Fratelli: Eternal Bloodlines (The Vampire Cartel #2)

19. Girl’s Work

Chapter 19

Girl’s Work

T he Pink Pussy - Las Vegas, Nevada

April 17, 2018

(4 Days Before Death)

Sonya stepped out of the Las Vegas sun and into the cool, dimly lit comfort of the Pink Pussy. Of course, she had heard of the club. She’d always thought of membership only status as a lucrative investment. She did not know it was a den of sin for vampires. The contrast from outside to inside was stark, almost shocking, as her eyes adjusted. The club was empty, chairs stacked on tables, and the faint smell of cleaning products mingled with the lingering scent of spilled drinks and a hint of something more exotic—something she couldn’t quite place.

Be careful , said her inner voice.

“You’re Sonya, right?” Spoke another voice. This voice was not her own. It was smooth, almost velvety, with a hint of an accent that reminded her of home. Sonya’s head turned to see Sophie, the club owner, stood in the doorway of an office.

Sophie was beautiful, her presence almost otherworldly. Caught by the luminance of the club lights, her fiery red hair cascaded in waves down her back. Her skin was flawless and pale, but with an ethereal quality that seemed to glow from within. Her eyes, a striking shade of emerald green, were sharp in their appraisal, with a depth that suggested centuries of knowledge and experience. She painted her full lips a deep crimson. They curved into a smile that was akin to a predator.

She wore a sleek black dress that hugged her curves. A diamond choker glittered at her throat. The bling drew attention to the elegant slenderness of her neck. There was an aura about her, a sense of power and sexual prowess that made it clear she was no ordinary woman.

“That’s me,” Sonya replied. Her voice remained steady despite the nervous flutter in her stomach. She had faced countless audiences, but there was something about Sophie and the empty club that made the itch for a fight.

It’s okay to feel uneasy. She is probing you now. I must leave you. Do what you do best. I am always near, said the inner voice who she could now name as Kaida. And then she was gone.

“Come on in. Let’s see what you’ve got. I watched your YouTube videos. They were four years old. In this business, aging doesn’t fare well for my dancers,” Sophie said and gestured toward the stage. There was a challenge in her eyes, as if she dared Sonya to prove her wrong.

Sonya dropped her satchel. She lowered her harem pants jumper to reveal she only wore a half top and leotard beneath. She removed the band from her wrist and put her curls long and lovely to the top of her head. An expert in the business, she, of course, came prepared.

Never taking her eyes off the stage, Sonya slipped on her platform eight-inch heels. She tried to think of the best routine opening, and her mind kept coming up blank. Maybe the guardian in her had some ideas. She walked up the steps to the mirrored stage. Her heels clicked over the polished floor.

A DJ appeared at the booth. Was he there before? She could have sworn he wasn’t.

The music “Sex and Candy” played.

Sonya immediately felt the familiar rush of adrenaline flood through her veins. Still, she was nervous. Sophie was correct. She hadn’t been on stage in over four years. The viral video Sophie referenced was her last show. A huge success, but she spent the next day in a tub of Epson salt and ice to make up for the bruises between her thighs and all over her arms from the acrobatic dance performance.

Sonya said a silent prayer that reminded her stripping was like riding a bike. Her life and the lives of her friends depended on her performance. She just knew it. The stage was once again her domain, where she felt most alive. She took a deep breath, wrapped her hand around the cool metal of the pole, and began to move.

Her performance was a blend of strength that came from nowhere and grace, her body twisting and turning with effortless precision. She scaled the pole, before hanging upside down and twirling around, her movements fluid.

The lyrics said: ‘ I smell sex and candy here, yah mama, this surely is a dream .’

She could feel Sophie’s eyes on her, and the scrutiny. Though the DJ's face remained hidden, she felt the vampiric probe of his interest as they watched her every move, but she pushed the thought aside and focused on her routine.

