“Don’t get any ideas, Dylan. You’d do well to just leave it alone.” His gaze turned to focus on me.
“And let that woman think she can run shit around here?”
“Dylan, aside from Marienne, she does run shit around here.” He’d been using his big boy potty mouth more than I’d heard from him in the past. I must be a bad influence.
“You’re telling me the only other person who holds as much ‘power’ as she does is the fucking Primus of the city?” I looked away from the stage to stare at the ever growing idiot to my right. The idiot nodded and I continued to question his life choices. “So, these people here, in this crowd right now, recognize that woman’s ‘power’ over them?” It was all so unfathomable to me that anyone would accept that as their life.
“Not all, no. But then again not all recognize the power Marienne holds either.”
“No one holds anything! Don’t you get it?! This is America; we are a democracy, a shitty democracy, but a democracy all the same. No one has power over anyone else. You can just walk away. You don’t have to follow that ginger-headed jar of mayonnaise around like his happy little puppy. And that bitch sure as hell doesn’t have any power over me.” No one held power over me. Ever. I was so against authority I even defied myself sometimes. Yes, I did.
“Dylan, you should probably lower your voice,” Cyrus asked soberly.
“I should lower my voice? Maybe she should worry about herself and stop trying to throw her ‘power’ around like she’s king shit.” Yes, air quotes. “She has power? She can do magic, cast spells, curse me? Let’s see it! I don’t believe in vampires and I sure as fuck don’t believe in magic!” The crowd was stone silent. The music had stopped. The all-powerful snake charmer on stage was taking her bow. Everyone was looking at me. The snake around her shoulders lifted its huge head and I swear it was looking at me too. “Shit.” I said in a breathless whisper.
“Time to go,” Cyrus grabbed me by the hand and pulled me through the crowd.
The scene was eerily familiar to another incident when I’d pissed someone off and Cyrus had to drag me away. The incident began with my smart ass mouth, moved into unknown curses in Hungarian, and turned into me walking in on Tatum sleeping with the enemy. The gingered vamp boy she now called her boyfriend. If history repeated itself, this was not going to end pretty.
My little legs trotted along behind Cyrus as he moved swiftly though the thick crowd of sweaty costume clad vampires, to the stairs that led to the VIP level. I thought we would leave. I figured he’d drag me out the front doors and into the street where he would whisk me away to safety. We ran up the stairs instead of going out the front door.
Had he ever seen a horror movie?
“Where are we going?” I yelled over the sudden beat of industrial music. I didn’t receive an answer. “Shouldn’t we being leaving?”
“We’ll be safer here,” his deep voice rumbled.
Cyrus didn’t stop for the man at the rope. Without words, the rope was lifted away and we ran through the open space. The now overly crowded upper level concealed the two of us as we made our way to Malcolm’s prime spot. Our sanctuary. His Primus. Hopefully, being Primus actually gave him some kind of power. Ok, I was a hypocrite. If someone else’s belief in power saved my ass, I’d take it. Power to the people.
“There’s a problem,” Cyrus said, standing in front of a shirtless Primus of the House of Cailleadh.
Malcolm’s white skin nearly glowed in the twinkling light from the lower level. I’d never really noticed how ripped he was. I guessed that was the point of a shirt. I didn’t question why he had no shirt. That was something I really didn’t want to know. I stepped around to the other side of Cyrus to get a clear view of the two on the couch. A disgusted sneer lifted my top lip at the sight before me. Malcolm sat, reclined on the circular couch. His white chest was adorned with stark indigo ink of an older tattoo from navel to bulging chest; an intricate Celtic cross took up nearly his entire midsection. Lines of blood sliced across his chest in long bleeding fissures. Tatum, shoeless, sat with her feet curled under her butt, leaning against her half naked boyfriend. She turned her masked face to me and smiled, revealing red stained teeth. I knew then what I really hadn’t wanted to know. Tatum had been bloodletting. My stomach churned and roiled with the thought of my friend, my confidante, licking the blood from the milky white skin of that asshole. Tatum had officially chosen the dark side, literally, and there was not one goddamned thing I could do about it. She had dragged me with her to this place of blood and sex with promises of friendship and camaraderie and the only friend I had to my name was the man I’d put a bullet in five months before. My friend, Tatum Price, was quickly becoming something I didn’t even recognize.
