20
The nightclub was packed, and the music was blaring. Cain squeezed through the crowd, making a path for himself just as Zane and Amaury did, all the while scanning the throng of people for vampires.
“I don’t see anything wrong,” he yelled to get Zane’s attention.
His boss turned. “The club has three floors and a few private rooms.”
Cain nodded.
“Thomas and a few of our guards should be here already,” Zane added. “But I don’t see them. Amaury and I will go up a story. It looks quiet down here, but nevertheless, check all the rooms on this floor, then follow us if you don’t find anything.”
Cain grudgingly complied and watched them head for the stairs. It didn’t appear that any fight was happening on this floor, and he would much rather join in whatever action was taking place farther up in the building.
“F*ck it,” he cursed. With efficiency, he scanned the dance floor, noticing nothing out of place. Just a mass of people writhing against each other to a monotonous techno rhythm.
He pushed past the sweating bodies, ignoring the scent of heated blood that was more intense whenever a human’s body was hot from exercise or dancing. An array of disparate perfumes mixed in the air-conditioned air of the club, but the air conditioning couldn’t keep up with recycling the used air. The scent of alcohol mingled with it. The clubbers were drinking while dancing, spilling half their drinks on the floor.
Cain scanned the bar that lined the wall beyond the dance floor. Three bartenders were busy serving the never-ending thirst of their clients. Still, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. He was about to move on when his eyes were drawn to a man who pressed a young woman against him. Not a man—a vampire, as his aura suggested. Cain zoomed in, but there was nothing wild or uncontrolled about the other vampire’s behavior.
Making his way through the crowd, Cain headed for the bar, wanting to take a closer look to make sure the woman wasn’t in distress. He chose an angle of approach from which the other vampire couldn’t see him, even though he was aware that the vampire would sense him.
When Cain was close enough to listen in on their conversation, he stopped and watched.
The woman was in her early twenties, pretty, and endowed with a set of boobs any Hollywood starlet would be envious of. Her hand was on the vampire’s jeans-encased ass, and she was clearly pressing him against her—admittedly very enticing—body.
Cain heard the vampire groan. “Sugar, you keep on doing that, I’m gonna have to take you right here.”
She giggled. “Well maybe then we should get out of here.”
He sunk his head to her neck. Cain went on alert. Would he bite her in full view of several hundreds of human witnesses? Cain’s legs moved of their own volition, bringing him closer to the unknown vampire.
Suddenly, the vampire lifted his head from the girl’s neck and turned to stare at Cain. Cain’s eyes instantly honed in on the woman’s skin, but it was unblemished. Then he met the other vampire’s stare.
The stranger nodded briefly, letting Cain know that he’d seen him and knew that he was a vampire. Then he turned to the woman in his arms.
“I think it’s past your bedtime,” he said to her, making no effort to lower his voice.
Cain turned away. Clearly, the vampire was in possession of all his faculties, nothing crazy about him. That he wanted to take a human woman to bed was none of Cain’s business, particularly since it appeared that the woman consented wholeheartedly.
“Have fun,” Cain murmured, knowing that the other vampire would be able to hear him.
As the vampire left with his conquest for the night, Cain walked to the other side of the club which he hadn’t covered yet. There, mirrored partitions separated the dance floor from an area with high tables and bar stools. It was only marginally quieter there, but just as crowded.
Again, Cain walked through the area, watching for any signs of vampires, but he didn’t see the tell-tale aura that surrounded a vampire, something only other preternatural creatures could see. Having completed his sweep of the first floor, he headed for the stairs. When he set his foot on the first step, something in his peripheral vision caught his attention.
He whipped his head in its direction and noticed a door that was ajar. It could easily be overlooked, because it was made of the same material as the shiny black paneling that surrounded it. A dim light came from inside the room.
His heartbeat kicking up a notch, he walked toward the door, his eyes scanning the people around him, but nobody seemed to pay him any attention. With the tip of his finger, he opened the door another inch, then spied inside. From the little he could see from this angle, the room appeared to be a private party room, furnished with a large sectional.
Cain let his senses reach out, but couldn’t sense the presence of a vampire. He inhaled. What he smelled made his gums itch violently: blood.