Sonya slid down the pole, landing softly on the stage in a split. She was up on her feet again. Sophie grabbled the pole climbed up her thighs locked in so she could spin out like a windmill with her arms wide stretched and her head low. She came out of the spin and went up, grabbed the pole for a fast twirl, and then did a drop. She landed on the glass floor in a graceful pose.

An inner force took hold of Sonya. Was it her or Kaida now? Her body felt ten years younger. The ways she could handstand on the pole with her legs scissored straight up, then wide apart, while she clapped her thighs together to make her buttocks jiggle as she went down in a circle was a talent she’d never achieved before. The maneuvers that had her only using one hand to keep herself up or slinging around the pole while she did a seductive glide downward were unique and original. Soon she was smiling at her control and endurance. So much so that when the song stopped, she kept dancing.

Sonya heard a slow clap. She came down to her feet. She looked up to see a shadow of a man who stood at the back of the room. He was tall, with golden brown hair and a commanding presence. There was something about him that made her pulse quicken.

“Impressive,” he said, his voice deep and resonant, was heard in every corner of the empty club although he never raised it. “Welcome. We love new pussy here.”

The compliment sent an icy sliver of dread down her spine. Panting, Sonya squinted against the glare in her eyes to see the man beyond the pink studio lights. She couldn’t. Before she could respond, Shakespeare turned and strode towards the exit.

Sophie’s eyes widened. She hurried after him, calling back to Sonya as she ran: “You’re hired! Look for Joyce so you can sign the contracts and get set up with music and everything. Meet the girls in the back. They will explain,” said Sophie, who zipped at an almost superhuman speed after the mystery man.

You did great, Sonya. I am Kaida. Nice to meet you , said the guardian.

Sonya exhaled and smiled.

“Hi Kaida, nice to meet you, too.”

“Shakespeare, wait!” Sophie called after him. She caught up to him near the exit and grabbed his arm. He stopped. Sophie stopped. Shakespeare had a tender side. She’d seen it before. Many times, he’d been vulnerable in private. But he was also vicious, more vicious than even Domencio when betrayed. So, she had to be careful.

He cast a look back at her from over his shoulder and Sophie shuddered inside. Not from fear, but from relief. Shakespeare had returned to her, which meant there had to be hope.

“You want to talk?” he asked coolly, his eyes hard as granite.

“I need to talk,” she pleaded. Her voice was on the edge of a tremor. “Please babe, just hear me out.”

Shakespeare's eyes narrowed, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “Hear you? Sure, mon chéri . Let’s talk and hear you out.” He threw open the door nearest to him. Three girls were inside, going through the inventory that Sophie wanted checked in for the big show in the evening. They hurried out at the sight of Shakespeare. Sophie went inside and closed the door. Shakespeare paced like a panther, back and forth, eyes glued to her.

“Talk!”

“I did it for you,” she began, her voice broke as blood tears welled up in her eyes. “No one has seen you since the meeting with the wolves. Domencio has been looking for you.”

Shakespeare kept pacing. He looked as if he’d pounce at any moment.

“I do everything for you. Even cover for you with Master. I do it because of my love for you. This war can’t live inside of the consiglieri. It goes against the order of the Fratelli. These are the rules. It could end you. Lucio and Domencio are brothers. They can fight, but you and Tristan can be replaced. You threw him in the fire, you tried to kill him. He tried to kill you. What’s next? We’re all part of the same coven. We shouldn’t be enemies. I tried to stop the war,” Sophie pleaded.

“I did not throw him into the fire, Phoenix did. Once again, you make up the facts to suit you,” said Shakespeare.

“What? I thought?—”

“There was no war. There was an order for me and the consiglieri to stop and retrieve Tristan,” he said.

“But I thought, Tristan said… I thought this was you and him fighting again. Wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Stop the war?” Shakespeare spat the words. He slowed his walk back and forth. “You think sucking Tristan’s dick will bring world peace between me and them?”

“Shakespeare, please,” Sophie wept.

“All it did was make me look like a fool. You made me look weak. You, of all people, know why I hate them. Why! I want revenge! Why I deserve it! You bitch!” Shakespeare shouted.

