Page 10 of Because the Night

“Partly because he followed me here and killed the security guard. The guard was an employee of Thorn Group, and therefore, should be considered under my protection. And such reckless killing cannot be encouraged. But mostly because he was disrespectful.”

“He was so much bigger than you, but you just…”

“Yes.” His mouth skews with amusement. “Strength isn’t always about size.”

I frown as I consider his words. “Helena is not going to be happy.”

“There’s little I can do about that right now. This is one body The Thorn Group is going to have to bury. Because we have somewhere we need to be.”

The Boulevard Hotel is one of the oldest-running establishments in Hollywood. Though, its glamor days are long gone. There’s more than a faint air of disrepair in the worn carpet and faded wallpaper. A woman is busy on her cell behind the reception desk. She doesn’t even spare us a glance as we make our way toward the bank of elevators. There are no guests hanging out in the lobby. Given it’s nearing midnight, most normal people must be in bed.

I should be home asleep by now. Not that there’s anyone to miss me. It’s been a while since I shared my life with a special someone (besides myself, of course). Since Jason broke my heart and dumped me for a thinner version of me who had more of an upward career trajectory. And you can bet he told me all of this to my face. What a dick.

But prior to this evening, lousy exes were the sort of thing topping my list of woes. Along with other ordinary everyday details. Like figuring out how to both pay for new tires and my rent. How painfully mundane. Attacking people to drink their blood didn’t even rate a mention.

Lucas ushers me into an elevator, inspects the control panel, and presses a button for a subbasement level. The lowest you can go. A small smile curves his lips at the accomplishment. Which would be cute if he wasn’t a complete psychopath. “Stay close and keep your mouth shut. The family that runs this place is not our friend.”

The death of the security guard and removal of Christos’s heart has shocked me into submission. For the moment, at least. No amount of violent television or film prepared me for actually seeing a dead body and witnessing someone’s death. Or second death. Lucas didn’t even hesitate about killing him. This world I have entered is really a lot.

I stare at my reflection in the mirrored elevator wall. Yay that I have a reflection. Boo that it takes me a moment to recognize myself. My skin has taken on the same flawless sheen as my maker’s. To think of all the skincare products I’ve used to try and achieve exactly this. My dirty-blonde hair is now supermodel levels of thick and lustrous. But it’s my eyes that are truly creepy. The usual, confused color combination has changed to a clear pale green.

I might have been forgettable before, but now I am officially hot and utterly unnatural. You would have to be a fool to think there wasn’t something going on with me. Especially given the teeth. I grimace at my reflection, and two long canines are plainly visible, brutally sharp and shining white.

“We stay the same as when we died,” he says. “Only prettier. It helps to lure in prey. Normal humans don’t tend to notice our eyes or teeth.”

“How do they not see it?”

“That we’re predators?” he asks with a sly smile. “I always thought it was partly a kind of magic, but it’s partly also that they don’t want to see it. Never doubt the power of denial. Their safe little worlds don’t have room for the likes of us. How would they sleep at night if they knew there really were monsters hiding in the dark?”

Nice to see no blood or dead body on the floor when the elevator doors open this time. We step into a boring concrete corridor, where a man wearing a neat black suit stands waiting. He has white skin and a shaved head and pointy teeth. Not aman then, a vampire. Like Christos, he is seriously tall and built. Larger even than my companion, who has to be bordering on six-and-a-half feet tall. And behind this new, oversized dude is a large, steel door. The sort that belongs to a refrigerator unit.

“Sir,” he says in a deep voice.

“Berin.” Lucas smiles. “It’s good to see you. I believe he’s waiting for me?”

The giant says no more. He bows his head and holds the door open for us. He does, however, give me serious side-eye. No idea what that’s about.

Inside, there’s a party happening. The crowded space is a speakeasy. A beautiful Art Deco bar in decline. With worn, green velvet couches, palms scattered around, and dusty pendant lighting. There’s a wall of liquor bottles and a stage and dance floor. The customers range from couples in formal wear out of a bygone era to what resembles a motorcycle club in the corner. So much leather.

I’m not sure my cottage-core aesthetic holds up to this lifestyle. No one else here is wearing anything like my gray cardigan, blue floral dress, navy tights, and flat ankle boots.

From what I can see, they all have sharp teeth.

Hold that thought. A waitress flirting with a patron at the bar is actually human.

Music is pouring out of the sound system, the bass loud enough to vibrate through my chest. But I can still hear the way the waitress’s blood is pumping through her body. Like my whole being is focused on this one need. The need to feed.

My hands start shaking and my mouth waters. Thankfully, I’m still not hungry enough to attack. Not yet. But the thirst is there, coiled inside me, waiting to pounce. This sucks. Can I really do this? Be one of the bloodsucking undead? Given the only other option is true death, and that doesn’t exactly appeal…

The human waitress’s date casually leans in and bites her neck. And with a beatific grin, she closes her eyes and succumbs to the moment. All I can do is watch.

Lucas walks back to me impatiently. “What are you staring at?”

I nod at the couple by the bar.

“It is possible to find willing victims. Some of them even like it. Come on.” He grabs my hand and leads me toward a door at the back of the bar.

The weight of the stares of those we pass becomes heavier with each step. No one tries to stop us or talk to us, but they all whisper and watch. I have never been in a roomful of killers. Not to my knowledge, at least. And their uncanny beauty and grace is disturbing.

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