“I’m sorry.”
“So am I. I’m sorry about your father. Maybe the two of you just needed some time to work through all that stuff.”
He laughed, but it wasn’t a pleasant sound. “I think that’s the only thing I’m not sorry about. He killed my mother. He treated me like I was shit on the bottom of his boot for nearly thirty years. Is it wrong to be happy he’s finally dead?”
I didn’t know how to answer that, so I didn’t. Finally we got to the club. It was just after ten o’clock. Quinn didn’t bother trying to park neatly, so we left the car with one tire up on the sidewalk. I ran to the front door and pushed it open, Quinn at my side.
It was empty. Nobody at the front desk. The sound of recorded Musak-like tunes filled the air. I went toward the black door that led to the club and pushed it open.
An entirely different kind of music filled my ears now. The black door must have been soundproof, because in the tanning salon there was zero indication that anything else was going on only a few feet away. The usual band was onstage, the Bettie Page-like singer belting out a tune. At the moment she was singing “Goldfinger,” the James Bond theme song.
At first glance, the only thing out of ordinary about the club was that it was filled way past capacity. There had to be at least a hundred vampires in there. It struck me as odd for a moment, but then I realized that other clubs were closed, either burned to the ground or shut down to prevent being burned to the ground.
And here I thought Veronique wanted to keep things trucking because she was the traitor and wanted to give the hunters easier access. Now I knew it was simply a business decision. It took a lot of greenbacks to pay for her designer wardrobe. And with that many thirsty vamps filling the club, she must have been raking it in tonight.
“Sarah!” George raced up to me. His hair was sweaty and plastered to his forehead. “Am I glad you’re here!”
My eyes widened and I grabbed his muscled arms. “What’s wrong? Where’s Thierry?”
“Who cares where he is! Romance can wait, sweet pea. Do you see this crowd? I’m going nuts. Grab a tray and start taking orders.” He glanced at Quinn. “And you, too, handsome.”
I grabbed his shirt. “I’m serious, George. Where’s Thierry?”
He raised his eyebrows. “He’s around. I saw him just a minute ago, okay?”
I let him go and glanced toward the bar. “Where’s Zelda?”
“She’s gone. It’s just me and the new guy, and he’s a total waste of space. Come on. Help me out. I’ll owe you a big one, and you can take that any way you want to.”
“I thought you said you didn’t sweat the small stuff?”
“I lied. I’m sweating. Look at me, it’s disgusting.” He looked over at the bar to see a young vampire reaching over to refill his mug of blood. “Hey! Hands off!” He ran off to stop him.
I looked at Quinn.
“I’m not exactly in the mood to wait tables tonight,” he said.
I grabbed his shirt. “We have to find Thierry.”
We threaded our way through the busy tables until I felt a hand reach out and grab my arm. I spun around, ready to punch or kick whoever it was.
“Sweetheart,” a dark-haired man slurred. He was with a busty blonde, and both of them were obviously drunk. “Can we get a round of O pos and gins here? Actually, make them Rusty Nails, would you, toots?”
I turned away, ready to ignore him, but he pinched my ass hard enough for me to spin back around. I had to clench my hand at my side to stop from slapping him.
“Look, dickweed, do I look like a waitress to you?”
“You were the other night.”
“Oh. Well, I’m not now. And hands to yourself, buddy.”
“I’m going to complain to the management.”
But I’d moved far enough past him not to care. I glanced at Quinn. Considering the horrible night it had been, especially for him, he actually had the audacity to look amused.
“What?”
“Dickweed?”
I shrugged. “And your point? He was one and I call ‘em like I see ’em.”
“I can imagine what you want to call me right now.” His amused expression faded.
“Don’t get all melancholy on me. I need you to keep it together.”
“You need me?”
“Yeah. Now don’t go getting any ideas, though.”
“A discussion for another time?” He looked at me hopefully.
“You’re impossible.”
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a yes, you’re impossible. Other than that, I’m not promising anything.”
