Of Blood and Smoke

Chapter 5

FIVE

Josiah

Closing the office door behind me, I went to the mini fridge installed under the counter and retrieved the bottle. The glass was cool in my hand as I poured the crimson liquid into a long-stemmed glass. I took a sip and glanced around the room.

The renovations I’d had done pleased me. No longer was I plagued by blindingly white walls and a mildewing carpet. I’d keep a few of the accessories, including a gorgeous large mahogany desk and some antique vases. It’d taken forever to have my office finished, with how busy I’d been.

If the flowers I would’ve loved to display would’ve lasted longer than a day in this environment, I’d have a bouquet displayed as the final touch. Unfortunately, the Bloodmoon flowers of my home, the Second Realm, fared poorly in the thinner oxygen that plagued this garish and noisy world.

I’d added other upgrades to the office, having gutted the space right beside into a workroom and apartment. Now, for convenience’s sake, I no longer had to go to the underground levels of my building to deal with criminals. They were stored right beside me and easily subject to my ministrations.

The area next door was outfitted with any imaginable device one could possibly need for punishment or extraction. Extraction of blood or information, whatever the occasion called for—sometimes both. Skilled technicians had installed a hidden plumbing system that simplified clean-up and made life here easier for everyone in my very small circle.

Attached to that room were the living quarters I made use of whenever the fancy struck me, which lately, was often.

As I settled in behind my desk, Micha entered and crossed the room, tossing me a small bit of plastic. “It's all there,” he said, and gestured toward the bottle. “May I?”

There was no need for him to ask but he did so out of respect. He was my closest friend and companion, and my right-hand man. “Of course, help yourself,” I replied, plugging the drive into my laptop.

While Micha poured himself a drink, I went through the contents of the electronic file. A lot of change had transpired since I’d begun building my business. It hadn’t been easy, and I’d stepped on many toes, but it’d been necessary.

I’d acquired the once enviable company while it’d been sinking under the disappearance of its founder and CEO here in Manhattan. It’d been a promising pharmaceutical company with aspirations to branch into natural supplements and agricultural interests, among other things, and we were pursuing those continued interests with force.

The previous owner had never been found and I suspected that interference from the Higher Courts of my home realm was responsible. Likely, my deep-seated loyalty to the Court had assisted with the ease of acquisition but that wasn’t any of my concern. I was precisely where I wanted to be, having fought my own battles to get here.

Others of a similar kind to myself and Micha had schemed to take over the company, wanting access to the Third Realm’s charms, and had been unsuccessful. I’d disposed of many a competitor to get to where I was, hence, the necessity of the specialized room. It was useful either way and helped keep things under control.

Micha and I weren’t alone in our ambitions, others had come before us and built the companies and industries that sustained us in multiple ways. The two of us were an unusual mixture of vampire and demon DNA and we thrived in this environment, taking advantage of the copious amounts of blood and energy that ran freely. While demons thrived off human’s energetic signals, they drank blood on occasion for varying reasons. With us possessing vampire DNA as well, we had an innate need for the elixir of life.

The preferred moniker for beings such as Micha and I was crossbreed, as opposed to the commonly used slur, half-breed . Being half vampire and half demon was an anomaly not many possessed the benefit of, and those who didn’t understand feared and denigrated our kind.

Fear was a powerful weapon, and we’d utilized its benefits to the greatest degree at every necessary opportunity.

Micha brought himself and his full glass to the chair beside my desk and sat down, setting his drink on a gilded coaster.

“The final version of our employment agreement may have some issues,” he said.

I glanced up. There should be zero issues with our standards of conduct and employment. “What is the problem?”

Micha sighed. “There’s some grumbling that the rules are illegal and demoralizing.”

“Which ones?”

He looked almost as annoyed as I felt. “The rules about silence, eye contact...and the part where it says we own them. We may have to word that differently—if you’d let someone with experience handle this.”

We do own our employees. We don’t pay them above and beyond reason, or provide them with every perk known to man, without expecting utter loyalty and obedience. “Fine, get someone to handle it. But I’m warning you, I won’t bend.”

