Carmen headed for the stairs on the other side of the club that led up to the mezzanine. They followed after her, climbing to a VIP level that contained a smaller bar but more comfortable seating.
Lucien sat on the bar itself, casually flipping a switchblade between the fingers of one hand. His motorcycle helmet rested on the bar counter beside him, along with his leather jacket. His dark brown hair was free of product and a little messy from the helmet. Pale, even beneath the bright halogen lights used to illuminate the club after hours, Lucien’s black eyes were the only hint to what gave him his daywalker status.
As a direct descendant of Ashanti, the mother of all vampires, Lucien was more powerful than most other vampires still walking the Earth. Ruthless, murderous, and never one to put down roots for long, Lucien had taken over the Manhattan Night Court out of revenge. He stayed out of a promise to Ashanti.
Jono’s lip curled at the sight of the master vampire. Jono hated Lucien, but what he hated more right now was the fact they’d come to the bastard for help.
Patrick had been right, though Jono wished he weren’t. In a pinch, when one needed illegal black-market weapons, Lucien was your go-to bloke.
“Halfling,” Lucien bit out.
“Fuck-face,” Gerard replied with an amount of viciousness that Jono approved of.
“Heard you can’t do your job properly.”
“Come closer and I’ll show you how wrong you are.”
“We’re here to buy weapons, not murder each other,” Patrick said.
“I won’t mind a bit of murder. My money is on Gerard,” Jono replied.
Patrick scowled at him. “You’re not helping.”
Jono shrugged, never taking his eyes off Lucien. “Like Patrick said, we’re here to buy weapons. Unless you’re incapable of providing what we need?”
Lucien’s mouth curled up at one corner, a flash of jagged fangs revealed between his lips. “You couldn’t afford my prices.”
“Name it.”
“Who’s paying?”
“We are,” Patrick said, jerking his thumb at Jono. “As god pack.”
Lucien slid off the bar counter and strode their way. “That’s new. Finally giving in to the beast that owns you?”
Jono didn’t blink as Lucien came right up to him, refusing to give ground. He was taller than Lucien, but their strength was fairly equal, and their speed was a draw split by milliseconds. Jono wouldn’t mind sinking his teeth in the bastard’s throat and tearing it out, but that wouldn’t get them what they needed.
“Weapons,” Jono said flatly. “Whatever they need, for your usual amount. Marek will pay it.”
“Getting the seer to do your dirty work for you? Great way to start off your tithing system.”
“It’s a favor,” Patrick ground out. “Kind of like the promise you made to Ashanti.”
Lucien’s black eyes slid his way and Jono tensed, not liking the anger creeping into the master vampire’s gaze. He shifted on his feet, edging between the two, managing to refocus Lucien’s attention on him.
“Do not speak my mother’s name,” Lucien hissed.
“You want us gone? Then name your price. We’re after the Dominion Sect, and you know what that means. You want to keep feeding off humans, then you best make a choice,” Jono said.
The undead still needed to feed, and they couldn’t feed off the dead, only the living. Ethan’s desire to turn himself into a god would ruin the world, and vampires wouldn’t necessarily survive the change in status quo.
“The enemy of my enemy is useful,” Carmen said as she went behind the bar and hefted up a heavy-looking storage case.
“That’s not how the saying goes,” Keith said as he and Gerard went to inspect the merchandise.
“Ten thousand,” Lucien said.
“For the entire lot?” Jono asked.