“You know we’re perfect for each other, Sarah.”
“I can’t believe you want to discuss this right now after everything that’s happened. This is so not a good time.”
He smiled at me. “I like the fact that you’re not turning me down flat. I guess I just don’t understand what your objection is to the two of us getting together.”
“Did I mention that you’re due for a serious ass kicking?”
His smile widened at that. “That sounds like it might have interesting possibilities.”
I made a frustrated noise loud enough to be heard over the music. “You tried to kill me, dumb-ass. Twice.”
“And now all I want to do is kiss you. Just give me one reason why we shouldn’t be together.”
He was nuts. And this was such a bad time for this discussion. I turned away from him because my face was growing warm. My gaze moved over the dozens of vampires enjoying the night out, drinking with their friends, families, lovers—despite the lousy service tonight. My gaze finally reached Thierry’s booth.
He was leaning against it, staring directly at me.
“Thierry.” I let out a long sigh of relief and immediately began walking toward him.
“Oh, right,” I heard Quinn say dully. “That’s the reason why.”
I got closer to Thierry, pushing my way past the club-goers until I was finally standing right in front of him.
“Sarah.” His lips moved slowly into a half smile. “Good to see you.” His silver-eyed gaze turned toward Quinn, who had swallowed his hurt pride enough to stay by my side. “I see that you’ve brought a date tonight.”
My mouth opened to deny it, but I closed it. There were more important and urgent things to discuss than petty jealousies. Was he jealous? No, I couldn’t think about that right now. I couldn’t get distracted, but he was so distracting. And now I knew that he hadn’t killed Quinn’s mother. So did Quinn, but it didn’t keep the loathing from radiating off him in waves.
“You have to get out of here,” I told him.
“It is my club,” he replied. “Why should I go anywhere?”
“You have to. It’s not safe.”
He studied me for a moment, then motioned for the two of us to sit down. I slid into the booth despite my brain screaming at me to tell him everything as quickly as possible. I just didn’t know where to begin.
“It is not safe anywhere, Sarah. That doesn’t mean that we should hide ourselves away like cowards.”
I cocked my head to one side at his words. They sounded awfully familiar.
He smiled at me. “Yes, Veronique told me about your little ‘girls’ night out’ She fears that she may have scared you away, or made you think less of me, as you left without saying anything to her. I know she told you stories of my earlier days. I now realize why you were acting so odd earlier.”
“I didn’t believe her.”
Quinn remained silent beside me, hands folded in front of him on the table, saying nothing.
“Why not? After all, she was telling the truth, but that was a long time ago. And you needn’t think I’m the same man today I was then.”
“I needn’t. I mean, I don’t.”
“Then why do you ask me to hide like a child afraid of a thunderstorm?”
I was about to let it all spill out of my mouth. Tell him that I’d been terrible, sold him out,
and now the hunters were after him. In other words, the truth. But Quinn beat me to it.
“It’s all my fault,” Quinn said. “The hunters now know where this place is, and they’re after you in particular. I sold them the information to buy the cure for me. For me and Sarah. I wanted us to be human again.”
Thierry studied him for a moment. I half expected him to kill Quinn where he sat, or at the very least to scream at him, threaten his life. But he was calm, stoic, like a statue.
“There is no cure.”
“We know,” Quinn said. “Now we do, anyhow. But it’s too late. They tricked us, and now you have to get out of here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“But, Thierry,” I heard the hard edge of panic in my voice, “you have to. They’re going to kill you.”
His eyes slowly tracked to mine, where they held for a moment. “Yes, they will.”
I shook my head. “You don’t care?”
“No, I don’t. As you well know, Sarah, it is a time long overdue. If I am to die tonight at the hands of the hunters, then I will accept my destiny. It is fate. I am not afraid.”
His voice sounded so loud suddenly, or maybe it was just his words, hopeless and despondent. I wanted to slap him hard across the face. Make him wake the hell up. There was no reason for him to die tonight. No damn reason at all.
