Page 24 of A Bond with the Dark

“Odin’s Ghost, Dom,” she scolds.

I kill the engine of the car. “Sorry,” I say, sighing, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’ve had a long day of travel and I’m exhausted. Have you had any luck tracking down the Nyktorim Syndicate?”

“No. The trail went cold. I found them all the way until 1851, and then nothing. Dad and I may fly there to see if we can proceed with it. They have a census in the archives.”

“Damn. I wonder why their records just stop at 1851?”

“Vampires,” she offers. “Sometimes, while moving around and starting over when people start to notice we don’t age, we have to start all over. New names and everything.”

“And you’re thinking the census in England will help trace a name change maybe?” I ask, watching a younger woman emerge from a restaurant by herself, looking deliciously like a snack.

“That’s what we’re thinking, yeah.”

The woman walks down the dark street alone; now is my time to get a quick meal. “All right, Mom, sounds good. Gotta go.”

“Wait, Dom?—”

Closing the call, I press the red button on the car’s main screen and disembark to catch my dinner.

The atmosphere in the establishment is pulsating with diverse energies as people mingle, drink, and watch the band play. The venue is alive with a fusion of vampires and mortals, a cacophony of blood mixing in the air and creating a dangerous space for prey; as these places are often where predators lurk. The aesthetic matches the vibe—gothic and dark. People are writhing to the music, the purple and blue lights eerily cascading over them as they dance.

The vampires are effortlessly discernible to me. They abound in every direction, typically possessing alluring and handsome features; devilishly good looks that stand out amidst the ordinary crowd. Our skin is soft and smooth, our features are striking and bright, voices melodic and enticing. Our beauty is that otherworldly, knock-your-breath-out, keep-you-awake kind of beauty, making you question yourself on how something so fucking perfect could possibly be.

Weaving my way through the crowd, different smells arouse my senses as I make my way toward a bar in the back. The humans smell like the products they use—soap and lotion and conditioners—but that only masks the tangy scent of their blood. Vampires—we smell like nature. Woodsy and earthen. There’s almost a cinnamon scent, as well as pine needles and damp bark. I believe it’s because our hearts have been pumping our blood for so long it’s as though they’ve coalesced with the Earth and made an oath with the soil, solidifying her wish to keep us bound to her for eternity.

Arriving at the bar with a full view of the establishment, a beautiful vampire with striking eyes and porcine white skin stops. “Get you anything, handsome?”

“I’ll just take a beer, thanks,” I say, giving her a flirtatious smile.

She nods and grabs a beer from the cooler, pops the top, and hands it to me. “There ya go, sweetheart. That’ll be five fifty.”

“Put it on my tab, Laney,” an equally alluring woman to my left says.

Laney nods and walks off.

“Um, thank you . . .” I say, holding out my hand.

“Mara. And you are?” She takes my hand and firmly shakes it.

The way her skin is cold but hot and smooth yet rigid tells me she’s a vampire. That and her devastatingly gorgeous green eyes. They shimmer in the purple light but also have a depth that ordinary mortals don’t.

“Dominic.”

“Nice to meet you, Dominic. Not from around here, are you?”

Her eyes track to the silver thimble claw I wear on my left thumb. It’s a defense mechanism I never leave home without these days. Not only does it protect me against the grims, but vampires have a lethal allergy to silver as well.

Double-edged coin.

“No. I’m new,” I respond, quickly slipping the lethal jewelry into my pocket. “I’ve heard this is a good place to come for people like us, though.”

“Yes, this place is where many of us meet, chill, and hang out. There are donor rooms in the back, too, with the mortals who know about us. I’m actually in a band playing tonight called Immortal Echo.”

“No way, really?” I gape at her, leaning on the bar.

She smiles. “Yeah I sing and play the electric guitar.”

“That’s sexy,” I reply, holding my beer up to cheers her.

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