Endless Night (6 page)

Normally, this intentional match-y-match would’ve driven me insane, but the evening seemed to warrant such foolishness so I decided to roll with it. Besides, if I were stuck matching someone, it might as well be Cyrus Atossa.

Prepared for my first ever vampire masquerade, I waited like a good little reporter for the man at the door to move the pointless red velvet rope. The rope dropped to the floor and Cyrus led us into the first real vampire event of the Halloween weekend. My first intentional evening spent with nasty little blood drinkers.

And
me without my camera.

Chapter Eight

The room was large, like it may have been a warehouse at one point. It looked nothing like a warehouse now. Long white drapes hung from metal beams that ran along the high industrial ceiling. Each a few yards wide, hung from ceiling to floor. The red lighting made the white of the fabric appear pink and shadowed in shades of red. The drapes hung at random intervals throughout the space, forcing the guests to weave through them. The effect created a mystique to the extra-large space, adding a sense of intimacy and a slight uneasy feeling from the lack of open space. In any other setting, I would’ve liked the look of it, very Cirque du Soleil, but in a room full of people who may or may not want to have me for dinner, I was on the ready for something gory to happen.

The floor was done in a black and white checkered pattern that covered the entire space. Again, the red light caused the white of the tile to appear a deep shade of pink. A large stage stood to the far wall encompassing nearly the length of it. To the left was a bar and my first stop. I’d expected there’d be more patrons than what there were, but I assumed we were a bit early judging by the gaggle of vampire folk congregating outside. I started walking toward the bar, which was not as packed as I thought it’d be, but was stopped by a hand on my shoulder.

“My sweet girl, we don’t drink here. This…space…is for them.” Malcolm released my shoulder and flipped his fingers toward the crowd that had started to gather at the front entrance.

Surprisingly, McTavish was appearing to treat me an equal. Sort of. He spoke to me in a normal tone using normal words. It was a start. I wasn’t buying it.

“Um, ok. Then please direct me to the ‘white’s only drinking fountain’.” Yes, air quotes. And, yes, a fucking joke.

He smiled at me then and my heart sank an inch in my chest. The look in his eye
s was like the look a cat gets when it’s about to claw the shit out of your face.

A heavy base drum hit from nowhere, breaking my concentration, and the lights changed in an instant from red to blue. Suddenly, the long drapes that hung so elegantly from the ceiling became home to mostly nude women. Each of the dozen or so pieces of white fabric was now adorned with a topless girl. Simultaneously, they slid down their drape, clinging with one leg and one hand. Again, a base drum beat; the girls released their grip and fell backward. Their downward descent continued, only this time hanging upside down.
I was standing only a handful of feet away from a lovely brunette. She trailed down the cloth, growing closer to the floor below her. Closer to me. I could see her face as she drew nearer to the end of her rope. She was beautiful. Her face was soft and delicate and held not an ounce of fear sliding twenty-five-feet upside down, clinging to a piece of cloth with only her leg. She was above me only a few feet when she smiled. Her eyes were amazing in the blue light. They looked like the sea at night. Glistening in waves of light and shadow. I held her gaze steadfast as she descended. She had an intricate dragon tattoo that wrapped around her waist and up her bare chest. She was so close I could almost touch her and a part of me wanted to. There was a kind of primal sexual heat radiating off the naked girl hanging from the cloth.

Just as quickly as it happened the first time, the music began with another drum beat and the girls lifted themselves upright and began climbing back up the fabric. Wrapping hands and legs around the silky, flowing fabric, each girl maneuvered themselves upward. Our eye contact broke and she was gone, back up her curtain, and I was left standing there like a lovesick school girl. Only, I had no idea who she was or why in the hell I had any interest in her.
Don’t get me wrong, I can appreciate a pretty girl when I saw one, but never in my life have I been so intrigued by a woman.

The girls continued their dance on the curtains. They wrapped themselves in the long fabric, flipped and turned, and slid. It was an awe
provoking dance. The agility and fearlessness those girls had baffled me. Granted I’d killed people, but that was nothing compared to plummeting to your death half naked in front of a crowd of people dressed like they were on their way to a macabre renaissance faire.