“Josiah,” he started softly, waiting for me to look back up. “This isn’t Court. You’re not there anymore, nor do you need to apply the same rules.”

It worked there, and so it would here. I didn’t answer him; he spoke out of turn.

“I may need to make use of the interviewing chamber later,” he remarked after a minute of tense silence.

My gaze met his, his dark gray eyes now swirling with hunger. Hunger for pain, hunger for food—I wasn’t always certain which when it came to him, his moods were ever-changing and he was always in want of something.

“It's yours,” I affirmed. The footage I’d watched, courtesy of the data he’d brought me, was disturbing.

We were in the process of releasing a designer drug, Onychinus, and there’d been a leak. The preliminary doses were being distributed on the street for profit without permission and we’d found the traitorous criminal responsible for the theft.

“Perhaps I will provide you with assistance,” I mused, sitting back in my chair and staring at the freeze-frame of footage on my screen. The man was outside a higher-end gentleman’s club called The Angels; the picture frozen in time to provide an optimal view of his facial features. The computer quickly identified him, handing us all the information we needed to secure and end him and his foolishness.

“Josiah,” my friend started, rubbing his chin. “Have you confirmed your scheduled return yet?”

I’d been summoned to the Higher Court and a meeting was tentatively scheduled for me with one of the Ancients, a being named Ezra. He was one of a collective, a group of the most powerful creatures in existence, short of the Creator, whom no one had ever proven to be an actuality but was, of course, referred to when convenient. I picked up my glass and drained it before answering. “No, not yet,” I replied, placing the cup down. I changed the subject and asked, “How’s your girlfriend?” I wasn’t certain what the human was to him but referred to her as such for ease of conversation.

Micha pursed his lips. “She is well. I may go visit her again tonight.” His eyes glittered as he spoke. He really liked this one, I could tell. My friend was one for brief but intense dalliances, being much more of a free spirit than I. Preferably, I made use of donors and avoided the messiness and disorder of whimsical human connection.

We’d met as children, when we began specialized schooling for our kind, and he’d always been a bit of a rebel and subject to flights of fancy. We had been the only two students in attendance for our education and my dear friend had never really met the given expectations of our teachers. Thankfully, he was not only a loving friend to me, but also a good and faithful servant when it came to business.

“I’ll send the men to go pick up the traitor—unless you’d prefer a more personal touch?” Micha stood up, buttoning his suit jacket. He looked at me, waiting for my answer.

“Send the men. If there’s any problems with retrieval, then go ahead and secure Mister Boccelli yourself. Please notify me when he’s brought in.”

The Angels was the perfect place to distribute Onychinus, the chemical composition enhancing intuition and sex hormones simultaneously. In some ways, it was partially similar to a popular club drug called Ecstasy, only ours didn’t come with the unpopular side effect of sudden death.

Unless, of course, one stole from me.

My meeting with Ezra loomed over me, and I was restless. It was uncertain what he wanted, but I knew it had nothing to do with my murder of Lord Sem. That situation had already been addressed and my actions excused as I’d exposed extensive subterfuge.

Ezra and I had what could be considered a friendship, having gotten to know each other over the years. He’d been my favorite teacher. He watched me grow up into the man I was today, and he trusted me.

Sem and a few others had planned on removing the supernatural beings in power here in the Third Realm while claiming loyalty to the Ancients. I played my part to Sem, pretending to desire to remove a few of them myself and appropriate their businesses in this human-dominated world.

However, all I’d wanted was my own place in the gold rush and I’d strategized as needed. For the most part, I’d always remained in excellent standing with my superiors. There’d been very few glitches in my duties. I’d been their enforcer, making sure law and order was maintained, and been entrusted with such for centuries without fail.

Now, I wanted more, and I had Ezra’s blessing. Despite my departure, I still paid the Court tribute and offered my services if absolutely necessary. It hadn’t been, but it was the thought that counts.

“Wait,” I ordered my friend. I got up from my chair and crossed the room, stopping in front of the coat closet. “We’ll go together, have the men remain in the area as backup.” I was itching for some action, having been shut inside for weeks.

