2021-05-15 - Saturday
16:20 "Romano Investments"
Drago Sertic sat in the black van that they used for deliveries of "product". He didn't care if the product was opium from Pakistan or Chinese girls from Taiwan, guns from Bosnia or TVs from Okinawa. It was all product for him. He could pick it up and deliver it to whoever needed it enough to pay for it.
Today, the product was three bodies. But they were unlike any bodies he had ever had to deliver. These men whom he had known since they were boys together were supposed to be dead. But they had each risen from horrific wounds and walked out of the morgue.
Alarms had sounded, guards had chased but in the end they had gathered to him. Drago felt like he had an army of Rasputins working for him. Unkillable. Miro had enough holes in him that he could strain pasta. Kosta had a deep gash in his back through which Drago could see his heart pump. And Zoran. The .38 that Carmine had fired into his face had entered his cheek, but the soft lead shells had removed the back of his head. Now his jaw hung loosly from tendrils of flesh and his tongue hung out from the hole like a fat pink leech. Drago could not look him in his remaining eye for more than a few seconds. His face was a thing of nightmares.
Drago had been waiting outside Romano Investments looking for Carmine, since yesterday afternoon. He'd watched as several people had come and gone but there had been no sign of him. Then this morning he'd gotten the call from Ivan to meet him back at the bowling alley where the three ...strigoi was the only word he could think of... awaited. Ivan was drunk as a fucker and these three told him they were back and had to kill.
So now, they were outside of Romano Investments still waiting.
Miro was impatiently muttering in Croatian, "I say we just run in there and make them tell us where he is. It isn't like they can hurt us." Zoran made a chuckle sound deep in his ruined face that made Drago's bladder weak.
Kosta was quick to counter, "No, they can't kill us, but it fucking hurts to get shot don't it? I swear my insides itch from this fucking hole in my back." Zoran just tuned and looked blankly at him.
"Okay, no contest, Zoran, But you know what I mean," he said.
Drago took charge, it was what he was good at. "Look, is easy, we grab one of guys hanging around back. We ask him few questions; kill him if we must. Then we repeat until either draw too much attention or get answer."
Kosta muttered, "We must, Drago, we fucking must."
Miro pulled on a jacket that hid the holes in his torso and Zoran pulled up a hood to hide his face. The three walked around the block to an alley that led to the loading dock in the back. There were two guys out there. In their suits and ties they looked very out of place in the dirty alleyway clustered around a bucket full of sand and cigarette butts.
They talked casually about sports and TV until the trio got nearer. They then got quiet and watched suspiciously. Miro spoke to them, "Hey, any of you guys know a big fat dude named Carmine? We are lookin' for him."
They didn't seem reassured, but one of them spoke, "He doesn't work here any more. I don't know where he is. Sorry."
Miro shook his head, "Sorry doesn't cut it."
The three pulled out guns and started shooting. One of them men dropped quickly, the other managed to get his .45 Automatic out and shoot it at Zoran. The shot had the misfortune of hitting him in the head.
His jaw flew off in a different direction than the rest of him taking part of the right-hand side of his face with it. He made a sound like "Wack!" which made Miro laugh.
Zoran slammed into the guy and stomped on him until his head cracked like a melon. He croaked the sound "Waggah!" at him.
Miro and Kosta were going through the other guy's pockets. Miro pulled out an iPhone and pressed the address book. It had names, numbers and addresses of most of Balthazar's men. A sound from the loading dock made them decide to run.
Back in the van they poured through the phone. Carmine's name and number wasn't in there, but there was a note that Carmine was to be kept away from Balthazar Romano at all costs. Mr. Romano was going to be at the Graveyard club tonight.
Drago sat back in the van, "Balthazar Romano knows where Carmine is. So if I can get to him at the club then I can ask him myself. Boys, we are going clubbing tonight!"
19:02 “Graves at the Graveyard”
Alison and Connie emerged from the limousine, both stifling laughter brought on by a lewd joke Connie had been relating. Alison filed it away in the back of her mind as a joke that Lucinda might tell, in the right company. Tonight, with her hair and makeup both done professionally she was already immersing herself in the Lucinda role, adopting a sexy sway to her hips. The stiletto heels helped in that department too, of course. The blue dress she’d chosen draped gracefully around her, the slits revealing tantalising glimpses of her legs when she walked.
Leaning down to speak to the limousine driver through the window, she knew she was giving him one hell of an eyeful of her cleavage. She managed not to blush and considered it a dry run for later that night. “This is the address in East Harlem you need to go to pick up Mr. Sandoval. He’s expecting you.”
As he took the slip of paper from her she smiled. “Thanks.”
“No problem, Miss,” the driver replied. “I’ll have him here by quarter to.”
“Good, the party starts at eight.”
“I still think you should have brought Sven as a date instead,” Connie said with a mock pout. “Think what a lovely couple you’d make. And I still can’t believe you guessed who my mystery guest would be.”
Alison grinned. “It wasn’t too hard to figure out. As soon as you said it was a he, Sven was the obvious choice. Anyway, let’s get inside and meet the hostess, shall we?”
They entered the club. At a little after 7pm and still daylight outside, the club wasn’t yet open for regular business. Upon seeing the doors open, a man crossed the floor to meet them and directed them to a stairway on their left. Reaching the top, Alison smiled at the Victorian décor. “Oh, I can see why you picked this place, Connie. It looks very like the way I described Donatien’s club, even down to the dark leather barstools.”
As they came up stairs, Jasmin was already in the middle of her final arrangements. Yes, the publicity was good, but she'd had to sleep in the office yet again. Someone came up and put a box down on the table in front of her, looking inside at the Blood Energy Drinks. The irony was just too delicious to pass up. “Bar, hang them on the hooks. Make it look like a hospital wing.” And please don't let any actual vampires think it's real.
As she moved around with an eye out for the preparations, she could hear the latex of her skirt crinkle. She stopped another waiter on the way to a table with a small selection of food. “Other side, over by the punch.” The frustration in her voice at all the little things that could and did go wrong shone through. When she finally saw the other two women arriving, she started over to them, putting on her best smile and speaking up once she neared. “Ah, you must Ms. Graves and her agent. I do hope you don't mind the outfit. Someone failed to specify which Goth they wanted, so I decided to give them Industrial-Fetish.”
Alison blinked at the woman’s outfit. While technically it covered everything, the black latex was so skin-tight that it left absolutely nothing to the imagination. It took her a moment to get back into Lucinda mode and let a knowing smile cross her features. Connie, in the meantime, had beaten her to it.
“Oh, that’s an adorable outfit. You know, I wanted to wear something a bit more exotic than this,” she gestured to the black beaded corset that Alison had rejected yesterday, “but I was vetoed.”
With her reactions now under control, Alison turned to her agent and raised an eyebrow. “Oh please, you had no intention of really wearing that thing with the straps. At least, not at the book launch anyway.”
Alison turned back to the hostess and extended her hand. “Charmed to meet you, Ms. Taylor. This is my agent, Connie Webb. She’s the one who did most of the hard work organising this shindig. And I think, if you don’t mind, I might steal that look for a character in my next book.”
Jasmin took Allison's hand extremely briefly. The cold would, if she was fortunate, go unnoticed or be easily brushed off. “Of course not. Steal away, though if you do it for a vampire remember that they don't breathe, so they can probably lace the corset far tighter than mine.”
She looked over Allison's dress quite appreciatively, before turning to Connie with an equally appraising eye. “It is a pleasure to meet you, as well as your agent, who I must say would look adorable in a bunch of straps.”
Alison swore that Connie’s smile turned positively coquettish, before she dropped back into business mode. That was one of the things Alison loved about her agent: she would joke and flirt with anyone and everyone, but when it came to business she was on top of everything and nothing would slip by her.
“I see you’ve got refreshments well in hand,” Connie remarked, indicating the tables laden with food and drink. “Now how about that book display? It needs to be somewhere prominent, but not in anyone’s way. And naturally we’ll want an area for photographs. I have a photographer coming along later tonight. There are some very particular publicity shots I want to have taken.” She smiled broadly at Jasmin. “And of course there’ll be plenty of press here. I’m so glad we were able to hold this in your beautiful club.”
Alison quirked an eyebrow. “And these publicity shots wouldn’t have anything to do with that ‘mystery guest’ you told me about, would they?” She laughed her tinkling Lucinda laugh that had been designed to make men melt, and which she’d been practising in the limousine on the way over. “No wonder you’re disappointed that I’m bringing my own date tonight.”
Jasmin turned towards Connie, fixing her with slow and steady gaze. It was the kind of disapproving look that you gave for only a brief time. “My dear, I am an experienced professional. Trust me when I say that I am well aware of how to arrange these kind of events,” raising an arm with the matching arm warmer on it to point at a book display. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she always resented that. She only had six decades of experience in this. She knew her type. All business, and at least as far as business went, one of them had to establish themselves as the dominant figure. Her smile softened then.
“And I've found an interesting energy drink you might use in them – it's made by some geeky company called Blood Energy Drink. Looks like a packet of blood like you'd see hanging in the hospital for a transfusion....” She trailed off then, looking between the two of them. “And Ms. Graves, believe me, even with your own date, you can still pose for a photo or two.”
Alison ignored the woman’s momentary frostiness towards Connie, knowing that at events such at this feathers were occasionally ruffled when two organiser types first met. She trusted Connie to keep things friendly and not to let Jasmin’s minor display of bitchiness get to her. After all, Connie was an experienced professional as well. Instead she focused on the discussion of photos.
“Well, that depends on my date. This isn’t really his sort of thing, so he may be a bit shy.”
She headed towards the book display to get a better look. Personally she wasn’t sure that the blood packets weren’t perhaps a trifle cheesy, but she supposed it fit with the theme for the evening. She glanced at Connie to see what she thought, and Connie shrugged in her “what the hell, roll with it” manner and conducted a quick visual tour of the rest of the arrangements.
Once she was satisfied that everything was in order, Connie turned to Jasmin. “Superb,” she said. “It looks wonderful. Thank you so much for helping us out with this. Tonight’s going to be a huge success, I’m sure. This club and Lucinda’s books will be the talk of the town tomorrow.”
Like any typical Leo, when the conversation turned to praise, her smile turned more genuinely warm. Dominance established, she decided, speaking more lightly. “Oh, no problem. It's part of my job to try to make sure that events like this go off well. No doubt some of the gossip columns will have fun describing how, once more, I was a secret and epic bitch.” That, she tried to keep very light. Jasmin was well aware of her reputation.
“Give you a trick for your date,” she turned back to Lucinda. “Something that helped me with these things. No, not that cheesy underwear or naked thing. If his nerves get too bad, tell him to just focus on making his breathing rhythmic – trust me, between that and you, he'll be too distracted to be nervous.” It wouldn't help much with dealing with crowds either, she knew, though she did have more than a little curiosity at who, exactly, her date might be.
“Oh, I’m sure he’ll be fine. He just may be reluctant to have any publicity shots taken. I’m sure the papers will get a few candid shots through the night, but he’ll be fine.” Alison grinned. “We’ll just have to behave until the press go away.”
Connie laughed. “Trust me, the press will be too busy taking photos of you with… oh, speak of the devil.”
A man emerged at the top of the stairs. He was tall, blond, and handsome, and anyone who’d ever seen the cover of a Lucinda Graves book would recognise him immediately.
“Sven, darling, over here!” Connie called. “I’d love to introduce you to the creator of Donatien Darque. This lovely creature, my dear, is Lucinda Graves.”
Alison had guessed this was who Connie had invited, but even so Sven Tonnesen was imposing in person. She hadn’t realised just how tall he was. Seeing the man who’d become the face of her vampire hero was a very surreal moment for her. “Hello,” she said eventually, “It’s lovely to meet you in person at last.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” he replied, sweeping up her hand to bestow a kiss upon it.
Alison laughed. “Oh, please tell me Connie put you up to that.” His only reply was a grin.
“And this, Sven darling,” Connie interjected, “is Jasmin Taylor, our gorgeous hostess for the evening.”
Sven nodded to Jasmin, his eyes dropping from her face only momentarily to take in the curves that her outfit accentuated. “Charmed, I’m sure,” he said.
Jasmin squinted her eyes at him when he came in, looking and peering at him more closely. The man seemed familiar, extremely so, but she couldn't quite place him. Not at first. It wasn't until she gave a look at the books on display that exactly who this was actually clicked in her head. Maybe it would have helped if I actually read one of these books before agreeing to this, or at least, read it for more than the humor. “Pleased to meet you, Sven.” Her eyes fixed for a moment on his neck, confirming that there was indeed a pulse there.
She clasped her hands together in front of her, as another person came up to ask her something about the arrangements, staring. “So get some Bailey's from the downstairs stocks. There's always a call for Irish Coffee at these things.” Turning back as he went away, she gestured broadly. “Well, is there anything else that I can do for all of you this evening?”
Connie took the lead. “I think we’re all set for the moment. My photographer should be here any minute, and we’ll get a few publicity stills with Sven and Alison before the guests start arriving. So if you don’t mind us camping out in this corner here for a bit, we’ll leave you to any last-minute details you need to attend to.” She cocked her head slightly. “I do hope I’ll get to spend some time chatting with you properly once the party’s underway.”
Jasmin hung on to the actual name used, filing it in the back of her mind. Alison. She'd need to remember that Lucinda Graves was a pen name. “Not at all. The doors will be open in a bit, and if you all need a drink, might I recommend the Black and Blue? It's extremely tasty. Be seeing you all.” With one final polite smile, she began to move off, making a final set of rounds to be certain that everything was in order. It was going to be a long night.
19:24 "Waiting for the limo"
Pablo waited in his apartment. He had his badge and off-duty gun sitting on the coffee table in front of him and he was considering them carefully. This was a party, there was no reason to carry the piece. But something told him he should. Some instinct said that in a room full of goth crazies in a bar where there had been reports of vampire bites there would be trouble.
Alison, however, had been very specific: Be yourself, don't be a cop for one night. You'll meet some of my friends and maybe even have some fun. Don't be a cop. He had been thinking about this for days. How do you not be a cop? You don't carry a gun.
He picked up the badge and slid it into his pocket. Some things were too hard to ask. The buzzer downstairs rang and a voice came over the intercom. "Limousine for Mr. Sandoval."
He punched the button, "Be right down"
He removed the clip and checked the chamber before placing the gun back in its drawer and locking it. I'm going to have fun, tonight, he thought. But that damn voice in the back of his head wouldn't let him believe it.
Downstairs the limo looked big enough for twelve. Several of the barrio boys were admiring it. They shouted to him, "Ese carro esta que echa caldo!*" and "En el mundo de la Farandula!**" and he laughed and waved. They were good kids and he knew they were having some fun at his expense. The driver held the door and he slid into the leather seats. Inside was all chrome and black Lexan with neon running lights.
There was a bar, tv, stereo system, and bags of snacks. He helped himself to some pretzels and poured a bourbon and sat back in the car to enjoy the ride. He wondered if Alison spent a lot of time rising in limousines and if this was going to be a typical date night for them.
Probably not, he finally admitted to himself. She only seemed to release one or two of these books a year and only the last few had been the huge best-sellers that had prompted launch parties like the one tonight. Once again he found it hard to reconcile his memory of Alison the eager young reporter with the big-time author. But that little dinner date they'd had really made it clear that "Lucinda" wasn't Alison.
He liked Alison and for that he'd indulge Lucinda. He hoped that he could offer as much separation between Juan Pablo and Detective Sandoval.
* Your car gives broth - Slang for "your car is badass"
** You are in celebrity land - slang for he's in the "big time".
20:04 Meredith Intro
“Oh pleeeeeeeeease, please, please! Pretty please with sugar on top!”
Meredith folded her arms across her chest. She felt dumb for letting Gail talk her into getting dressed up and coming out tonight. They both had to work later, so they’d dropped by the Grindhouse and ‘borrowed’ a couple of their less revealing outfits. They were supposed to be going to a hot new club that had just opened, but Gail had wanted to drop into The Graveyard for a couple of drinks first.
It wasn’t Meredith’s scene or Gail‘s either for that matter. Too pretentiously gothic, all heavy drapes and chandeliers. Like walking into Grandma’s house… if Grandma had been into S&M… and if she’d had a Grandma. Plus it attracted all the Emo crowd, not to mention the vampire fantatics - they were the real weirdos. Absinthe drinking, corset wearing, piercing obsessive weirdos. Some of them even glued fake fang veneers onto their regular teeth.
So it came as no surprise that Gail ‘suddenly remembered’ the hot coat check girl who worked there, and how she’d been meaning to get her number.
“You’re ditching me so you can cop off with some girl!”
“Like I said, it’s important. Pleeeease Meredith!” Gail clasped her hands together in fake prayer. “I haven’t had any in like a week! Okay I’ll admit it, I’m a horny dyke and I don’t care who knows!”
“We were supposed to be going dancing.”
“You still can!” Gail held up an envelope, a wide grin on her face. “Julie, did I mention her name is Julie? Well, she said there’s a private party going on upstairs. A book launch, for Lucinda Graves! She‘s that reporter right? The one you idolised for the best part of last year?” She thrust the envelope into Meredith’s hands. “She scored you an invite, how cool is that? Plus there’s free food…”
Meredith snatched the envelope. “What sort of food?”
“Ha! Like you care!” Gail laughed, slapping her on the ass. “The way to a girl’s heart… I promise, I’ll make it up to you. Pizza and a movie, anything you want, my treat.” She grinned wickedly and added, “I’ll even go down on you if you like, convince you to switch sides.”
“Pizza and a movie is fine,” grumbled Meredith, resisting the urge to grin and let Gail off the hook. “And beer. You can save the rest for coat check girl.”
“Oh I have plenty to go around,” Gail stuck out her tongue and waggled it suggestively. “We’ll meet up here later?” She took a step back and gave Meredith’s outfit a full once over. “You look terrific, Freckles! Totally hot! Maybe you’ll get lucky yourself.”
“Yeah,” Meredith was less than convinced, in fact she felt completely exposed. She tugged self-consciously at the hem of her dress which barely covered her backside and made her legs look about a mile long. It was one thing being all on show when she was at work, but it was different out here, in the ‘real world’. It was like being stuck between identities. Like if Clark Kent had turned up to work dressed as Superman. Besides, she wasn’t the flirtatious type, not really. She hated talking to strangers and dressed like this there would only be one reason anyone would want to talk to her.
“Come on, you need to get laid girl. Hump out your frustration, it works for me.”
“You do enough of that for both of us, in fact, you should be the least frustrated girl in Manhattan, perhaps even the entire state.”
Gail grinned, but she wasn’t done. “I mean it, Meri, you haven’t been on a date since that fuckwit, Jason. You’ve been off the horse long enough, it’s time to saddle up and smack that pony girl!”
Meredith planted her hand on her hips. “I’m not interested in getting on a horse or pony or any other equine mammal. Or man for that matter. I’m done, sick of the whole damn species. Which,” she held up a hand to hold Gail back, “doesn’t mean I’m switching sides either. In fact if the journalism thing doesn’t work out I may just decide to become a nun.”
“No, no, no,” Gail pulled her into a sisterly embrace. “That would be a criminal waste of the best piece of ass in Manhattan.” Meredith tried to punch her playfully but Gail didn’t loosen her hold. “Look, have fun, have some drinks and eat some canapés. And if you see that Lucinda chick, get me her number. I’ve seen the book cover and she is hot!”
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
| PartyDress.jpg | 38.27 KB |
| PartyShoes.jpg | 73.31 KB |
20:20 Cadee Anne intro
As she practically danced her way up the stairs to the upper level of the Graveyard Club, Anne was sure she could understand what Charlie had felt at the gates of the chocolate factory. She turned around and prompted her companion, a much more composed Cadee.
“Come on, come on, come on, brighten up! It’s vampires’ night. My kind!”
Cadee took a look around and nodded appreciatively. The already Victorian atmosphere of the place was heightened by the lightning and ‘old vampire movie’ decorations; even if the blood bags hanging above the bar looked more Mel Brooks than Bela Lugosi. Cadee smiled, it was a nice touch, though. *Especially if the owner is a vampire*, she thought .
The room was full with the expected vampire wannabes, assorted goths and more serious book lovers, also members of the press –if the flash lights were any indication – and people in general. An important book display stood near the bar area too, complete with a cut out of Anne’s future husband, and Anne’s future husband too, if she wasn’t mistaken…
“Oh my, oh my, oh my! It’s Donatien Darque!” Anne cried and Cadee smiled. Nope, she wasn’t mistaken. However, Anne looked more the vampire than the infamous Donatien, she thought , her dress all black satin and lace, the only touch of color a red and black stripped under-bust corset, and even a vampire bite choker! Well, at least she had been able to talk Anne out of wearing plastic fangs…
“You know he’s not a real vampire, don’t you?” She asked, and received a killing look in response. She giggled, feeling wicked. “Just promise me you won’t go and offer your jugular to him, please. Imagine how many of these… vampirettes will do that, you don’t want to be so obvious, do you?”
“I wouldn’t be so predictable,” she said, a little too quickly, and Cadee knew she had been thinking of doing just that. Then her face softened, “but you can’t deny the man is beautiful. Look at those shoulders, and those eyes! Maybe I’ll offer him something else…”
“Sure. Because that wouldn’t be predictable at all, right?” Cadee answered, an appreciative look in her eyes. Actually, the man was beautiful, blond and tall. Not bad at all. And he played his part well; he was pretending to bite a convincingly languid Lucinda Graves in the neck, for the pleasure of their fans, while reporters took picture after picture.
“I won’t bother talking to you, heretic no-book person,” Anne replied with a sneer.
“No nonsense person, you mean?”
“No. I mean heretic no-book person,” Anne repeated, watching her friend and sighing. “And I had such hopes for you…”
“What you had was a vampire costume for me; you’re still sulking because I’m not wearing it.”
“You look OK, I guess, for a layma –woman,” Anne lied, watching her friend. Cadee was clad in a sequined smoke colored mini-dress that showed off her long legs, and incredible cow-fur boots. She knew Cadee had been waiting for months for an occasion to wear the outfit, and she looked really hot, but she wasn’t going to admit it.
“Not everybody can come as a vampire, Anne. I could have brought a stake and come as the Slayer…” Cadee said.
“Sure, because that would have been appropriate!” Anne replied, rolling her eyes. “Now, if you excuse me, I think I saw Mr. Tall and Wonderful. Maybe not as wonderful as dear Donatien, but you know what Marie Antoinette said, right?”
“If they have no bread, let them eat cake?” The blonde asked, suppressing her laughter.
“Exactly,” Anne said. “And I happen to have a craving for sweets tonight.”
“Don’t delude yourself, what you have is a sweet tooth,” Cadee answered, but she was already gone.
