It seems my little bird is not as fragile as I assumed. With an air of confidence, she exits the room. I follow, slipping through the darkness until I see her climb behind the wheel of an ancient-looking Jeep, lock the doors, and bury her face in her palms.
A possessive growl rumbles from my chest. I stop the sound as soon as I recognize it for what it is. This human does not belong to me. She’s a walking meal. A complication. A joke played on me by the Gowdie bitch.
I need to feed before I see Eloise again. Only my hunger for her blood can explain my lapse in judgment when I chose to watch over her. Last night, I’d been tempted to drain her dry. Best that when I return to her at midnight, I’m fully fed.
I surf the shadows to Night Haven, the subterranean city ruled by vampires where I’ve lived since the Gowdies brought me to the new world. I am not, strictly speaking, one of them. My kind are called shades, and we hail from a world namedTenebris. Shades are rare in this realm. As far as I know, there are only two others like me here, forced through the same interdimensional rift I was drawn through. When the Gowdies conjured us from our home world, they made it impossible for us to return. Fortunately, our physical needs are similar enough to a vampire’s that living among them in this world is comfortable. Like them,we require blood as well as other sustenance to survive, and sunlight is toxic to our composition. We also share a mutual disgust for witches. As such, the underground city of Night Haven has become a home away from home.
I manifest in the marketplace, navigating the vibrant network of shops and services that line the underground streets. The smell of grilling meat meets my nose, and a woman sways a section of silky fabric at me from her booth under the strands of white lights. But I’m in no mood for an early snack or a quick shopping binge. I want blood, human blood, enough to ease the temptation that is Eloise Harcourt.
In Night Haven, there’s only one place I trust to have what I need, the red-light district. I slide open the shoji-style doors and step into the foyer of Marabella’s where a blond man dressed in a black silk robe reminds me to remove my shoes. I do, sliding on a pair of the house sandals meant for guests. A stone waterfall bubbles along the wall next to a cherry tree that’s enchanted to always be in bloom. I’ve never asked how Marabella managed the spell.
“Back again, Damien?” the voluptuous Madame says when she sees me. She’s human and has been serving Night Haven for over thirty years. “Haven’t you figured out yet you can get it for free?”
“I’d rather have a willing donor than a free one.” After being forced into this life when I was trapped into serving the Gowdies, I can’t stomach tricking or forcing human donors. Unless, of course, it’s in punishment for their crimes. I would’ve gladly drained Tony Denardi, for example. His blood would’ve tasted like shit, but the sweet knowledge that there was one less asshole on this planetwould’ve chased away the bitterness. Considering that is no longer an option, I’m left with either animals or a blood brothel. I prefer the brothel. The humans here know what they’ve signed up for, and I pay them handsomely for the use of their veins. It’s better this way.
Marabella laughs. “Have you looked in a mirror lately? I think you’d find many topsiders willing, especially the women. And you being a shade, I’ve heard your name on the lips of vampire women as well.”
It is true I can subsist on the blood of vampires as well as humans, something I learned from my friend Cassius, one of the two other shades in this realm. I've never tried vampire blood, though. Once Cassius shared that his partner considered his blood a delicacy, I ruled the option out. Feeding from another vampire would presumably lead to them asking to feed on me. That wasn’t happening. No fucking way.
“Not my taste,” I say.
She smiles wider. “Good for me, then. I should stop giving you ideas. Don’t want to chase away my best customer. Who are you interested in having today?”
“Hazel,” I say without hesitation. The elderly woman has been donating for decades. She was raised on a farm in the Appalachians, far away from modern chemicals. Her blood is as pure as you can get on this planet. More importantly, she’s an expert at keeping things clinical, just the way I like it.
“Sorry, Love. She’s off today. Now that she’s over seventy, she only works every two weeks.”
Disappointing. I rub my temples against a brewing headache. “Then give me someone like Hazel.”
Marabella’s brows lift, a furtive smiletugging at the corner of her mouth. “I have just the thing. Room 110.” She hands me a key.
Snatching the gold-tasseled end, I glance at my watch before striding down the hall to the room. I have just over an hour to scratch the itch before I seeheragain. Just the thought of Eloise makes electricity surge in my veins. The memory of her scent sends a swirl of heat through me, and for a second I’m transported to the moment I first touched her, the soft curves of her body, the tattoo along her spine.Fuck, the girl is dangerous.
I unlock 110 and stop in the doorway. A beautiful young woman with long, shiny black hair waits inside, a black silk robe decorated with cherry blossoms wrapped around her supple body. She stands from her chair and pads toward me on bare feet, her pupils dilating as she takes me in. When she reaches me, she places her hands lightly on my chest. “I’m Liang. Can I help make you more comfortable?” She grips my lapels and tries to push the jacket off my shoulders.
I grab her wrists, spin her around, and brush her hair off her neck in quick, efficient movements. “That won’t be necessary.”
She clears her throat. “You know I’m available for more than blood, right?”
“Not for me.” I strike. I’m not interested in sex with my donors. Not interested in any attachments that might make it harder for me to leave this godforsaken realm if I ever find a way to break the Gowdie curse. All I want is a full stomach so I can go about my work.
There’s nothing special about Laing’s blood. I drink until I’m satiated but it’s not a particularly pleasurable experience. Then again, I wonder if it would have tastedbetter before. Beforeher. Before I understood how delicious blood could be.
Once I’ve had my fill, I pay and rush out the door, prepared to face my little bird and the mess she’s made of things.
8
A New Deal
ELOISE
By the time I climb the winding drive to Harcourt Manor, I’ve run out of tears. I’ve also burned through all the adrenaline my body produced during my escape from Tony’s office. I barely have the energy to keep my eyes open.
I stop in the driveway and stare up at the two-story colonial home with its sweeping wraparound porch. The pedimented dormers always give me the impression of eyebrows, like the house itself is watching over me.
This place is a treasure trove of memories. Built in the early 1910s by my great-grandfather, every generation has added something, but it remains distinctively Harcourt. My heart clenches at the mere thought of letting it go.
Of one thing I am positively certain, Tony retains no affection for me whatsoever.