Micha raised an eyebrow and waited by the door until I joined him.

Stopping by my assistant’s desk I let her know we’d be back in a few hours. It was evening, but she was used to our unconventional hours and was paid more than adequately for her trouble. “Okay, thank you. I’ll message you if there’s anything urgent,” Christina said, quickly averting her gaze when she almost met my eyes. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Her skin tinged with a blush pink. “Will you need me later?” she asked.

I glared at her, though she’d not see it. I’d used her once and ever since; she had the insane idea in her head she was favored. She was not.

I forgave her the breach. She was too competent and responsible to let go of and looking one in the eyes when spoken to was a normal social reaction. Humans were messy and unpredictable, but that just added to their charm and allure. I wasn’t completely unforgiving if it benefited me—just close.

“No,” I stated, turning away. “I won’t be needing those services from you again.”

Most of the time, I wore sunglasses to hide my unnatural irises, the reflective and pearlescent charcoal shade being an unusual and unexpected sight. The color was so deep it couldn’t be mistaken for any type of brown. Eventually, perhaps the unique tone wouldn’t be such a novelty as others became desensitized, but for now it remained a disturbance to those who witnessed it.

Part of the conditions of employment at Ipomoea Pharmaceuticals was no eye contact with any of the executives and zero photography. There were many other security measures included in our iron-clad non-disclosure agreement, but those two items were at the top of the list.

Rather than single myself and Micha out, I applied the rule to all upper management for simplicity’s sake despite their lack of outstanding features. Those men were primarily mid-level demons and blended so well with humans that no one would ever know who they’d conversed with. Nonetheless, Micha and I kept to ourselves for the most part.

The elevator brought us down to the parking level where one of our drivers waited. After we entered and he closed the door, our ride brought us to the elite strip club.

The business was a sleek storefront of whitewashed brick, in keeping with The Angels’ heavenly theme. Soft pink lighting and a chain of fuchsia ropes delineated the entrance line full of aging men and women.

In a few short hours, the arriving customers would consist of more aesthetically pleasing and fiscally flush humans who would then be brought to the front of the line. The club chain’s founder, an archangel, did not cater to the general population after hours, preferring to endorse idealized versions of beauty and perfection. From what I’d seen, he’d done a commendable job other than marring the scene before-hours by his standards. The unrelenting focus on aesthetics propelled what should’ve been just another nude drinking hole into the stratosphere. It was shallow, but undeniably effective.

My target for the evening, the thieving Boccelli, was barely attractive enough to secure entry and I had a feeling his wares had encouraged the doors to open. We’d been tracking him for a little while—a couple of weeks, and one of the watchers we’d installed in the club reported seeing an increase of unusual activity.

This report along with the discrepancy in our inventory led to deeper investigation, which brought us to this very moment. Product samples had gone missing, which then led to Micha’s exploration.

We stepped out of the vehicle, and I smoothed my suit jacket before pushing my hair back while closely examining the crowd. Scenting the air, I didn’t find anything beyond the usual human smells of lust, desire, and greed. A visual evaluation of auras, courtesy of my demon blood, denoted the same. The spectacle was likely on purpose, the mixture of coral neon lights aimed to intermingle with the twinkling mist around bodies. Sheer genius and a marvel of marketing efforts.

Micha wrinkled his nose, overly affected by his senses. He knew how to temper it and yet didn’t do so very often. He’d once told me it reminded him of his position on the food chain, having superior senses and being able to translate and discern the environment to his advantage. He’d always been insistent we should rely more on our emotions than we did, suggesting we could tap into unused resources within us. Ezra had never quite managed to beat all that foolish belief out of him.

“Calm yourself,” I ordered him, keeping my voice even. He curled a lip at me in defiance and looked away. Much as I adored him, his loose ways got to me sometimes.

We were very different men. I prided myself on adhering to a strict set of rules, first learning the benefit of such at any early age. Life in the High Court depended on order and authority, and flawless execution of rules. Micha seemed to go whichever way the wind blew, at times.

“Easy to get lost here,” he said. I ignored him, all too familiar myself with the massive assault it could all be. The combination of vampire and demon blood in our veins was nothing if not intense.

