“No, I didn’t—well I guess I did—actually I didn’t get a clear look, so maybe I did? But that’s not the point—”
“Listen, kid, you need a bit of a pick-me-up before servin’ drinks to anyone else, especially after a werewolf encounter. Why don’t you keep Vivian here some company for a minute? I’ll show you the ropes when you’re done,” Lawrence suggested. “Don’t let her manner fool you. She is one of the more experienced vampires around these parts.”
Vivian emitted a tinkling laugh. “When I was growing up, it was rude to even suggest a lady’s experience.”
“When you were growin’, bearcat, anythin’ I said to you woulda been rude,” Lawrence said with a wink. He flicked Thomas in the forehead and wandered off to the far end of the bar where another customer was hailing him.
Setting down the jug, Thomas made to follow Lawrence. The man never listened, and what Thomas had to say might be serious. Or it might be nothing. There was no harm in finding out.
“No need to rush off,” Vivian said, placing her hand on Thomas’ arm to settle him back on his stool. “Lawrence may be easy on you in the beginning, but as soon as he thinks you ought to be used to being a vampire, his sympathy will be rarer than gold. Or is it you’re intimidated to talk to a woman older than you?”
Thomas flushed. “What? No. No, I—”
Vivian laughed again. “Relax. I was only teasing. What was your name?”
“Thomas Spencer,” Thomas said, offering his hand. Vivian shook it and smiled sweetly at him. “But you can’t be that much older than me.”
Vivian sipped her wine and leaned toward him. “The last time I was called young, the flag only had thirteen stars.”
Thomas gaped. “Are you serious?”
“Oh, she might be over two hundred years old, but she handles like she is on her nineteenth summer.” A lighthearted but deep laugh caught Thomas off guard as a broad-chested man stepped up behind Vivian, giving her a peck on the cheek.
Thomas stumbled over his apology. “I didn’t mean to sound rude, I just—I just. Wow, I sound stupid. You’re a vampire, too?”
The broad man laughed again and extended a hand to Thomas.
“Well, there wouldn’t be much of a point in sticking around this old joint if we were human, now would we?” The broad man grinned toothily, showing off his fangs. “I’m Charles by the way.”
Thomas introduced himself again, shaking the man’s hand.
Charles settled down at the counter next to Vivian, looking at home in the bar.
“Welcome to the fold, Thomas. I take it by all the trouble Lawrence is giving you that you’re a fledgling?” Charles asked.
Thomas nodded. “Yeah. I guess I was, um . . .”
“Turned. Sired. Changed,” Vivian put in punctiliously. “The term for transformation is subject to change depending on where you are. It’s purely regional. Believe me, the closer you get to Romania, the more grandiose the terms become.”
Romania. Was that where her accent came from?
“‘Turned’ sounds good.” Thomas winced. “I guess I was turned two nights ago. I was attacked in an alley. Lawrence found me and brought me here.”
Thomas managed to sound detached as he mentioned his turning, but his heart clenched in fear at the thought of it. The ferocity of the attack had been buried under the information that followed and bringing it up again brought all of its bloodiness in Thomas’ memory.
Charles dropped his easygoing manner and sat straight up in his seat. “Wait, this is your third day as a vampire? And you went to the forest?”
Vivian said something in a language Thomas didn’t understand and patted Charles’ hand.
“I apologize for Charlie. He can be excitable,” she explained. “I think it’s generational.”
“Babe, I’ve been a vampire for, what, eighty years now? I’m not some fledgling,” Charles grunted. “No offense, Thomas.”
Eighty years. Centuries. Thomas shuddered and reached for the jug once more.
“Once again, allow me to apologize on Charles’ behalf,” Vivian said, turning and giving the man a loving look that made Thomas feel uncomfortable. “He’s just taken aback by your recent sire date. There are certain guidelines we vampires respect, all over the globe. One of them is not to sire a new vampire near a full moon.”
Remembering the instinctual fear he’d felt when he’d smelled the beast in the forest, Thomas shuddered.
“Yeah, I think I can see why,” he said, taking another gulp.