I could hear my heart pounding, the blood rushing through my ears. Everything seemed louder suddenly. But why?
No. It wasn’t just me. The club was silent. The music had stopped playing. Conversation had halted throughout the smoky room.
I looked over at the band. The dark-haired singer clutched the microphone on the stand in front of her, standing there, unmoving, unsinging. There was an odd look on her face. Surprise? Shock? But before I could figure it out, her expression faded, and a large red stain spread across the front of her white blouse. And then she fell—it seemed to take forever—face forward off the stage.
Peter stood behind her, holding a bloody stake in his right hand. He grabbed the wobbling microphone and pulled it close to his mouth and raised an eyebrow. The one that wasn’t covered by the patch.
“Is there a Sarah Dearly in the audience tonight?” he said, loud and clear. “If there is, could she please come up to the stage?”
Chapter 25
The silence in the club was deafening. I slumped down in my seat. How did Peter know I was even there, or was he just guessing? Hoping I was there so he finally could exact his revenge on me for what I’d done to his eye.
Thierry made a move to stand, but my hand darted out to catch his wrist. I squeezed it as tightly as I could.
“Sit down,” I hissed across the table. “Please!”
He met my gaze and shook his head. He placed his other hand on top of mine and pried my grip off him. He stood up and turned to face the stage.
“Leave this club. You’re not welcome here.”
“You’re not Sarah,” Peter said but then smiled. “But I’m betting that you’re this Thierry dude, right?”
“That is correct. My name is Thierry de Bennicoeur.”
“Pretty faggy name, man. I hate the French. Don’t worry; we’ll get to you in a minute. The boys and I got all night for this. Now, where are you hiding that bitch? Give her up and maybe I’ll let a few of you live.”
There were several other rough-looking guys flanking Peter. I recognized a couple of them from the night I was sired, and a few more were from the pub across the street. The others I’d never seen before. But they all looked out to the audience of frozen vampires like lions who had their pick of weak, helpless prey.
I felt the press of a warm body join me and Quinn on my side of the booth. It was George. He looked petrified.
“What the hell?” he whispered “Why do they want you?”
“It’s hard being so popular,” I whispered back.
“You,” George said to Quinn. “They’re your friends, right? Do something!”
Quinn’s expression was bleak. “Not anymore. There’s nothing I can do.”
“Then come on.” George pulled on my arm. “Let’s sneak out the back.”
I shook my head. “No. There’re too many people in here that will be hurt. And Thierry’s going to get himself killed if we don’t do something to stop this.”
I scanned the crowd and spotted Amy sitting with Barry at a small table near the stage. She gave me a quick wave of her hand and mouthed, “What now?”
She clung to the small frame of Barry as if he were the only thing keeping her from falling into the abyss. He stared up at the stage with a fierce, brave expression on his face.
I shrugged at her. I honestly didn’t know what to do next. All I knew was that I couldn’t just slither out of here on the floor, saving myself but no one else. It just wasn’t polite.
“Any dealings you need to have,” Thierry said to Peter in a commanding tone, “you can have with me. Sarah has nothing to do with any of this.”
Peter took the microphone off the stand and pressed it against his lips so the words came out slurred and extra loud. “Sa-rah. Sa-rah. Come out, come out, wherever you are. I think I’ll start with your eyes and work my way down that luscious little body. Come on now. Don’t keep me waiting.”
Quinn climbed over me to stand next to Thierry.
“Peter,” he yelled up to the stage. “Don’t do this.”
Peter smiled at his former acquaintance. “Well, if it isn’t Michael Quinn. Glad you’re here. Wanted to say thanks a bunch for leaving me at the restaurant like you did. They had to take me to the hospital and pump my stomach. I almost died.”
“Kill or be killed, man. Times have changed.”
“Yes, they have. Look, Quinn, I’ll do you a favor because we have a history. I’ll let you walk. Leave now and I’ll look the other way. Doesn’t mean I won’t hunt your ass down another time, but all I want tonight is that bitch.”
