Nero grimaces like I've given him a bag of dung.
"Try it," I say sweetly. "I'd garnish it, but we're fresh out of garlic." I don't wait to see if he does try it. I don't care. Everything is wrong about this place. Vampires are hanging out in a shifter bar like they own the place, and Trey doesn't seem to care.
I grab a rag and swipe the bar, and a strong, cool hand grasps my wrist. I snarl, catching the stoney scent of the vampire.
"Be still," he hisses, a seductive tone that chills me. Vampires can control people with their gaze. But some of the old ones only need to use their voice.
"Let go of me," I growl and he does, but stays close, his manicured fingernails drumming on the bar.
"I need to give you your tip, little wolf."
I want to grab a bottle and smash it against the bar, and use the shards to cut off a vampire's head. But something's up, and I need to find out what.
He pulls out a hundred dollar bill and folds it in half. I swear to the fates, if he tries to tuck it between my breasts, I will clock the guy. "Are you coming to the territory meeting tonight?" he murmurs.
I go still. "What territory meeting?"
"We invited the wolves out for a discussion. Midnight. Santa Cruz wash, south of Congress."
I raise my head and look at the clock on the wall. It's almost eleven.
Nero drops the C-note on the bar, puts a finger to his lips and glides away, leaving me cold.
"You all right?" Luka asks for the second time.
"Yeah." I try to shake off the eerie chill running through my limbs. There is nothing natural about a vampire. "How long have the leeches been coming around?"
"Since the beginning. There are a few in town who run No Return, a nightclub on Congress." The shifter shrugs. "They're all right. But this is a new crowd. Lucius Frangelico, an old vampire king, moved outta Hollywood, starting over. They do that, you know, every fifty years. So people don't realize they don't age."
"Yeah. But what's he doing here?" I whisper the question to myself, watching Nero's back as the tall vampire heads deeper into the club. He ignores the fight, going straight to a side door, opening it and disappearing.
Luka picks up the bottle he left, and drops it into the recycle barrel, glass clinking against glass. The sound jerks me out of my trance.
"Here." Luka hands me the hundred-dollar bill Nero left. "You earned it."
At ten to midnight, I rinse my hands and slip away, telling Luka I need a break. I thread through the groups of shifters standing around talking about the last fight, and when I reach the side door Nero took, I hesitate only a second before pushing through it. I don't know what's going on with the leeches in what should be wolf territory, but if Trey and my cousin won't talk to me, Nero might. If not, maybe he can lead me to this Lucius Frangelico vampire king. Once I find out, I can report back to my Alpha and my dad, and go home. Before history repeats itself with Trey.
The night air is cool on my face as I walk. It's easy, way too easy to follow the vampire's scent.
Trey
MOONLIGHT POOLS IN THE ARROYO, lining the ruts thirsty for water. There's no sound but the highway in the distance and the crunch of our boots on the dry rock.
"How much farther?" Jared asks, just as a large shadow detaches from a group of rocks and flows down into the empty basin.
"There." Tank, the pack's second in command, jerks his chin towards the shadow, which cleaves into several distinct bodies. My skin prickles as I recognize the new arrivals. Dark and suit clad, with slick hair and inhuman good looks. Vampires.
My lips curl automatically, showing my teeth.
Garrett waves us forward. He marches right up to the group of vampires, stopping a few feet away from their leader. Tank, Jared and I fan out behind him, acting cool and unafraid. A few more of our pack take up watch positions in case the leeches decide to ambush us. So far they've acted in good faith, but I don't trust them as far as I can throw them. I'm not sure how far I can throw a vampire, but it sounds like a great way to relieve stress.
"Alpha," the vampire leader greets Garrett. The kingpin, as we call him, is lean like a runner, with swarthy skin and an impeccably tailored suit. His name is Lucius Frangelico and he looks like he should have some corny Transylvanian accent. Instead, he speaks in cultured tones, like a BBC newscaster. "What a fine night you chose for our meeting."
Behind Frangelico, the rest of the vampires stare at us like snakes, unblinking. They're all perfectly groomed and wearing dark suits, mirror images of their boss. They look like fucking yuppies who stepped out of the office to get a cold brew, but their scent tells me they're old. We're not sure how old, but between me and a few of my hacker friends, we've traced properties their leader has held for over two hundred years. The shell corporation changes every few decades, but everything ties back to Frangelico.
"Glad you all could make it," Garrett answers blandly.
Lucius tilts his head to the side. It's a natural movement, but I get the feeling it's one he's studied and copied. He waves a hand at his gang. "These are my lieutenants, Maximus, Nero, Tiberius and Augustus."
"The Roman Empire called," I mutter to Jared. "They want their emperors back." My best friend chuckles silently, his shoulders shaking.