Vivian nodded, drinking from her own glass. “Indeed. Werewolves crave our flesh as much as we crave human blood. To bring a fledgling into the fold during such a turbulent time is cruel.”
“Well, cruel is what Ernest’s crew lives by,” Charles muttered.
Thomas choked on his drink. He managed not to spit any of it out, but he spent a minute coughing to get himself under control.
“Charles,” Vivian nearly hissed. “You don’t need to go scaring him any more than he already is. The poor lamb has already been through enough.”
“Not knowing about territories nearly got him killed tonight, Vivian. It’s best the lad learn the game now,” Charles said firmly, folding his arms across his chest and glancing in Lawrence’s direction. “Especially since Foxe isn’t being as direct with Ernest and his crew as he should be.”
Thomas finally stopped coughing enough to speak.
“Hold on, go back,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Did you say ‘Ernest’?”
Vivian sighed and gestured to Charles, who answered with a hard edge to his voice.
“Ernest is a real bastard. He runs a big casino on the other side of they city, near werewolf territory. It’s the favored establishment of Ernest’s vampires and human derelicts alike. Ernest lets all sorts of shady characters in. But anybody down on their luck, metaphorically anyways, become well . . .” Charles trailed off, glancing at Vivian.
“It’s no better than those opium dens,” Vivian said, her expression and voice hard. “I suspect that’s where Ernest got the idea in the first place. Prostitutes and vagrants enjoying the high of morphine, while blood junkie vampires enjoy drinking from the poor.”
Charles nodded. “Drinking straight from the source is a bit like a drug. It’s addicting, y’see.”
Thomas nearly dropped the jug, not because he was surprised, but because Charles stood up, walked over to him, and clapped both of his big hands on Thomas’ shoulders.
There was intensity in the broad vampire’s eyes that Thomas first thought was anger then recognized as fear.
“I know this is a lot for you to take in as a fledgling, but there’s something you must never do, Thomas, and that is feed directly from a human,” Charles said, his voice firm as his hands tightened their grip on Thomas’ shoulders. “Not only do you risk the chance of accidentally siring a new vampire, but feeding directly from the source draws the curse in us outward, more so than you can possibly imagine. You’ve felt the hunger. You know the cravings. None of it can compare to the thirst you get from a direct feeding. It’s a dark, dark addiction that will turn your hunger into something you will never be able to master. That’s why we call Ernest’s flock ‘blood junkies.’”
Memories of the overwhelming hunger he’d experienced when he first changed rushed through Thomas. He couldn’t fathom any sort of thirst being worse than what he’d already experienced, but there was such gravity in Charles’ voice that he couldn’t doubt his words.
His stomach twisted as he remembered the psychopath who had attacked him in the alleyway, the vampire who had changed him, and how savage the attack had been.
Had that vampire been addicted like Charles described? A complete slave to the overwhelming hunger for draining blood from a victim? Thomas was vaguely aware his hands had started shaking.
“Charles,” Vivian said sharply. “You’re scaring him.”
Realizing how intense he was being, Charles released Thomas with a slight nod before sitting bac
k down.
As smoothly as she could, Vivian finished the story. “The Red Lightning Pub pays contracted donors who come forward willingly. They give as long as they’re comfortable, and all of them know what their blood is being used for. A lot of them come from families where someone down the line was turned, families that know the secret and respect what we’re about. However, Ernest and his flock have given into their addictions. They revel in it. They bring humans into the casino to feed on, either using and discarding them like cattle or turning them into vampires when it suits their needs.”
“Why doesn’t anyone do something about it?” Thomas asked, horrified.
Charles and Vivian glanced at each other.
“Thomas,” Vivian said softly. “Trying to interfere with Ernest would be the same as waging war. Whenever gangs like ours fight, there is collateral damage. We can’t afford to be noticed.”
“But there’s already collateral damage,” Thomas said, a familiar anger starting to bubble in his veins. “Me. And he’s been luring other people into his casino and eating them alive. I’m guessing all the recent attacks and disappearances are his doing.”