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
| annedress.png | 500.46 KB |
| cadeeattheparty.jpg | 245.88 KB |
20:23 Alison, Pablo, Anne and Cadee
“Pablo, there you are.” Alison found Pablo filling up his plate, juggling the platter with a glass of some concoction or other. “What are you having? I could use one, whatever it is. I didn’t think those photographers were ever going to stop asking for me to pose suggestively with Sven.” She linked her arm through his and picked an hors d’oeuvre off his dish. “I’ve hardly had a moment to talk with anyone yet.”
Pablo surrendered his something-tini. He thought they had called it a "Blood-tini B-Neg" but it tasted like cherry schnapps. "I'll say this for your publicity people, this is quite a spread. But as I look around all I see are ribs and elbows on these girls. Do they even eat? I'm sorry I left you to the photographers; I was afraid they were going to ask me to pose with you. I'm a little camera shy."
"I know. That's why I warned you they'd be here, give you a chance to scurry off to some dark corner to hide." She grinned at him, her smile broadening further as she saw a familiar face over his shoulder.
"Hi there, Anne. It's great to see you here." She glanced around a little. "Did you bring your friend Cadee with you?"
Anne smiled, happy. She had hoped to get near Lucinda at the party, and had watched her from afar as she did all the publicity shots and met all the important people. She had told herself she would approach Lucinda later in the night, when things got a little less hectic. But then, things got even more hectic, as people kept arriving.
So she had forgotten Lucinda for a little while, especially when she caught sight of ‘Mr. Tall and Wonderful’ and decided she could give him another chance, she was soft hearted like that, only to find Lucinda alone in a corner! Well, not completely alone, she thought, as she assessed the guy with her.
“Lucinda!! I’m really happy to finally get to talk to you!” she said, smiling at her idol. “Cadee is around, but I lost her. This is packed like sardines in a can! What a success, you must be thrilled!”
"Cadee? Pablo wiped his hand on a free napkin quickly. Our Cadee?” he said to Alison then turned to the woman. “You know each other?"
Surprised, Anne looked at him with more attention. Sure, he fitted the description of the detective Cadee mentioned often enough. Pablo Sandoval, wasn’t it? Cadee had mentioned he was Lucinda’s date. She smiled.
“Your Cadee? If you’re talking about tall Cadee, blonde Cadee, beautiful Cadee… It’s my Cadee. I saw her first!”
Alison chuckled. “It’s okay, Anne. We promise not to steal her away. I’ve only met her the once, anyway, the other night at Slàinte.”
She glanced at Pablo. “Anne’s one of my best fans,” she said by way of explanation. “I don’t think she’s missed a single one of my book signings.”
"Glad to meet a fan, I'm kind of the opposite. I've never read any of Alison's books, but I am looking forward to doing that. Are you Cadee’s...girlfriend?"
Anne laughed, delighted. “Oh no no no, Cadee’s as straight as they come. We’re roommates, known each other for ages. BFF, you know?” She looked at Lucinda then, and back to the man. “Are you her boyfriend?”
Pablo looked at Alison with a smile then back to Anne, "Working on it. I'll have to get back to you on that."
Alison shared a small, secret smile with Pablo. It was still early days, but getting back together seemed to be working out well for both of them so far. She sipped at the red drink Pablo had given her and made a face. She didn’t really fancy cherry-flavoured drinks and resolved to get herself something more to her liking as soon as she could get to the bar.
“So Anne, how did that audition go? Did you get the part? I was keeping my fingers crossed for you.”
Anne made a face. “Not good, actually. Seems Martha Jefferson was not supposed to be petite… but I’m looking forward for another. ‘Shoggoth on the Roof’! Can you imagine?”
"Shoggoth?" Alison blinked "Can one play a fiddle with tentacles, I wonder?"
She shook her head. "Well, I hope you get something soon." She paused for a moment in thought, and glanced over her shoulder where she'd recently been sitting on Sven's lap while he pretended to bite her neck. She started to say something, but then thought better of it. If the project ever got off the ground, she'd make sure to mention Anne's name then. There was no point bringing it up now and getting the girl's hopes up when it may never transpire.
"Did you notice our special guest tonight?" she said instead. "I've never actually met him in person before, but now I can't imagine anyone else as Donatien."
“Ohhh, yes!” Anne cried, and almost bounced, as she tended to do when excited. “I couldn’t believe it, he’s sooooo tall! I promise you, I wouldn’t mind him biting my neck,” she laughed, and showed Lucinda the choker she had specially bought for the occasion, it sported two red crystals simulating teeth punctures and a spray of smaller ones falling from it, like little blood drops. “Do you think he’ll be tempted?”
“I’m sure he would be. He’s a bit of a ladies’ man,” Alison said with a wink. “What about you, Pablo? Would you be tempted?”
Pablo turned, startled. Crumbs sprayed from his mouth where he’d been stuffing it with food. “Wouff wha?”
Alison merely rolled her eyes, and turned away from him when she heard a new voice.
“Please, don’t tell me you’re offering your throat again, Anne. I thought you were over that already. I’ve been looking for you all over, no wonder you didn’t come back!” Cadee said, as she appeared from behind her friend. She then turned to the other two. “Hello, it’s great to see you! Great party, Lucinda.”
“Hi Cadee,” Alison greeted her. “Thanks, though most of the organising wasn’t my doing. I just have to show up and smile a lot.” She nudged Pablo with her elbow and whispered, “You’ve still got cocktail sauce on your fingers.”
Pablo swallowed his mouthful in one painful gulp and wiped his hand while smoothly dropping his plate on a passing tray. Then he really saw Cadee. She looked nothing like the Cadee in his mind. That Cadee wore t-shits, jeans and an apron. "Wow," Was what he meant to say but his mouth just sort of moved soundlessly.
He took his Blood-tini back from Alison and had a quick swallow, "Ugh, I should know better than to come to a party without eating first. You look great."
He put his arm around Alison, "But Ali...er...Lucinda is still the star of the show."
“Thank you, Pablo.” Cadee grinned, flattered; the dress had cost a little fortune, but it was definitely worth it, she thought. She looked at Lucinda who shone in a beautiful blue dress, and agreed with him. “And she should, Vampire Lady perfect.”
“Oh, please.” Alison’s blush was quite genuine. “I had the help of a team of professionals tonight, believe me.”
"Money well spent," Pablo said, "Look, hon, there is an open bar over there that I need to interrogate. Do you want me to get you something? Lovely to meet you Anne, and always a pleasure Cadee.”
Alison mouthed ‘yes, please’, and looked suitably parched.
“See you at the Slàinte, detective,” Cadee answered, and Anne saluted with her hand.
Alison could see Connie gesturing to her from the far side of the room and nodded, holding up one finger to indicate ‘in a minute’.
“Well, it’s lovely to meet you both again,” she said with a smile. “Anne, do you have a card, just in case I hear of any potential jobs for you? And then I’m going to have to dash – my agent is summoning me.”
“Of course,” Anne replied, grinning, and she started looking for one of her cards in her small black reticule, she was never without them; one never knew when one could need them, like now. She finally found a card and handed it to the woman. “That’d be great, Lucinda. It’s very nice of you. Thank you.”
“It was a pleasure, Lucinda,” Cadee said, and Anne nodded.
“Loved to talk to you. See you around.” She smiled again, genuinely happy. This night was getting better and better.
“Lovely to chat with you both.” Alison slipped Anne’s card into her purse and glanced over at the bar, trying to catch Pablo’s eye, but he had his back to her. She headed off to where Connie had lined up some bigshot to talk with her, and had to hope that her drink would eventually catch up.
20:24 Balthazar and Jasmin
As the party continued, Jasmin moved about with the practiced grace of one long experienced to hosting upscale events. The evening was going well, she thought. Nothing well and truly major had gone wrong, and as far as she could tell, she hadn't run in to anyone there to cause trouble. It left her making her way through the crowd with a Singpore Sling, highly alcoholic though it was and having less of an immediate effect. A slight frown crossed her face, though, at the newest arrival she found herself almost literally crashing in to, gone just as quickly.
She forced a smile to her face as made out the familiar sight of Balthazar Romano and his new associate standing to the side. Putting on her best smile, she moved to put her free hand up on Balthazar's shoulder, moving to kiss each cheek lightly. "Ah, Balthazar, such a pleasure to see you. Didn't realize you were on the list or I would have made it a point to come greet you, personally. How are you this evening?" And how many women have you tried to pick up so far? she wondered.
“Oh you know I hate to miss any A-list party”. The older man took in the sight of the vampiress, decked out in her overly sexualized outfit. A grin crossed his face. “You‘re so stunning, I think my heart might just stop,” he purred, turning on the charm. “Perhaps that was your plan all along; shame on you, trying to kill an old man.”
You have to have a heart before I can make it stop. "Alas, you have uncovered my hidden agenda. As always, however, you have managed to survive my best attempts to do you in." She clears her throat slightly, taking a perhaps longer sip of her drink than she intended. "I hope things are going well?"
Taking Jasmin’s arm, the two began circling the room, Balthazar’s bodyguard trailing a few steps back.
“Things are well, for now,” the sorcerer said cryptically. “Great party by the way,” he added, changing the subject, as he smiled and mouthed ‘hello’ to some bossomy blonde across the dance floor. The girl giggled, waving back as she flashed a coquettish smile. “Money and power, it’s the best aphrodisiac,” he whispered, into Jasmin’s ear.
Jasmin stopped and turned to him, with her thin smile. She knew he was like that, but the earlier ruining of her evening several nights before still grated. "Yes, it is. Many young women have told me the same thing." Well for now. That hung in the air, along with their earlier discussion. Just what was he planning? "I know you. You've got something on your mind, and it's more than A Little Piece of Heaven."
“You’re always so straight to business,” he sighed, their arms still locked. Romano was about to speak, when he noticed a familiar face across the room. Balthazar scowled. “Playing with fire are we?” Jasmin followed his gaze to the Hispanic man at the bar, waiting for drinks to be delivered. From the look on her face, he knew she wasn’t following. “His name is Pablo Sandoval. He’s a cop who specializes in cases dealing with people who run in our social circles. If I were you, I’d be wondering exactly why he’s here”.
Jasmin looked over at him, flashing a small smile. Special Crimes Unit. Of course. It was the way that her luck went. Still, she wasn't too concerned. It wasn't without the realm of possibility that something strange could happen at an event which was, in a sense, dedicated to the supernatural. Even when said dedication was to a romantic, highly inaccurate version of how things really were. “Probably just a fan. You worry far too much for your own good some nights.”
“Well, there’s something else, but we need to talk private. Especially with people like him, around”.
“Unless you haven’t noticed, this is a bit of a busy night and I don’t have time to…”
Balthazar interjected “well if it’s time we need,” he huffed, catching Jasmin off guard as he grabbed her hand. The sorcerer began to mutter under his breath, weaving together the pieces of the spell which would offer them some privacy. “Perhaps you now you’ll be more willing to listen”.
Jasmin looked about the room again. Balthazar was still clear, but everything else seemed slowed down, blurry. Like looking through a glass. I really hate it when he does that. No matter how often he dropped the Cone of Silence, she would never get used to it. "This is important if you're willing to risk this. What's going on?"
“I need your help finding an artifact,” he said, his face serious for the first time all night. “We both know that you have the most comprehensive library in all of New York and I need some information which no one else seems to be able to provide. Of course," he added, the sly smirk once again emerging, "If you help me, i'll be indebted."
Most comprehensive in all of New York, now? Now she definitely knew that he was up to something. Yes, she had a decent collection of general knowledge. But she knew damn well that her own collections could not hold a candle to the more specialized occultists around. “What are you looking for, Balthazar?”
“Whatever you can find on The Eye of St Vigeous”. Balthazar seemed to waver, the exertion of the magic catching up on him. “And this is time sensitive my dear. The quicker you can help me, the more I'll make it worth your while”. The wizard hesitated a moment, considering if he should bring up the other topic that was weighing on his mind. The Drop...Tabitha had mentioned Carmine had the object and that spelled trouble. Let's just see how that plays out he decided, not wanting to show all his cards to the crafty vampiress.
The Eye of St. Vigeous. The name hung there, not because of what it was but because of part of the name. She knew in the vaguest sense who St. Vigeous was. Any artifact related to him, though, spelled trouble in the hands of a human. Especially among the older vampires, it would make him both a target and a person with leverage. “I'll see what I can find,” she said softly to him, mind already racing to recall details. “No promises, though.”
With that, the room came back into focus as he let the spell drop.
“Now, that business is out of the way,” he huffed, his breath coming a big heavy, “I think it’s time to enjoy the party”.
“Yes, it is,” she spoke, staying locked into his arm for a few moments longer, as her mind considered the possibilities. Whatever he had gotten himself in to had to be bad for a meeting, and if that bad gave her bad publicity, he'd pay. She was broken from her reverie, disengaging from him gratefully as someone else approached.
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
| jasminparty.jpg | 138.87 KB |
20:35 Alison, Balthazar and Logan
Wending her way through the crowd, Alison caught up with Connie after having to stop only a couple of times to sign autographs and chat for a few moments with assorted people.
“There you are!” Connie grabbed Alison’s hand and pulled her through one more crush of people to where an older man stood with Jasmin. The two seemed to be very close, their heads together, and Alison tried to pull back.
“Connie, I’m not sure we should disturb them.”
“Nonsense, it’s a party. Besides, it’s my turn to have a chat with our lovely hostess anyway.”
As they drew closer, Jasmin carefully disengaged her arm from the man’s and cast a glance her way that looked like gratitude. Ah, and haven’t we all been in that situation? Alison mused, glad now that Connie had insisted on breaking into this tête-à-tête.
“Balthazar, you old devil,” Connie began cheerily, “I’d love to introduce you to tonight’s guest of honour. This…” She gestured, game-show girl style, over Alison from head to foot as though she were a fancy car on display. “…is Lucinda Graves. Lucinda, meet Balthazar Romano, one of New York’s most eminent entrepreneurs.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” As Alison extended her hand to Balthazar, it wasn’t lost on her how Connie took the opportunity to sweep Jasmin off to one side. Still, helping to rescue the owner of the club from the unwanted attentions of one of the guests could be considered her good deed for the day. And gaining the ear of a businessman was never a bad thing, either.
The older man took Alison’s hand and brought it to his lips. “The pleasure is all mine. I’ll confess right now, I haven’t read your series - I don’t think an old man like me is quite the right demographic,” he laughed, charmingly. “I’m being rude keeping you all to myself,” Balthazar said, taking a step to the side, to reveal his associate that was lingering in the background. “This is one of my associates, Logan.”
As if being pulled out of a daydream, Logan snapped back to attention. Mechanically, the young man‘s face turned friendly, but it quickly faded when he noticed just who his boss was introducing. The woman was dressed to the nines and looked quite different from when they first met, but there was no doubt who she was. Aw man, the nosey reporter.
“Hi again,” Logan said politely, extending his hand.
Alison blinked. Damn, but it was turning out to be a small world tonight. “Well, hello Logan,” she said, resting her hand in his for her light Lucinda version of a handshake. “You’re looking mostly recovered from the other night, thank goodness.”
She turned to Balthazar, disengaging from Logan’s grip as she did so, and smiled coquettishly at the older man, in full Lucinda mode. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but Logan here is a bit of a hero. He helped fight off a group of thugs the other night.”
Balthazar’s expression never faltered, despite the fact that his blood pressure had just risen a notch or two. Logan had recounted in detail the whole story and the wizard had not been too happy about it. Obviously it hadn’t been Logan’s fault, but still, attention like that was never a good thing.
“Yes I know. Logan here is a real life super hero,” Balthazar chuckled. “You’re just missing the spandex outfit, aren’t you?” Logan blushed slightly, praying the conversation would take a turn and quick.
“Anyways, enough about us. Tonight is all about you and your success!” Waving down a passing waiter, Balthazar grabbed three glasses of champagne which he distributed to Alison and Logan. “A toast to you, whose success in literature is only outshined by her radiant beauty.”
Alison blushed and reacted as Lucinda, lowering her head and fluttering her eyelashes a little. The male punters always seemed to expect it and who was she to disappoint? “Well, aren’t you a charmer?” she said, taking a sip of the champagne. Pablo still hadn’t turned up with her drink, so this would do nicely in the meantime.
“As for my demographic, you’d be surprised at the variety of people who read my books. I have a feeling this latest book in particular would have elements you enjoyed.” Alison’s smile never faltered for a moment, but she was definitely getting dirty old lech vibes off this guy. He’d definitely like the sex scenes, she was sure.
The thing that had her puzzled was Logan’s role with Balthazar. At first she’d assumed the shape she’d seen behind the businessman was just a bodyguard. But one didn’t introduce their bodyguard to everyone. And the fact that it was Logan, who also seemed to know Pablo… there was some weird connection here. She just didn’t know what.
“I guess you have a lot of different talents,” Logan said, cutting into the conversation. “I wouldn’t have expected a hard hitting reporter like yourself to also be a top author in supernatural fiction.”
Balthazar did not miss the hidden meaning behind the young man’s comment. You’re a clever boy, Logan. If this was the reporter that had been interrogating his bodyguard after the events at Slàinte, it was not the wisest idea to stick around. The less anyone knew of the sorcerer’s connection to that fight the better.
“Well, my dear, I know you must be very busy, and you don’t want to spend your evening talking to an old geezer like myself. Go enjoy the party - it is in your honour after all.”
“Of course. It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Balthazar.” She nodded to his ‘bodyguard’. “Logan, good to see you again.” She backed away from the pair and weaved her way slowly through the throng, deep in thought. That was an incredibly abrupt dismissal, coming suspiciously close on the heels of Logan’s revelation of her as a reporter. Something was going on there, that was for sure. And she’d be damned if she didn’t work her butt off to find out what.
“Hi, yes, lovely to meet you.” But first, she had a room full of people to schmooze.
20:36 Connie and Jasmin
20:43 Alison and Pablo
Pablo downed the shot at the bar. Let's get this party started, he thought. When the bartender came back he ordered a strawberry mojito for Alison and a Hell-Firetini he'd heard someone else order. Something with cinnamon he suspected.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw ‘Lucinda’ swimming through the crowd. He had to make sure not to lose her. Again, he thought.
Soon the drinks were up and he started the juggling act that was moving through a crowd with drinks. It only took him a few minutes to cross the twenty or so feet to get to her.
“Oh, thank you.” “Yes, you're too kind." Titter delightfully at a lewd joke. "Yes indeed, I have a whole new trilogy in mind.” “Absolutely. Lots more sex.” “Oh, Pablo, thank God.”
Alison reached the end of a string of well-wishers to find Pablo holding the promised drink for her. It was, indeed, red. She reached for it, then realised she was still holding the glass of champagne that Romano had given her. She juggled the two for a moment before thrusting the champagne into Pablo's free hand. Taking a sip of the drink she sighed in appreciation. "Ah, strawberry mojito. Perfect."
Pablo looked nonplussed and Alison felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry," she said, leaning her head close to his so they could talk without too much chance of being overheard. "I have a tough enough time at these things, but I've had time to get used to them. I shouldn't have been so selfish as to drag you here. I knew you wouldn't want to hang off my arm while I worked the room." She pecked him on the cheek knowing that it was entirely inadequate as thanks, but it was all she could do right now.
He kissed her bare shoulder and spoke back into her ear. "I understand, I really do. I just promise to make you pay for it one night when duty calls."
He sipped the Hell-Firetini. Nasty, just like the other one. Sooner or later, he'd find one he liked.
“Fair enough, I suppose. If we’re keeping score, we’re one-all at Slàinte, and you owe me one for tonight. Shall I get out the blackboard?” She grinned and took another sip of her mojito. “Try the champagne, if you don’t like that… whatever the hell that is.”
“Ok, ok, we won’t keep score, how's that? Except for keeping track of drinks. Where'd you get a champagne? More specifically a non-red champagne?”
Alison wrapped an arm around Pablo’s waist and turned slightly so they both faced back more or less the way she’d come. “That’s a whole story in itself,” she said. “I was introduced to this guy who got champagne to arrive as if by magic. Seriously, the waiter was there in about five seconds flat. How he did it in this crowd, I have no idea.”
Pablo gave her a look, so she sipped more of her drink and continued. “Anyway, it started out like a normal conversation, but as soon as he found out I was a reporter, he gave me the brush-off. Real fast. He’s supposed to be some sort of businessman, but he got awfully nervous – ever heard of a guy named Romano?”
Pablo looked like the champagne had turned to vinegar. "Balthazar Romano?" he glanced around the room, "He's here?"
Alison nodded. Somehow she wasn’t surprised at Pablo’s reaction. Just a few minutes in the man’s presence had left an oily aftertaste. “Yeah, he was over there,” she indicated with her head. “But that’s not the best part. You’ll never guess who was with him. Romano introduced him as an associate, but I got more of a bodyguard vibe. I tell you, my reporter’s instincts are screaming at me that something weird is going on.”
Pablo looked back at her intently, "Did he gesture at you, or give you anything? This champagne came from him?" His wild-eyed look and frantic tone was more than a little alarmed.
"Uh, yeah..." Alison stepped back a pace to really look at Pablo. "Are you okay? Whatever he's up to, I'm sure he didn't put anything in the drink." She shook her head, as if to clear it. "Look, the other bit I wanted to tell you about was who he was with. It's too much of a coincidence. It was that guy... whoa."
A couple descended on her, sweeping her away from Pablo. "Lucinda Graves! Oh god, it really is you. We just love your books!" the man enthused. "When is the next one coming out?"
As she stumbled back a couple of paces to keep her balance, she waved to Pablo. "I'll tell you later, okay? Try not to drink too much."
"Watch out for..." but it was too late. She was out of earshot and perhaps even out of reach. He saluted with the Hell-Firetini and casually dumped the champagne onto a nearby tray. Then he headed off the floor. He needed some air.
20:53 Evalyn and Meredith
I can not believe you followed me.
I was not staying at 'ome again.
Well you can't come inside! No cats allowed.
Zat's fine! I am sure I could find some action in zeh alley.
You do zat. Just do not bring any fleas 'ome!
Sometimes that man could be nothing but infuriating! Still, Evalyn couldn't quite blame him – it was tough being stuck in only one form, but it was easier to acquire general items of pleasure when you were in human form.
Such as alcohol.
Evalyn entered the Graveyard and decided to discard her jacket at the cloak room herself this time, but almost immediately regretted it. The girl standing in front of her, who's dress sense could be better described as that of a strippers, was blatantly flirting with the cloak girl. On any other day, Evalyn might enjoy watching such a show, but tonight she just wanted to get her drink and check out this event Jasmin had been telling her about. Fantasy novels about vampires!