“Dylan, let’s go,” Tatum called to me from a few feet away. She and Malcolm made their way toward a set of spiraling stairs hidden in a dark corner. Cyrus waited cordially for my attention.

The man in black stuck his arm out for me, but I ignored it. I let my ass wiggle back and forth as my disgustingly tall heels hit the tile floor with a stomp. I wanted to stay and watch the girls wrap and hang.

I made sure to calm myself before I hit the expanded metal staircase. A spike heel meeting a holey surface and a girl could be done for.

Tatum and Malcolm had almost disappeared up the stairs by the time I reached the foot of it. I forced myself to take it one step at a time. I tried to ignore the sudden fear that crept up my spine knowing I was by myself, even if only for a minute, in a room full of blood drinkers. No matter how fictional they were, drinking someone’s blood was no bullshit.

I felt Cyrus at my back after a few steps up the stairs. The music was so loud there was no hearing someone sneak up on you, but after so many years spent at the bar, I’d grown accustomed to not being able to hear myself speak let alone anyone else.

Perched atop the treacherous stairs was a loft area that stretched the length of the room and jutted from the brick wall a few dozen feet over the floor below. A large man stood at the entrance to the area stopping all who should attempt to cross the line. He stopped me with an open hand at my chest. I scoffed before I realized he’d never hear that, and then I pointed at Malcolm’s fiery red mane. Cyrus came up behind me and the man moved aside to let us through. I couldn’t resist and I made a childish face of victory at the dumb guy on the stairs. For once in my life, I was with the in-crowd.

Blood drinkers or not, they sure as hell know how to party.

Huge lounge chairs and sectional sofas laid sporadically throughout the open area, each a different color. Some blue, some red, some black, but all over stuffed and made for beauty as well as comfort. Small cube shaped tables sat in front of each seating area that allowed a place for drinks or butts. Gorgeous people lounged on every available spot. Some lounged on another person, but no one seemed to mind the closeness.

The upper deck, as I’d dubbed it in my own head, seemed a far cry from the mundane open floor below. It appeared as though they grouped all the beautiful people up the stairs of death where the big couches were and all the idiots in ruffled shirts and top hats were forced to mingle below. Such as peasants or peons maybe. It reminded me of Diego, or Philippe, pathetic little boys in the presence of less pathetic little boys.
Everyone in the room, to the general public, would seem as just another Goth kid with low self-esteem and a mommy complex, but amongst themselves, they are amazing creatures. They had their own hierarchy and set of rules in place that didn’t touch the world I lived in, the real world. But it worked for them. Someone like Malcolm, a short red-headed boy with freckles who thought himself a vampire would have been teased mercilessly in high school. Even as an adult, in a crowd made up of Billy-Bobs, he’d be eaten alive. In fact, I couldn’t believe these people didn’t get more grief than they did. If they did.

I had
to say, it felt nice not being on the floor with the commoners. Even if I was surrounded by the head honchos of the vampire club.

The four of us made our way through the crowd that took up the upper deck, toward a black couch in the shape of a half-circle. It was all the way in the back, stuck in a corner, but it was the only available spot.

“Nobody puts Baby in the corner,” I quipped. “Why are we all the way back here? You can’t work your Primus mojo and get us a better seat?” I wasn’t trying to complain, honest.

“This
is
the better seat. This is the spot I choose every year. It has the best view and is the farthest away from gawkers and sheep.” Malcolm said this like he was so far above me and everyone else in the room he couldn’t stand to be near us.

Letting out an irritated and totally childish sigh, I plopped unattractively on the big comfy couch. Malcolm rolled his eyes in disgust, as I knew he would, and I smiled sweetly at him. He was right, the view was spectacular. I could see the stage, the bar, all of the drapery girls, and all of the peons below.

