Star, Starland Vamp Series, Book 1 (30 page)

No one noticed or gave a damn. After all, many strange and exotic things happened in this part of town. No one cared. I approached the Mirage looking like Bill, eyeing the long line of humans lined up on the outside. If they only knew, they wouldn’t be dying to get in. Steve, the burly bouncer I morphed into the last time, was not at the door. He was probably fired after my little performance the last time I was here.

“Hey, Bill!” a small vamp with a black Mohawk manning the door greeted me, surprised. I wore a power suit and stood about six foot tall with coal black short cropped hair, and I was a vamp. “I thought you were still at home recovering from your run in with Steve. How’s your head?”

“Can it!” I ordered, walking purposefully past him and through the door.

“Okay, man,” Mohawk boy replied, backing away with his hands up in surrender. “No problem.”

I strolled into The Mirage, eyeing the blood dripping from the sign, indicating it was a vamp club, and walked straight up to the bar. Inside the door, some vamps swayed to the music on the dance floor, while others were perched at the bar from every era, just like the last time. On the end stood a vampire with a high-collared cape, just like in the old days, talking to a pretty young vamp probably from the 1800s. Walking past them, I slid onto a vacant bar stool beside a beautiful blonde that—if I didn’t know any better—looked exactly like Marilyn Monroe. Her hair was in platinum blonde waves—as was the style in the sixties—and black eyeliner with bright red lipstick. And despite the war paint, she was beautiful.

“Bill, I’ve missed you, Hun. You feeling better now, baby?” she asked in a breathless soprano voice, just like Marilyn, slinking over my shoulder.

“Not now,” I replied patting her hand, looking like Bill. “I’m working, babe.”

Body print.

Then she snubbed me and talked to a vamp that looked exactly like James Dean to her left. For a split second, I wondered if it was really them, Marilyn Monroe and James Dean. If it
was
them, they could have staged their deaths before anyone noticed they weren’t aging. Well, stranger things have happened. 

Behind the bar was a female bartender with short black hair, cropped into a bob curling just below her ears, reminiscent of the silent movie era. She had a painted on black mole on her left cheek and heavy black, Cleopatra eyeliner to match.

“What can I get for you, Bill?” Cleo asked in a squeaky voice reminding me of Betty Boop, frantically chewing gum, as she placed an empty glass onto the bar in front of me. “The usual?”

“No, I’m working,” I replied, pushing the glass aside.

Cleo laughed, then replied, “Since when has that stopped you?”

“Since tonight,” I replied, looking around the bar. “Where’s V?”

Cleo’s painted on black eyebrows pulled together, confused. “Well, he went home early tonight since it was slow.”

I looked around and it seemed busy enough to me. “Give me his address, will you babe?”

Marilyn heard my comment to Cleo and gave a humph, raising her chin, then turned back toward James Dean.

“Why do you need me to get it for you, Bill?” Cleo asked, looking worried. “You have it on your rolodex in your office.”

“Stop asking questions and get it for me,” I replied tersely, then added, “Now!”

“Okay, okay, keep your shirt on!” Cleo replied, then walked to the side of the bar and paged through a rolodex under an old-fashioned phone hanging on the wall, adding ambiance to the place. After a minute, she pulled a card from the rolodex and looked at it. “You want me to call him for you? Really, Bill, you have him on your cell phone …”

“No, I want to surprise him,” I replied with a smile, but I knew I couldn’t trust her. She knew something was up, but just didn’t know what. I thought it might be best if I killed her with kindness. “Just give me the card, babe. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Okay. Whatever you say,” she said, sliding the card across the bar, but nonchalantly placed her hand under the bar. I was sure she hit a silent alarm. Then she turned her attention toward the blonde as a diversion. “Marilyn, you need another one, honey?”

“No, I’ve had enough,” she breathed in answer, then looked back at me appraisingly. “Unless
you
want to buy me one, Sugar?” The vamp looking like James Dean rolled his eyes and turned away.