Evalyn looked at the copy she was holding in her free hand while she waited and shook her head. Clearly the author didn't know vampires really existed, but that's just what made this party all the more amusing. This woman would be here, meeting and greeting, not realising that a good many of those around her were actual vampires! She'd half wanted to be there when Jasmin first greeted her – that alone would be entertainment enough for Evalyn to be satisfied tonight – but she loathed to appear some ditsy fangirl, and watching that exchange, she just knew she'd have a stupid grin on her face.
After two minutes of waiting, she'd had enough and squeezed herself in beside the stripper lesbian, earning her a rather hostile glare. Evalyn smiled at her sweetly, “Pardon me, I do 'ate to interrupt, but...” she turned to the coat girl who was looking a touch indignant herself, but the red flooding her cheeks ruined the effect “I 'ave a jacket I would like to drop off.” Evalyn spared a glance for the stripper girl who was smiling vengefully. Evalyn scrunched her own eyes in mock joviality and turned back to the coat girl. “And make sure nossing 'appens to my jacket, Julie! I would 'ate for Jasmin to find out.”
Without a backward glance for Julie's wide eyed horror, Evalyn left the cloak room and made a bee line for the stairs. She needed her drink, and now! If she'd had her tail, it'd be lashing, but obviously it wasn't needed much for the surrounding people to know she was pissed off and to be avoided at all costs. A good thing, since she was too busy fuming to really notice the people around her. All that mattered was the bar and her drink. Perhaps another white spider? Yes, that'd be nice. A white spider and an attentive bartender by the name of Seba-
“G'AH!”
“What the fuck?” Meredith whipped around as the woman slammed into her back, nearly knocking her through the goddamn bar. In fact the impact quite knocked the breath from her lungs. She eyed the other woman frostily. “You wanna look where you’re going!”
Fuck! Evalyn collected herself and glared at the new girl blocking her way. It was embarrassing enough to have blindly walked into something while not paying attention, but all the more to have her foolishness witness by this.... Evalyn frowned. Something was off. The girl in front of her was dressed as scantily as the girl below, but that wasn't it.
“It would 'elp if you did not get in ze way!” Evalyn jutted her chin up with an indignant sniff and immediately wished she hadn't for the scent that flooded her nostrils in that one breath.
“Oh, well… excuse me your Highness!” Meredith was already pissed off, now she was down right furious. Who did this woman think she was talking to her like that? Her goddamn doormat? She gave her a quick appraisal, skinny, clad in a delicate black lace dress, with a face like she could freeze the North Atlantic if she wanted to. She immediately felt her shoulders tighten, the muscles bunching like hackles rising.
“Maybe if you got rid of that bug up your ass people would be more inclined to give way.”
What IS zat scent?
You do not recognise it? Yves broke into her thoughts.
Evalyn frowned, it did seem familiar, if repulsive. She didn't much fancy standing around this creature, and not just for the inconvenience of her existence blocking her path. Something else told her to keep her distance, but damned curiosity made her want to puzzle everything out! Why did she seem so familiar? She tried casting her mind back through the week when the girls last comment hit home.
“'Bug up my ass'?” How dare she! “I am sorry, but I s'ink you just you should check up your own arse. You might be surprised at what resides zere!”
Meredith rolled her eyes. “Uh, God… you’re French aren’t you?”
Evalyn glared, then grinned as she spoke, “Mais bien sûr! Je suis française. Et toi? Tu es une chienne americaine?” The pitiful girl thinks to insult her by calling her French? Evalyn could have laughed! She-
Evalyn froze as her own words echoed in her ears.
Ze jogger! Ze dogless dog woman!
No more smoking for you after six.
Oh shut up, I was referring to where I recognise the scent from.
Yes, I know. Zat is why I say no more smoking. I worked zat out before you even bumped into 'er! And zat was borrowing your senses!
Evalyn glared inwardly, cursing Yves under her breath.
Meredith scrunched up her nose, she knew a little French from high school so she could just about follow some of what she’d rattled off. Something like ‘of course I’m French and you?’ She wasn’t sure about the rest, apart from ‘American’, but her tone had been enough to suggest that it wasn’t exactly complementary. She took a threatening step towards the woman, she could probably skewer this skinny bitch on her six-inch heel and still be able to walk.
“What did you just call me?”
Evalyn straightened, pulling her head back and trying her best to keep from breathing in without losing any ground, but unfortunately she knew that was near impossible to do that without losing some dignity. Common “common sense” would say she should sacrifice one of the two, but Evalyn's common sense told her to suck it up. She'd already looked the fool once tonight because of this... girl?
She help up a finger, warning the girl to stay back, forced a smile to her face and instructed herself to breath normally. “I called you nossing to concern yourself wiz,” Her smile slipped a bit as she observed her compromised personal space and wrinkled her nose. “What you should concern yourself wiz is buying more perfume.” She must own a whole pack of dogs to smell so bad, but there was nothing on her to suggest she even owned a pet, excepting the purse clutched in her fist, and that was cat fur!
Funny thing... she didn't smell so strong here now as she had when she was jogging the other day.
*What?* Meredith took a discreet sniff at her shoulder but she smelled fine to her, in fact she was wearing perfume - the good stuff, that Gail had bought for her birthday last year.
“Oh I’m not concerned, wiz anyting you have to say,” she said mockingly, “and at least I don’t smell like… a Parisian bordello!”
When she was jogging, she would 'ave been perspiring. Ze smell of perspiration is generally stronger. came Yves.
What are you suggesting? Zat she is ze dog scent?
Only silence answered her, but she knew what Yves meant. Werewolf. He used to know a werewolf before they met – perhaps this was a similar scent? Oddly enough, Yves had also been friends with that werewolf, though Evalyn couldn't imagine how he'd managed to put up with the smell!
Do you sink she knows?
You could always ask her! Yves replied, amusement tinging the edge of his thought. Evalyn looked at the woman before her and decided, without the sarcasm of Yves suggestion to assist her, that she would do no such thing.
Ignoring the woman's poor attempt at a French accent and insult, Evalyn quirked her head and asked bluntly. “Do you own a dog?” It was as good as any other question she could think of to confirm things for herself.
Meredith was confused. Maybe it was the French thing, but this woman was Odd. “A dog… what? What has that got to do with you? Conducting a survey of all the people you’re rude to? Are you a cat or a dog person? No, I do not own a dog. Yes I am a smoker. Twenty-one, and I was born in the state of Mind-Your-Own-Fucking-Business!”
Evalyn nodded to herself once in confirmation, then couldn't help but smirk at the irony. She kind of liked the girl. Werewolf. Whatever you call them! One thing she had to wonder - did the personality of a werewolf affect the human, or was this one just naturally a bitch? She chuckled a little at that musing, then composed herself when she saw the look of the other woman. If she was pissed before, she was surely about to rip Evalyn's throat out now!
“I'm sorry,” Evalyn apologized – an odd thing - tasted strange in her mouth – then let her eyes drift to the girl's purse again when she felt another rare feeling. Sympathy?
“Do you still 'ave a cat?”
“Christ Almighty!” Meredith was ready for walking away, this woman was weird. Bitchy and then suddenly Little Miss Animal Lover? She should walk away, but this was her spot goddamn it! She’d been here first and she’d be damned if she was gonna be shooed away by this oddball.
“Yes, I have a cat!” Actually that wasn’t exactly accurate. For a start Thomas J had never actually been her cat, he was a stray, but she and Gail had fed him and let him into their home whenever he dropped by. Mind you, they hadn’t seen him in over two weeks… “H-how? How did you know? I had a cat, I mean…” *Shit, don’t ASK her!* Too late.
Evalyn took a deep breath to compose herself, suppressing the horrid images that conjured up in her mind of a poor cat being torn limb from limb, and almost gagged. Unless this girl planned on moving soon, she was going to spoil the taste of any drink she got!
With a sigh, Evalyn nodded to the girls purse. “I noticed the fur on your purse.” She sniffed wryly, “I 'ave a cat of my own. Fur gets everywhere.”
She raised her eyes back up to level with the girls. Evalyn didn't really want to ask the next question, but she couldn't help herself. At the very least she had to know when it happened. “So when did you first turn?”
“When did I… turn what?” Meredith frowned. This chick was seriously messed in the head, but then she was French, the strain of looking down her nose at everyone probably caused some permanent brain damage or something. “Are you, you know?” she tapped a finger against her temple, “a little bit slow? Do you have a care worker I can contact?”
Evalyn frowned. Maybe she'd pinned this girl wrong? That or she hadn't turned yet, in which case she must sound stupid to the ignorant girl's ears. Now didn't that rankle!
The discomfort of this girl's presence was finally beginning to overpower her curiosity. Time to just get her drink, then get away.
“Forget eet!” She said brusquely, turning from the girl and laying a hand gently on a guy's shoulder who was also at the bar on the girls left. He turned to peak over his shoulder at the hand then peered up into Evalyn's purring eyes.
“Pardon moi, mais....” She glanced briefly at the bar to finish the sentence. He smiled, casting an appreciative glance over her as he stepped aside, saying something appropriate about her being a beautiful woman and how he'd loath to get in her way. He even offered to pay for her drink! Evalyn heard the girl scoff beside her and slipped up to the bar, purposely bumping her a little in the process.
Meredith’s frown darkened, aside from the general rudeness she didn’t understand why this woman’s presence irritated her so, nor why she just had to bump her back - tit for tat. But the mere thought of backing down, of ceding any kind of ground - even half an inch of booty space at the bar, stuck in her craw.
A low, threatening growl reverberated in the back of her throat. Some women couldn’t help it, they turned the feminine charm on and off like a goddamn faucet. Stroking the male ego like a fur coat, without a single thought as to the possible consequences of such behaviour. That their agreeable smiles might be interpreted as compliance or that something might be demanded in exchange for their so-called acts of gallantry. Meredith liked to leave them with no doubt and if they thought she was a bitch, all the better. They’d leave her the fuck alone then.
“Why don’t you just go the whole hog?” she muttered under her breath. “Flash him your tits, maybe he’ll buy you dinner too?"
Evalyn rolled her eyes, but turned her charming smile to the girl. “My dear, if I wanted dinner too, I would not need to flash my tits. I control zis situation, not 'im,” she glanced briefly at the man who'd made way for her and saw him chatting with a friend who was now openly watching her. Evalyn smirked, “quite contrary to what you might think.
“Now you...” Evalyn gave the girl an appraising look that mingled with pity. She looked ready to explode in a fury, but Evalyn wasn't concerned that she couldn't handle her. There was no full moon tonight. “You send an 'orribly mixed message. What do you want?” She paused briefly to accept her drink, two fingers of Ardbeg Uigeadail, from the female bartender, and sighed. “You are utterly clueless in so many ways, but you 'ave my pity.”
“Your pity?” Meredith snorted, this woman was damaged, especially if she really believed she was in control of anything. And if anyone was giving mixed signals here it was her. But that was typical of French women, wasn’t it? Saying yes when they meant no, and no when they meant yes? Pouting and sulking like little girls and expecting the whole world to pander to their whims. “Thanks, that means so very much!”
“Bonne nuit!” Evalyn ignored her dripping sarcasm, gesturing vaguely with her glass in salut, “You 'ave some interesting ones to come. Try to 'ave fun when you can.” She threw the girl a sly wink and slipped away from the bar before she thought she might suffocate. The single malt scotch helped only a little to kill the surrounding air, but she meant to scour her throat good, far, far away. Which bar was Sebastian attending tonight?
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
| 2021-05-15_evalyn_book_launch_party_dress.jpg | 30.81 KB |
21:03 Alison and Evalyn
Evalyn was starting to feel somewhat more in control of herself now. The last of her Ardbeg slid down her throat, its smooth, pleasant burn lingering with a strong taste of hickory smoked bacon. Sometimes there was nothing more satisfying than a good Scotch, straight up with nothing fancy.
Sebastian was leaning against the bar beside her – apparently he had the night off tonight, but decided to come anyway for the event. “Can I get you another one?” he asked genially as she placed her glass down, his eyes smoking. No work to preoccupy him tonight!
Evalyn smirked back at him and poked a finger on his chest. “Non, merci mon cher, you would get me too drunk before the evening 'as even started!” His look said he didn't mind, but she pushed herself up off her seat to end further discussion. When he started to follow her, however, she held up a hand and lowered her voice, “Stay where you are. I will find you again.” She winked, then turned to leave him standing there with her empty glass. After a couple of steps, however, she paused and turned back to him. “Actually... you can get me anozzer drink. I will enjoy it wiz you later.”
She left him completely that time and glided off into the crowd. Evalyn was still curious to meet this author, Lucinda Graves. Jasmin had recommended she read her book and that she might enjoy it from what she heard, and though books weren't really Evalyn's thing, she couldn't put it down! Excepting Jasmin herself, it was a nice change from the real demons who weren't nearly half as alluring. Yves had made fun of her for reading it, but then she found the book also made an excellent club.
She didn't have to wonder long before a brilliant blue caught her eye near the restrooms and drew her attention, and once caught, the dress held it. That had to be the author – she looked similar to the woman in the cover of her book at least.
Evalyn put on her most charming smile and made her way over.
“Bonjour! You are the wonderful Lucinda Graves, oui?”
For just a few moments, Alison had managed some peace and quiet in the ladies’ room. She’d finished her first drink, having nursed it for some time, and the couple of minutes alone in the bathroom had done much to fortify her for the next hour of the party. She’d learned to take these things one hour at a time – it was the only way to retain her sanity amidst the scores of strangers. All she had to do now was track down another mojito and she’d be set.
It was while on this mission that the French-accented voice stopped her in her tracks. She turned and flashed her best smile at the young woman who faced her. “Why yes, I am. How are you doing?”
“Very well, merci.” Evalyn looked over the other woman's outfit and had to compliment her. “You are stunning! I 'ave seen your photo in my copy of your book, but you are even more beautiful in real life. I love your dress!”
“Oh, thank you. I must say, you look fantastic as well. I’ll bet you’ve turned a head or two in here already.” From the corner of her eye Alison caught sight of Sven surrounded by yet another bevy of beautiful girls and wondered how long it would be before his tastes turned to the Continental. About half a second after he saw this woman, she figured.
“I’ve met so many new fans here tonight. It’s humbling to see how many people like the books.” And it really was. Alison knew how lucky she was to be able to live this life. She had to remind herself of this at the times when keeping up the Lucinda façade became tiring.
“Merci! I did enjoy your book quite a bit, al'zo I 'ave to admit, I 'ave only read your latest so far.” Evalyn apologized with a small shrug, but continued smiling. “My friend, Jasmin, actually recommended zat I read it before coming. Now I believe I am 'ooked! I shall 'ave to read ze rest!” Yves and his mockery be damned!
Evalyn sighed. This woman was quite pleasant, but she didn't seem nearly as gothic as she'd assumed she would be. “May I ask: what made you write about vampires?”
For a moment Alison almost gave her usual glib reply, but just then spotted Pablo out on the balcony and almost in spite of herself she found herself saying, “I met a man, years ago. He said something about vampires to me in connection with an event… well, that’s not really important. We dated for a while, but he had his work and I had mine and we sort of drifted apart. But the idea of vampire stories stuck with me. People love to read about them. They’re dark, mysterious, terrifying, sexy. And best of all, they’re imaginary. So as a writer I can make up all sorts of stuff about them. Although I did spend a stupid amount of time researching vampire myths and legends. There’s such a variety, it’s hard to pick which version to go for.”
She chuckled. “And then, of course, once I got to book two I had to include werewolves. The zombies showed up in book three… You know how it goes. Once you start down the path of supernatural fiction, it seems every branch ends up in there sooner or later. The vampires have always been the mainstay, though.”
Evalyn chuckled with Lucinda, she hadn't expected quite the detailed explanation, but she felt grateful for the honesty. Made it much easier to talk.
“Per'aps you should 'ave a Chatuman or two in your next book as well,” she joked when Lucinda finished. At the woman's polite but confused look, Evalyn waved her hand in dismissal. Bad joke. “Just some random demon I 'ad 'eard of once. I sink it is more of a French sing.”
Evalyn suppressed her embarrassment and resumed her smile, “'As zis man ou planted zese ideas ever come back to claim royalties?” This felt like a much safer joke than the last. Evalyn didn't much fancy explaining Chatuman to the woman, no matter how pleasant she was to talk to. Evalyn felt she'd be more embarrassed than anything else to have her kind published like that. She'd never hear the end of it from Yves!
No. You would not.
“Not royalties, as such. But we did recently bump into each other again. You know, I think the old spark never quite died.” Alison tried to spot Pablo again over the woman’s shoulder, but couldn’t see him on the balcony anymore.
“And I’m afraid I’ve never heard of this French demon. I’ll have to look them up; I’m always on the lookout for new ideas. Giving me ideas is a great way to end up on an acknowledgements page,” she grinned. “Though for that, you’d have to actually tell me your name,” she added with a wink. “Now, Chatuman… how do you spell that?”
Merde! Evalyn cursed inwardly for getting caught up in niceties. She racked her brains, trying to think of any dignified way she could get out of giving this woman ‘new material’. “Uh... 'ow do you spell it? I uh... can not be too sure, but....”
Yves! Aide moi!
“I sink it's....”
Désolé, mais Yves n'est pas ici maintenant!
Con! That man was insufferable. However, just as Evalyn was about to lay into him with a few more choice words, an idea struck her. Bien sûr!
“Uh... S-H-A... ah...” Evalyn continued repeating the word softly trying to find other alternate letters that were close enough to the mark, “D, zen double O... M-A-N.” Evalyn mentally congratulated herself, refrained from sighing in relief and instead pulled an apologetic smile to her face, “I do not expect you will find much zo. It is a very obscure sing.” She held out her hand, “My name is Evalyn, by the way.”
Looking for something else to quickly change the topic, Evalyn recalled Lucinda peering past her shoulder as if looking for someone, then turned to look herself. “Is your muse 'ere tonight?”
With no small amount of amusement at the woman’s antics, Alison took the proffered hand. “Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Evalyn.” She made a mental note of the spelling given for the demon, but resolved to check alternatives. Evalyn hadn’t seemed too sure, that was certain, and if it was of French origin she would have expected a C-H beginning for the ‘sh’ sound.
“As for my ‘muse’…” She nodded. “He’s here somewhere. Hopefully getting me another strawberry mojito. My first appears to have evaporated.”
“Ah...” Evalyn nodded sagely, “Oui. It is a common evil zat troubles us all. Myself, I 'ave a drink waiting for me somewhere.” She smiled with a distant look as she thought of Sebastian and the fun they might still have. Jasmin did have a gloriously wonderful club filled with a many dark corners.
“Well,” Evalyn continued, refocusing on Lucinda, “I am sure you 'ave many more people wishing to see you tonight, but it 'as been a pleasure.” She gently took the author’s shoulders and passed a faint kiss by either cheek. As expected with most Americans, Lucinda stiffened slightly at the gesture, but Evalyn liked the woman and it was a common courtesy. “Per'aps we will see each ozzer again before ze night ends.”
Alison smiled as warmly as she could, ashamed at having given in to her insecurities even for that brief second. She was so used to being hugged and kissed by strangers, why the sudden stiffening when Evalyn did it? She had no real explanation, but dismissed the aberration as being merely the cumulative effect of the evening’s encounters.
“I’m sure we’ll see each other about. Especially if you’re a friend of Jasmin’s. She makes a wonderfully gracious host, I must say,” Alison said, gesturing around at the club. “This is perfect. And I do believe I need to go in search of that mojito.”
21:04 Pablo and Logan on Balcony
“Logan, you don’t need to hover around all night,” Balthazar whispered, as he waved to yet another person he presumably knew. You had to give the man credit, he was an expert at working a room.
“Just doing my job sir.”
“I know, I know, but how am I supposed to meet any of these gorgeous ladies with a guy like you standing next to me?” The sorcerer had one of his mischievous grins plastered all across his face. He slapped Logan on the back and pointed discreetly to a red headed bombshell just a few feet away. “If we go talk to her, who do you think she’s going to be more interested in, an old man like me, or a young buck like you?” Logan smirked, he had a point. “Now give a player a chance Logan, go get a drink or something.”
The bodyguard was hesitant. “You sure?”
“Of course. This place is filled with publishing suits and literature groupies, not really the most dangerous crowd. Now I’m going to make my move, so skedaddle would you”.
“Alright, but I’ll be close”.
With Balthazar scurrying off after the vivacious redhead, Logan was left standing alone. *This is a bit awkward*. Not sure what to do with himself, he decided to get the lay of the land so to speak. The place was crowded, but Balthazar had a point, no one looked particularly dangerous.
"Sorry....excuse me....sorry about that." Logan did his best to wade through the mass of people, until he noticed a man going through an archway to a more sparse area of the club. Smart guy Logan thought, following him, hoping to get some respite from the crowds. As he passed through the threshold, he immediately regretted his decision. The man he had been following to salvation had stopped to lean against the wall. Even from behind, Logan immediately recognized him. The cop! Fantastic. Was this just another coincidence or was something going on Logan wondered.
Sandoval breathed easier now that he was out on the balcony, even though he didn't smoke, it was clear that this was usually a smoker's refuge. The beat of the music was still loud but it wasn't making his temples throb like it had been. He set his drink down on the railing and closed his eyes only to hear a voice behind him.
"Hey Pablo, right?"
Pablo turned and saw Logan, the strange man from earlier this week that had been attacked by the demons. He'd not stopped to get to know him because of Alison, but he still had questions. It’s was a party, it might be better to approach this as a social contact rather than a police matter. Pablo smiled and extended a hand.
"Pablo, tonight, Detective Sandoval most of the time. Logan, isn't it? Look don't look so stricken. I'm off duty. I had to come out here because if I hear that 'unh-chik unh-chik unh-chik' beat for another second I'm going to either have to start dancing or go postal."
“Not sure which one is worse,” Logan smiled, though he still remained a bit on edge. Balthazar’s warning about Sandoval rang in his ear, even though his own ‘spidey sense’ was definitely not tingling.
“Funny, I wouldn’t have pegged you as a Lucinda Graves fan,” he said, trying to make small talk. It was a tough situation - on one hand, he knew he couldn’t just excuse himself without drawing suspicion, but on the other, if he stayed and chatted, for sure the topic would turn back to Tuesday night.
Pablo laughed, "I'm not. Lucinda is shallow and vain, and I've not read any of her books. Alison, on the other hand, is someone I admire and am looking forward to getting a lot closer to in the coming days."
The cop and the reporter together? It was as if the coincidences were just compounding. “Well, tonight’s probably not the best date night is it,” Logan chuckled, taking a quick glance back at the crowded interior.
Pablo thought that Logan was glancing over his shoulder uncomfortably. Almost as if he was embarrassed to be seen with a cop. Pablo hated to push him for fear he'd run again, but he had a feeling that he'd be back before long.
