The Baritone’s Rival (The Vampire Impresario #2)

4. Oscar

Chapter 4

Oscar

“ H and over your wallet and your phone, and I won’t have to hurt ya.”

The sound of the gruff, raspy voice drifted up from the empty street corner. Oscar stood high above on the roof of an apartment complex, the wind whipping through his long hair.

He had been staring out over the city, doing his damndest to stop ruminating over Trent’s injured words. He hadn’t regretted what he said—Trent had been acting like a twit—but the look on his face had made Oscar feel…something. Guilt? Trent was always so anal and annoying, but the naked hurt was unexpected. In that moment, he had turned into someone sad and scared, someone that Oscar wanted to take care of.

Then Trent had insulted his voice, so he shouldn’t feel any guilt at all. And yet…

“Now, lady!”

The urgent threat brought Oscar’s attention back to the real world. He peered down onto the moonlit streets below. Beside him, Justin tensed, his feet scuffing against the flat roof. Unnecessary. The kid was skittish, and maybe he had good reason, but there was no way some ordinary mugger could take on one vamp, never mind two.

“They’re both human,” Justin said in a shaky whisper. “It’s not really our business. We should just leave them alone.”

Oscar shook his head. “New York is Grosvenor territory, and we’re only blocks from the covenhouse. We can’t have humans getting attacked in our neighborhood. It would be gauche.”

Below, the target of the threat, a stylish-looking Latina woman in a tan suede trench coat, took a step back from the mugger who loomed over her. He was dressed in all black. Oscar didn’t have a good angle on his face.

“Please,” the woman begged, “my life is on this phone. I’ll give you all the cash I have…”

“You’ll give me your phone, and that necklace, too.” The mugger stepped towards her.

“It was my grandmother’s!”

The mugger raised his hand. There was a sleek, black handgun in it. “No more arguing, lady.”

Oscar locked eyes with Justin, nodded, and without waiting for a response, he jumped. He landed behind the mugger, his feet barely making a sound as they hit the concrete. Justin dropped down a moment later.

The woman’s eyes went wide as she saw the two of them. She let out a yelp but immediately squelched it.

“What the hell, lady? Get moving!”

“Even a thief should have manners.” Oscar loved to play with his prey. There were some advantages to being a vampire, after all. “And no one looks good in all black, no matter what the Manhattan socialites say.”

The man spun around, the gun trained on Oscar. He was a stocky white guy with a scraggly beard. His face sported a haggard look.

“You shoulda walked away, fucker.”

The impact of the bullet and the boom of the weapon were near-simultaneous. There was a quick pinch in Oscar’s chest as the projectile broke his skin, followed by a shot of severe pain. But Oscar didn’t let that stop him.

The mugger didn’t know he was dealing with a supernatural death machine with preternatural speed. His hand was around the man’s throat before he could pull the trigger a second time.

“This could have gone so much better for you, darling.” The man tried to speak, but Oscar’s hand was like a vise around his windpipe. “Once you try to kill me, all bets are off.”

“What the fuck are you?” the man managed to squeak out. Before he could say more, Oscar snapped his neck. The sick crack of the bones breaking echoed on the empty street. Oscar lifted the now-dead body by the throat and threw the corpse to Justin, who caught it awkwardly in both arms.

“We’ll bring him back and drain him.”

“Please don’t kill me. Please…” The woman’s voice trembled with terror.

“You’re in no danger, dear.” Oscar raised two fingers, locking eyes with the woman. “And that is a beautiful necklace. Your grandmother must have been very fashionable.”

She nodded mutely. Oscar found his core, that spark in his chest that was his demon waiting to burst forth, and stoked the fire a little. “Nothing strange happened tonight. You had a calming walk in the moonlight.”

“I…” The woman looked around, confused. Oscar lowered his hand. “Sorry, were we speaking? I got mixed up all of a sudden.”

“No, no, I was just complimenting your necklace.” Oscar smiled casually. “Have a lovely night.”

“Oh, you too.” She glanced at her watch. “Ten thirty! My husband will be worried. Have a good night.” She strode off past them, not registering at all the now lifeless body that Justin cradled in his arms.