“Not tonight, babe,” I replied, getting up from the tall bar stool, casually slipping the card into my pocket. Besides, Marilyn would definitely change her mind if she knew the truth of who I was. But the truth for me was that I had to get out, and I had to get out now. “Maybe some other time.”

Marilyn grinned slightly, gracefully extending her hand into mine, palm down. I dropped it, and her smile faded quickly.

“Good night, Love,” I replied with a smile, as two vamps I didn’t recognize came quickly in the front door. Cleo gave them a slight nod in my direction. I looked to the back door, but two huge vamps that made Steve look like Barney Fife guarded the back door. I turned to face Cleo casually and replied, “If anyone needs me, I’ll be in my office.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she nodded her head slightly as I headed down the hallway toward where I suspected the executive offices would be. Out of sight, I moved at vamp speed down the hall, surprising two vamps necking outside the bathrooms. The male looked like a cowboy, whereas the young female appeared to have stepped out of an Arabian harem. I moved quickly to the right down the hallway into what I suspected was Bill’s office and quickly bolted the thick steel door. He must have had it installed in case of an attack.

Vamps beat on the door, yelling for me to open up, pounding so hard they punched dents in the three inch thick steel casing. Quickly, I looked around, and luckily there was a small window at the top of the room. Like a trapeze artist, I jumped up and grabbed the steel beams in the ceiling and swung back and forth until my feet was even with the window, then I let go, crashing through the window feet first, landing expertly on the ground outside the club.

Outside, my body changed and shimmered, morphing back into myself when suddenly a 1970 Daytona yellow Corvette convertible pulled up. I reached for my 9 mm Glock, still in the back of my pants.

“That won’t be necessary, unless you don’t need a ride,” the masculine voice with a Roman accent said nonchalantly. When I looked, it was Verus.

“What the hell?” I asked, very confused.

Behind me, I could hear vamps busting through the steel door of Bill’s office, yelling a series of “He went through the window!” “He’s outside!” “Go, go, go!” then I turned to face Verus again.

At vamp speed, I aimed my Glock at his head. “Can I trust you?”

“We don’t have enough time for this,” Verus replied.

I pulled back the hammer on my Glock. “Can I trust you?” I demanded through gritted teeth, pointing the weapon at his brain.

“What do you think?” Verus answered, as vamps rounded the corner, heading toward us.

And I knew I didn’t have a choice. At vamp speed, I lowered the hammer on the Glock and slid into the passenger seat of his car, saying to Verus, “For your sake, you’d better hope I can trust you.”

Without saying another word, Verus quickly sped out of the side parking lot, down an alley, then out onto Broadway as rogue vamps ran quickly after us. 

“We have company!” Verus yelled over his shoulder, making a quick turn down another street where more rogue vamps blocked our way.

I quickly leaned out the passenger side window and unloaded my Glock into as many vamps as I possibly could, while Verus expertly darted around others, heading toward the expressway. Quickly, I reached into my pants pocket for another clip and popped it into my Glock, ready to roll just as another rogue vamp jumped onto the hood.

“Get the hell off my car!” Verus yelled in his pronounced Roman accent as I leaned out the window and unloaded my clip into his brain. Another vamp crawled across the back of the car and had me by the throat in an instant, while Verus quickly spun the yellow Corvette around, trying to knock him off, but failed miserably.

In one fluid motion, I grabbed my Greyman knife from my boot and stabbed him all the way through his throat. The blade came out the back of his neck.

He let go.

Within a second, Verus made a sharp left turn and we were safely back on I-95 headed to who knows where.

I looked for a place to wipe the blood off my knife, and Verus read my mind.

“Don’t even think about it,” he said, looking at the bloody 9 ¾ inch blade.

So I shoved it into my boot again, deciding to clean it up later. Verus relaxed a bit. After taking a moment to collect my thoughts, I turned to him and said, “Okay, spill.”