Pablo leaned back and lifted his drink, "I didn't think it would be, but it has actually been very entertaining. I've been able to see another side of Alison I didn't know. I've been able to be an insider and an outsider tonight. You, for instance, why would you be at this party? What is your connection to either Lucinda Graves or Graveyard Club?"
The young man knew the cop wouldn’t buy it if he said he was a die hard Lucinda fan, but what was the other option? The club owner was a vampire so it wasn’t a good idea to connect himself to her either. Unconsciously, he began to rub his neck nervously. “I’m ah…I’m actually working tonight. I do security”.
Pablo nodded, lots of guys work security at clubs, especially if they are strong and have some training. "Nice work, especially tonight," Pablo tipped his glass toward a cluster of young, half-naked, heavily made-up ladies surrounding the blond giant who modeled the covers of Lucinda's books.
"Of course, if you were doing security, you'd be closer to her," Pablo pointed the other way towards Jasmin who was being a gracious hostess and greeting people as they came in, "or him," Pablo pointed at a darkened corner where Balthazar was lurking.
Pablo's eyes burned across the darkened room. He talked absently as if thinking aloud, "I spotted him a few minutes ago. I am trying to guess what his interest is in this particular event."
Then he returned his focus to Logan and the moment, "Never mind, It isn't your problem." He drained his drink, "I'm going to get another and maybe strafe the buffet again. Have fun."
21:27 Sven and Helen
Sven was in his element. As someone who appreciates the female form in all its variety, he was indulging in a veritable smorgasbord tonight. The evening had started out well enough with some licensed groping of the voluptuous author, and had gone from strength to strength since then. So far four women and one man had given him their phone numbers, entirely unsolicited. Right now he was holding court with three luscious young women who hung on his every word, his height advantage affording him an incredible view down their cleavages. Everywhere he looked he could see flashes of thigh, bosoms bulging out of tightly-laced corsets, and alcohol. Lots and lots of alcohol. All that remained was for him to figure out who he’d end up bedding tonight.
That’s when he saw her. Dark eyes, dark hair, pale skin. She seemed to glow from within as she crossed the room, her eyes fixed hypnotically on his as she approached. The noise of the party around him faded into the background and all he could hear was his beating heart. He wanted her. He needed her. Even if it meant his very life.
“I’m sorry, what?”
The girl beside him gave an exasperated sigh. A copy of Darque Desires lay open in her hands. “The book, silly. Weren’t you listening?” She stabbed a finger at a line in the book and read aloud. “She seemed the very essence of perfection, and as she drew near the scent of lilies wafted over him, enveloping his senses. Unable to break away from her gaze, in his mind’s eye he envisioned them entwined together, could all but feel the weight of her breasts against him.” The girl paused as she read ahead a few lines, silently. “Wow, this gets pretty hot. Is this the guy that’s meant to be you?”
Sven dragged his eyes away from an approaching woman who uncannily resembled the description that had just been read out to him and glanced down at the girl who’d been reading. She looked suddenly very mousy and plain in comparison to the dark-haired beauty he’d been watching. “Hmm? No, no. I’m supposed to be the vampire guy. He’s not in this bit. This is one of his vampire women who’s been sent to seduce the cop and kill him.”
“Oh.” The girl sounded disappointed, and started flipping through the pages. “Well, where do I find your sex scenes?”
Rolling his eyes, Sven excused himself from the group of girls, two of them glaring daggers at the one with the book. As he left them, he heard the exchange behind him.
“Sex scenes,” scoffed one.
“Yeah,” the other chimed in. “We could have had the man himself, you stupid…”
Their voices blended with the hubbub of a dozen other conversations and the constant thump, thump of the music. The woman he’d been watching hadn’t exactly made a beeline for him, but she’d definitely been getting closer. He intercepted her somewhere near the middle of the room. She stopped, gazed up at him with one hand on her hip and seemed to appraise him.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m Sven Tonn–”
“Yeah, I know who you are,” she interrupted in a brazen New York accent that was completely at odds with the way she looked. It took a little of the magic out of the meeting for him. “You’re the guy on the cover there. Have you ever met a real vampire?”
Sven’s face fell. This wasn’t the first time he’d come across someone who thought vampires were real. “No,” he said dismissively, already starting to turn away to find someone who, while they may not look nearly as alluring as this woman, would at least be sane.
“Nah, of course you haven’t. There’s no such thing, right?”
She moved, placing herself before him again. He had to admit, she was probably the most stunning woman at this entire party. The way her eyes seemed to bore into his, holding his gaze. If he didn’t know better, he’d think she really was the vampire woman from the book.
“No, there isn’t,” he affirmed, and the woman nodded.
“I’m Helen,” she said, her accent suddenly softening to something far more normal. “And I’m glad you’re not one of those nut jobs who thinks he really is a vampire. I had to be sure.”
Although he was a little taken aback by her methods, Sven had to admit that Helen had certainly attracted his attention. In more ways than one, as she stepped closer until they were all but pressed against each other. He could have his pick of most of this room, he knew, but Helen had apparently made it her mission that he choose her. And frankly, he wasn’t about to argue. He slipped his hands about her waist, letting one drop to cup the cheek of her arse.
“Easy now, lover boy,” Helen purred. “Not out here in the middle of the floor. Let’s find someplace quiet.”
He made no protest as she led him to a dimly-lit booth. He made even less protest when she pushed him into the far corner and practically clambered into his lap. And protesting was the last thing on his mind when she pressed her lips to his, even though she was curiously cool to the touch. He explored her body with his hands, growing bolder as Helen not only didn’t dissuade him but began her own examination of him.
For her part, Helen was tired of docile meat. She abided by Jasmin’s policy simply because it was expedient to. But her baser appetites needed to be sated, and tonight was a perfect opportunity to indulge a little. She experimented with the merest nip at Sven’s throat. He twitched, but didn’t object. If anything, his response was encouraging. She felt a definite surge of interest in certain parts. Oh good… She’d had a feeling, when she chose this one, that he might enjoy a little rough play.
“Hmm, you taste good,” she murmured in his ear. Unbidden, her game face transformed her from beauty to beast, but Sven had his face buried against her, nuzzling her neck, and was in no position to see it. She squirmed against him and bit in earnest. Sven’s brief yelp of shock was lost in the general hubbub of the party, and Helen was careful to take only a small amount.
Ah, but taking the blood of someone who wasn’t a willing sheep – that was ambrosia. Part of her wanted to take it all, but she restrained herself. Jasmin would tie her to the roof at dawn if she did that. So she lapped at the crimson trickle, glad that she’d at least had the presence of mind to make the bite low on Sven’s neck – practically at his shoulder. It would be easy for him to cover up until it healed. Next time she’d have to make sure it was somewhere that wouldn’t show at all.
Hmm. Next time. Was she seriously considering a ‘next time’? Well, and why not? He was young and strong, very virile, and his blood tasted sweet and exciting. Yeah, she could deal with a next time. She sat up, her face returning to normal, and looked down at Sven as he lay back panting.
“What was that?” he gasped. “It was… wow. Weird, but it felt great.”
She stroked his face, her smile predatory. “I’m glad you liked it. We should do it again sometime.”
His eyes fluttered open and fixated on her bodice where it lay partly open, her breasts almost spilling completely out of her dress. “Oh yes,” he agreed. “That, and much more, I hope…”
21:33 Pablo vs Balthazar
Pablo looked into the alcove where Balthazar chatted to a pair of women. One of them looked barely seventeen. That old letch, Pablo thought darkly, I wonder if he’s using some sort of glamour on them. Or a talisman. Possibly a potion in the drinks?
He looked down into his empty glass. His fifth. He made a disgusted face at both himself and his quarry. With the way the booze was flowing tonight he didn’t need a potion to make those girls interested. He just needed a smooth line. Pablo fingered the badge. In his pocket. He’d promised to behave, relax, be a date and not the cop tonight.
But he’d been neglecting Alison most of the evening. He’d been lurking in the dark corners and around the food like a loser because this wasn’t his kind of place. He would have been more comfortable in an Irish pub or an Italian restaurant. He wanted to be listening to a folk-rock band in a coffee shop somewhere with Alison not tarted up at a dance club with Lucinda.
And the more he thought about it the less satisfied with the situation he became. And then he was standing next to Balthazar. Sandoval snapped his fingers and the two girls looked at him. He waved at them and they blinked dazedly. “Hi Ladies, “ he said flashing a badge, “Do either of you have ID? I’d understand if you had to scuttle back to your coats to get some.”
They looked nervously at each other and then left without another word. Balthazar turned to face Pablo. His brow was knitted and he was not smiling. “Detective,” he said in a low tone, “you seem to have interrupted my conversation. How rude of you.”
“Sorry, Balthy, I didn’t know you had brought your grandchildren with you. I’ll be more considerate in front of the kiddies next time. Wouldn’t want to set a bad example or anything.”
“In that case, Detective, I’ll make sure that you live to have some seeing as you seem so eager to raise them right.”
Sandoval could feel the buzz leaving as the adrenaline began to surge through his system, “Was that a threat, Mr. Romano? I’d hate to make a scene while we are both having such fun.”
Balthazar moved a step closer. His shoes were practically touching Sandoval’s. The two men stood stick-straight and looked into each other’s eyes which were mere inches away. Neither man wanted to provoke the other by leaning in, but neither was willing to back down first.
Sandoval was keenly aware of where Balthazar’s hands were. He didn’t want to risk the mage casting a spell or something. Balthazar as well was waiting for Sandoval to make an aggressive move so he’d have an excuse.
A perfectly manicured hand slid between them. Both men looked into Jasmin's ice-blue eyes. "Gentlemen, the booze and the food is free, but I will tell you that starting trouble tonight will cost you both...dearly."
Balthazar took the hand and kissed it almost tenderly and wandered away. Jasmin nodded and turned to Sandoval who just glared then turned and stomped away.
21:35 Logan and Meredith
Tonight was turning out to be just too weird. First the reporter, then the cop...It was like the fates were playing a trick on him. *I need a drink.* As he finished pushing his way through the crowd, Logan's face dropped. *You’ve got to be kidding me.* Standing there, with a drink in hand, was the girl from the park, *The Harpee*, he cringed.
Not that she looked at all the same as before, in fact, he had to take a moment to be absolutely sure. For a start she was wearing the tiniest dress he’d ever seen, the fabric clinging in all the right places like a second skin, then there were the heels that just made her legs seem endless… actually she looked pretty damn hot. Not that Logan was fooled. He knew that behind that soft, attractive exterior was a cold, angry dragon woman. Stopping in his tracks, he debated whether to just turn around and avoid the situation – but avoiding conflict was just not in his nature. Moving closer in, he saddled up to the bar next to her. “So how’s the knee doing?”
Meredith had nearly choked on the olive in her martini when she saw they guy... the asshole who'd not only nearly crippled her, skinned her elbow and gave her one monster headache - he'd also abandoned her in the middle of Central Park. It had taken her two hours and half a pack of Tylenol to get home, she'd missed two days of lectures not to mention work. *Fucking hell...*
Their eyes met briefly and she knew he'd recognised her. Swiftly she turned around, gulping down the rest of her martini, hoping he would go away… but sure as hell he came right up to her!
At his query Meredith turned around, piercing him with an icy glare. "Like you give a damn," she snarled, her earlier frustration at being ditched by Gail and having that catty French bitch talk to her like a piece of shit burned as hotly as the martini in her stomach. "D'you have any idea how long it took me to get home after you just deserted me? Thank god someone with a little more chivalry arrived or I'd probably still be on that bench right now."
Logan met her gaze without flinching. The claws were out instantly and he guessed it wouldn’t be long before she started to breathe fire. "More chivalrous," he said with a 'hmph'. "Not quite how I remember it going down. I was trying to play the knight in shining armour, but you pretty much accused me of sexual harassment. For the record, I was just being nice."
Abruptly, the bartender arrived, cutting their conversation short. "What'll it be handsome?" she said, leaning over the bar so Logan could get a good view of her hefty cleavage.
Logan cast Meredith a smug smile, before turning back to the waitress. "I'll have a gin tonic and the lady here will have...what's your drink of choice? I'm guessing the blood of the innocent?"
Meredith rolled her eyes. “Still persisting with the comedy routine, I see?” she turned to the waitress who suddenly switched off the flirty cheeriness. “I’ll have another martini, extra dry.” Looking back at the guy she smiled sarcastically. “Obviously you’re a guy who’s easily pleased. That happen a lot in your world does it? Flash them that boyish grin, flex your muscles and,” she mimed a doe-eyed expression, fanning herself with her hand, “hey Handsome, can I get you anything? A drink? My number? Or maybe you’d let me have your babies?”
Logan chuckled – had to give her credit, the girl had a sense of humour.
The barmaid returned with both drinks, setting Meredith’s down with all the grace of an ox. “Need anything else?” she purred suggestively.
Taking out a twenty, Logan made a point of having their hands touch as he paid the girl. “I’ll let you know.” The bartender could hardly contain her squeal as she rushed off to another set of patrons.
Turning back to Meredith, Logan was more than a little pleased with himself. “Yeah, actually, that does happen a lot. And I can’t figure out why you seem to be immune,” he joked, knowing it would probably enrage her further.
Was he for real? “Of course not,” fumed Meredith from behind her fake smile, “it must be tough being God’s gift to all women, especially when one doesn’t fall instantly to her knees with gratitude the moment you grace her with your presence. Really, who do you think you are? Swaggering around, chest puffed up like some self-satisfied tomcat,” she made a show of imitating him, stomping her feet comically, “tossing your trust fund about the place and expecting everyone to just swoon at your feet simply because you’re good-looking.”
“So what you’re saying is you think I’m good looking?” Logan said, still sporting the cocky smile. For a moment, he literally thought the girl’s head would explode with rage. “You know, without even knowing me, you sure jump to a lot of conclusions. We’ve spent a total of maybe 10 minutes together, and you’ve already got me pegged as an arrogant, trust fund semi-rapist who bulldozes helpless girls in the park. So for your information,” he continued, counting off on his fingers, “Smashing into you in the park was an accident which I did apologize for, you’ve seen that I don’t need to sexually harass girls to get a date, and I’m not a trust fund brat spending his dad’s cash. I work for every penny I have, and I paid for your drink because, contrary to popular belief, I’m not a bad guy.” He practically huffed, as the tirade ended. “In fact, I’m only here tonight because I’m working”.
Meredith was thrown for a second, she perched on a bar stool then immediately regretted it when her already short dress rose even higher up her thighs. “A job where you flirt with waitresses and drink cocktails?” she queried with a quirk of her brow, tugging as discreetly as she could at the hem of her dress, “hardly working your fingers to the bone.”
There was really no getting through with this girl was there? So if that were the case…”I’m a stripper,” he said bluntly, doing his best to keep a straight face. “Yep, in about 15 minutes, I’m going to be lowered over the dance floor in a cage, wearing only a zebra print g-string. And Let me tell you, after the show you wont be saying I don’t work hard”.
Meredith felt a cool chill down her spine, but she quickly fought it down, taking a gulp of her fresh martini. He was just making a joke, there was no way he knew what she did to make ends meet. “Thanks for the warning, I’ll make sure I leave before the stray panties start flying.” She fished the olive from her drink and bit into it firmly. “I doubt I’d survive the stampede of insatiable women desperate to get their hands on your oiled up body.”
“Yeah, you should have seen the death toll at the last party I worked”. The girl was still as cold as the ice in his drink. “Well, you know I’m kidding, so don’t go plucking your eyes out just yet.” Taking a big gulp of the gin tonic, Logan set the glass down, not sure what else to say. “Anyways, as always, it’s been a pleasure. The name is Logan by the way. I figured you’d want to know what to call me in your dreams later,” he added with a sly wink as he prepared to join the massive crowds on the dance floor.
If she hadn’t just eaten her olive she would have pitched it at the back of his smug head. Logan. Figured. Pretentious name for the most arrogant, condescending guy she‘d ever… “Yeah,” she muttered, “when I’m cursing the day I ever met you.” Silently fuming, she slammed the cocktail stick on the bar and downed the last of her drink. *What a total, fucking ass…*
21:42 Logan and Pablo in the bathroom
Pablo slammed the door of the bathroom hard enough to make two of the men at the urinals jump. That rat bastard, he fumed, How dare he threaten the innocent people at this party in a game of my dick is bigger? I'd win, anyways.
He splashed water on a towel and wiped his face, the cool feeling on his hot face eased his nerves. He'd had a drink or two too many, he thought. He should know better than to mix work and pleasure. He was here to enjoy himself and goading Balthazar Romano didn't accomplish anything useful.
Logan was still smiling to himself, picturing The Harpee’s face, red and ready to blow. Did that girl have a chip on her shoulder or what? But she’s got a great pair of legs….
Squeezing through another set of Lucinda fans, Logan pushed open the bathroom door, only to once again run into the cop - and he did not look happy.
“Hey buddy, everything ok?”
Pablo sighed and straightened himself. "Yes, I'm fine. I just let some...thing get to me. I needed a second to cool off. I'm good now."
He forced himself to smile at the young man, "I'm under control," he said, but he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince himself or Logan.
“You know how people get with a few drinks in them, don’t worry about it”.
He couldn’t help but wonder why his boss was so adamant that he stay away from Pablo. Balthazar wasn’t a bad guy, so why exactly did he have beef with this cop? One thing Logan knew is that his gut told him Lt. Sandoval was one of the good guys.
“You know, I never really got to thank you,” Logan began awkwardly, already semi regretting the words that came out of his mouth. He was definitely opening a can of worms, but some things needed to be said. “Had you not been there on Tuesday night…” he let the words trail off.
Sandoval could feel the alcohol fogging his mind again, "What? Don't sweat it, us humans have to stick together. They are out there, you know? Out to get us."
He felt ill. Something he'd eaten, drank, or put up with tonight was having its say.
"'Scuse me!" Sandoval mumbled and bolted for a stall.
The rush of food and liquor was out in a flash. A second heave finished the deal. "Ugh, I should know better," he said flushing away the evidence. His mind was clearing.
Logan was caught a little of guard by Pablo’s sudden turn for the worse - then again, probably a blessing in disguise. He didn’t want to dwell on Tuesday’s events.
“Buddy, you alright?” he called at Pablo.
A mumbled, “Fine,” came from the stall. He slipped out nonchalantly.Man, this night is turning out to be fucking weird.
Sandoval spit a few times to clear the bits in his mouth before heading back to the sink to clean up. “This isn’t you, Juan Pablo,” He said to the face in the mirror, “What has gotten into you?”
He made a final check before he, too, exited the restroom.
21:44 Meredith and Cadee
“When will I learn not to count on lil’orphan Annie to stay put?” Cadee asked to herself while she once again scanned the room for her friend, seeing no sign of her. She had left her at the bar about fifteen minutes earlier, while she went to the restrooms, with the firm promise to wait there.
“What the hell, I can play disappearing girl too,” she answered immediately, and started looking around again, but this time searching for something completely different, trying to decide whether or not she wanted to grab somebody's attention tonight. But nothing, or no one, really stood out to her, she was about to get up and start dancing by herself, when suddenly, something did catch her eye.
*Is that Meredith?* She looked at a girl standing by the bar, and had to look twice to confirm her identity. The brunette was wearing a revealing one shoulder mini dress and was probably wearing very high pumps, for she looked taller from the distance. She looked great, actually. *Oh, yes. It’s her all right, what a change!* She smiled, that was great; she had tried to get information on Meredith to no avail, and the girl hadn’t returned to the Sláinte since their meeting.
Then she saw the man she was talking to, and her smile grew. * Logan!* Well, that was a surprise. He looked great too, in a black suit and white shirt. Elegant. But then she frowned, they were talking in earnest, a little too close for her liking. Damn, Cadee, you don’t own him; not even know him, actually. You have no saying in how close he stands to pretty girls like Meredith.
“I have to talk to Meredith anyway,” Cadee said aloud, and started moving toward the two, while she worked at erasing her frown and smiling again.
Meredith was still staring after the guy - Logan - as he wove his way through the crowds. Maybe if she glared hard enough she could make laser-beams shoot from her eyes and zap him in the ass - it was a nice ass, she had to give him that, even with his head stuck so far up it. And now she was staring at his ass… perfect, if he saw her doing that his ego might just ignite and take out a couple of emo’s.
”The name is Logan,” she muttered in a mocking tone, ”figured you’d want to know what to call me in your dreams later… as if!”
Snorting irritably, she rummaged around in her purse for another one of those drinks tickets Coat Check Girl had given Gail. Like she’d needed sweetening up, they were probably already making out under a pile of jackets and fur stoles. Not that she begrudged Gail her fun, Meredith just wished it didn’t mean she got ditched in the process. Now if she could just get a couple of minutes with Lucinda Graves, aka Alison Scruggs, investigative reporter at the New York Times… it might not be a total waste of an evening. Of course, the likely hood of getting the bestselling novelist on her own were practically nil…
“Hello, Meredith,” Cadee said, reaching the girl at last. The club was getting crowded and crowded as time passed, quite a success. Meredith raised her head brusquely and Cadee noticed she had surprised her. “Wow, sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Oh… wow…” it took Meredith a moment to place the girl, but stunning blondes with dazzling smiles weren’t all that common, even in New York - at least, not genuinely pretty ones anyway. “Cadee… sorry, no, I was just…” she waved a hand dismissively, finally pulling out a couple of drinks tickets from her purse. “Can I get you a drink? If I can get any service here, it’s certainly not as good as the Slainte.”
“Sure, thanks. And thanks. Although, to be honest, the Slàinte seldom gets this crowded…” She grinned, watching the packed room and pitying the personnel. “Thank God.”
She turned to Meredith again, she had somehow gotten the attention of the bartender who was taking her order. “A bloody Mary, please,” she asked. “So, what are you doing here? It’s been a surprise.”
“A friend dragged me here, actually, the one I was telling you about? She’s had a major crush on the Coat Check Girl who works here. Tonight was her night to pounce.” Meredith grinned, it was easy talking to Cadee, she was just one of those people that, despite being utterly gorgeous didn’t actually seem to know it. It made a nice change from Mr Tall Dark and Arrogant. “This place is a bit too Goth, not really my kind of thing. I mean, a guy actually introduced himself as Lestat. Seriously, someone should tell people that vampires aren’t real, know what I mean?”
Cadee laughed, amused. She always found it quite ingenuous that people could actually live their whole lives and not know that monsters really existed. Then she sobered up, remembering who she was talking to. Not such happy life for her, unfortunately.
“Well, I came because of my friend too. She’s totally into this vampire fashion. In fact, you could mistake her for a vampire, I’m sure.” She leaned towards her a little, “and don’t tell her I told you, but Anne chose Anne Millet as her stage name because millet is a cereal.” At Meredith confused look, she explained. “Anne Rice, you know?”