“What is it?” Malcolm asked. His head rolled along the back of the couch and I figured he was drunk. Tatum laid her head on the shoulder of her beau and smiled with drowsy pleasure. They were out of their gourd and likely smashed.
Pack your shit and go home. Run back to your bed. Tuck yourself under that goose down comforter and feel the cold steel of the only fucking thing that will truly be there in a pinch. Drink yourself to oblivion and wait for life to catch up to you.
My eyes met the dark green of Malcolm’s eyes and I had to fight with everything I had in me to refrain a serious Chuck Norris roundhouse kick to his Ronald Mc-Goddamned-Donald head. The last thing I wanted was his help.
“Nothing,” I answered rudely. The skinny waitress was back with her tray full of liquor goodness. I grabbed two shots and threw one back. “No problem.” I slammed the glass back down on her tray and drank the other. “Please, don’t stop on our account,” I said, using my hands to ensure they understood my words. Well, one hand. One finger to be exact.
I let my ass flop down on the couch. My knees pressed together, my feet lazily held my legs in a modest position; I rested my elbows on my thighs and held my head in my hands. Five minutes prior I didn’t care who thought they had what, now I felt so alone and a little scared of the little witch girl. She hadn’t chased us through the crowd and up the stairs. As far as I knew, she hadn’t even cared I was yelling in the middle of a crowd of lifestyle vampires exclaiming how fake I thought they were and putting their entire hierarchy into question. It didn’t matter. Cyrus thought she was trouble and for some ridiculous reason, I actually trusted his opinion of others. Tatum was clueless, and as far as I could tell, so was her boyfriend. It could stay that way for all I cared.
Cyrus sat next to me. I could feel his glare burrowing into the back of my head. “Yeah?” I asked.
“This is what you plan to do for the evening?” He sounded a bit surprised that I’d basically told his boss to get fucked.
I nodded.
“You’re not a bit concerned you just pissed of a fairly powerful voodoo priestess?”
Concerned? Yes. Terrified. Not really. Pissed the fuck off? Bingo.
“Should I be? Humph, can’t be any worse than a set of kooky vampire boys out for blood.” Pun intended.
“Those children were nothing in comparison.” Cyrus definitely had a way of making things seem so much more dramatic than reality warranted.
“You act like you know this voodoo woman.” For all I knew he did.
“In a way. Yes. I do. She has been practicing in this area for quite a long time and has built a…working relationship with the House of Porte.” His hand trailed across my exposed back as he spoke.
“You mean to tell me you knew what I was getting into when I stepped foot into that ridiculous shop?” If he hadn’t been touching me so nicely, I would have probably allowed an alcohol induced rant to sneak out.
“To be fair, your friend and I both asked you to leave. I know who she is, but there was no way for me to guess she would discover your past just as much as there was no way for you to guess. I know she is a long-standing practitioner and has a reputation for not being the most pleasant of the sort. If you want to know more, you must ask Marienne. Wha
t I can tell you is it is lucky for you that you are such an adamant nonbeliever.” I felt the rumbling of his deep voice trail along the skin on my back.
“Oh yeah? And why is that?” I was beginning to feel the alcohol I’d consumed and it was rearing its snotty little head. Not to mention the evil intent I harbored for his master chief and my used-to-be-best friend.
“You have to believe something is true before your mind begins to fear it. Until then, you’re just an ignorant skeptic.” I felt a shrug move along his body.
I wasn’t looking at him and I was glad. I knew if I watched those idiotic words come out of that pretty mouth, I’d be more likely to bloody it up a bit. From a knock in the jaw, not by my willing donation.
“And what would happen if I did believe, do you think?” I held my mouth in a bitchy pursed lipped scowl not looking anywhere near Tatum and the mess she’d gotten herself into.
His hand continued its dance along the space between my shoulder blades. “You’d likely be fearful, and rightfully so. Madam Azelie is not someone you want as an enemy. Mystical powers aside, I’ve heard stories of her vengeful nature and I would not want to be on the receiving end of that vengeance.”