Quinn was blocking me so Peter couldn’t see I was sitting right behind him. He shook his head. “Can’t do that. You’ve made this my fight now.”
“Stupid decision. Maybe your father’s been right about you.”
“My father is dead.”
Peter’s eyebrows shot up. He took a moment before speaking again. “Then I guess you really have made your decision. Okay, people”—he turned from Quinn to survey the rest of the crowd—“let’s get this show on the road. Time is money.”
He jumped off the stage and snatched Amy right out of Barry’s arms. He dragged her back up to the stage with him, his arm tight around her neck.
“Hey, darlin‘.” He kissed her cheek with a sloppy, wet sound. “Good to see you again.”
I didn’t even feel myself move, but suddenly I was on my feet. “Hey, asshole,” I called up to the stage. “Let her go right now.”
Thierry turned around to glare at me for making my presence known. Quinn too. My two handsome protectors. I sure was a lucky girl.
Peter smiled at me but didn’t loosen his hold on his ex-girlfriend. “I’d be happy to let her go. Why don’t you come up here and take her place?”
“No, Sarah!” Amy’s voice was strangled.
Thierry, Quinn, and George grabbed my arms to try to stop me from moving forward, but I was determined. I marched through the crowd, which now parted before me like the Red Sea, and then I was standing in front of Peter.
“Here I am, you one-eyed bastard.”
“Come a little closer. Don’t be shy.” Peter stared down at me, and raging fires burned beneath the furious gaze of that one good eye. He was going to kill me. For what I’d done to him in self-defense.
I hesitated. After all, I didn’t want to die. Maybe I was all talk, no action. Come to think of it, that’s what they used to say about me in high school. But I didn’t want anyone else to die tonight, either. What was up with these hunters? Didn’t they realize what they were doing was wrong? We weren’t evil. We weren’t monsters.
But that’s how they
saw us.
A breath caught in my chest. They saw us as evil, bloodsucking monsters that needed to be exterminated like insects.
That was it. That was the answer.
I tried to make my voice as calm as I could. “You can have me, Peter. Do what you want to me. But could I say a few last words to everyone first?”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“A condemned person on death row gets to say their last words. They also get a last meal, but I’m not hungry. All I want is my moment in the spotlight. Come on, be a sport.”
He studied me for a moment, men sneered. “Sure, why not? Go ahead, darlin‘. Say your fill. After that, you’re all mine.”
The smile he gave me then was full of the promise of all the horrible things he’d do to me if this didn’t work. I suddenly wished for a Plan B. You can never be too prepared.
I stepped onto the stage. He released Amy after giving her a last disgusting lick up the side of her face and pushed her hard out into the audience. A few people caught her so she didn’t get hurt or land on top of the dead singer.
Peter’s smile widened as he moved away from the microphone, waving his hand at it to indicate it was all mine. I was now close enough to him that if he’d wanted to reach out and snap my neck, he could have easily. But he’d promised to let me have my say. I guess he was a man of his word, even if that word was “asshole.” He sheathed his stake and crossed his arms.
I tapped the microphone. The lights were painfully bright up there, and the faces in the audience were darkened now, but I could tell I had everyone’s undivided attention. At the back of the club I could see two more hunters guarding the black door so no one could escape. That made, I counted in my head, twelve hunters in total.
I looked over to Thierry and Quinn. George had stood up next to them so he could see me better. They all watched helplessly. They had no idea what I was going to do, other than get myself killed.
“Hi, everyone,” I said into the microphone. “I don’t have much to say. I know Peter here’s in a big hurry. Men, you know. The thing is, he’s just doing what he thinks is right by killing me and maybe killing the rest of you before the night is through. That’s what the hunters do. They kill vampires. I mean, look at what Hollywood has done to us. Made us into bloodsucking, murderous monsters. Ugly, white-faced bat creatures. Scary, icky night stalkers. Or, on the other hand, you have the hot, steamy vampire lovers. Those are my favorites, of course, but they’re still mostly evil.”