“Have you ever considered we may have been tampered with?” he asked.

“That’s why we’re here,” I snapped at him.

Micha leveled a gaze at me. “You know that’s not what I meant. Our younger years?”

“Drop it. We have something to attend to.”

My training came back to me at times like this. We’d been schooled to be unforgiving monsters. Relying on magic made us weak and subject to nefarious trickery so we only learned what was necessary to operate in our assigned roles. One couldn’t always trust the signals and frequencies another emitted—they could be faked. Our senses must remain finely honed to focus primarily on physical movements, not spiritual, and answered with bite of teeth or blade, not illusions. There was order and symmetry in the dance, as opposed to the chaotic noise of potential poison.

Magic was used sparingly and with definitive intent. It wasn’t for entertainment, even if my best friend was unsatisfied or given to conspiracy theories.

I paused, scanning our surroundings further and sensed the Lesser demons we’d sent ahead. Only a few steps above human, the beings were highly skilled watchdogs we counted on to take care of most grunt work, freeing our hands for higher pursuits.

Micha leveled another gaze at me, and we bypassed the line, no one stopping us as we passed. I’d had the foresight to email the club’s manager, Kenneth, prior to leaving the office so they were expecting us. If we’d shown up unannounced, it would’ve ruffled feathers that did not need disturbing. It was in everyone’s best interest to follow polite protocol.

The bouncers opened the doors, and we strode through, immediately surrounded by the rolling of a deep bass beat that vibrated the air. Glossy white paneling covered the walls of the hallway, lined with violet-hued recessed LED lighting. The ceiling was designed to appear celestial, coated with a robin’s egg blue and puffs of cotton sculpted into the shapes of clouds. The interior was deceptive, with the cartoonish colors and textures, hiding what lay below.

A hostess in a skin-tight ivory patent leather dress greeted us from behind a Lucite stand. “Welcome,” she greeted us, her silver-toned eyelashes batting the air.

She stared at Micha with ill-concealed interest. The edge of his mouth curled up almost unperceptively. He’d noticed as well, the faint wintery fragrance emanating from her pores. She’d been claimed by an angel or another angelic being, their scent having left the distinctive signature.

“Mind your keeper,” he snarled at her.

She shrank back and stammered, “Of course. No offense meant.” She recovered quickly. “Names, please.”

“Josiah Ipomoea and Micha Calthia,” I stated, as she inspected us. We were similar in appearance, in some ways. We were both tall, with dark shoulder length hair, and slim but muscular. My appearance was harsher than Micha’s; his face held more fullness opposite to my severe features. My prominent cheekbones, pointed chin, and striking eyes cut a harsh picture. Women were more prone to accosting him than I and having been turned down, she looked hopefully at me until I hissed at her.

She tapped the screen of the iPad she held, fingers shaking lightly. “You’re expected. Right this way.” I concealed my irritation at her unnecessary observation.

She stepped out from behind her station and another woman came through a door in the wall that opened seamlessly and took her place. I removed my sunglasses and tucked them into my pocket as we followed her to the interior of the building.

For the type of establishment it was, The Angels was remarkably clean and devoid of issues. The clientele was primarily upper crust, and most employees were both well-mannered and fine specimens of human flesh. The female and male dancers were all of exceptional quality.

Our hostess stopped before a set of double doors, knocked twice, and then opened them, stepping aside to allow us to pass. “My name is Anne,” she announced—late, I might add, and continued, “Kenneth will be with you shortly; please make yourselves at home.”

Ignoring her, the two of us walked in, and I shut the doors behind us with a flick of my fingers before she could touch them. If she noticed I’d cut her off without using physical means, I didn’t know. It didn’t matter. If she fraternized with angels, she’d likely seen some unexplained activity.

This area of the club was private, designed for seclusion and intimacy, a place where creatures such as us did not have to be as guarded. I selected a table surrounded by four leather armchairs with a view of the bar and stage and we seated ourselves.

Micha relaxed in his chair and pulled out his cellphone. “It doesn’t appear Boccelli has left the area,” he mused, "how convenient.”