“How did you do that?” Justin asked in a fierce whisper. “You’re not that old! Only ancient vampires can Compel like that.”

“I don’t know about ancient. But yes, you usually have to be a hundred or more to have the aptitude.” Oscar shrugged. “I’ve always had a gift for the mental powers. It developed after about ten years.”

“But we were friends…” Justin’s brows drew together in confusion. “I don’t ever remember you being able to do that.”

“My ex wanted me to keep it a secret.”

Justin stared at Oscar, shaking his head. Oscar felt strangely self-conscious, and he wasn’t sure why. It was a useful skill, and rare enough, but Justin was looking at him like he was a freak.

“Come on,” Oscar said, shoving his feelings aside. “We need to get him back before the blood gets too cold.”

It was only a few blocks to the covenhouse, and they moved swiftly through the streets, unseen by humans, the warm city air massaging their faces as they passed. Once they reached home, they lugged the body into the kitchen. The room was more of a blood bank than anything, since the vampires that lived there didn’t have to eat solid food. Oscar had a few sweet treats hidden away in a cupboard, but he didn’t need them for sustenance.

Justin plopped the body down on the kitchen island while Oscar grabbed a needle and some empty bags from the supply under the sink. The first few times he’d done this were uncomfortable. When he fed from a live human, there was a sensual rightness to it, his body and his inner demon in sync in their hunger. Draining someone like this, though, was more clinical. Without the cloud of blood lust, there was no ignoring the facts of what you were doing.

“Insert it into his arm,” Oscar said, tossing a syringe and a bag to Justin. Justin looked up at him with uncertain eyes.

“I don’t know if I…”

“If you’re to dwell here with us, you’ll need to get used to it. Much of our blood is sourced from medical supply, but a portion comes from defensive kills. It would be criminal to waste it. You never know when our contacts at the blood bank will dry up.” Oscar gestured to the guy’s neck. “Go for the carotid.”

Justin squeamishly massaged the cadaver’s throat as he searched for the artery. When he located it, his eyes went to Oscar as if he might grant a reprieve. No such luck. Justin punctured the skin with the needle, pushing it through with his shaking hands. Immediately, the bag began to fill.

They stood as the blood flowed slowly into the container. Justin’s discomfort was palpable, and Oscar was confused. The man was a vampire. He’d been part of the Azarian Coven. There had been no concern with morality there. Justin had drunk from his share of unwilling victims.

“No need to stare.”

Justin startled at Oscar’s voice. Oscar shook his head. How was the kid so squeamish?

“What’s wrong?” Oscar asked. “You’ve seen plenty of blood in your lifetime. Especially hanging out with that asshole, Rick.” Oscar tucked in the extra medical supplies back under the sink, trying to sound casual as he pushed a little. “How did you end up with him , anyway?”

Justin tore his eyes from the body. His hands were clasped together tightly. “I don’t…I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Suit yourself.” Oscar shifted his weight from foot to foot as he decided if he should pry further.

Fuck it. “It’s just that you used to be so fun. Occasionally annoying in your relentlessness, but fun. What happened to the little ball of sunshine?”

Justin chewed on his lip as he stared at Oscar. After a long moment, he let out a breath and jumped in.

“I guess it’s okay to talk about. I…remember when I left the Azarian coven?”

Oscar leaned, being careful not to jostle the body. “Of course. We all wondered where you’d gone. I think most of us were jealous that you had managed to escape without anyone going after you. I always hoped you had found some quiet nook in the woods somewhere.”

“I did, sort of.” Justin blinked his eyes a few times, as if he were trying to remember. “I went to stay with my aunt. She lives upstate. And it was really great for a while.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “And then?”

“And then a bunch of shit went down that I don’t really want to go into. I couldn’t live with her anymore. I didn’t have anywhere to go, so I ended up traveling with Rick. It wasn’t so bad at first, but ultimately…well, you saw what he did. I haven’t had much reason to be peppy recently.”

“I guess.” Oscar flashed Justin a smile. “I’m sorry you’ve had a rough go of it. I missed having you around. You always made the place a little more festive. Which, with the Azarians, was quite a feat.”