“I don’t understand what I’ve done to piss her off so badly. Badly enough I should be afraid of her.”
Although, maybe I could hire her on to take care of the little ginger vamp problem I’m having.
“I’m not even certain you have. What I do know is, I saw the look in her eyes as she watched you from the stage. She was intentionally trying to intimidate you. I don’t really know why, perhaps just because she doesn’t like you. It really doesn’t matter why, does it?”
“Sure as fuck does! If I pissed her off, then, whatever. I’ll own it. But I didn’t do anything. Okay, not enough to expect retaliation.”
Not anything like the overtly guilty Malcolm McTavish who is a friend stealing, arrogant, shady ass vampire boy.
“There is no guarantee you should be expecting anything from her. I am only warning you. Be careful. And by all means please don’t piss anyone else off.”
“Yeah, right,” I scoffed drunkenly, and leaned back, rolling my head to the side to rest on the back of the circular couch.
I knew I’d gotten myself into quite a predicament. I just didn’t know why, or how, or even to what extent. From what Cyrus was portraying, I should be shaking in my boots. But then he nearly contradicted himself and told me he wasn’t even sure there was a threat in the first place. All I knew was the little voodoo woman was some kind of spooky. Regardless of whether or not I believed in her magical abilities, I’d learned from experience that people didn’t have to actually have the power they thought they did. All they had to do was be fucking crazy enough to act on it to fuck shit up for everyone else. Hence, two vampire boys with a basement full of hooker blood.
“Another drink?” Cyrus asked and held an unknown beverage close to my face.
I felt like he’d roused me from a power nap. My eyes fluttered open and suddenly there was this delicious drink there in my face calling to me. I smiled crookedly and took the tiny glass. It seemed like all they were serving came in one and a half ounces of yummy. I was okay with that. Why waste calories on a mixer?
The alcohol tingled on its way down to my already booze-filled stomach. My eyes felt droopy and I was suddenly thankful for the sexy lace mask Cyrus had given me. Hide drunk behind lace, no one would be the wiser.
Allowing myself to relax, I turned on my ass and faced the truth. I was on the upper level of a vampire all-nighter, my best friend was drinking blood from her fire-crotch boyfriend, there very well could be a vengeful high priestess after my ass, and I was getting drunker by the minute. Well, I’d be damned, if it wasn’t a day in the life of Dylan Hart. The newfound fucking frightening life that was. Why I’d allowed this to unfold, I had no idea. Maybe life was boring before. I had to admit, I could get used to the danger of it all. It was pretty ironic how stupid humans, pretending to be vampires caused more of a threat to me than the seedy Los Angeles public at large. Didn’t make me carrying a gun to bed any less paranoid.
A nudge of an elbow brought me back to life. Apparently, I’d been resting my eyes. “Yes?” I said with more gumption than was necessary.
“Are you feeling alright?” asked a very concerned Cyrus.
“Fine. Just pondering my existence,” I smiled a bit at my own joke.
“Would you mind waking up and talking with me? I’m feeling a bit lonely stuck up here all by myself.”
I opened my eyes and saw that the upper level had all but cleared out. Everyone, having filled themselves on liquor and blood, had retreated to the lower level to enjoy the open space of the dance floor. The band on stage had the crowd thrashing with their rhythmic beat.
“How long…where did…?” I really didn’t have words. Well, it seemed I’d lost my brain during my impromptu slumber.
“Not long. I let you sleep. I’d rather be up here if I had the choice.” I could hear his smile in his voice. “Besides, you looked too cute to leave all alone. Someone may have come and taken you from me.”
I let myself look in his direction. “Shut up,” my voice came out scratchy. Something like a truck stop waitress. An uncontrollable smile spread across my numb lips as I saw his handsome face. He’d lost his jacket and leather mask at some point. “Thanks for not leaving me alone. Sorry I sacked, just got tired all of a sudden.”
“You’re a bit drunk,” he laughed. “That is also cute.”