The image of the young woman in the operating room from a few nights ago flashed through his mind.
“He’s been moving more openly in the last few months,” Charles admitted, giving Thomas a sympathetic look. “It’s starting to attract a lot of unwanted attention.”
“If there’s one thing I have learned in my two centuries in this world, it’s this: stick to the shadows. We accursed vampires are not meant to be in the light, natural or otherwise.”
“Just because we’re stronger and faster than humans doesn’t mean we can survive if they ever find out about us,” Charles said, lowering his voice as another patron passed behind them. “On an individual level, we win. No contest. But the humans have armies.”
“Any time the humans have massed together to protect themselves from us, it has resulted in disaster for our side,” Vivian said.
“So if Ernest means to flaunt his supposed superiority, we mean to stop him. At least, some of us do,” Charles said with another dark look toward Lawrence.
“That’s stupid,” Thomas mumbled, his head feeling fuzzy from the alcohol and whirling emotions. “This Ernest guy is kidnapping and murdering people, and you only move when it’s in your best interest. Never mind all the people who get injured in the process.”
Vivian and Charles ignored Thomas’ slight.
“Just make sure you stay out of Ernest’s territory,” Vivian said soothingly. “You wouldn’t want to meet him in a dark alley.”
“Already did,” Thomas muttered, draining the last of his drink.
“What’d you say, kid?”
Thomas shivered as he heard the icy voice from across the counter. Lawrence was back from serving his other customers and had come to fetch his newest employee. Thomas flinched as he saw Lawrence’s deadly expression. He was beginning to feel like a beaten dog being backed into a corner.
“What did you say?” Lawrence repeated, more aggressively this time.
“I already met Ernest,” Thomas said. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the crumpled business card. “It’s what I was trying to tell you earlier.”
Lawrence stared at the business card, his face unreadable. Charles and Vivian watched him apprehensively.
“Foxe,” Charles started.
“Say, could you two lovebirds give the kid and I some space?” Lawrence asked in a cheerful voice that did not match his expression.
“Sure, Lawrence,” Vivian said quietly, getting to her feet and pulling Charles with her. “We’ll go sit by the stage with everyone else.”
Charles mumbled a goodbye and left to find some seats. Vivian stayed behind a moment longer. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a business card that looked remarkably similar to Ernest’s and presented it to Thomas.
“Here,” she said. “You’re part of our flock now, which means you’re family. If you ever need to talk and Lawrence isn’t around, give us a call.”
Vivian smiled, placing her hand on his shoulder. With one last glance at Lawrence, she left to join Charles near the stage. Although Thomas appreciated the camaraderie the vampires offered, he couldn’t help feeling like he wasn’t one of them. He didn’t feel like much of anyone right now—more like a swirling vat of emotions and fears and hunger. What was this world he’d been thrown into?
“Listen, kid,” Lawrence muttered, tapping the counter in agitation, gaining Thomas’ attention and grating on his nerves. “I’m not one for mincing words, and I like to get straight to the point. You haven’t known me long, but on my honor that’s how I like it. Things gotta be straight, edge-to-edge, lined up and pretty. Right to the important bits, you might say.”
Thomas snorted. Nothing Lawrence had told him thus far had been straightforward.
“It burns me up a bit you only mentioned this just now. It’s mighty important what you’ve said.” The frequency of Lawrence’s finger taps steadily increased.
“I tried to tell you,” Thomas said irritably. “You just assumed I was talking about werewolves.”
Lawrence gave him a hard look. “Yeah, you’re a real hotshot, ain’t ya? Now listen here. You better tell me what he said to you and don’t be beatin’ around the bush. Shoot straight.”
“He said things in the city are about to change,” Thomas said, glaring at Lawrence. “He gave me his card and asked a few questions. But I didn’t say anything,” he added when he saw Lawrence opening his mouth to ask. “I didn’t like the looks of him. He doesn’t know my name or that I’m connected with the Red Lightning Pub.”
Lawrence scowled. “Well that’s no question. If he’d known, he would’ve cooled you right then and there. He’s a bad egg, kid. You don’t wanna be involved with his kind.”