Justin didn’t answer. After a long, awkward silence, he looked back down at the cadaver. “Do you think he had, like, a wife or something? Anyone we should tell?”

“I’d imagine anyone married to a man who’d shoot someone in a mugging wouldn’t be a particularly good person themselves. I wouldn’t worry about them.” Oscar chuckled. “Besides, how do you know it wasn’t a husband? Or a nonbinary spouse?

“Oh…” Justin stammered. “I just assumed a guy robbing people at gunpoint would be straight.”

“Queer people can be just as monstrous as…” Oscar’s eyes fell on the man’s unkempt hair and stained black clothes. “He was probably straight.”

Oscar sauntered over to the cupboard and took out two stemmed wine glasses. Some of the vampires in the coven would drink out of tumblers, but a wine glass full of blood created such a perfect image, like something out of an old Hammer horror movie. He reached into the refrigerator, pulling out a bag of blood and filling the glasses.

“Why not quaff your thirst while you wait?”

Justin giggled. “You talk so funny sometimes. It’s…”

“Pretentious?”

“No!” Justin’s brows furrowed in concern. “I didn’t mean?—”

“Oh, I don’t mind. It is pretentious. I was leaning that way before I was turned, and becoming a vampire gave me the permission to embrace it, mon cher .” Oscar winked and held out a wine glass.

Justin reached out and gingerly took the glass in his hand, gulping down a couple of swallows of the deep red liquid. His cheeks flushed pink as the vital essence chased the squeamishness from him. Oscar sipped from his own drink, cool and delicious as it hit his tongue. Most vamps preferred blood to be warm, as close to body temperature as possible, but Oscar found the chill refreshing.

“You were really brave back there.” Justin’s glanced at the dead man on the kitchen island. “He was scary. He shot you!”

“This one? Please.” Oscar rolled his eyes. His hand went to his chest, unbuttoning his shirt and running his fingers over the restored skin. “See? Good as new. It’s not as if a bullet could hurt us, and he didn’t have any wooden stakes on him. Or grenades.”

“I guess.” Justin blushed. “I just thought you handled it really well. Although it’s too bad for his imaginary wife or husband that he shot you.”

“Indeed. He might have survived and returned home to his imaginary family.” Oscar drained his glass and set it down. It clinked against the dark granite countertop.

“I don’t…it’s hard to think that the people we kill have loved ones who will miss them.”

“Well, he was a bastard, so if he hypothetically had anyone who loved him, I hypothetically doubt they are right in the head.”

Justin looked up at Oscar, pausing as if he was gathering the courage to speak his mind. “Everyone deserves to have someone that loves them.”

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Some of us don’t require that. Definitely not assholes who would shoot unarmed civilians. Alright, let’s change the bag and tilt him down to encourage the flow of blood.”

The cadaver wasn’t heavy for either of them, considering their enhanced strength, but it was awkward. Justin connected an empty bag to the line and they held the man’s legs up, hanging his torso off the island and angling it toward the floor. They stood there motionless as the bag began to fill.

“What are you talking about? Everyone needs love.”

“No, thank you.” Oscar chuckled at Justin’s shocked, wide eyes. “I’ve had enough romance for multiple lifetimes. Let’s check in about this conversation again in two hundred years.”

“But, but you’re so…” Justin looked away as he trailed off.

“What?”

“You know, handsome and strong and all that!” A blush crawled up Justin’s neck and reached his cheeks, turning his face a light pink. “It would be so easy for you to find a lover.”

Did Justin have a crush on him? It was flattering, but he would prefer not to deal with that. He’d been hoping Justin might be a friend, and maybe a wingman for him at the club.

“It is, darling. For an evening. That’s all I require.” Oscar gave the cadaver a shake to encourage the blood in the extremities to flow down toward the head.

“Don’t you want to find your mate?” The words burst out of Justin with unexpected force.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Oscar’s voice dropped low. He understood this, the desperation to be loved in that way, especially as a young, impressionable…wait. Was Justin a virgin?

Never mind. Oscar continued. “I thought I had, once. I was deluding myself.”