Sophie screamed in frustrated agony. “Tristan came to me and told me you tried to kill him.”

“Liar! He would never!” Shakespeare seethed.

“He showed me. I saw it!” she shouted.

“You did not! You saw what he sent into that Swiss cheese of a brain of yours!” Shakespeare countered.

“Okay, okay. I heard rumors from the other vamps that made it believable. They said Lucio had to go into the desert and recover the body of Tristan, heal him. I went to him, and he didn’t deny you were part of it. I panicked. Then he showed me his suffering. That’s the truth.”

Shakespeare glared.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I thought I could get him to call off the feud. I was trying to protect us, to protect you. Everything I do, I do for you,” Sophie pleaded.

“Protect me? You think lying with that... priest-turned-vamp-punk would protect me? Tristan serves Lucio, the same Lucio who stole my life, my wife, my soul, my everything. The Lucio who has caused me nothing but pain in this fucking blood-slavery I’m forced to live in. And you went to your knees before him.”

“It was a misunderstanding. I get confused sometimes; you know that. My mind sometimes slips, and I lose control of reality. It’s part of my curse. You know this!” she wailed and reached out to touch his arm. “I’m begging for forgiveness. I’m sorry, Shakespeare. Please, please, please, forgive me.”

He jerked away from her touch. “We’re through, Sophie. I’m taking the club. You can hang around and pretend to be the boss, but the club is mine. I’m making changes.”

“Don’t hurt me! I love you!” Sophie begged.

“There is no such thing as love. We are not capable of it. We don’t deserve it. You hear me? You like being on your knees, fine. That’s where I want to see you from now on. I’m taking the club, and everything you are working on. Go back to the swamps and feed on the gators, because here you will only have scraps from my table. Do you hear me? You’re done,” said Shakespeare.

Sophie’s eyes widened with shock and then narrowed with a dangerous glint. “You don’t mean that. I’ve worked so hard to be free. To be respected in the order. You can’t just throw my worth away. There are rules to our coven, to our bond. And this is my club. These are my girls. You don’t take shit from me! We’ve been through too much together.”

“Try and stop me,” he said, his voice now reduced to a low and deadly snarl. The threat was real. She was the only woman in the coven, and she had no position of power. The club was a gift to her from Shakespeare. And permission to open another required Domencio’s blessing. In their fucked up dead existence, the patriarchy still ruled with an iron fist. And she was sick to death of serving it. Sophie’s face twisted with rage, her beautiful features contorting into something almost monstrous. Like a bullet fired in a room of rubber, she exploded in fury and bounced off the walls, ceiling, and floors, punching holes into walls and ripping off fixtures, a whirlwind of madness and destruction. She landed on him and delivered blow after blow. Shakespeare threw her off him and she landed on her butt.

“You can’t leave me with nothing!” she sobbed. “I won’t let you. You belong to me. You don’t get to walk away! Ever!”

Shakespeare shook his head, a look of disgust on his face. A small part of him had regrets about what he would do next. Sophie’s curse was far greater than the one he lived with. With the passage of time the Draca accelerated her approach to madness. It was not her fault. The Sophie he knew decades prior would have never dropped to her knees for any consiglieri other than him.

“You belong to me. We belong together!” she wept.

“I belong to no one, least of all a whore like you,” Shakespeare mumbled. “The love of my life is dead and my soul went with her.”

After all of the hurtful insults, he left. The door closed on Sophie’s shrieking. The pain he inflicted was far more extreme than his bite. The truth was, he didn’t care for Sophie because he didn’t care for anyone. He had no heart. What good were emotions and love for the walking dead?

Behind the closed door, Sophie stood in the middle of mass destruction, her fists clenched at her sides. She watched him go. Her eyes and heart burned with fury and obsession.

Sophie's thoughts turned to the darkest corner of her soul and the Draca roared inside of her with a thirst. If Shakespeare thought he could walk away from her, she would take great pleasure in proving he was wrong.