Verus knew I wanted answers to a lot of questions and I wanted them now. “Not here,” he replied, then added, “Let me find a safe place where we can talk.”

I didn’t relax and said nothing as I waited for him to stop the beautiful 1970 Daytona yellow Corvette convertible. On the outskirts of town, darkness was encroaching upon us, with only the occasional street lamps passing by. Without thinking about what he would think, I pulled another clip from my pants pocket and reloaded my Glock, looking right at him as he laughed. His powerful muscles expertly turned the wheel, taking the next exit, then within minutes, we were deep within the forest on a secluded road. And although it was completely dark, I could see perfectly.

He slowly pulled the Corvette to a stop, then turned off the engine. I waited for him to speak. “I suppose you’re wondering what’s going on,” he said, not taking his hands off the black leather steering wheel.

“You suppose correctly,” I replied, still holding the Glock on my thigh. It didn’t escape his notice, but he said nothing about it. I just waited for him to continue.

“I’m an undercover agent, too,” Verus replied, looking me directly in the eye.

I laughed so hard that tears sprang to my eyes. “Yeah, right,” I said. “Tell me another one.”

“It’s true,” Verus said, reaching into his back pocket.

Immediately, I had the Glock at his forehead. “Be very careful, Verus.”

He held both his hands up in surrender, then said casually, “I’m only reaching for my wallet. Do you mind?”

I thought for a moment, then lowered my weapon. “Go right ahead, but don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

Then he smiled mischievously, “Why? What do you have in mind?” Then he leaned closer and whispered, “Although I wouldn’t regret it.”

And without missing a beat, I had the Glock pointed at his forehead again. “I said, don’t try anything stupid.”

“Hey, I was just kidding!” Verus said, clearly amused, but unmoved. “And please, call me V.”

“Okay, Verus,” I said, not trusting him for a second, even though he just saved my life. “What are you doing here?”

“As I said,” Verus continued, pulling a card from his wallet and handing it to me. It was a standard issue CIA identification card with his name and picture on it. His entry date was 1947, the same date as the indoctrination of the agency. The same year I entered. I had one just like it.

“How do I know this is real?” I asked, fanning the hard plastic card.

“Come now Star, you know it’s real,” Verus replied with a half smile.

“Okay,” I said, handing it back to him. “Then why have I not seen you at the agency before?”

“I don’t know, Star,” Verus continued, shaking his head, looking out the side window. “There are so many of us working so many different facets of the agency, we just probably never worked together before. I’m on a different team than you.”

“How do you know my name?” I asked, still not trusting him.

“Abbott told me he was sending you undercover last week,” Verus replied. “After I told him there was a contract on his son’s head, that’s when he sent you and Rick in to protect him.” Then he sighed and sat back against the seat and looked out the window, taking a moment to collect his thoughts, then he turned to face me again. “Abbott sent me undercover a few months ago to work at The Mirage.”

“A few months ago?” I asked, my eyebrows pulling together.

Verus nodded. “Yes. He knew something was going down in the city and that someone was creating rogue vamps, but he didn’t know who, what, or why. That’s when he sent me in. He thought that the best place to find the answers was at The Mirage.”

“And what have you found out?” I asked, still debating on whether or not to believe his story.

Verus’ eyebrows pulled together, then he replied, “A vamp is experimenting with creating vampires. I’m not completely sure what he’s trying to accomplish, but I have an idea.”

I nodded, taking it all in.

“And there’s more,” Verus continued, looking at me with concern, knowing I wasn’t going to like what he was about to tell me next. “He grabbed Rick last night.”

I nodded, understanding. “I thought so. They grabbed Annie, too.”

Verus laughed, then looked at me. “Star, she’s one of them.”

“No!” I yelled into his face as tears brimmed my eyes. “There’s no way Annie is one of them! She has to be undercover or something.”

Verus sighed. “I sure hope so. All I know is that she’s been hanging out with Michaels quite a bit.”