Or perhaps it was willful ignorance on Dora’s part. She had to know that her son had a love for torture and murder. Was it a mother’s love that turned her head away, or was it the millions of dollars he brought into the family’s coffers through drug smuggling that did it?
Reining in the desire to snarl at even the suggestion of another vampire sinking their fangs into his anchor, let alonehurtingher, Harlan asked, “Did you really call to talk about a woman, or did you have something important to say?”
There was a soft, almost disappointed sigh. “We need to talk about your return to the family.”
“Then we’ll talk.” Harlan clenched his left fist on his thigh until his knuckles bleached. “Tell me when and where.”
He couldhearthe empty, almost vapid smile Julius wore when he answered, “Let’s meet up for a drink.”
* * *
There weren’t a lot of vampire bars in San Francisco, but the few that existed fell into two categories: extreme luxury and back alley filth.
Harlan had spent much of his life in the latter type, taking out vampires that pissed off the family in one way or another as they drunkenly swayed their way to the restroom, or stepped out back for a smoke.
Only in his later years of service did he begin to warrant enough respect — and no small amount of fear — to be allowed into the places people like Julius frequented, and more often than not,owned.
The Lush was one of those places.
Situated on the corner of Haight and Cole, The Lush was easy to miss amongst the flamboyant storefronts and art installments that surrounded it on all sides. Its exterior was painted a minimalist dark gray, and the letters that spelled out its name were a brilliantly shined silver bolted to both street-facing walls. The windows were replaced with shimmering black glass, opaque from the outside, and soft white lights glowed around the inside of the doorway from floor to ceiling.
The only way an outsider might possibly guess it was a vampire establishment at all was by the extremely subtle symbol of Grim etched into the black glass set in the stainless steel door — two circles, one filled in, with the second forming a thin halo around the other.
Depending on who you asked, it was a symbol of eternity or the Earth itself. Many vampires subscribed to the Earth interpretation, if only so they had some flimsy excuse for their belief that they would one day rule the world.
All will return to Grim’s hands when the time is right,her acolytes preached,and we will inherit the Earth when blood flows.
It was all bullshit, and he doubted the Merciful One would appreciate her symbol being used as decoration at a bar. Especially not a bar like Lush.
Harlan had only been there once before, back when he first moved to the EVP. He had lived in the city for a handful of weeks as the sale of the estate went through and thought to check out the vampiric community that eked out a living under the noses of the elvish government.
One visit had been more than enough for him.
He opened the door to find interior dimly lit and crowded. Behind the black glass and darkly painted walls, there was no holiday cheer, no sweetness or twinkling lights that lit up the street. A sprawling room lay before him, dotted with circular leather booths with high backs. A sleek black glass bar spanned most of the left side of the room. Glass shelves full of expensive alcohol and rare, alcohol-infused synthblood lined the wall behind it. Music, soft and sensual, drifted through the air.
The scent of blood did, too.
It was the scent of all kinds of blood — human and non-human — and every drop fresh. Though the booths were designed for privacy, making it nearly impossible to see who was in each one unless you were sliding into them, he knew exactly what was happening in them.
The Lushdidn’t just serve expensive synth. They paid the beautiful, the sweet-smelling, the foolish, and the exotic to drink and to sit in those booths tobedrunk.
Servers moved around in dark clothing, their hands covered in thin black gloves for hygienic reasons, delivering cocktails and warmed bottles of synthblood to the tiny tables inside each booth. They walked quickly, darting between vampires who lingered outside of the booths and in front of the bar.
They moved like people who knew that at any moment they, too, could become a meal.
Harlan’s stomach turned. Despite the hollow pang in his gut, he was suddenly glad that he couldn’t force anything down his throat before they left the hotel. Just the thought of his Zia being in a place like this made him want to wretch.
It didn’t matter that establishments like The Lushneeded to have strict codes of consent and compensation to operate. Harlan knew what happened to so many of the hosts who stepped into those booths, and what the vampires who indulged themselves thought of them.
They were little more than fuckable food.
Harlan tried not to breathe through his nose as he made his way through the milling crowd. The lowest hum of static in his right ear told him that his audio implant was live, though Atticus remained silent on his end of the line.
His men were spread out around the outside of the club. Within a few minutes, some would begin to trickle in, melding with the normal clientèle, while the rest would be quietly slipping through the service entrance.
Julius wasn’t an idiot. He demanded that Harlan come alone and unarmed. At any sign of trouble, he said he would take great pleasure in “twisting your treat’s pretty little neck.”
Harlan wasn’t about to test his threat, but he also wasn’t stupid. His men were well-trained, and most of them would be unrecognizable to Julius’s guards. They wouldn’t be able to pick them out from the crowd if they acted like they belonged there.