“But that’s not possible!” Romantic notions were obviously important to Justin. He couldn’t seem to control the anxiety radiating out of him. “When vampire mates drink each other’s blood…the reaction proves it. The bond clicks into place.”

“That is the theory, yes…” Oscar frowned at the rush of memory that filled him. He hated thinking of the old Azarian coven, of the hurt and shame he’d felt during his time there. “But if one of the fated pair doesn’t allow the other to feed from him, then there’s no way to know. Not for certain.”

“Why would that happen?” Tears sprang to Justin’s eyes. Oscar sighed. This kid was a sap.

“Youth. The blindness of first love. That’s what it was for me, at least. You remember my ex. He wasn’t very nice, was he?”

Justin shook his head, his face darkening at the mention. “No.”

“And now he’s dead.” Oscar smiled. “One vamp claiming to be my fated mate was enough. Especially when he was such an asshole.”

“I guess.”

“Besides,” Oscar said, standing up straight and crossing his arms, “who would want all that? Someone always knowing what you’re feeling? Never desiring another person? And then there’s the whole crimson surge issue.”

“What?” Justin’s tone was almost indignant. He frowned as he put his hands on his hips. “It’s romantic.”

“Going into a frenzy when your mate is in danger? No thank you. I’d prefer to maintain control over my own body.”

Justin looked Oscar up and down, his eyes shifting from confusion to determination. Oscar was witnessing a war within the vampire, and the insistent romantic kept winning.

“Even so, just because you’ve been burnt once doesn’t mean you shouldn’t love again,” Justin said. “You deserve it.”

He reached out and rested his hand on Oscar’s bare forearm. Oscar flinched at the affectionate touch. Did he deserve love? He wasn’t sure. But he certainly didn’t want it.

“Sometimes you’re hurt too deeply.” Oscar stepped away, letting Justin’s hand fall, and leaned with his palms against the top of the kitchen island. The cool stone grounded him. “My ex…sometimes there is no coming back.”

“But—”

“No.” Oscar smiled, small and sad. “I won’t put myself in that position again.”

Justin sighed, but said nothing. The silence gave space for all of Oscar’s past feelings to come roaring back. He had been in love, even if his ex wasn’t his true mate, and the man had abused that over and over again. He’d trapped him in a life of violence and terror, the memories of which could still make his palms sweat, still give him nightmares.

Oscar pushed away the old pain. He picked up the mugger’s body and gave it a final shake.

“I think we’ve got it all. Let’s dispose of him.”

Oscar was dreading this rehearsal. Julie had managed to broker some kind of uneasy peace with Trent so the three of them could work on the duet. Oscar didn’t want to know how she’d done it. In class on Wednesday, Trent had sat as far away as humanly possible from Oscar, hunkering down in the shadows of the back corner of the classroom. He hadn’t spoken a word to anyone. He hadn’t spoken up during the discussion.

But now it was Friday, and Julie had convinced him to come.

Oscar didn’t want to apologize. He shouldn’t have to apologize. Trent had been acting like a dick, and Oscar didn’t regret what he’d said. If Trent came in and demanded an apology with that stupid face of his, Oscar…well, he wasn’t sure what he would do.

Honestly, he was tempted to Compel both Julie and Trent to forget about the whole thing. He knew it was unethical. He should only use his power when a person was in danger, but it was so tempting. Everyone would be happier. They’d never know their minds had been cleansed.

Of course, he wouldn’t do that. But he could fantasize about it.

He walked down the tree-lined Park Slope street, and the sun danced on his skin as it filtered through the oak leaves. It was very bright out. Vampires didn’t burst into flames in daylight, regardless of what the old tales said, but it was draining, and he’d always been particularly susceptible to it. Maybe it was a balance for his aptitude with mental powers. A wave of nausea hit him.

He swallowed it down and continued his way up the incline of the empty sidewalk and through the wealthy neighborhood, the well-preserved brownstones looking down on him from both sides of the street as he went. The Brooklyn Institute of Music was there at the top of the hill. The sooner he was inside the practice room and out of the sun, the better.

“If it isn’t the fancy one.”