“The blood junkies, right?” Thomas probed. “Who are they, Lawrence?”
Hesitating, Lawrence pursed his lips. His countenance fall, and he looked mournful.
“What do you wanna know?” Lawrence’s voice was almost a whisper. “Ernest was like you, once. Just another fledgling I took under my wing. It was his idea to start the Red Lightning Pub in the first place. Create a safe haven for people like us where we could get a bit of solidarity. You have to understand, kid, the idea was revolutionary. Before that, the vampires in this city kept to themselves, askin’ no questions and givin’ no answers.”
He sank back into a chair behind the bar, his eyes staring into the past at a landscape Thomas couldn’t see.
“How was I supposed to know what he meant? How was I to know his intentions? Course, once I did we cut ties, and he went off building the casino.”
“So he was your business partner,” Thomas realized. “But now you’re enemies because his flock feeds directly on humans. Why do you let him lure people into his casino to feed on them?”
“Look, kid, it’s a complicated situation,” Lawrence said, regaining his previous composure. “He’s been workin’ with human gangs, tryin’ to take control of the underground in Colesbrooke. If he told you things are gonna change soon, that is not good.”
His voice trailed off and his eyes glazed over as he watched the patrons around the stage. Thomas didn’t know what to say, but he felt like throwing up. Ernest was up to something new, but Thomas didn’t understand what it could be. Lawrence looked back at Thomas, taking in his wild eyes and twitching fingers.
“You’ve had a rough coupla days. It was my mistake thinkin’ you’d be rearin’ to go after a couple sunsets. Go home, kid,” he said, jabbing his thumb toward the door. “Ain’t no use putting you behind the counter after your little run-in tonight. Get some sleep. And watch where you’re going. Anything west of Gypsy Street is Ernest’s territory. Don’t mess about.”
“Come on, Lawrence, I’m here. Let me work,” Thomas said indignantly, but as he spoke exhaustion hit him. Maybe Lawrence was right. Maybe he did need some time to calm down. Tired memori
es knocked against his skull like battering rams, each demanding attention—his turning, the attack, his job, his friends, werewolves, Ernest, blood junkies, the beast lurking behind his eyes—it all pressed in on him, threatening to cut off his air supply.
“Okay fine,” Thomas mumbled and stumbled to his feet. “I’ll just—I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Sounds good, kid,” Lawrence said, his easy manner returning slowly.
Lawrence grabbed two green bottles of the bloody cocktail, placed them in Thomas’ hands, and walked him to the door, hand on his shoulder.
“Get some sleep, kid,” he said. “Work will be waitin’ for you when you get back. My daughter’s dropping by tomorrow, too. She’s a real piece of work, let me tell you. A real firework, and pretty as a Sunday mornin’. And she’s a right canary! Voice of an angel. You’ll see. You need a cab, kid?”
Thomas shook his head. “I’ll be alright. I need some time to think. I’m not sure I’m going home yet. I might walk around.”
“Just make sure you stay east of—”
“Gypsy street. Got it,” Thomas said, waving his still-shaking hand. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you, kid.”
Thomas stepped out onto the street and drank half of the first bottle, desperate to get drunk. Cold rain sprinkled on his upturned face. After taking a moment to collect himself, Thomas lurched into the rainy night. He hoped by the time morning came, everything would make sense.
6 The Broken Wine Bottle
Rain overflowed from the clogged roof drain and splattered on the metal staircase. The metal tings overshadowed the soft patter of rain on the roof, ground, and Thomas’ clothes.
It didn’t surprise him that he found himself at Artemis’ place.
Thunder rolled overhead as the rain picked up, striking the ground with a vindictive force and splashing mud on Thomas’ pants. He brought his second green bottle to his lips and drank deeply, the sweet mixture of blood and booze warming his insides. He didn’t normally drink this much, but it seemed to be the only thing keeping his agitated emotions at bay. The enhanced power in his body distracted him from his muddled thoughts.
Shadows of Colesbrooke Page 10