The black mustang was parked in some sketchy lot a few blocks down. It was still all fucked up. He’d driven it home from Fantastika that night but never found the right ledge to launch her off. So he swapped license plates with a black Honda civic parked outside a grocery store and then drove the beat-up baby home. It had been there a few weeks now, parked near the tool shed at the back of the beach house, and Amery was pretty Gran’Lynn hadn’t even noticed it. Or ever would. He’d switched out the plates again a few days before with some shitty Toyota parked on the side of the street and, feeling confident enough, he decided he needed
sixty-six Pandenning Court
a night out on the town. Get some real blood, not just beach combers and sunbathers. And it was getting a little late in the year for sunbathers as it was. He was going to miss all that skin.
--
She had brown hair and brown eyes. She was kind of pretty, but not stunning. But she was also ballsy and cocky and fearless and so of course Amery wanted to fuck her. Mostly he wanted to fuck her because she showed so much interest in him, and so little interest in fucking. Amery couldn’t figure it out. It was like she wanted something else, like she knew something he didn’t, and although that pissed him off it also made him undeniably intrigued. As it was he hadn’t fucked in a while, and if he could get a drink off her in the process it would be all the better. Make for a decent evening
and a damn good night.
He didn’t remember where he’d picked the chick up. He’d just drank, and was blood drunk, and the next thing he knew she was there giving him a look like she knew what he was about, and telling him that she wanted him to ‘escort’ her to a club. She didn’t flinch at anything. It sounded a bit off. It sounded like a trap to be straight and honest—dangerous shit. And so of course he said yes.
As they meandered towards the nightclub from a particularly shady alley leading back to where the mustang slept, Amery taking wide steps as he walked behind the brunette with fingers laced in hers and nose pressed into her hair, he felt an abrupt change in the atmosphere. The tiny hairs on his body stood on end. Something was out of place. He was sensing something off, something he couldn’t identify because he still didn’t understand all the comings and goings of his immortal body.
Immortal. Immortals. There are immortals fucking everywhere.
It was a trap. It had to be. He stopped, pulling the girl’s arms back so that she was yanked against him. Nuzzling her hair out of the way, he played his lips across her ear: “You should tell what the fuck is going on now.” He tugged at one of her earrings with his teeth. The response he got quite surprised him.
Tilting her head sideways, so that Amery could see into her eyes, the girl grinned and pushed some very dangerous syllables out from behind her plump lips and over her pink tongue.
“Or what, you\'ll bite me?”
For a moment, Amery didn’t do or say anything. Then because he couldn’t help himself he kissed the just-reachable lips in front of him, whispering between kisses
“those are already famous last words, baby--don’t risk making them yours too,”
and nicked the bottom lip as he pulled away. She didn’t flinch, nor did she seem afraid. What a fucking puzzle. This was getting weird. He let her fingers slip from his as she pulled softly away towards the door of what he could only presume to be the club. When she was near two very odd bouncers –they didn’t, well, smell right—she turned back to him and licked the tiny bead of blood from her lower lip.
“I believe the question is, are you going to risk making them mine?” she asked, an eyebrow flicking towards the moon. Then she disappeared inside, with a few people in line grumbling about favoritism. The bouncers didn’t seem to pay much attention to the petulant mortals, but they were both eying him intently. He had the feeling that he was being judged, but not on the basis of his appearance. Which, of course, was always flawless: even if he was in just a pair of old black trousers and a white wife-beater.
They’re not human.
He didn’t know what they were, but that much he could tell. Inside this converted warehouse, too, he could feel the presence of an unbelievable amount of immortals. He stood where the girl had left him, under the penetrating gaze of the door guards and considered his situation.
A hard-on and I’m not even to the door. Fuck I’ll take the risk.
Having methodically deliberated on his options, he then proceeded past the queue and to the door, returning the unwavering gaze of first one bouncer and then the other. At first they seemed about to stop him, or question him, he could feel them begin to move as he came close, but there was a commotion in the queue line and they seemed to relent and let him slip inside, likely deeming other matters to be more important than a lone, newly turned vampire.
Amery knew that they knew. He could feel them knowing what he was. What he couldn’t figure out was how the chick knew, or why so many vampires were congregated at the end of this hall, on the floors above him. What the fuck was going on? He realized he was grinning, and didn’t know why, and found that funny, so he chuckled. In the long entrance hall he glanced at one of the notices on the wall: Rules of Risk. He didn’t read the rest, but bit his lip and chuckled once with a shake of his head, and then proceeded down the long hall towards where he could feel the force of mortal and immortal alike with such intensity that his body went giddy-tense with adrenaline.
Clever bitch.
He stepped through the doorway and into a world like something he’d only imagined in B horror flicks and bad vampire novels.