fully.” Those were her only instructions.

  And now, I find myself happy with the results. No one will know, and thankfully, it doesn’t sweat or rub off. How no one has told the world about this cream, I’ll never know. Roman could’ve saved me a lot of trouble if he had known.

  Said trouble comes in the form of Leslie, my once best friend turned enemy in the sense she’s trying to get me to convert to her religion and denounce the existence of vampires. Even if I believed in her hokey crap, you can’t condemn an entity that the government deems exists. Vampires walk among us, with laws we both have to follow. Unless her church is planning to go on a vampire hunt, there isn’t anything they can do about it. The constitution has changed with the evolving times.

  Still, I’m desperate to know more about Roman and where he came from. Five hundred years is a long time to be alive and roaming the earth. The jealousy within me wants to know about all the women he’s been with and whether they’re still alive. Did he turn them? Marry them? I mean, obviously, most must be dead unless they’re vampires themselves, and that’s one thing Roman hasn’t mentioned, vampire/vampire relationships. I’ve wanted to ask, especially where his friend Selene is concerned, but am afraid of his reaction. He says they’re friends, but is that with benefits?

  What Roman’s done before meeting me shouldn’t matter, but it does. If he were human, he’d wonder the same about me. For all I know, he’s wondering now or just doesn’t care because he can sense how I feel about him.

  Love… I’m borderline crazy in love with that man. And yes, he’s a man in every sense of the word. Except, he’s almost too perfect and yet wholly flawed. I hate that he doesn’t show emotion, that I can’t read him by his expressions and that when I roll over, I find him staring at me. At first, it was creepy, but now I’m used to it. It’s Roman’s way of passing an endless amount of time. According to him, he has nothing better to do than to watch me sleep. However, I love that he’s caring, tends to my needs and is a real gentleman. He holds me at night like any human man would. Kisses me tenderly, caresses me gently, and makes love to me passionately. Yes, it’s tough to fight the fact that I’m falling in love with Roman. Something I know my father will never accept and will disown me over. I’ve asked myself repeatedly if Roman is worth it. The answer is, yes.

  With one last look at my appearance, I leave my apartment and head to my father’s. I called earlier and spoke to his wife, telling her how much I’ve missed her and how we need family time. The conversation about killed me, but I’m doing this for the good of the orphanage and Roman. I believe in his project and want my daddy to do the right thing by granting his license.

  Outside, my driver waits in the valet line and has the door open for me as soon as I step out of the revolving door. I remember, when I was a kid, I used to play in those doors while my father was gambling. This one time, the door became stuck and wouldn’t budge in either direction. I pushed and pushed, but to no avail. It was hotter than Hades, and I couldn’t breathe, nor could anyone understand me due to the loud sounds of Las Vegas. At any given time there’s music playing, slot machines chiming, people yelling, sirens, and valets whistling for taxicabs. The bellhop thought I was messing around until I started to pass out, and then everything became serious, and he used a metal stanchion to break the glass. It took me a long time before I ever walked through one again.

  “Where to, Ms. Weston?”

  “My father’s house, please.”

  The driver heads toward the house I grew up in, leaving the bright lights of the city quickly behind us. When I chose to go to college in California, my dad was irate and demanded I stay here. It was mostly because he didn’t want to be alone and he didn’t think it was acceptable for a young woman to be five hours away from her father. He’s a firm non-believer in letting your children spread their wings and grow. Thing is, if I hadn’t left, he probably wouldn’t have met his wife. Not that I’m a fan, but she seems to make him happy, unlike the last one or my mother.

  My childhood home is a sprawling mansion, set behind a massive rock wall and large wrought iron gate, which bears too many crosses to count. According to my father, he’s had the house blessed, which is meant to keep vampires out. Whether it works or not, has yet to be seen. I don’t foresee my dad inviting the undead over to see if they can cross the threshold, although I’m tempted to bring Roman over sometime when my dad isn’t home, I’m also afraid that whatever my father has done could hurt the man I’m falling in love with.

  The new Mrs. James Weston opens the door and holds her arms out to me. Behind my sunglasses, I roll my eyes and happily play along with the woman who is only a few years older than I am. “Fiona, darling,” she says in her old world accent as if she’s from someplace other than Vegas.

  “Hello, Catherine.” She used to be Kate with a K, but when Prince William married Catherine, Kate changed her name to be more regal. Didn’t help.

  “Your father will be so delighted you’re here.”

  Setting my sunglasses on top of my head, I step into the house I once called home. Every time a new wife moves in, the hallway in the foyer changes. It used to be flowers when my mother lived here, then turned to purple, to white and now it’s some pinky cream color combination. “Yes, I can’t wait to see Daddy.” I wink, knowing how much she hates it when I call my father, daddy. “Speaking of, where is he?”

  “In his study.”

  “Thanks.” My heels smack down hard onto the marble floors. I don’t bother knocking when I reach the ornate door. It’s pointless, really. James Weston is sitting at his desk, with his feet propped up, smoking a cigar. “She’ll kill you, you know.”