“Jeez,” I rolled my eyes as I blushed a cherry red and looked at my feet. “So, what now?” I asked with every intention in mind.
Tatum is having her fun…nothing in the rule books about Dylan Hart having to be bitter until the ends of time.
“Depends, would you like to join the other lemmings or would you like to stay up here with me?”
Both seemed like fun, but the latter sounded much more promising. “We could stay up here a bit longer.” Oh so slick, Dylan.
“Well, then, a drink?” he laughed and actually handed me a drink. He held one of his own in his large hand.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I asked as I took the drink. “Because you should know, I’d sleep with you anyway.” It was my turn to laugh just before I took this last shot like a big tough guy.
“That is very good to know,” his eyes sparkled in the flashing light from the lower level and reminded me of the night I’d first met him. The night I was so damned certain vampires were entirely on the up and up.
I couldn’t look in those deep green eyes too long or I’d get lost in them. But, I did allow this one moment of pretty-eye gazing. The two of us sat at a friendly distance from each other. Close enough to touch, but not so close I could hand out an old-fashion undetected. His warm hand trailed over the clothed part of my thigh and I flinched. It’d been a while since I’d been actually hit-on and I’d kind of forgotten how it all went down.
“Hm, sorry. Scared me a bit,” I giggled like an idiot.
“I scared you? Why is that? I don’t bite.” He showed his white teeth in a large smile as he leaned closer to me. “Unless you ask.”
“Ain’t gon’ happen vampire boy,” a familiar and terrifying accent rolled toward us from the other end of the VIP section.
My heart decided to cease all function at the sound of her voice. The question was no longer if I’d pissed her off, it was now how badly. And what in the fuck my punishment would be.
“You said we were safer here,” I whispered as low as I could so he was still able to hear me but no one else.
“You in my town,‘cher, you safe nowhere.” The tiny woman stood a few dozen feet from our end of the loft. Still dressed in her stage costume, sans the snake, I could see her symbolic ink more clearly than I had before. They looked like something you’d see scrawled in chalk in a bad witchcraft movie. Only I was certain these were one hundred percent authentic. “You’re not vampire,” she said this as a statement, but s
he seemed a bit surprised.
She’s just noticing this now?
I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. Also, how she knew I wasn’t part of the blood gang I didn’t know. It really didn’t matter how. If I knew how, I might believe it. According to Cyrus, believing opens doorways to fear. And I sure as fuck wasn’t prepared to be scared. So, in true Dylan fashion, my drunk ass said, “Nope. But who the fuck cares, eh? You’re not all mighty. Why don’t you fuck off to fuckety off land and try your voodoo bullshit on someone who gives a shit because it’s not working on me.” I tried to stand but Cyrus stopped me. Probably for the best seeing as though I was likely too drunk to hold my own.
“Curse me as you like. I have curses too.” Her head dropped an inch and she stared at me through her raised brow.
“Fuck your curses bitch!” I stood then. Cyrus be damned. There was no way I was letting this little girl threaten me. Admittedly, I wasn’t an idiot when it came to fighting fear. I hated being scared, hence all the anger. Anger is better. Anger fueled the fight.
I must have been drunk because the girl, Azelie, seemed to move so quickly toward me she was standing only feet from me before I could make a move. With the tattooed mystic that close to me, I prayed Cyrus would come to my aid should I need it. Just in case.
“Your body fight what your heart know is true.” Her voice seemed to slither from her pale lips and tickle along the hairs on the back of my neck. “You think your faith save you?” she laughed one hard heavy laugh, “Nothin’ saves you.” Her little hand lifted, allowing her black rosary to dangle freely from her wrist. A God fearing voodoo mama.
I opened my mouth to say something even more damaging than I had already spewed out, but the girl’s outstretched hand swooped up and snatched me by my hair. “You will believe. Your heart belongs to me now.” She whispered into my ear. Her hand wrenched into my thick mess of hair piled on top of my head. I teetered on my heels, but held my own. “She’s yours Secondus. Have her while you can.” The little hand released its grip in my hair, ripping a chunk out with it, and threw me back onto the couch.
Endless Night (Dylan Hart Odyssey of The Occult Series) Page 9