“Shit!” he cursed and pulled the door open wide enough so he could squeeze inside. He closed it behind him, holding his breath as he did so.
It took his eyes one second to assess the situation, and his stomach an additional one to turn upside down.
***
Zane narrowed his eyes, focusing on a group of youngsters who screamed with the music and danced wildly, when he picked up a scent. Next to him, Amaury growled: he’d smelled the same thing.
Simultaneously, he and Amaury pushed through the crowd and cleared a path to where the smell of blood originated. Zane scanned the area. Beyond the bar, which was of similar size as the one on the first floor, smaller booths were tucked away in a corner, their entrances partially obstructed by mirrored screens. The booths were furnished with plush seating arrangements and low tables for drinks.
As he got closer, Zane sensed the aura of a vampire. He stormed into the booth, Amaury only steps behind him. A vampire was sucking on the neck of a young Asian woman, her struggles evidence that the bite was not a welcome one, and that the vampire wasn’t employing his mind control skills to pacify her. His hand was clamped over her mouth so she couldn’t scream, but her eyes did the screaming instead. He was making her suffer deliberately.
Zane jumped toward him, when the rogue vampire suddenly whirled around and glared at him, his fangs dripping with blood, his eyes red. The stranger pounced instantly and with such ferocity that Zane was thrown back against a wall, shattering the mirrored surface.
He caught himself quickly, but the vampire was wilder than he’d ever seen anyone. Like an animal he attacked again, growling; saliva and blood dripped from his mouth as his claws veered toward Zane’s neck. Zane sidestepped him.
The girl’s screams, which the rogue vampire had muffled before, now came from his victim’s throat. From the corner of his eye, Zane verified that Amaury was taking care of the situation and concentrated on his attacker again.
Zane was no stranger to bloody fights, but this vampire was different—stronger and more dangerous—even though he was only of average size. Bloodlust, he figured. There was no other explanation for it.
Had this been any other fight, Zane would have simply reached for his stake and driven it into the jerk’s heart, but he needed him alive. This was the first time they’d actually come face-to-face with one of the crazies that the mayor had asked them to watch out for. And if they wanted to know what was really going on and what was causing them to go berserk, he needed to catch one alive.
As he dodged another blow by his attacker, Zane swiveled and jumped behind him, then kicked him in the back of his knees. But instead of falling to his knees as Zane would have expected, the vampire jerked his elbows back and slammed them into Zane’s ribcage, knocking the wind out of him.
“F*ck!” Zane ground out as he absorbed the violent jab.
“Chain!” Amaury yelled behind him.
Zane turned his head and saw how Amaury pulled on his gloves in vampire speed, then reached into this pocket. When he pulled the silver chain from it, Zane jumped aside, giving Amaury a straight line-of-sight to the attacker, who’d already turned and was ready to land more kicks and blows.
The hostile vampire’s high leg kicks prevented Amaury from coming close enough to throw the chain around his neck. Flashing his fangs, the rogue snarled like a beast, then jumped toward Amaury. Zane, standing off to the side, saw his opportunity and kicked his leg up, hitting the vampire in the groin in mid-jump. He buckled.
Amaury didn’t lose any time and wrapped the silver chain around his neck. The stench of singed hair and flesh immediately permeated the air.
“F*cking a*shole!” Amaury cursed as he held the chain tight behind his neck and brought him down on the ground. The vampire was struggling, bringing his hands to the chain to remove it from his neck, but burned his fingers as he touched the only metal that was toxic to a vampire.
Zane kicked his boot against the rogue’s hip, then helped Amaury tie him up with a second chain. Behind him, the girl was still crying. Zane stood and looked at her.
Her neck was bleeding profusely, her body was covered with bruises from the vampire’s claws. He’d brutalized her.
“Shit!” Zane hissed.
A gaze to the entrance of the booth confirmed that none of the clubbers had noticed what was going on: the music was too loud for anybody to hear any of the fighting or the girl’s screams, and the mirrored partition that partially covered the entrance to the booth hid the carnage behind.
