As their rights grew, Harlow’s job changed. Half his job now was to go after the dumbasses who couldn’t accept that all this paranormal shit was not only real but legal—the wannabes who tried to kill the poor, innocent creatures just for existing. Though, honestly, some of them were less innocent than others. Having seen what these creatures could do, especially vampires, in his mind, the government had been a bit too quick to give these beings all the rights they wanted. But, who was he to judge? Harlow was pretty dangerous himself.
* * *
Foxx glaredat the big behemoth standing in his way. “I am a vampire! Let me in!” he snapped with a huff, hands on his hips.
White, bald, and human perfectly described the gatekeeper of the club he was trying to get into. Wait, scratch that. White, bald, andstupidhuman was better. Why the hell did they have a human checking IDs at a blood club?! Who the hell was running this establishment?The Hivewas not living up to the five-star ratings he'd read on Yelp.
“Look, kid, a blood club is not the place for you. Go home.” The human had the audacity to try to shoo him away with his hands.
Foxx hissed, flashing his fangs in full length. “What rubbish. I’m many generations older,kid! I have every right to go in there!”
For a brief moment, he dipped into the power well of his Bloodline of Fates. His vision of the man flickered. Bright white threads appeared around the human, weaving and winding together. This man was only thirty. The longer he stayed inside that well of power, the more the possibilities of what he could do began to fill his head. It would be so easy to pluck one of the threads, to take a few years off…or add a few to age him.
The human stared, unimpressed. “Look, we both know those ain’t real. Look at you.” He waved his hand at Foxx. “Who would ever believe you are actually a vampire? I get it. Vampires are cool.”
The words yanked Foxx back from the other side of him, and he sputtered before stomping his foot and raging, “BUT, I AM A VAMPIRE!”
The night sky seemed to come to his defense at that very moment with a crack of thunder. A swift wind brushed past him, causing him to shiver slightly. Ugh, it was too cold out here to be standing in only a jumper and dungarees. Stupid September weather. Well, theyhadsaid it would rain tonight.
He ignored the weather to glare at the guy. It was his fault Foxx was still outside. The human, yet again, did not look impressed.
“Won’t you at the bloody least look at my identification?!” Foxx asked in frustration.
Sure, he could go home and drink his bag of blood and be fine. But it was about fairness at this point. He had every right to go inside. Vampires weren’t supposed to get filtered out, no matter what they looked like—only humans could be stopped due to age restrictions and possibly how they were dressed.
Foxx would admit he often went to these places and left without taking a bite. He wasn’t exactly the ideal type for most of the humans who wentlooking to feed his kind. Foxx knew that. Obviously, the doorman was going off the stereotypical assumptions of what a vampire should or shouldn’t look like. But Foxx couldn’t help having taste!
Personally, he thought he looked absolutely adorable in his jean dungaree and thick yellow jumper. It had a pink heart on the left side of the chest. Like he was some sort of game character—hehe. He’d paired the outfit with a beige puffy cap that looked so sweet with his short black curls, and a pair of chunky white sneakers. Like, what more could one want?! Makeup? Well, they got that too with him! Some light rose gold shimmer on his eyelids and a shiny gloss on his lips. No foundation necessary, but he had put on some highlighter for the hell of it. It was sure to really pop under the fluorescent lights at night, especially in a club.
The man’s gaze did a sweep over Foxx again. Staying silent for a few moments, he could hear people waiting in line behind him, grumbling about the holdup.
He’d ask a fellow vampire for help…but one does not help the competition when it comes to hunting grounds.
The doorman sighed. “No, now go.” The man once again waved him away with his hands.
It was often said that stubborn was Foxx’s middle name. He whipped out his ID from the chest pocket of his dungaree and flung it at the guy’s face.
Baldy flinched back and appeared to be about to fly into a rage. The human did surprisingly manage to snag hold of the card before it fell to the ground. Some skills there.“You—”
“Look at it!” Foxx demanded.
The man’s mouth pinched, but he glanced down and away before quickly looking back, eyes widening. It was kind of hard to mistake his ID for anything other than what it was. Paranormal creatures got super special IDs.
It was now a universal government requirement, no matter which country you lived in—if, you know, the country allowed you in—you had to register at the Paranormal Existence Acknowledgement Registration, or P.E.A.R. for short. The USA version of a paranormal ID card was blue and purple with a shiny iridescent layer on top, alongside a few other seals that were pretty hard to forge. Besides his information, which definitely included a fake ass birth year, there was a round insignia in the lower right corner with a holo pair of vampire fangs, allowing him to easily be identified as a vampire.
“Well?” Foxx asked, unable to hide the smugness in his voice.
The man rolled his eyes and shoved the ID back at Foxx before wordlessly stepping out of the doorway.
That’s what he thought! Foxx snagged his ID, slipping it back into his pocket. Tossing his head back on ahmph, he walked past the man and headed inside.
Foxx passed a coat check desk, declined to leave his hat there, and entered the main floor. The atmosphere was dark, the furniture gothic in many shades of red and black, and the music…grungy.
Yeah, all that pretty much described every single blood bar or club that had popped up so far. Would it have killed them to add some color? Did they have to make every single bar look like a bad vampire movie? Maybe he’d try to convince his best friend, Alastair, to open a blood club that was more to Foxx’s style. The man was always open to new ventures. Surely he wouldn’t mind a new project? And, honestly, there were no doubt other vampires—not to mention humans—who were not into all this nonsense, right? The blood clubs being as they were, probably scared a lot away.
The club was split in half. The first part had booths and tables, while the second had a giant dance floor. There was an upper VIP section, with another smaller dance floor, but why waste money on that?
Foxx was perfectly aware that he stood out, which was a good thing, right? In his mind, it was. What better way to be seen than to not be like all the rest?