  “Fiona, I’m surprised to see you here, considering…”

  I sigh heavily. “Daddy, I’m an adult, and you should’ve called before you came over. What you saw--”

  “He was trying to kill you.”

  Shaking my head, I realize it’s futile to argue with him, but I have to try. “He wasn’t, and I heard your stance on my relationship with him loud and clear, but I need you to remember, I’m an adult and can be with who I want.”

  “Over my dead body, Fiona.”

  “Daddy, you're ridiculous. You don’t see me whining about you marrying some harpy who is only a few years older than I am, do you? How do you think that makes me feel?”

  My father stands and slams his fists on his desk. “No child of mine will give herself to an abomination. Do I make myself clear?”

  I have to do something quickly or Roman’s idea, which is brilliant and amazing, will never get noticed. “Yes, Daddy. Can we talk about something else?” Like how I have no intention of obeying your archaic rule?

  “Of course, sweetheart.” And just like that, my father has gone from Hyde to Jekyll in no time at all.

  “I have a proposal for you. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before.” I set the portfolio down in front of my father, who has sat back down. He opens the cover and starts reading. It took me days to retype Roman’s proposal to make it my own. This is the only way I know my father will say yes and give Roman the permit he needs to run the casino. I want Roman to succeed, to help those children and the homeless so much that I’m willing to do whatever I have to to get my father to sign on the dotted line.

  I pace the room while my dad continues to read and look over the bluepri
nts. Catherine interrupts us and tells us it’s dinner time. “Not now,” my dad says, waving at her to leave the room. “Shut the door behind you.” Maybe paradise at the Weston house is ending sooner than I think.

  After what seems like an eternity, my dad closes the file and rests his hands on top of it. “Where did you get this?”

  “It’s mine,” I say automatically. “I have a silent investor, willing to fully fund the project.”

  A smile spread across his lips, turning wider. “Fiona, I’m impressed.”

  “You should be, it’s an amazing project,” I speak from the heart, wishing I could give Roman all the credit. “I can’t offer you the perks the others can, but I’m your daughter, and I’m hoping that’s enough. Will you sign the gaming license?”

  “Of course I will. It’ll be my honor.” My dad stands and pulls me into a hug. Step one is complete, now just to break it, Roman.

  21

  Roman

  I can sense something isn’t right. I’m trying to read the global newspapers I have delivered to me, and a sense of suffocating begins to take hold in my chest. Not needing air, I know this is foreboding, and I’m reasonably sure I know what’s about to happen. In the old days, a few hundred years ago or so, there would have been a signal of some kind. A prophetic cloud forming overhead, darkness during the day, or some other ominous message that was more telling, but today, it’s a premonition almost; I know something is about to happen.

  Of course, I don’t want Fiona to talk to her father about my project, or about us. No good can come of that meeting if there’s any honesty whatsoever. Some humans cannot be rationalized with, and in my experience, it’s best to leave things alone with them. I’m confident in my belief that he cannot be swayed, just as I cannot be something that I am not. I can feel Fiona’s apprehension, her nervousness, and it troubles me. But that’s not what’s happening now. Something’s amiss in the underground. Just as I pull my phone from my pocket, it vibrates with an incoming message from Selene.

  They’re coming. Get to Clutch. Now. No Humans.

  They’re coming. "They" being the Sisters. The Fates. The ones who both created, and rule us. It’s never good when the Sisters come. I’ve yet to experience it myself until now, and the apprehension is working its way to my core. I type a quick reply indicating that I’m on my way, and leave immediately.

  Upon my arrival at Clutch, the neon lights are off, and there’s a short line of vampires waiting to get in. Everyone needs to check in when the Sisters arrive, which is protocol. It’s somewhat old-fashioned, and you’d think they’d adapt to technology in some way, but there’s a master list of the vampires on paper, parchment paper, in fact, getting checked in one at a time. It’s as if we’re disembarking from the lifeboats that made it off the Titanic. The anxious faces, the furrowed brows, all indicating that a visit from the Sisters was not a treat.

  To the chagrin of my kinfolk standing in line, I approach Corban at his usual spot in front of the door, but with much less glee in his eyes. “Brother, any word on why we are being visited?”

  “No, mate. No word yet.”

  “Have you ever been called to a Meeting before?”

  Corban shakes his head.

  “No, me neither,” I add. “It could be nothing.” Too bad I don’t I believe my own words. Personally, I’ve never had to check in with the Fates before, and honestly never hoped I would have to. I feel like I have nothing to worry about, yet for some reason, I’m worried.

  “Maybe, brother. Go on inside, I’ll mark you off the list.” He waved me past the line and made a check mark next to my name on his clipboard. Fucking paper. Utterly absurd, is all I can think. Clutch is full of faces I’ve never seen before. The Las Vegas population of vampires has tripled in a short amount of time, and I’m not sure I like it. Not all of us live by the rules, and honestly having these unknowns in town doesn’t sit well with me.