Zane looked into the girl’s eyes, focused on her mind and worked his magic, wiping every memory of this horrific event from her mind. But to stop the bleeding and heal her, he needed help. As a blood-bonded vampire he couldn’t drink blood other than that of his hybrid mate, and if he were to lick the girl’s wounds to close them, he would inadvertently consume some of her blood. It would make him violently ill. He needed a vampire who was either not blood-bonded or blood-bonded to another vampire—they were able to digest blood not coming from their mates.
Besides, the girl’s injuries were severe. She needed vampire blood to heal, simply licking her wounds and allowing the vampire saliva to close them wouldn’t be sufficient.
“We need Cain,” he said to Amaury. “And where the f*ck is Thomas?”
***
Cain refrained from holding his hand over his nose and mouth, but it was hard not to puke at the sight of gore that presented itself. The girl on the dirty floor of the room was dead. Her throat had been ripped out, and it was evident that a vampire had savagely fed from her, then finished her off with his claws. As if he’d been angry. No, not just angry: furious! He’d wanted to punish the girl for something.
Her almond-shaped eyes were open, still staring at him in horror. Proof enough that the vampire who’d done this hadn’t bothered using mind control so she wouldn’t realize what he was doing. The poor girl had known what was happening to her.
Cain turned away from the bloody scene and surveyed the room for any sign that could lead him to the vampire who’d done this. Instinctively he knew there would be none. He’d come too late.
He dropped his head when he noticed a small ray of light coming from under one of the mirrored panels. He walked toward it. There was no image in the mirror—even though he was used to it, it still startled him from time to time, making him wonder whether he truly existed, or whether he was only a shadow of his own imagination. Shaking off the wayward thought, he ran his hands along the mirror, searching for any indentations or hooks that might allow him to get behind it. There were no latches, but when he pressed against the panel, it moved away from the wall, revealing another room behind it, by the looks of it a storage room.
A figure jumped at him, the movement a blur, but Cain’s reaction was instantaneous. He slammed his body against the attacker, whom he recognized as a vampire. The stench of blood still clung to him, and he was broader than Cain and a little heavier. Cain landed a right hook under his chin, whipping his attacker’s head back, then followed it up with a balled fist against his windpipe, then a kick against his thigh.
But the guy didn’t buckle as easily as other opponents had before him.
“Shit!”
The vampire shot him a nasty grin. “Better blood!”
Momentarily distracted by the odd comment, Cain couldn’t avoid the hit to his neck that slammed him against the storage unit on one wall. Pain whipped through him, but it was only momentary. He pulled himself up immediately and was thus able to evade the next blow. Cain jumped to the side, kicking his attacker in the hip, catapulting him against the opposite wall.
“F*cking murderer!” he cursed, glaring at the jerk.
The vampire growled, narrowing his eyes as he prepared for a counterattack. “She didn’t have the right blood! Bitch deserved it!”
The crazy vampire was clearly delirious, his mumblings not making any sense. Bloodlust was written all over him: his breathing was ragged, his eyes bloodshot, saliva dripping from his mouth as from a rabid dog. Unfortunately, another thing was true too: like other vampires in bloodlust, he seemed stronger and more ferocious.
As they fought, trading blows, kicks, and hits, Cain frantically looked for any weapons he could use to subdue his opponent without killing him. He had a stake in his jacket pocket, but he wasn’t going to use it. Zane’s order had been to take the crazy vampires they’d been hunting alive. If they could capture one alive, they would have a chance of figuring out what was going on.
With his next blow, the rogue vampire swiped Cain’s neck with his claws. Blood ran from the stinging cuts.
Fury charged through him, and he pushed back, pulling up his knee and driving it into the guy’s nuts. As his torso folded over, Cain kicked upwards once more, sending him against the cabinet behind him, making the supplies on it rattle and the items stacked in the shelves fall out.
Cain pinned him against the shelving unit, his arm across his opponent’s neck. “Gotcha!”
The rogue’s eyes danced first to the left then to the right, his arms reaching out. “No you don’t!”
When his attacker’s arm pulled forward, Cain saw him holding a piece of wood.
“Shit!”