“Ah, clever…” *in a geeky sort of way* Which was cool, Meredith had been known to go geek herself from time to time. At least she hadn’t offended Cadee with the Goth remark, she’d slightly cringed when she realised what she’d said.
“So you’re not a Darquette?” she gestured towards the display of books and where a huge cardboard cut-out of the protagonist stood. “I heard Lucinda Graves was gonna be here, but I haven’t seen her yet. Probably surrounded by fellow novelists and executive types. Bodyguards too I hope, by the look of some of her fans, she’d need them just to make sure she lasts the night in one piece.”
“Not really, as I said, I was as dragged here as you were. Lucinda Graves is around, all right… we chatted a little with her when Anne and I got to the party. And I met her at the Slàinte the other day, she was making notes. You know she’s a reporter too, don’t you?”
“Yeah, she was a guest lecturer last year at NYU,” Meredith picked up her drink - another martini. She’d rather have a beer, but it was a cocktail kind of event. Even though it was her first (and probably last) book launch party, it didn’t seem like the sort of occasion where you chugged back on a bottle of Sam Adams.
“I read her piece in the paper last week. I was so beat I missed out on that story, of all the dumb luck, right?”
“Oh, I didn’t know you were a reporter. So that’s why you’re around the Slainte so often? To catch cop’s talk?” Cadee smiled, “and I thought it was because of the great service!”
Meredith felt her cheeks redden. She hadn’t meant to say that, it had just sort of slipped out. She narrowed her gaze slightly, obviously Cadee was more intelligent than the blonde stereotype would have people believe, sharp too, coming to such an accurate conclusion from such a throw-away statement.
“Ah, no, not a reporter. At least not yet… not at all if I keep being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And… well I figured a cop bar was as good a place as any to pick up a juicy lead. Not that it’s worked yet.” She hesitated a moment, stirring her drink with her olive. “You’re not gonna blow my cover are you?”
“My lips are sealed,” she promised. This was great, she thought, realizing there was a way she could guarantee the girl would go back to the bar time and again. Besides, she really liked Meredith, and not just as a wolf-fur-coat prospect. “Actually, I may be able to help you. I do catch cop’s talk, you know? I should, working there 24/7! Well, not really, I don’t live at the place, but you catch my drift.”
“For example, that guy you were talking with… Logan? He was the Good Samaritan of the other night, you know?” Cadee added, trying to sound casual. Then she went on, wanting to know, but a little afraid of the answer. “Is he your friend?”
*What?* Meredith nearly choked on her martini. She really had to stop drinking when people were talking. “Logan?” her voice was full of disbelief, but really, was it that surprising? The guy fancied himself as some kind of knight in shining armour, it wouldn’t surprise her if it turned out he’d started that fire, just so he could rush in to save the day and be congratulated on being such an all-round wonderful guy.
“My friend? I wouldn‘t call him that…” Meredith wanted to laugh but then she probably would choke. Instead she took a slow drink and sighed. “You know how some guys you just can’t stop thinking about? You know, they make you smile and feel excited when they walk in a room? And when they’re talking all you can think about is what their lips taste like and how much you want them to just reach out and touch you?”
Cadee swallowed. *Oh, my, this is so much worse than I thought.* And she didn’t know whether she referred to Meredith’s words or how she went all soft inside when she applied them to Logan.
“Well, yes. I do.” She finally said.
Meredith put down her drink and folder her arms over her ample chest. “Right. And then there are those other guys that you just want to drop an anvil on from a great height?” She nodded in the general direction of the dance floor where Logan had headed and a scowl wrinkled her forehead. “Well he would fall into the latter category.”
Cadee didn’t realize she had been holding her breath till she couldn’t find any air to laugh. “Come on, he’s not that bad!” she found herself defending him when she could actually speak. “He helped me with a bothersome drunkard the other day, and he was pretty battered up after the incident with those fire loving morons. I think he’s cute.”
“Sure, he’s cute and doesn’t he just know it? You should have seen him flirting with the waitress! It was… just typical! Guys like him think they can get whatever they want just by spinning a line and flashing a charming grin.” She finally looked at the girl, *Oh no…* she’d seen that moony eyed expression before and it wasn’t good. “Oh Cadee, don’t waste your time on Mr Wonderful, he’s the fuck em’ and chuck em’ type if ever I saw it. Believe me, I know and you don’t wanna end up just another notch on his no doubt already whittled down bedpost.”
Cadee blushed, embarrassed.
“Was I so obvious?” She asked, wondering if Meredith was right. He had flirted with her at the bar, and he was pretty enough to be lucky with girls. But he also had helped her (not that she needed help, but he didn’t know that) and intervened trying to help some unknown guy -she had not learned anything that contradicted that version, at least, and she had paid attention. Besides, two could play that game too, she wasn’t a saint herself. Not that she notched her bedpost up, but…
“I’ll be careful, Meri, I promise.” She looked at Meredith’s stern face and smiled, trying to reassure her. She knew the girl meant well, but she wanted to change the topic. “About the cop’s thing, what do you say? Want me to tell you if I learn something?”
Meredith was more than happy to change the subject, no doubt Logan would get a kick out of thinking they had nothing better to talk about. “You’d do that? I mean, you wouldn’t get into any trouble would you?”
“I don’t think so, as long as you don’t cite your source,” Cadee smiled. “I’m sure I could get something juicy for you.”
“Excellent,” Meredith was genuinely excited now, her first official, unofficial source! “I don’t have a cell but I could give you my pager…” she rummaged in her purse again, jotting down the number on her trusty notepad and tearing it out. “I really appreciate this, maybe next time I’ll scoop Lucinda Graves.”
Meredith’s excitement was contagious, and she grinned as she took the piece of paper. “You actually may,” she said.
22:17 Meredith and Alison
This party was gonna be a total blow out, Meredith could just tell. After Cadee had excused herself and Meredith had knocked back her fifth free martini of the night, she’d not even had so much as a glimpse of the infamous author. Yeah, total bust. Gail was gonna have to do better than pizza, beer and a movie. Maybe a steak dinner, and margaritas, lots of margaritas, and a double feature.
Meredith tossed another canapé into her mouth and turned the page. She’d decided to see what the fuss was all about, especially seeing as there was a display full of books. When Alison had come to talk at NYU last year she’d done a little background research, that’s when she’d discovered that the Pulitzer nominated journalist was also bestselling novelist Lucinda Graves. She’d picked up one of her books, Darque Shadows but it hadn’t really been her thing. Apparently this was book number six in the same series… she couldn’t say the plot had improved any.
That wasn’t fair really, the writing was good, colourful and with a lively pace. But geez… what was with all the sex? Was the woman obsessed or what? Meredith snorted as she was launched into yet another steamy scene where the protagonist seemed to have an endless stamina. It was a good job vampires weren’t real, no man could compete with this guy. Meredith chuckled, her fingers blindly reaching for another of the spicy crab crostini.
“Oh man,” she snorted between giggles, “geez… I know it’s fiction but… bloody hell!”
“It’s not to everyone’s taste, that’s for sure. You wouldn’t be the first person who thought it was all a bit far-fetched.”
Alison was used to hearing her work being derided as outlandish and derivative. Since the surge in supernatural fiction over the past couple of decades there was little new to write about. But it sold books. By the truckload. And book six… well, the title wasn’t named Darque Desires for nothing. After five books of build up Donatien and Rachel had finally given in to their lust.
It would have bothered her once to hear someone giggling over her book, but these days it water off a duck’s back. So she paused by the young woman, clearly a little in her cups, and smiled warmly. “You don’t have to force yourself to read it, if you don’t want to. I really don’t mind.”
Meredith turned and copped a veritable eyeful that her pal Gail would have drooled over. And silk, lots of blue slippery silk. Meredith blinked, juggling the book with what must have been her sixth martini of the night, though in all honesty she’d stopped counting after the third.
“Right,” she mumbled awkwardly. She didn’t make a habit of getting drunk, at least not in public. That was the trouble with cocktails, you never realised just how much you’d knocked back until your head was woozy and the room was spinning. Meredith wasn’t quite at that point yet, but as she turned to the woman, the book slid out of her hands and landed on the floor with a loud THUD. Her cheeks reddened instantly as several people turned to look. Meredith dove for the book, glass still in hand, not even realising how her dress rode up even higher and certainly must have given a few of the other guests a first-class view of her ass as she scrambled around on the floor to retrieve it.
“You’re into this stuff huh? I mean, sure you’d have to be, but vampires, werewolves and an army of zombies? Really, isn’t it all a bit… trashy? Like-” Meredith picked up the book and finally got to her feet, getting her first proper look at the other woman. And she froze mid-sentence. Looking down at the book in her hands and turning it over to the picture of the author - Lucinda Graves. The same woman that stood in front of her now.
“Shit.” she swore, mortified beyond all belief. This was Lucinda Graves aka Alison Scruggs, respected reporter and Pulitzer nominee, and not only had she snorted and sneered over her book, she’d dropped it on the goddamn floor! “I mean, no, not that,” Meredith held her head, which suddenly felt very woolly. “I’m a…” her mind was blank, there was just nothing there. “Sorry,” she said finally with a sigh, “really, sorry Ms… Graves?”
Alison smiled. “Guilty as charged.” She glanced down at the book in the woman’s hand. “I’m willing to bet you’ve just read the descriptions in there of the earlier books, since the zombies only appeared in Darque Rising. If it’s the fantasy aspect that’s bothering you, at least they aren’t traditional shuffling undead. Unlike vampires and werewolves, there are real zombies in the world and I used those as my inspiration rather than the Romano model.”
She shrugged. “As for trashy, well… they pay the bills, and most people seem to like them. Just be grateful my vampires don’t sparkle,” she said with a grin. “But honestly, if it’s not your thing don’t worry about it. These books really aren’t to everyone’s taste.”
Taking a sip of her strawberry mojito, Alison examined the young woman. Perhaps she was the daughter of some dignitary at this party, or someone’s date. Her state of inebriation said to Alison that the woman was bored out of her skull, at any rate. “So if you’re not a fan of my books, who or what dragged you here tonight?”
Meredith was still cringing on the inside and fought against the martini-induced fog that threatened to turn her brain to mush. “A so-called friend had a, uh, thing…” and really it was all Gail’s fault, if she hadn’t ditched her she wouldn’t have run into that French bint, or Logan and she wouldn’t have drank nearly so much, or be in such a bad mood to bag the very book that was being launched.
“…with a girl who works here, she kinda blagged me an invite. I mean, yeah this…” she held up the book, “isn’t exactly my thing, but… you actually gave a guest lecture at NYU last year, on your career as an investigative reporter? I did a bit of research and found out that you were…” she held up the book with the picture of Lucinda Graves facing out, “also her.”
Alison grinned. “Ah, yes. My agent decided nobody would buy an urban fantasy written by an author named Scruggs, so we used the name Lucinda Graves. It’s amazing how many people think that’s my real name.” She glanced down at herself and made a wry face. “Or that I’m really this slutty in real life. It’s all part of the marketing, though.”
As grateful as Alison was for her success at writing – and selling – vampire romances, it was her career as a journalist that gave her the most satisfaction, and she was pleased to have met someone who was entering the field. “So, are you still at NYU or are you out working now? Have you written any pieces I might have seen? What’s your by-line?” She paused, aware that only about one word in two was making it through the woman’s alcoholic haze.
“Sorry,” she said, more slowly. “I get excited when I meet another journalist. I’ve been freelance for so long that I don’t get to mingle with them much anymore.”
*Wow, this is amazing!* Alison Scruggs of the New York Times was actually talking to her as a ‘fellow’ journalist. If she hadn’t been so tipsy and wearing six inch heels, Meredith might have done a little jig of happiness. Or maybe not.
“Bell,” she said finally, “my name, it’s Meredith Bell. But I doubt you would have seen it on any by-line, unless you read the university press. But I’m trying, you know, if I could just manage to be in the right place at the right time and not a day late and a dollar short. Like that fire, at the Slante bar? With the homeless guy? I was there that afternoon, and then all that kicked off a few hours later? Goddamn I was so fuc- er, disappointed I missed out on that one. I read your piece in the Post.”
“You were there?” Alison blinked and glanced over her shoulder to where, just an hour or so ago, she’d met up with the very subject of that news story. “What a coincidence. And yes, you’ll find that although most of the time it’s hard work and research that gets you a good story, sometimes one will just fall right into your lap. This time it was sheer luck that it happened when I was there and not you.”
She chuckled. “I was there on a date, but I always carry my recorder with me.” She fished into her small clutch purse and pulled out her digital recorder. “Even tonight – just in case. Rule number one: always be prepared for a story to break right under your nose.”
Meredith quickly dug around in her purse and whipped out her trusty notebook and pen. “Snap!” she said gleefully, “sort of, if not a little more primitive.”
Alison’s grin broadened. “Awesome. Primitive isn’t an issue. Technology’s just a tool. It’s our eyes and brains that make us reporters. Gods, listen to me! You don’t want to have another lecture tonight, I’m sure.”
As she put away her recorder, she grabbed one of her cards. Her real cards with her actual phone number on them, not her Lucinda Graves ones that only had contact details for Connie’s office. She started to hand the card to Meredith, but thought better of it and slipped it into the front of her notebook so that she wouldn’t lose it. “If you ever need help with anything, please give me a call. Sometimes a reporter can find themselves in a hairy situation. Don’t be afraid to contact me, okay?”
“Wow,” she hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but no doubt she looked suitably fan-girlish even if it was for a different reason to everyone else who met the famed author that night. Meredith wasn’t about to ask if she meant it, or anything like that. Besides, Alison hadn’t offered to introduce her or take her under her wing - which was good, because even though she wasn‘t above the odd helping hand, Meredith had made it this far on her own, she wasn’t about to take a free ride now. She wanted the rights to her own success. Even if it took another twenty years.
“I mean, thanks. Say, I don‘t suppose-” she had been about to ask about the moral implications in getting a story. The ‘hairy situation’ remark had made her think about Magdalena DeLuca, and how she’d broken into the girl’s home and rooted around in her belongings. Not to mention actually stealing some of them. But she was too late, someone had obviously decided she’d had her 15 minutes of fame with Lucinda Graves and her time was up. In mid-sentence in fact, as a mob of fans descended, their arms laden with books. Meredith was practically shoved aside as the group fought for their share of the author’s time.
“Ow! Fuckin’ hell! Hey!” Meredith scowled but finally relented, stepping back. She settled for giving Alison a little wave of thanks before she disappeared from view. Then she was gone.
22:30 Jasmin and Evalyn
Jasmin made her way through the crowd, not for the first time. Playing hostess through the evening went as it always did: you greeted, you talked, you monitored everything; nobody realized the work that went on even during. Half of her evening was spent directing staff to replenish this table or that one, or sometimes, getting involved making sure that a fight failed to happen. It meant drinking enough to become slightly tipsy, and in low moments like this, getting lost in more pleasant memories.
In this case, memories of having another young woman sat next to her, who only after they had to get up, did she realize had managed to take charge of virtually the entire conversation, save for inviting her to dinner. That, she considered a minor victory, but couldn't help feel that she must have been slipping. Especially if -
“Oh, I'm terribly sorry,” she said as she ran straight into another person, stopping, staring, and look turning into a genuine smile. “Evalyn, my friend! So glad you managed to get here tonight. How have things gone so far?”
Evalyn only had a moments irritation at being bumped before noticing the familiar face, then beamed in delight as she turned to regard her. “Jasmin! Look at you!” she said as she opened her arms to hug her friend and plant a kiss on either cheek, “I would say zat sings are going fairly well.” She smirked, glancing aside to where Sebastian was standing. On Jasmin's approach he gave a short, respectful bow. “I 'ave to say, even when zey are not working, some of your staff are most accommodating.” Evalyn winked at the man and turned back, ignoring Yves who was clawing at the back of her mind. “But what about you? You look... different. What 'as 'appened! You must tell me!”
She felt almost a bit overwhelmed, and probably looked it. Having to overcome her metabolism was one thing; but after a certain point... Ok, time to stop drinking for tonight. Still Evalyn received the same kisses on either cheek in return, with her taking a quite relaxed look. “Patience, my dear. I have a potential business partner here for you you should at least be aware of,” pointing out Balthazar across the room.
“And, a potential job for you,” she noted, mind racing with those details again, as it had, off and on. She would sort that out when she was sober, though now her smile grew more genuine, the implications gone. “I also have a date for tomorrow night, now.”
Evalyn glanced briefly at the gentleman Jasmin had indicated across the room, but at her friends last sentence, she lost any interest in potential work.
Smirking she gave Jasmin a playfully stern look over her glass, “You sink I care to 'ear about work when you 'ave a date?” she quirked her eyebrow and gestured absently to Sebastian who was still standing somewhere nearby, “Sebastian, dear, would you please get me anozzer drink? I fear I 'ave nearly finished zis one.” She wasn't watching to see if he obeyed her request, but she did inhale sharply as he stepped up close behind her to whisper assent in her ear and promise other things for the evening.
She watched him leave, hungry to have him back again, gripping her upper arms, but she took the opportunity she'd created to focus on Jasmin who was quirking an eyebrow of her own at the little exchange that took place. “'Ee is an excellent bartender.” Evalyn said simply to explain herself, then shook her self. “But tell me about you! Who is zis date?”
“Yes, he is. Not as good as the girl that I have to make... these,” she proclaims, holding up the glass with the remains of the latest Sling in it. She didn't fight the memory returning of earlier in the evening, and the promise of another night to come. “Her name is Connie. She's Lucinda Graves' agent... I suppose I should actually read Lucinda's books, now, shouldn't I?”
Jasmin let the thought trail off, finishing off her drink with a quite pleased look to her. “Bold, direct, and I realize this now, apparently able to direct me when I've been drinking. And also, a skilled kisser,” this last she added more softly, and a bit conspiratorially. “Tell you what. Come by my place... evening after next. Can tell you how it went, and then, we plan business.”
“Connie...” Evalyn repeated the name thoughtfully, then smiled, “I actually met Lucinda Graves earlier zis evening, but I did not see any Connie wiz her,” her grin turned teasing, “zat would not 'ave been, per'aps, because you 'ad already stolen 'er by zis stage?”
Jasmin got a quite thoughtful look to her. “You know, I'm not sure which of us stole the other... just that we spent some time getting along.” She cleared her throat a bit as she inwardly reminded herself that it had certainly been a while since she had a shot. “It is so good that you could make it, though. Aside from one or two minor inconveniences? This night seems to be going quite perfect. Nothing could ruin it at this point.”
“Oui,” Evalyn agreed, raising the remains of her drink. The evening was proving to be quite a pleasure indeed, and there was still more to look forward to!
I could ruin some sings for you, Eevie.
Why Yves! I can not imagine what you are talking about.
Evalyn's grin deepened as she toyed with Yves jealousy and continued to speak aloud- “To perfect nights and perfect companies!”
22:31 Chiedra at work
A long, rolling laugh erupted from the handsome, dark-haired man seated only a few feet in front of her, at a small table near the back of the dark, crowded club. Shifting her weight slightly from one foot to the other, Chiedra stood with her back to the wall, looking out over the table and into the crowd. Her eyes scanned the people milling about continuously as she watched for any trouble that might come her way. Ricky Chiang was an important young man, particularly to his father, Tommy, and as such his safety was important as well.
The Chiangs pretty much ran things in Chinatown nowadays, and as such, the family had an enemy or two who might at any time come crawling out of the woodwork. That was the exact reason Tommy was paying Chiedra so much to stand in the background of this soiree dressed in skintight black leather and just watch. She was Mr. Chiang’s insurance policy that his spoiled little prince would come home safe and sound after yet another evening of drunken debauchery. Chiedra had been guarding the heir apparent to the Obsidian Blades dynasty for almost three months now. In that time, she’d watched him pickling his liver on a nightly basis and shopping for the STD of the month as well, but she’d yet to see any real danger.
As far as Chiedra was concerned, Tommy Chiang thought a little too highly of the value of both his spoiled, arrogant first born son, and as an extension of that, of himself. But who was she to question or judge? Chiang’s money was just the way she liked it, large and timely. As long as he kept paying her, she’d keep wasting her time and talent standing behind this blowhard while he wasted daddy’s ill-begotten gains on booze, drugs, and women. Funny, actually, that. Ricky was spending the family wealth on the very things that had generated it to begin with.
Chiedra’s waist length black hair was tied up in a tight knot at the top of her head. The glamour spell attached to the silver charm bracelet she wore made her skin appear as a warm chocolate brown, and tinted her eyes to a similar shade. Her tattoos were invisible in this guise, as well. For tonight’s launch party, she’d dressed in skin tight leather, a catsuit with low-heeled black leather boots adorned with matte silver buckles. Similar buckles and zippers decorated her clothes. She felt the overall effect was just dominatrix enough to blend in, while still allowing her the freedom to move should things get hairy.
Chiedra’s attention was drawn to her charge when he reached out and hooked an arm around her leather clad waist, sidling a little too close to her body for comfort. She sneered down at him as he winked lasciviously at his tablemates. “She’s here to guard my body, right, boys,” he said. “You really need to get a little closer to do the job right, Chiedra.”
“I’m good right where I am, Mr. Chiang,” Chiedra’s voice was low and smoky. She felt the eyes of all the psychophants at the table as they watched Ricky run his hand up and down the side of her body. Chiedra barely restrained the urge to throw the creep across the room. “Being mauled wasn’t in the job description as your father explained it to me.”
The pointed reminder about who really paid the bills was meant to subtly put Ricky back in his place. Chiedra didn’t want to alienate the kid. His father’s money was good, and he was just overindulged enough to make her life difficult. On the other hand, Chiedra did have a real job to do, and while she was distracted by Ricky taking liberties, that job wasn’t getting done. The other men at the table chortled at Chiedra’s put-down. Chiedra saw Ricky’s eyes narrow as he looked at them, and the hand on her waist tightened painfully. She rolled her eyes inwardly, even as she was carefully extracting herself from Ricky’s inappropriate embrace. *Tactfully,* she thought before she spoke again, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. *This job will be enough to pay for that consultation with Brisbane. He may actually have the power to make something happen this time.*
“I’m sorry, Ricky,” she said, in a simpering tone. “I just want to keep you safe. No one wants anything bad to happen. And you’re so distracting, I can’t keep my mind on the job. Couldn’t you sit back down with your friends and enjoy the party, please?”
Ricky smirked at the other men. He deliberately rubbed his body against hers as his hand caressed her ass. Chiedra seethed silently, while maintaining an appropriate look of chagrin. “Maybe next time, sweetheart,” Ricky replied. He slid back into his seat, beckoning for a passing waiter to stop for another round of drinks. Chiedra leaned back against the wall, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible, not only to avoid being noticed by potential hitmen, but also to avoid any more amorous attention from the asshole she’d been hired to protect.