  Being here is unsettling. I don’t like bumping shoulders with the unknowns. I seek out Selene, hoping she can enlighten me as to what’s going on. Clutch was chosen for a reason, and like the others around me, I want to know why.

  “You didn’t try to bring that human of yours, did you?” she hisses from behind me. I turn around and immediately wish I hadn’t. Her long dark hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, revealing her perfect features, and her angry expression. I’ve seen Selene angry before, but nothing like this. Her usually soft eyes are stone cold black, and her fangs are visible. A sure sign she’s about to attack.

  “No, I didn’t. And what are you so pissed off about?”

  “Do you know how the Sisters notify you that they are coming?” she asks me.

  “I don’t.” It’s not something I’ve been privy to in my life. When the Sisters want to talk to you, they do it their way.

  “None of us do. It’s fucking terrible, Roman.” She pulls a chair out from another vampire and sits down, looking exasperated. If she were human, she’d have a drink in her hand.

  “What happened?”

  “They take over your mind. They can get right into your fucking head.” She looks around as if they might be listening before she continues. “I was sitting at my desk in the back office when suddenly I couldn’t move or think on my own. Their voices were soft at first and then firm and rather frightening.”

  I can’t believe this is how the Sisters contact us, going straight to your mind. That’s just as unnerving as I suspected her answer would be. “So, what did they say?”

  “First it was Clotho. She was as charming as the day we met. She said that she wants to visit her children and that I needed to send word to my local brethren that she’s coming. I must have given off the sense of fear, because she sort of consoled me, or rather tried to be soothing.” Selene appears paler to me than usual, which is undoubtedly a figment of my own imagination, that isn’t even possible. But her hushed tone, coupled with her darting eyes as if she’s being watched is troubling at best.

  “Selene, we haven’t ever been visited by them. What else did they say?” I try to be patient with my friend, but I’m anxious.

  “Atropos and Lachesis began to speak. Their tone was far less paternal, and more... stern. Atropos has a shrill voice, and she reminded me that she made me and that I was to do as instructed. I wasn’t able to speak at all; I was frozen in place. I could feel myself nodding my head in agreement. I mean I’d never challenge them, nor did I want to, but I was completely unable to give any verbal indication at all. Then Lachesis, who had a kind and soft voice similar to Clotho, said that she and her sisters would be arriving soon, and asked me if I understood my instructions. It was only then that I was able to utter a word. Once I said yes, I understand, my mind and body were released, and it was as if they were never there. Everything around me had gone back to normal.”

  “So they never said why they were visiting or what they wanted?”

  “I told you everything, Roman. That was it.”

  While I’ve got nothing to hide, I’m also not sure why we’ve all been summoned to check in, which leaves me concerned. Also, the fact that the Sisters chose Selene to be the messenger weighs upon me. “Do you know why they chose to give their message to you? Has anything like this ever happened before?”

  “Roman, we’ve been friends for hundreds of years. Don’t you think I’d tell you?” she asks tersely.

  “I do. I’m just concerned that you have been selected as some kind of messenger, and I’m trying to discern what the fuck it means. We’ve been happily flying under the radar for years.”

  Leaning back in her chair, she looks at me thoughtfully. “I don’t know, Roman, but it can’t be good. They did say no humans were to be here. I left that part out, but I did tell you, obviously.” She anxiously glances around before leaning close to me. “Hopefully they aren’t planning to starve us all to death.”

  Keeping the humans away from the visitation could mean a lot of different things. Our history isn’t completely secret, or how
we’re made. Some humans know, but most are inclined to pretend we don’t exist, and there are only a few history books that actually have it right. Unlike how to make bombs or the perfect cake, there’s no recipe for how to make a vampire on the Internet or anything like that. We’ve always tried to keep that as vague as possible.

  “I don’t think they would do that. We’re their children. They, our mothers. There has to be a disruption somewhere that requires a check in, though. It’s probably no big deal,” I lie. It’s a huge deal. I do not know of any situation where the Sisters have visited, and vampires didn’t die or weren’t punished in some way. Our rules are quite clear, and when we become vampires, we swear an oath to abide by them. In my estimation, someone has done something against the Covenant and will be made an example of in the very near future.

  “You didn’t tell your human what’s going on, did you?” Selene asks me dryly.

  “No, I did not. You summoned me, and I came.”

  “If you care for her, you should keep it that way. She’s a stubborn one. You do not want her showing up here looking for answers while the Sisters are here.” Selene doesn’t much care for my relationship with Fiona. While she supports my decision and my feelings as my friend, it is clear that she doesn’t understand it. Sometimes I don’t understand it either.

  I nod and reply. “I don’t want Fiona anywhere near this place, or this situation until we know why they’re here. We’ve got enough problems with her father.”

  “Did something else happen?” Selene appears shaken again. “You know that could be why they’re coming!”