The man looked up. “How can I help you?”
The guy had graying hair that was thinning, a police uniform that looked to be a bit too tight, and a very unfriendly face. And he didn’t appreciate the look of disgust that flashed in his eyes as he did a sweep of Foxx’s body.
Foxx rushed to be the one to flash his hunter badge. Pulling it out of the chest pocket of his dungarees, he flipped it open. “We are here working on the recent disappearances and deaths surrounding this area, and need to borrow your printer.”
The man smirked. “Do you now?”
Foxx’s smile slipped. “Yes.”
“Well, I’ll have to go ask about that. There may be some forms to fill out, you know, in order for us to share resources.”
He narrowed his eyes on the man. The day had been way too long, he had far too little sleep, and he was way too fucking irritated to put up with this nonsense right now.
Harlow slammed his hand on the desk. “You have five seconds. Either you get us the code for the printer, and let your superiors know why we’re here, or I report your ass for interfering with a multi-homicide investigation with a body counter over fifty, all because you want to pull some petty territorial bullshit.”
Foxx grinned evilly when the guy paled and quickly rambled off a code before he grabbed the phone to do what Harlow asked.
“Ugh, do all these blood clubs have to be so fucking cliché?” Foxx hissed as they walked up to the clubDrain—stupid fucking name.
Ten of the victims had gone missing from this club. The outside screamed that the place would no doubt be a black on black on leather, and maybe some chains, type of establishment.
This case sucked ass. While they had a shit ton of names, all the addresses had been a no-go. Either it was an empty lot, or they had already moved, or it had just been fake to start with. So, they were down to names and pictures, and victim locations. Which pretty much meant they had nothing, unless they were able to find one of these assholes.
“Most vampires dress pretty gothic,” Harlow said with a teasing smirk.
“They do not.”
“The ones I’ve come across have.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve come across a lot of losers, who are all fucking dead, so what do you know?” Foxx snapped as they reached the front door.
The vampire manning the door eyes widened at the comment. And he was now looking at Foxx and Harlow very suspiciously. The longer he stared, the more tense he became. He probably smelled death around them both, possibly Harlow’s guns… Though maybe not, as the fucker had cleaned those all over his house—inconsiderate bastard.
Harlow sighed and reached into his jacket, which had the vampire flinching back, only for him to relax as the human pulled out his hunter badge. Well, relax was…probably not the right word. But he no longer was looking at them as if they were about to murder everyone inside.
“I’ll inform my boss you’re here,” the vampire said, as he eyed the badge closely before stepping out of their way.
“He can find us at the bar,” Harlow said with a grunt as he walked past.
Foxx followed, sending the man a happy but insincere nod. He was grumpy. Fake was all that he had in him right now. Harlow had also been grumpy, since the whole sunsuit thing. But it had literally been hours. He wasn’t even wearing the damn thing anymore.
Okay, to be fair, Harlow was always grumpy. Though Foxx had gotten rightly under his skin earlier when he’d beennicelytrying to give directions.
But still, this wasn’t like normal, as Foxx was irritated too. He felt like punching someone. Namely, Harlow, in the face. Yes, just a quick jab would make him feelsomuch better. But since he couldn’t do that, instead he would pick at him.
“Why the bar?” he asked, fishing to start a fight as they weaved their way inside towards the bar that was conveniently outlined in purple neon lights. Like always, the inside of the blood club was uninspiring, just gothic-styled furniture in black and silver. The only thing different was that they had used purple instead of red to decorate.
“To get information.”
“You really think a bartender at a popular bar is going to remember random weirdos?”
Harlow eyed him suspiciously. “If they are repeats, they may remember.”
He sent him an innocent smile. “And what if they don’t?”
The man took a deep breath. “We stay here and sculk around to see if anyone shows up that we recognize.”
“And if no one shows up?”