.jpg)
22:35 Cadee and Logan
Logan, descended to the lower level of the Graveyard, looking for some respite from the crowded party, only to find an equal amount of dancers downstairs. No better luck here he though, about to head back up when something strange caught his eyes. Across the dance floor he saw them, three beautiful woman conversing quietly together - the same three women that Persephone had been talking to at the Hellfire Lounge earlier that week. Completely forgetting about his boss, Logan studied the trio intently. They must be sisters, he guessed, noticing that they resembled each other. Tall and thin, they all had similar garb and identical haircuts, long and straight. Their only real differentiating factor were the hair colours; one blonde, one raven and one brunette. Logan couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was definitely something off with these girls. They had an eerie, otherworldly quality about the way they held themselves, almost as if gravity was just barely holding on to them. He was about to move in for a closer look when another pretty lady caught his eye.
Is that Cadee? Seeing Slainte’s bartender through a gap in the crowds he altered his direction, trying to catch up with her. However, not wanting to lose track of the trio, he shot one last quick glance back to make sure they were still in eyesight. “Holy shit,” he gasped quietly - the girls had vanished. Making a mental note to speak to Balthazar about them, he rushed towards his new target. “Cadee, hold up!”
Only Cadee’s inhuman hearing allowed her to hear him in the noisy nightclub. She even thought she recognized the voice, she turned around and smiled. Sure she did, it was Logan all right. She had hoped to run into him again after seeing him with Meredith, and voilà, here he was. She straightened her skirt and brushed the hair off her face before answering.
“Logan, it’s great to see you again. What are you doing here?”
Man, everyone and their mother is here tonight, he thought, as he returned her grin. “Well, funny enough I’m ‘working’…well at least I’m supposed to be”. Like any red blooded male, Logan became weak at the sight of the blonde bombshell in her form fitting, sequined mini-dress - what an outfit. “Cadee, you look fantastic.”
“Well, muchas gracias, señor.” Cadee laughed, enjoying his open-mouthed expression. Like any other woman, she loved being appreciated, and she knew she looked good. *It’s the boots,* she said to herself, lowering her eyes just for a second to admire her cow fur 5” high heel boots.
“It’s not the boots, Cade. He probably never even got to them, you know?” Sounded a voice next to her, and Cadee chuckled. As usual, Anne could practically read her thoughts. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Cadee turned to Logan just in time to get his confused frown. Poor man, they must be talking gibberish to him. “I’m sorry, Logan. This very obnoxious girl here is my roommate, Anne.”
Attractive in her own right, the girl was Cadee’s polar opposite; pale, dark hair and dressed in a typical gothic outfit. “Nice to meet you Anne.”
"Logan?!" Anne cried out, realizing just who the man was. "So this is the studly super-hero from the bar? You should hear how she goes on and..."
"That's enough Anne," Cadee giggled nervously, elbowing her roommate in the ribs.
Logan blushed, unable to hide the beaming smile that forced its way onto his face. He had thought about Cadee a lot since meeting her and it was good to hear the feeling was mutual.
"I heard you say you were working," Anne cut in, trying to change the subject as a way of apologizing to Cadee. "What do you do?"
"I'm actually a body guard," he replied, unsure just how Cadee would react.
“Ohhhh, so that explains your expertise with the fists,” Cadee piped in, as suddenly pieces fit together. She smiled. “I just knew you weren’t the regular business man. Cool.”
“So who do you work for?” Anne asked, curiously. “Oh my god, are you Lucinda’s body guard!?”
Logan laughed. She was quirky, but the girl definitely had an infectious enthusiasm. “Naw, nothing so exciting. I work for a ‘regular businessman’,” he said, not giving too many details. “He’s got some ties to some of the publishing powerhouses here, so that’s how I managed to crash the party. How about you two?”
“Anne here is your classic vampire fan. She even dresses the part, I’m sure you can tell.” Cadee answered; and as she spoke, the girl spun on her stilettos and curtsied, making Cadee roll her eyes. “She couldn’t possibly miss a vampire book launch, much less if it was a Lucinda Graves’ one. I just got dragged along…”
She thought about Meredith’s warning, the man was a charmer, and he may be a womanizer, but she also liked him very much. Trusting her instincts had saved her life time and again, so she finally added, “and I’m glad I did.”
"Well, I'm glad you did too".
“Stop drooling, you two,” Anne interrupted. “I don’t want to be sued because the floor is all slippery.”
22:37 Attack in the Alley
Ricky Chiang stood five feet away from Chiedra, talking to two young women dressed nearly identically in red pleather miniskirts paired with red and black pleather corsets. The girls were both short, but teetered on spiked heels. Ricky had one hand on the bare shoulder of the brunette of the pair, and he was leaning over towards the blonde, whispering in her ear. Both girls held martini glasses half-full of some sort of pinkish liquid. Chiedra watched the scene carefully, while taking in the surrounding room deliberately.
“The Obsidian blades?” a familiar, cultured voice dripped sarcasm from just beyond Chiedra’s left shoulder. “Really, Ki, don’t you think that’s a bit much even for you. I mean, those guys really are scum? Dangerous, criminal scum.”
Without turning her head, Chiedra sighed softly. “Niall, what are you doing here?”
Niall Tiergnan, dressed in a dark brown oxford shirt and even darker brown dress pants, stood beside Chiedra, watching Ricky Chiang make time with two obviously underage girls. He shook his head. “Not protecting a sleaze while he prepares to perpetrate statuory rape, so obviously not the same thing you are, my girl.”
“Please, Niall, do we have to do this again?” Chiedra asked, exasperation evident in her tone. “I’m working. I know you don’t approve of my work, but I am working now.”
“So, you are working for Chiang, then?” Niall asked, disapproval dripping from every word.
“Yes, I am,” Chiedra replied, moving forward as Ricky started to walk away with a girl tucked under each arm.
“Where are you going?” Niall moved with her.
“As we’ve already established, I’m doing my job,” Chiedra replied, staying only a few feet behind her charge as he headed towards the crowded stairwell.
Rolling his eyes, Niall trailed Chiedra, who trailed Ricky and his new “friends” as they fought their way through the crush of people at the party. When Ricky hit the bottom floor, he veered towards the back of the building. Chiedra stayed with him, her eyes moving constantly from side to side, watching and waiting for any sign of trouble. As they moved, Niall kept his lecture going.
“Don’t you care about what these people represent?”
“No.”
“Isn’t there some better way for you to make a living?”
“No.”
When they reached the door into the back alley behind the club, Chiedra paused to glare at Niall. “We’ve talked this to death, Niall. You know I love you, but I am not going to stop doing what I do. I’ve told you that, many, many times.”
At that moment, Chiedra’s sensitive hearing picked up the sound of running feet coming from the head of the alley. Instincts suddenly on alert, Chiedra turned to the sound. She was momentarily stunned at the sight that greeted her. Two men ran down the alley towards Ricky and the girls, who had yet to realize anything was amiss. However, Chiedra had never seen men quite like these before. The one in the lead appeared to be riddled with bullet holes, and the man behind him was in even worse shape. His head was basically missing. It looked sort of like someone had attacked the man with a shotgun and blown the upper right side of his face away. He had a gaping hole where his right eye and the right side of his forehead should have been. Chiedra took a moment to process that fact. By all rights, these two men shouldn’t be standing, let alone running towards Ricky, brandishing two rather lethal looking knives, and rather mad, bloodthirsty grins.
“Behind me, Ricky!” Chiedra shouted, jumping in front of the young man and pushing him behind her, towards the door. The two girls followed him, screeching when they caught sight of what was coming towards them.
“What the fuck?!” Ricky yelled, craning his head around Chiedra’s shoulder to see what she had seen.
“Get back inside!” Niall shouted to the screaming women, as he stood next to Chiedra and brandished the staff he’d been leaning on. “Of course, I had to check my damn coat.”
Despite the seriousness, Chiedra grinned. “Come on, old man,” she joked, “you can make it without your security blanket, right?”
Niall grinned fiercely back at her, and gestured tightly as he pushed the staff out towards the advancing attack. “You haven’t bested me yet, little girl.”
Niall shouted a strange word and a blast of hot air shot out from his hands to blow the men back, making a terrible racket as it did so. Trash cans, and other debris in the alley flew with the harsh breeze. The two attackers tumbled backwards, one flying back into a sharp metal pole protruding from the far wall.
“Not bad,” Chiedra moved forward as the second man struggled to stand. She kept an eye on the one stuck to the pole though, as they appeared hard to kill. The man on the pole was the onemissing most of his head. She faced the man whose body was peppered with a pattern of holes as he lumbered to his feet.
Niall glanced quickly back at Ricky and his “girlfriends”. The girls were sobbing and shrieking. “Take them back inside,” Niall ordered. Ricky, eyes wide with disbelief, nodded dumbly. He grabbed the two girls and led them back into the building.
Meanwhile, Chiedra had begun to fight with “bullet-holes”. He charged her, and she dodged, reaching out with her power to grab at him with solid tendrils of shadow that flowed out of the dark edges of the alley. The tendrils wrapped around his body and pulled him towards the nearest wall. The man skewered on the pole was slowly pulling himself off the offending appendage as Chiedra moved towards her opponent again. “Headless” was reaching into his jacket, pulling out a gun.
“Look out, Ki!” Niall shouted, throwing out a hand with a silver bracelet made of interlocking shields. He spoke softly in the strange tongue again, and a silvery light enveloped Chiedra as “Headless” fired his gun. The bullets bounced off the shield of force and the man turned his head towards Niall, making, "Ooo 'i roo” sounds.
“Great! How do you stop these things?!” Chiedra shouted in frustration as the gun was aimed at her mentor.
“Beats me,” Niall replied. “I’m not even sure what these things are.”
Chiedra dropped as the monster in front of her took a swing. She dropped to the ground and swept her leg out, landing a kick at the side of the man’s legs. He stumbled, the tendrils of shadow holding him as he struggled and nearly fell over. Chiedra came up with a long, thin, lethal looking stiletto in her hand. Niall had a moment to wonder where she’d concealed the weapon, before he saw that “Headless” was finally free of the pole and was moving towards him. Swearing under his breath, Niall began to prepare a larger spell.
Chiedra was beginning to feel weak as the bullet-ridden hulk struggled against the shadow bonds she’d formed. She had to drop the tendrils if she was going to be able to finish this fight and hope to win. It was always this way. Her shadow powers drained her quickly. Wishing she was just a bit stronger, Chiedra dropped the shadows as she moved to attack the monster before her with the knife. She was unprepared for how quickly the creature was able to recover when he was free. She misjudged his agility and found herself struggling as one of his meaty hands grabbed hold of her long ponytail. Not for the first time, Chiedra cursed herself for keeping the hair, an unnecessary affectation for someone who regularly engaged in hand-to-hand combat, but Niall had always kept it long when she was growing up, and…
“Niall!” she shouted, struggling to free herself as tall, nasty, and undead pulled her closer. Niall’s head swung round, and he snarled. He ran towards Chiedra and her attacker, leaving his foe to his own devices for a few minutes.
As soon as Niall had moved away, a man stuck his head in the end of the alley and shouted, “Zoran, Miro! Quit screwing around! The boss says we got to get inside!”
“Headless” looked from where Niall and Chiedra struggled against his partner to the head of the alley and then shrugged. “Waa’,” he replied, moving towards where the third man had stood when he called out.
Niall reached Chiedra and her opponent, who had pulled the young woman off her feet by her hair so that only the toes of her boots scraped the ground. Cheidra’s face was contorted with pain and fury. She reached behind her, slashing blindly with her knife but failing to make contact. Pointing his staff straight out, Niall called another strange word and a shaft of light streamed out from the end, burning the hand the gripped Chiedra’s hair like a laser and causing her assailant to howl as he dropped the girl. Chiedra tumbled to the ground and rolled a few feet away, breathing hard as she lay on the ground, facing up into the night sky. Niall turned back to the perforated attacker and shook his head. “Enough is enough!” he shouted. Drawing himself up to his full height, Niall once more extended his staff, counterbalancing it with his empty hand. He shouted, his voice nearly hoarse, one more alien word and a blast of fire flew from between his raised staff and his outstretched hand. The fire flew out to the man before him like a wave, igniting the paper and other flammable trash in the alley as it blasted through the attacker and left him smoldering against the far wall.
From the ground near his feet, Niall heard Cheidra say very softly, “That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.”
Chuckling, Niall helped Chiedra to stand and with a significant glance between them, they raced into the club just as the first of the shots sounded from inside.
22:41 Alison and Pablo on the Balcony
He knew she couldn't hear him over the sounds of the club. Ever closer he inched being careful to stay behind her, in her blind spot. She was leaning against one of the windows looking out over the city at night. Between the lights in the club and the angle of the glass even that wouldn't help her detect him moving ever closer to her. Tonight, Lucinda Graves was his prey. He would have her and she would not suspect him.
When he was within inches of her he leaned over her bare shoulder. He placed his lips on the warm skin of her neck.
She jumped slightly, letting out a small yelp at this sudden intrusion into her personal space. She guessed - hoped - who it might be, but she couldn't be sure. Without turning her head, she decided it would be fun to speculate.
"Hmm, Sven?"
He made a "mmm" sound against her neck. Not really an answer wither way. He knew the spot she liked right...there. He passed his tongue over her neck while surrounding it with little kisses.
Alison shivered. Now she was sure.
"Oh, of course. It must be Logan."
He snorted derisively and nibbled lightly at the side of her neck while making growling noises. He set the strawberry mojito next to her on the windowsill.
"Ooh, strawberry mojito. I'll bet that's a clue." Alison picked up the drink and sipped at it, enjoying the shivers Pablo was sending down her back. "Let's see... there was a man earlier tonight who brought me a couple of these. Now what was his name again? Pedro? No... Patrick? No, I give up, sorry."
Pablo moved his mouth next to her ear, "Your lover, Juan Pablo has baited, hunted and captured you."
He moved around in front of her and smiled, "Or at least cornered you. Sorry I've been so scarce all night. But you have been the queen bee in this hive of activity."
"Oh, lover is it?" She grinned and moved a little closer, wrapping her free arm around his waist. "And I'm the one who should be sorry. I feel like I've abandoned you. But, you know, that's how these things tend to go." She gazed back at the party that was still going in full swing. "Thank god this place has quiet noooks and crannies like this."
With her high heels, she was actually a little taller than Pablo, but even so she leant her head down and rested it on his shoulder and closed her eyes. It felt warm, comfortable - safe. She brushed her lips against his neck, in much the same manner he'd been doing to her moments before. "I hope you managed to stay entertained, at least."
"That feels nice. Overfed and over excited, would be closer to the truth. And maybe more than a little drunk. I don't know what they are putting in these drinks but my last two have been bottled water. I practically had to show my badge to even get one of these bartenders to give me water."
He held her hand and stroked her palm with his thumb. "It is fun to play dress-up, but I am feeling really out of place. I'd rather be outside. I found the balcony is really nice even though some smokers have been using it. It's less noisy than the club and the night air feels good."
"I'm sure we can find a corner that's relatively smokeless. And it'll be nice to rest my ears from this music for a bit," she agreed. Clutching her mojito in one hand and holding onto Pablo's hand with the other, they strolled outside. The fresh night air felt good on her face and she breathed deeply. Only a couple of other people were out here at this point, and they were up the far end. They had most of the balcony to themselves.
"Oh, yes, I wish I'd come out here earlier." She turned and kissed Pablo, a light peck. "Thanks for suggesting it." A few paces brought her to the railing and she leaned her back against it, revelling in the respite from the demands of the evening.
He settled in to enjoy the moment. Here with his arms around her looking down on the street he felt comfortable. I could get used to this, he thought.
Shouting drifted up from the street, peppered with gunfire. It was loud and Pablo glanced over the railing to see what it was. A cop is never off-duty, ran though his mind. Then a blast of fire blew out of the alley and into the street. Pablo instinctively pulled Alison away from the railing.
Even as Pablo tugged on her arm, Alison twisted to see what was going on. A reporter is never off-duty, she thought, remembering her words to Pablo in Slàinte. Her first thought was that it was some sort of drunken domestic dispute, but the rattle of bullets and the whoomph sound as fire erupted along the alleyway put paid to that. She rooted around in her purse and pulled out her phone, setting it to video as she stepped back towards the edge of the balcony.
Pablo glanced around. It was only twelve feet to the ground, give or take. It was the fastest way. "Stand back," he said in his best cop voice and climbed over the railing. He slid over the edge and used the ledge to dangle towards the street. Hanging this way reduced the drop to only six feet or so.
Alison stared down at Pablo, the video recording the dying fires in the alleyway, the retreating figures of two people racing into the club downstairs, and the dangling figure of Detective Sandoval hanging by his fingertips off the ledge. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she hissed in a stage whisper.
He landed lightly on his feet, pulled out his badge and reached for his gun. Reached for and realized he didn't have it. He looked up at her leaning over the railing with her phone pointed at him, "Trying to get myself killed while saving lives. Please stand back so I don't have to worry about you so much."
He peered into the alleway cautiously. Perhaps even more cautiously than he would have if he had had a gun with him. From here he could see a charred corpse and nothing else. Whoever had been running away had gone inside. He spared one last glance back at Alison and then stepped into the alley.
The charred body stirred and swore vehemently, "Jebem ti majku! Jebem ti miša! And jebem ti kuću poganu!"*
As it stood, blackened clothing and flesh sloughed off revealing bare muscles and bone. Pablo saw a pistol, no longer supported by his smoldering pants, drop to the ground. The charred man wasn't interested in the pistol so much as hopping around angrily so Pablo snatched it up and pointed it at him. "Police! Up against the wall, charcoal man."
Alison leaned out as far as she could. It was difficult to see what was going on, but Pablo's words rang out loud and clear. "If someone's hurt, shouldn't you call an ambulance?" she called out. "I'm coming down."
Putting away her phone for the moment Alison turned, abandoning her mojito on the balcony ledge, and returned to the noise and hubbub of the party. Now all she had to do was make her way across the expanse of the room without being waylaid so she could get downstairs to where Pablo was. If she'd been dressed any other way, she probably would have taken Pablo's route, but that wasn't an option for her tonight. Putting on her determined face she ploughed through the partygoers, most of whom were thankfully too drunk at this point to pay her too much attention.
Pablo was debating using his belt to tie up this ... whatever this was. He looked like a barbecued corpse and smelled terrible. But he was still moving and talking and swearing. Pablo didn't know what "Da bi šel v pizdo materno!"** meant, but it didn't sound good.
Suddenly there were sounds of gunfire from inside the club. Pablo glanced up towards the balcony, hoping that Alison hadn’t left yet. "Da bee sel peez doh materno!" he said, or something close to it, and ran back into the lower level of the club.
*Fuck your mother! Fuck your rat! And fuck your infidel house!
**If only I could crawl back into my mother’s cunt.
22:45 Evalyn and Jasmin on the second level
Having just raised her drink with Jasmin, Evalyn was taking a sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol and pleasure of the evening together when Yves suddenly interrupted her again.
Evalyn....
Ta gueule! Let me enjoy myself.
I am serious. I 'ave a feeling your night is about to be ruined.
Putain! Je ne se soucie pas de ta jalousie!
Regardez! He all but snarled back and Evalyn's mind was suddenly flooded with the vision of a fireball as if it were directly in front of her. Immediately she began choking on her drink, the warmth of it suddenly burning unpleasantly as it assaulted her sinuses and throat.
“Ah... Evalyn? Have you forgotten how to drink?” Jasmin asked in mock concern at the same time Evalyn spotted Lucinda walking determinedly through the crowd.
Evalyn shook herself, ignoring the author for the moment and frowned back at Jasmin, unsure of what to say. The vampiress wasn't aware of her connection with Yves, but she'd definitely want to know of anything that sounded remotely like 'fireballs' happening around her club. “I uh... s'ink I need to get some fresh-”
-Non! Zey're inside. I do not s'ink you can 'andle zem. Evalyn suddenly got new, vague images of a bullet ridden man, and another who was decently char grilled, walking around. The sight of it made her feel ill.
Jasmin lifted her glass to finish her latest drink of the evening when preternatural hearing picked up the sound of gunfire coming from downstairs. The vampiress froze solid in place for several seconds, fighting to keep her countenance human, teeth griting. A moment later, she heard the sounds of Avenged Sevenfold come from the small pouch at her hip that held her cell phone, Emilie Autumn's voice coming up to greet them.
So let the record show that you murdered me in your coldest blood with your own two hands don't think no one understands it happens every day.
Fucking security.
The phone was out of its case and up to her ear, speaking low and dangerous. “Yes! I can hear it! Don't ask me for fucking directions, just DO SOMETHING!” The phone disappeared as the look on her face grew more dark, turning on her heel to start for her stairs down, Evalyn following her. “Let's get dangerous,” she mumbled in a voice icy and cold, devoid of any hint of compassion or mercy.
“I do not sink zat is the best idea.” Evalyn muttered softly behind the vampiress. She'd heard the shots from downstairs when they went off, and after Yves warning, it seemed less and less like a situation she wanted to involve herself in.
“Jasmin?” She tried calling her friend back, but the vampiress was only increasing her pace as she closed on the stairs. Evalyn reluctantly followed, “Jasmin? I do not s'ink zese are your regular... fiends....”
Do not worry about 'er! Stay away! Je vien!
Jasmin stopped for a moment and turned back, giving a low, inhuman growl, barely noticable but still there. “Someone comes in here, shooting, and I'm supposed to do nothing why?” She shifted her weight impatiently, as though waiting for an answer.
Evalyn froze. What should she do? Let human security handle it? There was little she had to fear herself of being killed unless they happened to have a stake launcher. And if she did manage to kill one of the things that was down there, it'd certainly send a strong message of 'don't fuck around in this establishment!'.
“If you get shot in front of ze media and do not go down...” Evalyn cursed inwardly as Jasmin snarled “adrenalin” and turned savagely back down the stairs. Evalyn sighed, following cautiously behind as she slipping a knife from under her dress and muttered. “Just be sure zat adrenalin does not show on your face!”
Jasmin stopped dead in her tracks at that, the displeasure clear on her face as she reached and gripped the railing. Her friend raised a point, too good of a point. The rational part of her brain came up and began to take control. Vengence could come later. Or maybe a nice hunt. For the moment, however, this was the age of cell phone cameras, and she knew all too well what an instant of the demon fully coming forth could mean: even if she passed it off, it would draw SCU attention. But the SCU is already here; I don't want to give them even more reason. And as she stood and thought, the decision was made, nodding to her. "Let security handle it...." Hey, maybe I'll get lucky and won't have to pay unemployment to that one I was going to fire!
