said.
Vampire boy graced me with the most suspicious look.
"We've already answered questions," he said.
"Tall vamp? Light brown hair and weightlifter body?"
"Yeah. Said his name was Jerry," he said.
"Jerry Kincaid. One of Jeff Howell's boys," I said, nodding. The bouncers shared a startled look. "That's right, Jeff Howell from the council. His boy's missing now." That got their attention. "I'm looking for him, too. You wouldn't happen to know where he went, would you?"
"Reunion," the mortal said.
I slanted a look over my shoulder and slightly up. I could see the big round ball of Reunion Tower. It was framed between two buildings. Reunion was on the other side of downtown. The lights around the ball were going through their sequences, putting on their nightly show.
"Yeah, he spoke with a man down by the corner — a werewolf by his aura — and then came back to his car muttering about going to Reunion," the vampire said.
"Yeah, weird," the mortal said.
"Werewolf? Really?" I said. I stepped close, eagerly. "Describe him."
They hesitated, thinking. The vampire doorman said, "Six feet plus. Black leather jacket. Jeans."
"Medium length brown hair," the mortal added. "Short beard, I think."
"Yeah, he had a beard," the vamp said.
“What are you doing?” a familiar voice demanded from the door.
An acquaintance stood a few steps inside, with a pair of undead bouncers to either side of her.
“Hello, Valerie,” I said. She was decked out in full vampire slut regalia — black leather corset, matching ankle-length leather skirt with a dramatic slit up the front to expose black patent leather thigh boots. Black silk opera gloves and lots of diamond jewelry finished off her look. Just the sort of thing your stereotypical vampire babe would wear for a night on the town. “You know that you’re mortal, right? Not dead. Not a vampire.”
Valerie St Clair was the owner of the club. She was a former stripper, turned entrepreneur. I knew of four clubs she owned that were vampire hangouts. Two of them were in Deep Ellum — Black Rose and Ruby Necklace. The beautiful blonde was also a known fang whore, vampire wannabe, and president of the local chapter of the Vampire Anti-Defamation League.
“Hello, Sable,” she said, coming just shy of sneering. Valerie didn’t care for me much, and me being a vampire, too. I guess she holds a grudge. She turned to the bouncers, “Why are you talking to her , to Black Heart?”
“She’s Black Heart?” the mortal said.
“That ain’t right,” I said, locking eyes with Valerie. She was brave. I could easily mesmerize her. She really should be wearing eye protection. I admired her defiance. “You defamed me, a real live vampire. And you’re the president of VAL, too. That's gotta be bad karma.”
VAL — Vampire Anti-defamation League — was a national organization, with the ear of the politicians in Washington. Yeah, the fang whores were organizing to make life better for their undead lovers. What next? Vampire Political Action Committees to get their candidates elected?
“Can’t defame a murderer,” Valerie said. She smiled cruelly at me. "Boys, escort Black Heart down into the basement. Bind her into the large rack, and I'll get my knives."
Okay, that did scare me. She sounded confident they could do just that. To me. A vampire. Valerie was well
Vampire boy graced me with the most suspicious look.
"We've already answered questions," he said.
"Tall vamp? Light brown hair and weightlifter body?"
"Yeah. Said his name was Jerry," he said.
"Jerry Kincaid. One of Jeff Howell's boys," I said, nodding. The bouncers shared a startled look. "That's right, Jeff Howell from the council. His boy's missing now." That got their attention. "I'm looking for him, too. You wouldn't happen to know where he went, would you?"
"Reunion," the mortal said.
I slanted a look over my shoulder and slightly up. I could see the big round ball of Reunion Tower. It was framed between two buildings. Reunion was on the other side of downtown. The lights around the ball were going through their sequences, putting on their nightly show.
"Yeah, he spoke with a man down by the corner — a werewolf by his aura — and then came back to his car muttering about going to Reunion," the vampire said.
"Yeah, weird," the mortal said.
"Werewolf? Really?" I said. I stepped close, eagerly. "Describe him."
They hesitated, thinking. The vampire doorman said, "Six feet plus. Black leather jacket. Jeans."
"Medium length brown hair," the mortal added. "Short beard, I think."
"Yeah, he had a beard," the vamp said.
“What are you doing?” a familiar voice demanded from the door.
An acquaintance stood a few steps inside, with a pair of undead bouncers to either side of her.
“Hello, Valerie,” I said. She was decked out in full vampire slut regalia — black leather corset, matching ankle-length leather skirt with a dramatic slit up the front to expose black patent leather thigh boots. Black silk opera gloves and lots of diamond jewelry finished off her look. Just the sort of thing your stereotypical vampire babe would wear for a night on the town. “You know that you’re mortal, right? Not dead. Not a vampire.”
Valerie St Clair was the owner of the club. She was a former stripper, turned entrepreneur. I knew of four clubs she owned that were vampire hangouts. Two of them were in Deep Ellum — Black Rose and Ruby Necklace. The beautiful blonde was also a known fang whore, vampire wannabe, and president of the local chapter of the Vampire Anti-Defamation League.
“Hello, Sable,” she said, coming just shy of sneering. Valerie didn’t care for me much, and me being a vampire, too. I guess she holds a grudge. She turned to the bouncers, “Why are you talking to her , to Black Heart?”
“She’s Black Heart?” the mortal said.
“That ain’t right,” I said, locking eyes with Valerie. She was brave. I could easily mesmerize her. She really should be wearing eye protection. I admired her defiance. “You defamed me, a real live vampire. And you’re the president of VAL, too. That's gotta be bad karma.”
VAL — Vampire Anti-defamation League — was a national organization, with the ear of the politicians in Washington. Yeah, the fang whores were organizing to make life better for their undead lovers. What next? Vampire Political Action Committees to get their candidates elected?
“Can’t defame a murderer,” Valerie said. She smiled cruelly at me. "Boys, escort Black Heart down into the basement. Bind her into the large rack, and I'll get my knives."
Okay, that did scare me. She sounded confident they could do just that. To me. A vampire. Valerie was well
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