I glanced around the upper deck and noticed the group sitting within the seating area next to us. Two women and a man, all looking like they could be related to Cyrus with their pouty lips and thick eyelashes. The man wore a top hat and mask, made in all black silk: simple. The red-haired woman donned a dress that made me want to run to a costume shop and buy anything other than the plain black dress I had on. The shoulders were covered in shiny black feathers that trailed down the long sleeves and up her neck to create a collar that circled her head. Her skin was like milk, like Malcolm’s, but she pulled it off better. A woman with jet-black hair sat with them in a black leather dress that reminded me of Edward Scissorhands with all of its buckles and straps. Her eyes met mine and reflected the light emanating from the lower level in a way that reminded me of my first night with Cyrus. Glowing, almost as though they produced their own light, in a way so unnatural it looked computer generated.

I’ve got to find out where they get those contacts.

One of the women, the redhead, raised a deeply bowled wine glass to me with a nod of her head and drank. The thick liquid in the glass stuck to the edges as it tipped up and back down. It looked like syrup or oil…or blood. My breath caught and I let out a tiny gasp. I knew where I was; I knew who they were and what they thought they were. I just never thought that I’d ever see someone drinking blood from a wine glass only a few feet from me.

“You know what they are, Dylan, darling
.” Cyrus spoke closely to my ear. I felt his breath roll across the skin of my neck and shivered when it caused chills down my spine.

I know what they
think
they are. Sometimes, when I’m alone and slightly drunk in my apartment, I think I’m Joan Jett. Do I flaunt that in public? Nope.

“Yes. It was just unexpected. That
is
what I think it is, right?” I knew what it was. What else could it be?

“Yes. Willing donors only, love,” Malcolm’s Irish brogue chimed in with an answer.
“Every year a select group of donors is given free pass to the event in exchange for their…donation. What you see there was collected days ago and chilled for the occasion. Be prepared, that’s not the first or the last. Masque de Sang has been celebrated for years without instance. It won’t change now. I would suggest you order yourself a drink and try to have fun.” He smiled at me for the fifth time since I’d met him. I didn’t think he liked me much.
Good
.

A scantily clad waitress shimmied over to our group with her tray in hand. Her hair was ratted up into a twist over her head that looked straight out of a Tim Burton movie and her eyes had smudges of black makeup around them that made it look like she’d been crying. She looked a little scary, but I loved it. I ordered and she flashed a fanged smile at me. I laughed nervously and she winked at me.

“You know, Maxwell is fitting custom teeth at his booth tonight. We should get a pair.” Cyrus smiled too and I pictured him with his shiny white fangs from my dream so many months ago. A quick battle of emotions occurred in my head as I struggled over whether the idea was terrifying or sexy.

“We, as in you and I?” Sexy won.

“Oh, I want to go too.” Tatum piped up from the other side of Malcolm. She’d been uncharacteristically quiet for so long I’d forgotten she was there. Which was not entirely a bad thing. She still hadn’t acknowledged the fact she was shackled permanently to her Sanguinarian candy cane looking boyfriend, or that I’d finally said it in public, to more than just her.

“Let me get a few drinks in me and we’ll see,” I said with a fake smile. I fought hard not to scream. To grab her by her stupid blonde face and tell her she was acting like a love sick fool. It wasn’t like her to fall all over herself for some guy and why the first time it happens it was with Ginger Spice, I’d never know.

Maybe it’s some kind of vampire power. He’s got Cyrus in his clutches…why not drag Tatum along too? Vampire mind control…

“Is that all it takes?” he butted into my thoughts and startled me back to reality
. Shooting me a wink that washed thoughts of Tatum away, he replaced them with naughty thoughts, and my weekend immediately became much better. A sly wink from that silly boy and I was melting in my control-top panties. While Tatum ruffled my feathers, Cyrus was right behind her to smooth them down again. “A few drinks?”

“Usually
.” I winked right back. This conversation was heading in a direction that caused serious turmoil in my little head. On one hand, Cyrus had driven me absolutely insane until the last six hours. But on the other hand, sexual frustration was a nasty bitch.

Our drinks arrived and I sent mine careening down my gullet. Awkward situations are better handled intoxicated. Really, it was true.

Ordering another drink, okay two, I secretly hoped I’d get drunk and lose all inhibitions. I knew I was my own worst enemy and tended to cut off my dick to spite my balls. Also, likely the sole reason for my recent celibacy. Somewhere in my head, the thought lingered that this might be the night to rectify this.