22:46 Logan and Cadee again
“Stop drooling, you two,” Anne interrupted. “I don’t want to be sued because the floor is all slippery.”
Watching the two soon to be love-birds go all blushed and shy, Anne rolled her eyes. People were so predictable! Of course, she couldn’t find fault in Cadee’s taste, Logan was hot indeed, and certainly she couldn’t fault his taste either. Too bad she wasn’t into girls, or she would want a piece of Cadee too. *Or good you aren’t, she wouldn’t give you the time of day anyway,* she corrected herself, on a second thought.
Cadee laughed at her friend’s comment, fortunately not aware of her thoughts. “So Logan, would you like a drink? They make great martinis here-”
“You’re not the waitress tonight, Cade,” Anne interrupted.
Cadee smiled apologetically to Logan. “Don’t you have to go upstairs, Annie? Chase any tall vampire-wannabe?”
“Oh, no! This is so much better!”
“How about I get you girls a drink,” Logan laughed. It was the first time he was enjoying himself all evening.
As the three began to snake their way closer to the bar, a blood curdling scream rang out in the club, eclipsing chatter and music a like. It was one of those unbelievable moments, so strange and unexpected that it all seemed to go in slow motion. The sound of gunshots exploded into the club as a number of armed men barged in, indiscriminately taking aim.
Logan’s heart began to race, instantly sobering him as he jumped into action. “Duck!” he screamed, fiercely pulling both Cadee and Anne next to him. Bullets continued to whiz through the room, cutting down whatever was in their path. With instinct taking over, Logan turned his back to where the majority of the ruckus was coming from and did his best to cover the two women. “Just stay down” he yelled over the cacophony of screams.
Shit Logan was cursing. He had to get to Balthazar, but his heart wasn't going to let him abandon Cadee and Anne
Cadee’s first reaction was to jump into action, like Logan did, but a lifetime of going low- profile prevailed. She ducked behind the man and did her best to cover Anne herself. She could hear the bullets and all the screaming, but from her present position, she couldn’t really see what was happening. Damn, she needed to get rid of him so she could actually do something. And she needed to take care of Anne.
“What the hell is happening?” she shouted to Logan, trying to get heard over all the noise in the room.
“I have no idea!” Logan yelled, pulling them both closer into his chest as another round of ‘BANGS’ sounded out. “You have to get behind the bar, you’ll be safer there! The room had now descended into complete and utter chaos, which, fortunately enough, gave the trio the opening they needed to make a move. “Now, go!” he screamed, trying to usher the girls to safety so he could race into the action.
Right, behind the bar. Good thinking. Cadee nodded in consent and grabbed Anne by her arm, thankful that for once, the girl wasn’t complaining. They were close enough to the bar to get there without much danger, she moved swiftly and all but throw her friend over and behind the solid mahogany bar. She looked back for a moment, before jumping herself, Logan only seconds behind.
“Just stay here ok!” Logan shouted. Anne had started to sob, but Cadee was surprisingly much more composed. He looked at the blonde and then took Anne’s hand, squeezing it comfortingly. “You’re going to get out of this, I promise. Cadee, I’ve got to go help, so you have to be in charge here. Please, just stay here.”
“And you just be careful,” Cadee said, nodding. She liked being protected, but at the moment she needed to be left alone so she could do her thing. Feeling all princess Leia, she pulled him close and gave him a quick kiss. "For luck."
22:47 Alison ventures downstairs
Five minutes. All she’d wanted was five minutes alone with her man, and she couldn’t even have that.
Alison’s progress across the floor to the head of the stairs had been accompanied by little other than that thought. She barely noticed Jasmin and Evalyn as she passed them by, lost in her own ruminations. She couldn’t help feeling bitter about the interruption to her balcony rendezvous with Pablo, but she also felt sorry for the poor man in the alleyway. He’d seemed terribly burned, what she could see of him. And as for the rest of it – whoever had been involved had gone inside. Even as she put her foot on the first step she was fishing out her phone again, ready for whatever awaited her downstairs.
That’s when all hell broke loose. Shots rang out below, and someone screamed. Alison hesitated. Human instinct told her to run and hide, but her reporter’s instinct told her to head down and get it all on HD video. The two sides warred momentarily, until a portion of her human side reminded her that Pablo was down there in the midst of that chaos. The gunfire and screaming and breaking glass began to crescendo, and she forced herself to start walking down those stairs once more.
Keeping her grip on the railing let Jasmin focus on keeping herself under control. It was still tempting to head down there and begin snapping a few necks. No matter how fun that would be, however, the necessity of not getting caught loomed overhead. So instead she stood, listening and watching in a mix of anger and anticipation when the woman she knew as Lucinda started walking downstairs. She moved quickly, probably too quickly, laying a firm and cold hand on her shoulder.
"You may want to stay up here," she spoke in her chilly tones, the warmth and compassion still gone from her voice. "Don't try to be a hero, Ms. Graves."
Alison started slightly at the touch on her shoulder. She hadn’t noticed anyone right behind her on the stairs. Turning to see that it was Jasmin she wondered how the woman had got there so fast – hadn’t she just passed her by further back in the room? Those thoughts flitted by, filed away somewhere for later consideration. Right now she had other things on her mind.
“Oh believe me, I’m not planning on doing anything stupid.” She held up her phone which she’d just thumbed over to video mode. “When I’m not writing novels, I’m a reporter. I’ll be hiding behind some heavy scenery, taking pictures. Ghoulish, perhaps, but it’s that or cower up here. Besides,” she added with a quick glance down the stairs, “Pablo’s down there.”
....I can't catch a god damned break, can I? The police and the press are both already here! Maybe Connie is secretly an EMS so she can have brought the medical services, too. The thought flew through Jasmin’s head, her eyes falling onto the video phone. She made a note to thank Evalyn for, once again, stopping her from doing something stupid. Video.
She made one more attempt to stop the horrible headline, ‘Celebrity gunned down in shooting’. "Not necessary. We have security cameras." Still, she relaxed her grip now in case the other woman pulled away.
“I’m sure you do.” Alison kept her tone polite but professional. “However, I’m sure you also understand that reporters like to get their material first-hand where possible.” She half-turned, freeing her shoulder from Jasmin’s cool fingers. “And like I said; Pablo’s down there. If he gets himself hurt, I want to be right there so I can tell him off. You probably ought to call the police and ambulance, though, if you haven’t already. Now excuse me.”
Not caring whether Jasmin had a reply and not wanting to be held up on the stairs any longer, Alison continued her downward journey. A man was coming up the stairs. He wasn’t running, as Alison would have expected of someone escaping the fray, but was climbing with a deliberate tread, a scowl on his face. Keeping her phone by her side she pressed the record button, knowing where it was from long practice, and surreptitiously angled it to film the man’s ascent. Their eyes met briefly as she passed him by.
“Is dangerous down there, girly,” he growled in heavily accented English.
Alison ignored him, and he seemed unconcerned whether she heeded his warning or not. Keeping her video running, she took the last few stairs slowly, crouching behind the banister as much as possible while holding her phone just above the railing.
What Alison saw sent icy tendrils of fear through her guts. Several people lay still on the floor, some twisted at unnatural angles. Blood was everywhere, spattering the walls and pooling on the floor, showing as dark stains in the electric blue lighting of the club. From where Alison crouched at the bottom of the stairs she could see several people hiding behind whatever furniture they’d managed to find, some of it entirely inadequate for protection from bullets.
She panned her camera around, zooming in on some of the grisly details. She’d never be allowed to publish anything too graphic, but she had to get as much footage as possible. After her survey of the existing carnage, she finally focused on the section that her brain had been screaming at her to look at from the beginning. Two men stood to one side of the dance area, the muzzle flashes from their guns erupting in bright orange against the subdued lighting of the nightclub. Alison wished for some normal white light, knowing that she’d see far more details that way, even though part of her was glad that the imagery was somewhat surreal and muted.
A pair of gunshots sounded from further back and one of the figures stumbled. He didn’t go down, however. Pablo, that was a lousy shot. Take them down before they get you! She had to assume it was Pablo who’d shot the man, at least. From here she couldn’t see him at all. There were other people still moving about the room, not hiding. She focused her camera on them for a few moments.
Two people – a young black woman and an older man – looked to have recently come in the front door of the club. Their backs were to Alison as they moved around the room. Too far away for them to hear her over the ruckus, Alison willed them to dive for cover, or better yet to turn and run back out the door.
Another person was on the far side of the room, appearing from behind the heavy bar and circling around behind the two shooters. Alison zoomed in on the man’s face and stifled a gasp of shock when she recognised him. Logan? What was he doing down here? Damn fool’s going to get himself killed if he keeps on playing hero, she thought to herself.
Biting her lip, resigned to her role as observer and chronicler of events, Alison watched and waited to see what would happen next.
22:48 Drago meets Balthazar Romano
Balthazar was looking out the window into the alleyway. He was fascinated by the figure that was out there making the party-goers scream and run. It ran back and forth, clearly in searing pain, wailing. Occasionally some one or another drunk would approach and get kicked or beaten for his trouble and stagger away.
Downstairs he could hear the mayhem of screaming women, shouting men, gunfire, and breaking glass. Up here people were more quietly terrified, crouching under tables and sobbing or whimpering in fear. It was a heady mix. He sipped the glass of deep red port wine and savored the flavor.
"Balthazar Romano, I am Drago. I came find out where find your man Carmine. I owe him. You tell me."
Balthazar looked lazily away from the spectacle in the alley and looked at Drago. He was very tall and lean with a leather vest and tattoos that would seem to indicate his connections to several big-name criminal groups. He held a deliciously large Chromed Desert Eagle pistol in one hand, but not pointed this way. Balthazar felt uninclined to help the man so he turned back to watching the man in the alley.
Drago cocked the gun loudly. Balthzar didn't look at him, "Drago, do you have any idea how far out of your league I am?"
"All men are equal to bullet," Drago said in a heavily accented voice.
Balthazar said, "What about your man in the alley? Is he equal to a bullet? I guarantee that even a hand-cannon like yours wouldn't drop him for long...if at all."
Drago laughed, "No, and he is not alone. I have two more in bar downstairs. You tell me now what I ask."
Balthazar curled a finger at Drago to come to the window. He pointed down into the street at the figure who had managed to locate his knife. Romano closed his eyes and summoned some force. "Elemtarius Electrico!" he invoked.
Lightning arced from the sky and struck the thug. White light blinded Drago and left a burned in image of Miro exploding in incandescant fire as he was instantly heated and burned to ash. Even before the image had faded from his retina the thunderclap blew through the alley shattering a few panes of glass and cracking many more.
Drago flailed and knocked the drink fro Balthazar's hand as he clutched at his face in pain from the light, heat, sound and confusion. Balthazar frowned at his fallen drink, but patiently waited for Drago to stop blinking and shaking before saying clearly, "Why would I cooperate with a lowly thug like you, Drago? What is in it for me?"
Drago instantly realized he had pissed himself for the second time in two days. Balthazar's display had left him dazed, temporarily blinded and he had lost his advantage. He had no idea what he should do. Balthazar stepped next to him and placed a fatherly hand around his shoulders. He spoke in a friendly voice, "Drago, I appreciate the effort you've gone to here. Not many men would have had balls enough to try something like this so i am going to throw you a bone.
"I'll give you Carmine, but first you have to get a little red gem from him - it's about this big," he said indicating a tiny portion of his fingernail and waited for Drago to nod his comprehension.
"Once you have the gem, kill him. I mean really kill him -- as in no coming back -- dead. If you can do that and bring me the gem and I'll make sure that you and your men have a prominent place in my organization."
Drago's sight was still a little blurry but it had mostly come back. The ringing in his ears was still subsiding but Balthazars offer came through loud and clear. Balthazar Romano was holding out his hand. Drago looked at it for a long second before taking it, "You have deal, Romano. Drago will do this." With most of his gang gone he could not stay in business. With Romano on his side, business would definitely improve.
And two problems roll down into one, Balthazar thought. He pulled out a card and pen and scribbled an address on the back and tossed it to the thug. "Better hurry, Drago. My bodyguard will be back here shortly and I trust him to protect me."
Drago fled from the upper level as Balthazar wandered casually over to the bar. That was a nice port, he thought, I could go another.
22:48 Logan and Pablo on the dance floor
Logan’s eyes glanced back up the staircase scanning for any sign of Balthazar. If he couldn't see him then he felt reasonably sure he was safe from gunfire. So much for ‘what bad could happen?’, he swore silently, pushing his way past a group of hysteric party-goers.
Time for plan 'B'. If Logan couldn’t be by his boss’s side upstairs the only other option was to incapacitate the gunmen downstairs. Plus, the faster he could take down the psychos, the better chance Cadee and Anne had to get out of this bloodbath unscathed.
With iron resolve, Logan pushed onwards towards the action. He felt like a salmon swimming upstream, his path considerably slowed by the wave of frenzied patrons doing their best to get away from the shooting.
Pablo shoved his way upstream from the front door and ducked around a corner. He pulled the chain on his badge over his head and checked the .45. It wasn't a full clip but the remaining seven bullets should be enough as long as it didn't turn into a prolonged gunfight. A pretty girl with a panicked look got shoved into him. She saw the gun and nearly screamed but then she saw the badge. "Thank God you are here! Two nut-bags came in the back and started shooting!"
Pablo listened to her politely while trying to see around her. He could hear shots at the back of the room which made her statement irrelevant. There was still a lot of activity inside and he needed to get closer. "I have called for backup, lady, but I have to get you out of here. Head to the door. Keep down. Go!"
She nodded sheep-like and started to move when a bullet hit her square in the back. Her blood sprayed over the people in front of her. She laid there on the ground bleeding out while looking at him to do something. He had to pull his eyes away from the sight and did what he could. He kept his head down and charged in while saying a prayer...for both her and him.
“Watch out!” Logan all but tackled a young man who was about to stray into the path of the newest round of gunfire. “Look there’s an exit there, go! Run now!”
With a terrified nod, the man mumbled something that resembled a ‘thanks’ before charging to safety, which now provided Logan with a clear view of the shooters.
For a moment, he stopped dead in his tracks, astonished at what lay before him “Oh Fuck!” One of the shooters was missing the better part of his face and for, all intent and purposes. There was no way he should even be alive. The other assailant, though not as disfigured as his jawless counterpart, had a huge gash running down his back, exposing his gruesome innards. Being employed by Balthazar had opened up a world of crazy, but these guys just topped the scale of weird. Of course, strange or not, Logan had a job to do and he wasn’t about to let the crazed zombies get away with this.
Fighting his natural instinct, Logan held back, waiting for a break in the gunfire – sure he was strong and fast, but he sure as hell wasn’t bulletproof. Luckily, it didn’t take more that a few seconds for the moment he needed and with one final, deep breath, he exploded into a full sprint, straight for the one with an intact head.
Completely caught of guard by the speed of his attacker, Kosta had no time to raise any defense before the man connected with a flying shoulder tackle. Both Logan and revenant tumbled to the ground, the force of the impact sending the gun flying harmlessly out of the killer’s hand.
Quicker to recover, Logan pounced on Kosta, and wrapped his powerful arms around the villain’s head, “You piece of shit!” Logan spat. With one violent twist, there was a sickening crack as he snapped the man’s neck. Expecting the man to fall down dead, Logan rolled to a stance facing the faceless wonder.
A voice behind him said, “Not so fast pretty boy!”
it was Logan's to be caught by surprise. He was completely unprepared when the zombie jumped back to his feet.
“Sitting duck right over here, Zoran,” Kosta yelled to his partner while struggling to hold the would-be hero in place.
"Hur ghur ghorgee," the grotesque tongue flapped over the ragged hole of the ghoul's throat as he raised his machine-gun to point at Logan.
The sound of two loud shots rang out through the club. Logan flinched only to see Pablo Sandoval standing behind the bar wielding an automatic pistol in a tow-hand stance. Zoran's remaining eye looked down at the huge holes in his torso and his eyebrow knotted, "Wiizzg wee," it said. And aimed at Pablo.
Pablo yelped and ducked behind the bar as the glass, bottles, Lexan and neon lighting exploded around him.
Logan twisted and managed to get an arm free long enough to grab his attacker's ear and he pulled, hard. The ear ripped free of the skull and the attacker let go of Logan long enough for him to hop aside. He was about to counter-attack when two burly security guys grabbed the leather-clad thug and began to wrestle him to the ground.
Ensuring that his attacker was properly subdued, Logan tossed the dismembered ear and headed towards the remaining zombie. The cop had arrived in the knick of time to save his life, and it was time to repay the favour! Déjà vue For the second time this week he and Pablo found themselves fighting side by side, just another weird coincidence to add to the already bizarre chain of events.
Logan was about to distract the headless gunman when circumstances did the work for him. A bright flash of light flooded the alleyway alongside the building. The strobing white light turning the dark abattoir of a dance floor into a macabre still-life of bodies and blood. Then the CRACK of lightning that made the window panes shake, crack, and shatter in places.
Logan did not hesitate to take advantage of the distraction and with expert precision spun like tornado, his first leg kicking the gun out of the monster’s hand, his next kick landing square in Zoran’s chest.
The beast garbled some form of inaudible protest, but Logan only continued his rampage. No one could argue that fighting a zombie in the middle of a New York party was definitely strange, and yet, the bodyguard couldn’t help but feel a strange sensation of what he could only describe as ‘rightness’ wash over him. The battle, the blood, the mayhem…it all seemed vaguely familiar and so oddly comforting.
“I’ll find some way to kill you, you Fucker!” Logan roared, as he speared the ghoul to the floor and began to beat on the already pulverized head.
Zoran, pinned by Logan's body, reached into a boot and pulled out a hunting knife which he sank deep into his attacker's leg.
Even as Logan paused his assault momentarily a heavy studded boot kicked him hard in the shoulder to knock him to the ground. "Don't beat Zoran like dat! His head not so good no more," a heavily accented voice said and punctuated with it a .50 cal. Desert Eagle pointed at Logan's head.
Pablo rose from the bar in time to see the gun rise. Without hesitation he climbed to the top of the ruined bar and launched himself in a dive at Drago. Pablo had no idea who he was, but he was defending one of those...things. They weren't dead or rotten, so they weren't zombies. He didn't know what they were.
The security guys had pretty thoroughly pinned the other one and the cops would deal with him soon enough. While behind the bar he'd had just enough time to call dispatch to make sure that his men of the SCU Tactical were being sent rather than the usual NYPD boys. He'd had enough time to specify what was going on in a vague sort of way since he wasn't sure what was going on himself at the moment.
He hit Drago hard enough that he fell over and dropped his cannon, but it ended up with him, Pablo, the thing and Logan all sprawled among the corpses and wounded lying on the dance floor. Drago and Zoran scrambled towards the exit as Pablo crawled towards Logan.
“Shit,” Logan winced, the pain running from his thigh through the rest of his body. The knife was buried deep and it was going to be a bitch taking it out. But out it needed to come, so with gritted teeth, and one deep breath, he tugged with all his might. “Arrghggg Fuck!” The agony was intense, and it clouded his vision, causing him to recognize Pablo only when he was close.
“I’m fine, and thanks for the save” he huffed, applying pressure to the gaping wound. “We’ve got to make sure those bastards don’t get away”. With fierce determination, the man struggled to his feet, only to have his leg give out half way up. Pablo was quick, catching hold of the man before he crumbled back to the floor
Geez, he’s a lot heavier than he looks
“Forget me, they’re getting away” said Logan, pulling himself free of cop’s grasp.
Pablo held on despite Logan's protests. "Let them go. I got a good look at the big one and the other guy isn't going to be able to hide for long with a head like that. There are people here who need help first, starting with you."
Pablo lowered Logan into a booth and lifted his leg onto the table to examine the wound. "¡Miércoles!, This is a deep cut. You need to keep pressure on it. Can you feel your toes?...no nerve damage?"
Logan shook his head in pain and Pablo nodded. He went back into the dance floor to check for any other survivors he could help.
22:49 Cadee watches
As soon as Logan left them, Cadee turned to Anne. “Are you all right?” she asked, “I should go help, but if you prefer I stayed...”
The other girl raised her head, she was scared, but she recovered quickly. “I’m OK. It’ll be safe here, I guess…”
Cadee sneaked a look over the counter and at the fray; somehow it was a little more controlled, she didn’t think they were in immediate peril. She looked back to Anne, and then to the other people who had also sought refuge behind the bar, the strawberry haired bartender included. She tried to reassure them. “Yes. Those gunmen won’t come behind here, you’re safe. Just stay put. All of you.” Then she squeezed her friend’s hand, and added: “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Without another word, she jumped over the bar, and moved towards the dance floor. It was incredible how fast people could move when they were in panic, and how viciously. A lot of people were fighting their way to the door, not minding if they stepped over fallen bodies in their rush. Cadee could count at least half a dozen injured or dead people on the floor, and blood, lots of blood. Some other people were hiding too, behind tables, in the booths, beneath the stairs… it was utter chaos.
Then she focused on the actual fight, and she had to look again. The gunmen were like anything she had ever seen, even if the low lightning of the nightclub didn’t help much, she could clearly see them. There were only two, a small number for all the destruction they’d caused, but then… they didn’t seem to die. One of them looked like he was missing half his head and the other could have escaped ‘Shaun of the dead’, except he moved extremely fast for a zombie. They both did. *’Zombieland’, maybe,* she thought as she approached the fray.
She watched Logan break the headed one’s neck with ease and drop the body to the floor, only to see the thing rise again, as if he had just gotten a neck massage, leaving Logan to face the two freaks at once. She prepared to jump into action, throwing inbred caution to the wind, when she saw Sandoval put another bullet into the already performed body. A series of shots followed, as the cop, the freak and a seemingly normal one said hello to each other with their guns. Fortunately, the Latin cop got away unscathed, even if Logan had gotten stabbed.
Damn, there was nothing she could do there. She couldn’t risk showing any fighting expertise in front of Sandoval, she thought, as she continued to watch the fight from the cover of darkness. It wasn’t easy, but Logan and Sandoval, together with some bouncers, managed to reduce the pseudo-zombies. Maybe she wasn’t needed at all…
They weren’t the only ones in action, either, a sudden flash from the entrance way caught her attention and she saw a black woman and a man putting some order to the exiting people. Curious of where the flash had come, Cadee watched them with more attention, and she could see that the older man wielded a kind of walking stick/staff like a mage, parting the running people like Moses the Red Sea. Strange, watching a real mage do his mojo wasn’t the most usual occurrence, but then, there was nothing ordinary about that night.
