Page 13 of Pick Your Poison

Six

Carter

Most moguls prefer to have their offices in the tops of their ivory tower.

Not me, though.

I much prefer the solace and darkness of the underground levels. That’s where the monsters live, and that is what I am, after all.

Nights like last night are par for the course for myself and my brothers… hand-picked dates for the evening that won’t ruffle feathers or cause a stir.

People that may not be missed. It makes what we do easier.

But last night was anything but easy. Lilith wasn’t exactly what I expected her to be, but I knew that when I invited her didn’t I? I knew more about her in our initial two-minute interaction than she could even know about herself.

“Would you like to tell me what happened to you last night?” My brother’s voice pulls my attention from the expense reports I’m pretending to look over.

“Don’t start, Heath.”

“Don’t start? You didn’t do it, did you? You took that girl back home didn’t you? Don’t try to lie to me, I can fucking feel it, Carter.”

“Leave it alone.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Aren’t you the one that preaches all this shit to us on a daily basis about loose ends? Tying things up? Safely feeding so that our tracks stay hidden? And you’re throwing it away on some human pussy?”

“Enough!” I shout, moving across the room to him faster than either of us can blink. A skill that comes with our kind. A skill that takes practice to control around humans.

“Why? You’re the one that made the rules, brother.” Heath crosses his arms over his chest. “Don’t bare your teeth at me simply because I’m calling you out for not following them.”

“She’s not a threat.”

“You can’t possibly know that. Your choices,” he says, as he pokes his finger against my chest, “don’t only affect you. They haven’t for a very long time. Remember that next time you feel like you have any humanity left in there.”

He leaves as quickly as he came, but his words linger.

I’ve spent the last two hundred years creating a safe space for us to give in to desires, feed, make money, and exist without anyone growing suspicious or finding out exactly what we are. The Bellevue Hotel became the perfect front, the perfect money maker, the perfect feeding ground.

I have only been shaken from this path twice in my life… once was in the 1920s when a woman named Grace walked through the lobby doors. And the other was two nights ago when I saw the woman that could be her twin standing on the chilly Chicago streets.

I’ve paced this very office constantly since I left her apartment early this morning, contemplating my decision, asking myself if I’ve done the right thing or if I’ve made a mistake that could ruin everything that I’ve built here.

We have a very specific set of rules when we host parties... and those rules haven’t changed since their inception.

The outer party must remain above board, as vanilla as possible, but with inhibitions loosened with copious amounts of free alcohol. Anyone that comes into the inner party, the real party, must do so of their own accord.

We may be monsters, but we aren’t monsters.

The inner party is one created for us, for us to fuck and feed to our hearts content, disposing of all evidence, using our gifts to ensure that no one remembers a thing and send them on their way, never to see us or even recall being inside of this hotel again.

But the thought of Lilith not remembering me or what happened here between us opened an old wound that I’m not sure ever fully healed.

My phone buzzes across my desk, pulling me from my thoughts and I answer quickly.

“Yeah?”

The hotel manager’s voice comes through the phone in a slight panic. “Sir, there’s someone in the lobby that is demanding to see you. I’ve told her that you’re out of town, as per policy, but she’s insisting that it’s impossible. She’s starting to cause a scene.”

“Fuck,” I say under my breath, pulling up the cameras to the lobby view and sure enough, there she stands. Lilith.

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