Page 52 of Claim of Blood
They passed gathering spaces, lounges, and small alcoves where vampires and shifters conversed over drinks. Some paused to watch them, curiosity undisguised.
In a small café, the barista greeted Lander with casual familiarity.
“The usual?” she asked.
“Please. And coffee for Leo.”
As Leo studied the menu, he caught sight of a vampire stirring something crimson into a glass of bourbon.
“Is that—?”
“Blood,” Lander confirmed. “They blend it into almost anything. Some prefer it straight.”
“Like a vampire Starbucks,” Leo muttered.
Lander’s mouth twitched. “Something like that.”
They were halfway through their drinks when a tall vampire with copper hair approached.
“You’re the Rothenburg,” he said without preamble.
Leo lifted his chin. “I was.”
The vampire’s gaze sharpened. “Gabriel Mercier. I lost a cousin and his begotten to your family in 1987.”
Leo stilled.
Before he could answer, a woman nearby snorted. “Your cousin was draining college students dry in Nouveau Quartier. The hunters did us a favor.”
Gabriel’s jaw clenched. “Marguerite—”
“The Court voted unanimously to deny them sanctuary,” she continued. “Some lines shouldn’t be crossed.”
Leo glanced between them, understanding. “Your Court polices its own?”
“When necessary,” Lander confirmed. “Though we prefer to think of it as maintaining community standards.”
Gabriel’s lips pulled back, revealing the edge of a fang. “Community standards,” he echoed with barely concealed contempt. “Tell that to my cousin’s line. Three of his children, vampires he’d turned and guided, executed alongside him.”
His gaze locked onto Leo’s, coldly assessing. “They merely embraced what we truly are, Rothenburg. Predators. Superior. They understood humans for what they are: sustenance, not equals.”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper meant for Leo alone. “Claiming or no claiming, some debts don’t disappear because Adam found you... useful. The Court may follow Adam’s progressive ideas, but we don’t all share his peculiar fondness for human sensibilities.”
Lander cleared his throat, a subtle warning. “Gabriel.”
The copper-haired vampire straightened, composing his features into a mask of civility, though the hostility in his eyes remained undimmed. “Enjoy your time here, hunter. Some of us will be watching with great interest.” With a stiff nod to Lander, he turned and walked away.
Marguerite rolled her eyes from her table. “Ignore him,” she said, raising her glass in a mock toast. “When the Court denied them sanctuary, they kept draining college students, anyway.” She shook her head. “The hunters simply finished what our Court had already begun.”
As they sipped their drinks, Leo noticed several shifters among the patrons, also drinking red-tinged beverages.
“The shifters drink blood, too?”
“Some do. It’s not a requirement for them, as it is for us, but many enjoy it. Particularly after a shift—it helps replenish their systems.”
Leo studied the casual way everyone consumed their various drinks. “So why do vampires need blood, anyway? What does it actually do for you?”
Lander lifted his cup, considering. “From what I understand, it’s primarily for the vitamin D.”