At that point she noticed that, in the confusion, the only human gunman and one of the ‘zombies’ were getting away. Making her mind, she started behind them towards the exit door to the back alley. Maybe she was needed after all…
22:50 Meredith Eavesdrops on Balthazar
The gunfire woke up Meredith with a start. After the initial excitement at meeting Lucinda Graves, she’d felt the effect of too many martini’s, not to mention devouring her own body weight in free shrimp cocktail, take hold. Meredith had managed to steal herself a secluded corner seat in one of the booths to shut her eyes for five minutes. Of course she must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew the music had stopped and terrified screams filled the club alongside the relentless explosion of gunfire.
Meredith had still been half asleep and half drunk too. She’d remained seated, struggling to process the scene while everyone around her staggered about, whimpering in confused fear or sobbed while hiding under nearby tables. The untrained instincts of a newbie reporter kicked in several seconds later and Meredith reached for her purse, fumbling for her notepad.
"Balthazar Romano, I am Drago. I came find out where find your man Carmine. I owe him. You tell me."
She froze, her fingers tight around her book. Slowly she angled her head and peered over the back of the booth in the direction of the voice. Two men stood, one tall and lean in a black leather vest and tattoos that Meredith tried to memorise as she blindly sketched in her book. In his hand he held a hefty looking gun, not that she knew what kind it was aside from the fact that it was shiny and the guy held it like he knew exactly what to do with it. The other was older, framed in the glittering view of the New York skyline through the window behind him. He was dressed like almost every other guy that night, expensive looking suit and a crisp white shirt holding a wine glass in one hand. He also didn’t seem particularly bothered by the fact that the other man was pointing his gun at him.
*Balthazar Romano…* That was the business man Magdalena DeLuca’s boyfriend supposedly worked for. Carmine was hardly a common name either. So… this guy, Drago… was looking for Carmine Bocelli? Meredith frowned and slid back down into the booth to listen, her pen frantically scratching out notes.
The two men volleyed faintly cloaked threats at one another. How could Romano be so unfazed by all this? Drago had to be some kind of gang leader and from what he said, the gunmen downstairs were acting on his command. Plus he had a gun that could probably blow a man’s head off. And yet Romano paid him the barest amount of interest, as though he were no more dangerous than an annoying fly invading his personal space.
Meredith was ready to dare another peek over the back of the booth when a sudden blinding flash of lightning erupted from outside followed by a heavy crack of thunder. *What the fuck!?* That was impossible, right? There hadn’t even been a cloud in the sky when she’d arrived. Drago seemed similarly confused, he flailed, knocking Romano’s glass from his hand and grasped his face in clear pain. He must have been looking directly at the flash when it came.
"Why would I cooperate with a lowly thug like you, Drago? What is in it for me?"
Again Romano seemed unfazed, by either the sudden lightning strike or the young thug trembling before him. Meredith wrinkled her nose as an unpleasant odour wafted from their direction - urine, but damn it absolutely reeked, she actually had to hold her nose and breathe through her mouth to stop from choking and giving away her presence.
And then Balthazar did something amazing. He actually put his arm around the other’s shoulders like they were suddenly best buddies and when he spoke his voice was soft, kind, almost fatherly. *What… what the hell is going on!?*
"I'll give you Carmine, but first you have to get a little red gem from him - it's about this big," he gestured with hands and Drago nodded. Meredith’s eyes widened in horror. *Oh… shit!* "Once you have the gem, kill him. I mean really kill him -- as in no coming back -- dead. If you can do that and bring me the gem and I'll make sure that you and your men have a prominent place in my organization."
*Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!!* Meredith slid back down into the corner of the booth. Her pen frozen on the last word she’d written. It couldn’t be… could it? That tiny red stone she’d found in Magdalena DeLuca’s bedroom… but why? Why would a man like Balthazar Romano give a damn about that? It couldn’t be worth more than a couple hundred bucks at most. Was that why Magdalena was murdered? And Bocelli’s mother?
Meredith didn’t even notice that Drago had gone. Her mind was too busy reeling out theories. This was bad. This was so fucking beyond bad she didn’t even have a word for it. And yet… it was also the story she’d been waiting for. The kind of story that could be the big break she’d been dreaming of! Romano wanted Carmine dead, but why? For stealing some dumb little gem to give to his sweetheart? But then why was he so desperate to get the stone back if he just wanted to teach Bocelli a lesson?
She waited while he heart pounded, her blood hammering in her ear drums with a mixture of terrifying alarm and gleeful excitement. But no one could link her to Carmine or Magdalena. No one had seen her enter the house and she hadn’t told anyone about the stone. The only people who’d seen her were the few she’d talked to at Papa Vitale’s - and she’d been careful to give them a fake name. The only info they had would be a description, and that she was a student at Columbia. Another lie, and surely, dozens of people must have been around, asking questions. Right?
Right. This guy had no way of finding her. But just to be on the safe side she’d write up her story and get it to her editor at the NYU Tribune. And fast.
22:51 Jasmin Reviews Security
22:53 Cadee fights
Cadee got to the alley a couple of minutes after them, it wasn’t very easy to swim a terrified people sea, this time going ‘inside’ the club, the sound of shooting in the alley was explanation enough for that change of direction.
The back alley was mostly empty, but for the strange freak who was now coldly finishing off a goth girl with a shot to her head. The thing didn’t even bother to look at the woman he was killing, as he turned to follow the other one to a van parked at the head of the alley.
Really mad, Cadee silently dove towards the gunman, who at the warning cry of his partner, turned and fired , scorching the wall of the club with bullets that missed her by inches. But he didn’t count on her unnatural speed, taking him by surprise, she efficiently grabbed the firing hand, yanked the freak towards her and hit him with a solid left to the remains of his head while at the same time she twisted his wrist, making him lose the gun.
The ‘zombie’ muttered in surprise, but he recovered quickly, seemingly unaffected by her attack. He lashed out with a kick to her ribs, making her double in pain, and before she could regain her balance, he plowed towards her. Cadee gasped as he slammed her against the wall; however, she also recovered quickly, and bracing herself against the wall, she kicked him with both feet, sending him flying across the alley. He crashed into some dumpsters, scattering their content all over the ground. She ran towards him, leaping into the air and rolling into a flying somersault to land on a legdrop on his groin.
“So, you’re still male, aren’t you?” she laughed, as he doubled in pain beneath her. She beat the thing’s face, listening to the unmistakable sound of a broken nose, and quickly got to her feet.
“And you are stupid devojka!” a heavily accented voice sounded to her left. Cadee turned and paled when she saw the cannon of the other one’s gun just a couple of feet from her chest. She had made a stupid mistake and not paid attention to the human creep; in her mind, he was already in that damn van. *That’s how you get killed, Cade,* she thought.*Being careless.*
As she frantically contemplated possible moves, she saw the man cock the gun and smile. He was enjoying himself, and she decided to play on that.
“You know you don't frighten me, right?” Cadee said with derision, looking at him in the eye.
“You should,” he said, but she saw him falter half a second, puzzlement in his eyes, he had probably expected her to ask for mercy, act terrified. Stupid man, hadn’t he seen her beat the crap out of his partner?
She gave a step further, shortening the distance between them. She knew the risk, she had seen them shoot indiscriminately inside the club, but she was dead either way.
“Your man there, he can’t die.” She said, signaling the fallen creep with a movement of her head. “Well, I can’t die either,” she lied, and watched his face go all baffled again. Another step and he would be at her reach, if she moved fast enough, maybe she could surprise him before he shot…
But before she could say another word, a screeching mass of fur and claws jumped out of nowhere and landed on Drago’s face, making him reach with his hands, involuntarily shooting the gun as he moved. Cadee ducked and rolled, hearing the bullets pass just inches from her for the second time of the night, and saw the zombie-thing convulse on the ground as they hit him instead. From behind the dumpsters, she watched as the man comically dealt with a furious silver cat who was firmly clawed to his head.
He finally disentangled from the cat, and aimed at it, but the animal was too fast and got out of sight. Cursing, his face a mass of bleeding scratches, the man run to his van, all the time firing that automatic of his towards the alley. He didn’t even once look at his partner on the ground.
When Cadee saw him start the van and drive away, she got out of her shelter and approached the zombie on the floor. She kicked him; he didn’t move, but she wasn’t fooled. They had proved impossible to kill. He was probably just unconscious.
It was just as well, somebody would find him out there; she could hear the police sirens finally approaching.
23:08 An Hypnotic Encounter
Slowly, Meredith slid from the booth, checking the way was clear before bolting for the cover of the bar. She had to get out of here, preferably before the cops arrived if she had any hope of actually getting to work tonight. More importantly she had to find Gail and make sure she was okay.
Beedle-Beep…
Beedle-Beep…
“Oh, shit! Shit!” Meredith cursed under her breath as she fumbled inside her purse, trying to find her pager. She quickly shut off the alarm and read the message.
10-4 U? Meet ASAP.
Gail. Thank-god. It was one of their standard messages when they got separated on a night out meaning she was fine and that they needed to hook up quickly. That last was kind of unnecessary considering, but Meredith’s heartbeat slowed to a more reasonable pace just knowing that her friend was safe.
"Hello, what treats are they hiding behind the bar? Trust Jasmin to save the good stuff for later."
Meredith’s gaze shot upwards, meeting that of the very man she’d been trying to avoid. Balthazar Romano leered down at her and she could almost feel the slimy trail of his gaze as it glided slowly up her legs before coming to rest on her tits. For a moment she was thrown, thinking that maybe he’d noticed her listening in on his conversation. However, it quickly became apparent, as Meredith rose to her feet and Romano’s ogling gaze fell to the hem of her dress as she held it from riding any higher, that he had other, more sordid thoughts occupying his mind.
“Dream on, Grandpa,” she snorted dismissively as she replaced her pager in her purse, easily able to mask her unease behind genuine disgust. This man had not only just faced down a gun-toting criminal, he’d struck up a deal with him. Ordering the murder of one of his own employees with as much concern as ordering a Big Mac with extra cheese. Now he was coming on to her while people were still screaming and sobbing all around them?! He really was a stone cold bastard.
Romano laughed scornfully, "I understand if you aren't interested, honey, but I am. And I get what I am interested in. Look into my eyes and tell me I'm wrong."
Meredith did look, she gave him her iciest glare, the one that could freeze Satan’s underpants. This guy wasn’t just a murdering son-of-a-bitch, he was delusional in the extreme. He had to be like three times her age for a start!
Only… the more she looked into his dark eyes, deep and bottomless like the depths of the ocean… the more she felt her determined resolve slip away. It was like having a warm bath after a tiring day, heating her body from the inside and slowly easing out any knots of resistance one by one. The more she continued to look into Romano’s eyes, the more she felt like… maybe he was more handsome than she’d given him credit for and maybe she wouldn’t mind getting to know him better… a lot better actually…
*What!? Snap out of it girl!* The voice inside her head was practically screaming that something wasn’t right. That… fuck he had to have slipped something in her drink when she wasn’t looking! Meredith was usually so careful about that sort of thing, she never accepted a drink she hadn’t seen poured and if she ever took her eye off her glass she’d get rid of it. But… wait, hadn’t she put down her drink when she’d been at the buffet? It hadn’t been for long but… perhaps long enough for someone to slip her a roofie?
And after all, if Romano was capable of sanctioning murder, date rape was probably how he got his kicks.
“You… bastard!” she spat, though even the act of speaking took too much concentration. He’d drugged her, it was the only explanation for how she was feeling. Anger flared like a struck match. Her eyes burned with it while her fingers gripped the edge of the bar for support.
"There, there, temper, temper!” Romano’s voice was like honey dripping off the edge of a knife. You could stop one, but not without starting another. “Wouldn't you rather have a nice drink with me rather than fight me?"
She did, actually. A drink sounded nice. Especially if Romano would be there. *And then what? You know what he wants, just like the rest of them. You weren’t big enough or strong enough to stop that happening before. But you are now.*
Meredith frowned and some of the last lingering flickers of her resolve returned. Blindly she grabbed one of the empty beer bottles on the bar and threw it at him. It missed by miles and smashed noisily on the floor. Romano looked faintly amused, his gaze intensifying as she reached for another bottle, her fingers halting in midair…
Suddenly rough hands grabbed Meredith and pulled her forcefully away from the eyes that threatened to sap her will. Instantly her mind began to clear, like stepping from a dark room into the sunlight…
"None of that, now, lady! There's been enough disruption for one night without starting more trouble."
A bouncer had hold of her by both arms and was dragging her towards an exit. Meredith could see another bouncer talking to Romano, occasionally throwing her an angry glare. "Are you okay sir? Did she injure you? Do you want to press charges?"
"Best be on your way, Ma’am,” the man said in a gentler tone than he had used before. “The party is over for tonight, I think.” Releasing her arms he pointed to the exit. "Watch your step."
Meredith nodded, casting one quick look back at Balthazar Romano as she stumbled uneasily towards the fire door, lit with a bright green EXIT sign. Pushing down on the bar, she heaved open the door and stepped out onto the metal staircase that was the emergency fire exit. The cool night air felt good, really good against her hot skin and she breathed it in deeply, clearing out the last of that woolly headed sensation. Whatever Romano had slipped in her drink it seemed to have worn off pretty fast.
And had only made her more determined to uncover the truth.
23:10 A meeting of old friends
From the moment they’d stepped inside the club, Niall and Chiedra had been on crowd control and triage. With only two gunmen, and a whole host of people engaging them, it had seemed like the best option. They had guided as many people through the exit as they could, and kept things on an even keel to avoid any additional injury from a mob rushing the door. Through a combination of cajoling and threatening (from Niall and Chiedra respectively) the pair had managed to move most of the partygoers outside as the police and paramedics arrived on scene. Now that the shooting was over, and the two maniacs appeared to have disappeared out the other door, Chiedra had moved on to focus more on triaging the wounded. Unfortunately, there were quite a few bodies lying in and around the area that were too still. Niall cursed himself for every kind of a fool when he saw a man younger than even his former ward lying a few feet away, his glassy eyes staring from below the bullet wound that had taken his life.
Should have stopped them before they came back in here, damnit. Chiedra was working her way towards a young woman sitting dazedly nearby. She glanced up now and again to check and make sure that her employer, Ricky, still sat behind the makeshift barricade of a thick table she’d thrown down against the wall when she’d caught up to him. Even for a hardened ganger like Ricky, the last few minutes had been harrowing. He kept looking around the room, his eyes wide and his mouth grim. Niall watched him, nearly feeling sorry for the bottom dweller, despite his well-known reputation.
Niall glanced over at Chiedra, who was wrapping the arm of a wounded young woman in what had obviously once been a pretty cocktail dress. When he turned back towards the stream of people making their way out the door, now slowing down to the few stragglers who could still make their way on their own, Niall noticed Balthazar Romano exiting, followed closely by a limping man. The man was considerably younger than Romano, and even Niall realized how good looking the man was. Unfortunately, the poor guy had a deep, ugly cut on his thigh and blood was steadily running down his leg beneath the tear in his pants. That's just like Romano, to except his guard to walk out of here while he's practically bleeding to death.
"Nice, Balthy, you hoping this poor kid dies before you have to cut his next paycheck?" Niall stepped in front of the young man, coming between Romano and the other man. He glared at the back of the older man's head.
Logan was cut completely off guard – he had assumed they’d make a quiet exit amongst the chaos and yet, someone had managed to recognize Balthazar. Balthy? The bodyguard cringed? The guy was either stupid or brave. Unsure how to react, Logan simply looked to his boss who had now spun around. Luckily, Romano was never at a loss for words.
“Niall,” Balthazar smiled with all the charm of a crocodile. “Are you getting rusty? You know I counted maybe 4, 5 people dead inside…I would have thought if you were around you’d do a better job stopping that unfortunate incident”. Before the man could respond, Balthazar flashed a look at his bodyguard, nodding towards the limo as if to say ‘hurry up’. Though always a nuisance, Niall’s presence here was even worse than usual. Balthazar couldn’t afford the do-gooder wizard to have any exposure to his favorite work associate.
"You're definitely right, Balthy," Niall replied icily. "If I were up to snuff, you'd be the one limping out of here, or better yet waiting to be carried out in one of those black bags."
Niall turned to the other man. "Please, stop for a moment and let me help you, son," Niall urged. "Whatever this bastard is paying you, it's not worth your life. That's a bad cut you've got there. Let me at least bind it to stop the bleeding."
Logan’s head was swimming. On top of the excruciating pain of standing on his stabbed leg, he was now being offered assistance by a stranger who just outright threatened the very man Logan was in charge of protecting. For a moment he hesitated, unsure how to react until a strange sensation began to wash over him. For a brief instance, the pain subsided as Niall’s offer to help flittered out of Logan’s mind, leaving him only to remember the menacing comment to Romano.
“I don’t know who you are buddy, but you better watch the way you speak to Mr. Romano,” Logan said, puffing out his sizable chest and purposely bumping the man as he made his way to stand protectively in front of Balthazar. Behind him, the older mage was smirking devilishly.
“Well Niall, it’s always a pleasure, but why don’t you run along now,” Romano chuckled as he and Logan turned their backs on the man and continued on to the waiting limo.
Niall felt the surge of magic flowing from somewhere on the younger man's body. Niall could easily recognize the flavor of the power he sensed. Obviously there was something more than just regular compensations involved in this relationship. Balthazar was definitely up to something. And knowing Balthazar, whatever it was, it wasn't good for anyone but Balthazar Romano.
We'll see about that. Niall moved to intercept the men once more, placing a gentle hand on the younger man's shoulder as he reached into the reserve of power he held within one of the many fetishes he wore. Over the years, Niall had built a number of fetishes to store his power. The bracelets, rings, and other items he carried or wore at all times were reserved wells of pure magical power. Niall drew upon one now, pulling power from the warm pool as he pushed gently upon the younger man's emotions, soothing as he spoke. "What is between your employer and I has no bearing on your current condition. I just want to help. If you'd give me a moment, I could at least bind your leg. I can take away some of your pain. Then you can do your job more effectively."
Niall’s magic began to wrap around Logan like a comforting blanket, but the feeling was fleeting. Deep within the young man, darker charms were triggered by the presence of the foreign spell, and they worked quickly to unweave any of the good Niall had intended. The result of the battling magics left Logan dizzy and aggravated. Though Niall’s power was great, he had not been prepared for the resistance and unfortunately it was not long before his energy was completely blocked out.
Balthazar almost laughed, seeing that his magic had won the invisible war that was raging within Logan’s head. This left the bodyguard seeing red.
“This is your last warning asshole” Logan spat. Unable to control the sudden flash of anger, he found himself shoving the stranger backwards with surprising strength.
Niall turned his attention fully to the older mange. His face twisted with rage and disgust. "I have no idea what game you are playing with this poor boy, Romano," he all but snarled, his eyes narrowed with fury. "I promise you, though that I will not just let this one go. I am going to find out what you are doing, and I am going stop you."
Niall turned back to the younger man who was nearly shaking with his own rage. "As for you," his voice gentled, full of remorse and sympathy as he spoke these words, "I don't know who you are or why Balthazar is willing to spend so much energy on you, but I know him. I know him well. So, when his plan comes to fruition, please remember that you are not alone. Whatever is within my power to do to help, I will do so. My name is Niall Tiergnan. You can find me in the yellow pages. Please come to me when you find yourself in need of friend."
Balthazar’s eyes shot daggers at the young sorcerer as he physically pushed his bodyguard towards the car. “You’re always such a delight,” he practically hissed. With that, he slammed the door of the limo closed.
As he relaxed into the seat, Logan’s rage began to subside, leaving him once again with the pain. Niall Tiergnan – the name sounded funny. Well, he was one hell of a crazy bastard, that’s for sure.
Niall watched Balthazar and his guard leave, feeling frustrated and useless once again. Tonight he couldn’t seem to get anything right. He would have to see about the young man, though. Even besides Balthazar’s interference, there was something…something that set Niall’s instincts on edge. There was more going on there than was even apparent after their brief encounter. Niall would have to do some digging when he had the time. Anything he could do to thwart Balthazar Romano was worth the effort after all.
23:12 - Balthazar's Limo
“You know you’re bleeding all over the leather,” Balthazar said coolly, as he reached into the limo’s liquor cabinet for the bottle of brandy.
After Pablo had left Logan on a bench in the club, the shooters either got away or were apprehended, he wasn’t quite sure which. After that, it wasn’t long before Logan spotted his boss, strolling casually down the stairs, completely unaffected by the night’s events. Knowing Romano’s aversion to cops and messy situations altogether, the bodyguard had no choice but to pull himself to his feet and hobble after Balthazar. Together, the two had made a discreet exit from the Graveyard bloodbath.
“So what exactly possessed you to get involved in all that nonsense?”
Logan’s head was swimming. He leg was mangled, people were dead and despite all that, Balthazar didn’t seem the least bit worried. You sadistic piece of….. In the blink of an eye, a wave of intense dizziness washed over the injured man, causing him to lose focus as he struggled to suppress the bile rising in his throat. But, as quick as it came, the nausea left and with it, his train of thought as well.
“Cat got your tongue my boy?”
“No, sorry sir,” the bodyguard winced. “I just figured it was better for me to try and stop the shooters before they got up to the second level where you were”.
“So preemptive body-guarding is what you’re saying,” the sorcerer replied, his voice flat and ambiguous.
“I guess you could call it that”. Biting down on his lip, the man fought through the jolt of pain coming from the stab wound.
While Logan struggled to keep himself together, Balthazar on the other hand seemed cool as a cucumber. “Well you’re nothing if not proactive. I like that, you don’t find that quality in a lot of employees these days. Of course,” he added, taking a sip from his glass, “being recklessly proactive is not necessarily a good thing”. The sorcerer had to play his cards right. There were so many moving pieces on the board now and with his plans so close to completion, he couldn’t risk Logan getting himself killed.
“People were getting shot, I couldn’t just stand by and..”
“I know I know,” Balthazar said in his most understanding voice. “You’re good at being the hero Logan, but that’s a dangerous game to play. You keep tempting the odds like that and eventually your number will get called”.
“You pay me to look out for you and that’s what I was doing.” Though technically true, Logan had other personal reasons to get involved. With Cadee and her friend at the party, he definitely had had a reason to try and help put and end to the chaos.
The two sat quietly for a moment, draped in an awkward silence. Logan knew his boss well enough that he could tell the old man’s mind was elsewhere, but where? His gut told him Romano knew more about tonight than he let on, but before Logan could question, the sorcerer spoke.
“You plan on visiting Angus this week? I’m still waiting for an answer”.
“Yeah, actually, I’ll go tomorrow,” Logan replied almost eagerly. Stopping at Slainte meant he could check up and make sure Cadee was alright.
“Will you be up to it?”
“Well, if you can do some hocus pocus on my leg, I should be good to go. I heal pretty fast anyways”.
Balthazar smiled as he noticed that the bodyguard’s leg had already stopped bleeding. “They make them tough where you come from,” he chuckled slyly.