“Indeed,” I replied with a snicker, knowing my friend was tracking his every move using the area’s extensive system of cameras. There’d be no escaping us. I felt my heart rate increase mildly, excited for what the night would bring.

“Hi, what may I bring you two tonight?” A waitress in a black cocktail dress stood beside our table.

“The mixture, please,” I responded, referring to a blend of wine and human blood.

She glanced at Micha. “Same for you, sir?” He tilted his head in affirmation.

“Any live entertainment for the evening?” She referred to those who would allow us to use their bodies in any manner we preferred, short of outright killing or maiming them. Donors, they were called. The angels had a thing for mercy when convenient and restricted our baser instincts. The “greater good“, a catch phrase they used and believed in with fervor, was applied to their rules and standards of operation and we would respect them.

I thought about it for a moment. “Perhaps later, thank you.”

The server eyed Micha with unabashed longing. I could smell her arousal from across the marble topped slab. Dates and donors naturally flocked to him, his visage being that of near physical perfection. My own looks had never prevented me from finding the company I desired but my appearance only lured a certain type. My sharp features, black eyes, and intense aura weren’t for the faint of heart.

My fingernails tapped against the tabletop impatiently and as the woman left, Micha’s gaze followed her trail. He stretched his lips and licked his elongating canines. “I’m torn,” he complained.

“Torn?” I asked. The woman sauntered back with two glasses and a lead crystal decanter, halting beside my friend.

Micha bent slightly to the right and inhaled, his mouth opening a fraction of an inch. “Yes,” he replied, his eyes shuttering in response to the crumbs of the woman’s essence he’d just flavored.

The woman flicked a glance at him as she poured, her hand trembling enough to nearly spill the liquid. She may have known what we were, but it was more common to be mistaken for fully vampire, or fully demon. Rarely the combination. We were all a threat to one’s mortality, no matter which species a human may decide to cavort with.

“Enlighten me, please.” I nodded to our server and lifted the cup, the overhead lighting catching in the grooves of the etched glass.

Micha reached for his own and twisted the stem between his fingers. “I believe I’m afflicted,” he laughed. “My ‘girlfriend’ as you so casually referred to her as.” He tilted his head thoughtfully.

We waited for the woman to walk away before we continued our conversation. “Is that so?” I asked, my tone light. The topic was anything but lighthearted. As vampires, once we fell for someone there was no way out other than death. The two of us identified more with our bloodsucking DNA than our demon halves and were trapped by the parameters of those characteristics.

“I fear it is. I’d love to sink my teeth into our waitress’s breasts but the more I consider it, the more distasteful it becomes.” My friend tipped the remains of his beverage into his mouth and set the wineglass down just a bit too hard. “I’m not entirely sure she returns the same sentiment.”

“Drink from her before you lose your mind. I need you sharp.” I leaned back in my seat and rested my ankle on my knee. “What family is she from? Have I met her?”

Micha laughed bitterly. “No family; she’s human and I have to have her for myself.”

A chill ran up my spine. “What the hell are you doing?”

He raised his hand, the rings on his fingers glinting in the light. “I know, I know. It wasn’t planned. At all.”

This wasn’t good. Or was it? We’d been ruled by archaic notions of propriety and with the goal of sustaining certain bloodlines. The biggest issue with that was we weren’t supposed to exist. Stepping out of bounds was what created our kind to begin with, a misunderstood scientific phenomenon that previously. no one knew was possible—a demon mating with a vampire.

At last count, only twenty of us were still in existence. Our numbers would have been much higher if massive numbers of babies hadn’t been slaughtered hundreds of years ago out of naivety and prejudice.

A deep sigh left my chest. There was nothing I could do to assist Micha, no matter how much I cared for him. The only course of action was to feign ignorance as to the depths of his feelings for the poor woman. It was only a matter of time before Ezra ordered her demise and by Micha’s own hand, no less. It would be an act of kindness on his part, to do the deed rather than subject his love to the horrors our authority figures may decide to inflict upon him.

The doors at the end of the room opened and Kenneth walked in.