Releasing the guy’s neck, Cain reached into his pocket in the same instant as he made a half-turn getting out of the way of the swinging arm that held the makeshift stake. Palming his own stake now, he completed the turn and slammed it into the guy’s chest.
Noise behind him made him turn on his heels, while his opponent disintegrated into dust. He raised his stake, ready to attack whoever had entered, when he sighed in relief.
“Thomas,” he breathed. “About time!”
Next to Thomas, Eddie popped his head into the room. “Sorry, there was an accident involving a bus on Mission. We got stuck,” Eddie explained.
“I had no choice,” Cain said, looking back at the place where the vampire’s dust now settled on the floor. “I guess there goes another chance at finding out what’s going on.” He’d failed, and he didn’t like failure.
“Don’t worry.” Thomas motioned his head to the room where the dead girl lay massacred. “He deserved it. Besides, Zane and Amaury got a live one.”
Cain let out a sigh of relief.
“Clean up time,” Eddie suggested.
Cain squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “She must have suffered terribly.” When he looked up at his two colleagues, they answered his look with sad gazes of their own.
“He’ll burn in hell for it,” Thomas claimed.
Cain shook his head. “He’s free now. I should have let him live to show him what hell really is.” Because hell wasn’t on some other plane. It was right in this world.
***
Cain left the cleanup to Thomas and the other vampires who’d arrived shortly after him, and transported the prisoner that Zane and Amaury had taken back to Scanguards’ Headquarters in the Mission. While Zane and Amaury took the still-struggling vampire to one of the holding cells in the basement, Cain headed for the V lounge, a large room only accessible to vampires via their specially-coded ID cards.
He needed a distraction from what he’d seen tonight, and he knew the lounge would provide it.
As he entered, the calming atmosphere of the room instantly eased away the tension of the night. The lounge felt like an old gentlemen’s club with comfortable seating arrangements, a fireplace and a bar with blood on tap.
This was where vampires rested between assignments, caught up with their colleagues, or enjoyed a quick snack. Visiting vampires who weren’t part of Scanguards were also entertained here, but tonight Cain saw only colleagues. No visitors were present. He nodded to several of the vampires as he walked up to the bar and leaned against the counter. The woman behind it smiled at him.
He let his eyes travel over her black dress which hid none of her curves. His mouth watered at the sight. Even though he had no actual memory of it, he knew he preferred curvaceous women.
“What can I get you?” she asked politely.
How about you on a platter? he thought, but stopped himself. It would do no good screwing somebody in Scanguards’ employ. After all, he wasn’t interested in a relationship, and things could turn awkward if he had to see her again after a one-night-stand. She was a vampire and therefore wiping her memory after the act was not an option. That particular trick didn’t work on vampires, only on humans.
He would have to go to a night club on his night off and pick up a human for some uncomplicated sex, just like the vampire he’d met earlier tonight had done. But the thought of visiting a nightclub didn’t appeal to him right now, not after what he’d seen there tonight. Perhaps a visit to Vera’s brothel would be in order. Her girls were pretty and asked no questions. And ever since he’d started working for Scanguards, he had enough money to spend on diversions like that.
Cane pointed to one of the taps. “AB positive, please.”
His eyes continued to watch her as she poured the red liquid into a wine glass and put it in front of him, then tapped her register. Without having to be prompted, he swiped his ID to pay for his drink. The price of the blood was subsidized by Scanguards. In fact, Scanguards sold it to its employees at cost, a service they provided in order to convince more vampires to drink bottled blood rather than feed directly from humans.
Cain liked the convenience of bottled blood, but on occasion he went out to hunt. It wasn’t something he flaunted, particularly in front of Oliver, who had enough problems with keeping himself in check. It wouldn’t help him if he knew that Cain also enjoyed a little hunt now and then. He fully agreed with Quinn, though, that Oliver first had to learn to control himself before he could be let loose on the general public. And from what Cain could see, Oliver was as far away from that goal as he’d ever been.
Cain took his drink and slunk into an empty Wingback armchair in front of the fireplace.
The words of the vampire he’d killed echoed in his head. She didn’t have the right blood.
What had he meant by that?