Oscar looked up to see Rick, the asshole vampire with the crew cut who’d been bullying Justin. He stood a few feet in front of him. He was grizzled, with four or five days of scruff on his face, wearing a beat-up jean jacket. A large vein bulged in the center of his forehead.

Rick was flanked on either side by a couple of baby vamps. The crisp ash smell of the recently turned poured off them. The change had happened young, as well—neither of them could have been more than twenty when they’d been sired. They were dressed in stained, baggy clothes. They were gaunt, their desperate appearance hiding any gender markers.

“This is quite a greeting.” Oscar squared his stance. There wasn’t a chance in hell this confrontation was well-intentioned. “But I should really get to class.”

“You’re wanted elsewhere, Oscar .” Rick’s voice dripped with disdain. “A friend of yours sent me to fetch you.”

“I doubt that you know any friends of mine.” Oscar was stalling. He wracked his brain for possible options. Individually, he could take on either of the younger vamps. Hell, he could probably take them both at the same time. Rick was a different question. He was older, maybe older than Oscar. One-on-one, it would be close, but Oscar was pretty certain he’d come out on top. Add in the other two, though, and he was in trouble.

As if reading his thoughts, the disheveled young vamps growled, their fangs dropping. Oscar held up two fingers in front of him, tapping into the burning core of the demon inside.

“You will leave here. You will not follow me again.” The magic stirred within Oscar as he spoke, the ancient power flowing from his lips.

The vamps stopped growling, staring at Oscar with wide eyes, their pupils dilating. For a moment, Oscar thought it had worked.

Then Rick laughed. It was harsh and ugly, and it broke Oscar’s hold on the other vampires. They shook off Oscar’s effort to Compel them, their faces scrunching in anger, their fangs glistening in the sunlight.

“Aren’t you cute?” Rick’s eyes gleamed with malicious glee. “You may be the youngest in a generation to have the old power, but you’re still young. I’ve got fifty years on you at least. Your parlor tricks won’t work on me. Elliott warned me what to expect.”

If Oscar’s heart had been capable of beating, it would have stopped. He froze, suddenly aware of the cold clamminess of his skin and the tightness in his chest.

“Elliott…my Elliott?” Oscar’s knees wobbled as he said the name. “I don’t believe you. He’s dead.”

“If he were, he couldn’t have sent me to bring you back to him.”

Oscar’s head swam. Elliott had died in the implosion that had followed Charles Azarian’s death. This wasn’t possible. He couldn’t…he couldn’t go back to that. Back to the desperate, gnawing need to be noticed, to be loved; back to being manipulated and controlled. Back to starving, his body weakening and his vision blurring from the lack of nutrients.

He thought he had escaped. His chest clenched at the barrage of old, destructive thoughts, and his throat closed, cutting off his air.

The loud growling broke through the panic as the vampires were on him. He extended his claws as he spun, lashing out to keep the two barely controlled monsters at a distance.

The name of his ex-boyfriend had thrown him at a crucial moment, and now he was trapped between the young vamps. They caught hold of him, their fangs out, their claws piercing his arms and back. He struggled, but it was no use. Rick strode toward him with a smirk on his face.

“This was easier than I thought. Guess you must really want to see your mate .”

Oscar spat at him, the liquid hitting Rick’s cheek with a splat. He wouldn’t return to Elliott willingly. They might overpower him, but he wouldn’t play the docile lamb. Not ever again.

Rick’s hand was around his throat, tightening as Oscar scratched at the muscular vampire’s thick forearms. Rick lifted him off the pavement with one arm.

‘This can be painful if you’d like,” Rick’s voice rasped with anger. “Elliott may want you in one piece, but I don’t think he’d mind too much if you were missing a few fingers. Or a limb.”

“I…can’t…” Oscar couldn’t force his voice through Rick’s grip around his neck.

“You’ve said enough. You don’t get to?—”

A sick thud, the sound of punctured flesh, and Rick’s eyes went wide. His grip loosened as he crumpled to the ground. The remaining vamps spun to face their attacker.

It was Trent, standing in a casual t-shirt and jeans, a wooden stake in his hands. A stake that was dripping with Rick’s blood.

How? Trent was human! How could he?—?

There wasn’t time to think as the two remaining vampires attacked.