Chapter Three
The Boulevard Hotel is one of the oldest-running establishments in Hollywood. Though, its glamor days are long gone. There’s more than a faint air of disrepair in the worn carpet and faded wallpaper. A woman is busy on her cell behind the reception desk. She doesn’t even spare us a glance as we make our way toward the bank of elevators. There are no guests hanging out in the lobby. Given it’s nearing midnight, most normal people must be in bed.
I should be home asleep by now. Not that there’s anyone to miss me. It’s been a while since I shared my life with a special someone (besides myself, of course). Since Jason broke my heart and dumped me for a thinner version of me who had more of an upward career trajectory. And you can bet he told me all of this to my face. What a dick.
But prior to this evening, lousy exes were the sort of thing topping my list of woes. Along with other ordinary everyday details. Like figuring out how to both pay for new tires and my rent. How painfully mundane. Attacking people to drink their blood didn’t even rate a mention.
Lucas ushers me into an elevator, inspects the control panel, and presses a button for a subbasement level. The lowest you can go. A small smile curves his lips at the accomplishment. Which would be cute if he wasn’t a complete psychopath. “Stay close and keep your mouth shut. The family that runs this place is not our friend.”
The death of the security guard and removal of Christos’s heart has shocked me into submission. For the moment, at least. No amount of violent television or film prepared me for actually seeing a dead body and witnessing someone’s death. Or second death. Lucas didn’t even hesitate about killing him. This world I have entered is really a lot.
I stare at my reflection in the mirrored elevator wall. Yay that I have a reflection. Boo that it takes me a moment to recognize myself. My skin has taken on the same flawless sheen as my maker’s. To think of all the skincare products I’ve used to try and achieve exactly this. My dirty-blonde hair is now supermodel levels of thick and lustrous. But it’s my eyes that are truly creepy. The usual, confused color combination has changed to a clear pale green.
I might have been forgettable before, but now I am officially hot and utterly unnatural. You would have to be a fool to think there wasn’t something going on with me. Especially given the teeth. I grimace at my reflection, and two long canines are plainly visible, brutally sharp and shining white.
“We stay the same as when we died,” he says. “Only prettier. It helps to lure in prey. Normal humans don’t tend to notice our eyes or teeth.”
“How do they not see it?”
“That we’re predators?” he asks with a sly smile. “I always thought it was partly a kind of magic, but it’s partly also that they don’t want to see it. Never doubt the power of denial. Their safe little worlds don’t have room for the likes of us. How would they sleep at night if they knew there really were monsters hiding in the dark?”
Nice to see no blood or dead body on the floor when the elevator doors open this time. We step into a boring concrete corridor, where a man wearing a neat black suit stands waiting. He has white skin and a shaved head and pointy teeth. Not a man then, a vampire. Like Christos, he is seriously tall and built. Larger even than my companion, who has to be bordering on six-and-a-half feet tall. And behind this new, oversized dude is a large, steel door. The sort that belongs to a refrigerator unit.
“Sir,” he says in a deep voice.
“Berin.” Lucas smiles. “It’s good to see you. I believe he’s waiting for me?”
The giant says no more. He bows his head and holds the door open for us. He does, however, give me serious side-eye. No idea what that’s about.
Inside, there’s a party happening. The crowded space is a speakeasy. A beautiful Art Deco bar in decline. With worn, green velvet couches, palms scattered around, and dusty pendant lighting. There’s a wall of liquor bottles and a stage and dance floor. The customers range from couples in formal wear out of a bygone era to what resembles a motorcycle club in the corner. So much leather.
I’m not sure my cottage-core aesthetic holds up to this lifestyle. No one else here is wearing anything like my gray cardigan, blue floral dress, navy tights, and flat ankle boots.
From what I can see, they all have sharp teeth.
Hold that thought. A waitress flirting with a patron at the bar is actually human.
Music is pouring out of the sound system, the bass loud enough to vibrate through my chest. But I can still hear the way the waitress’s blood is pumping through her body. Like my whole being is focused on this one need. The need to feed.
My hands start shaking and my mouth waters. Thankfully, I’m still not hungry enough to attack. Not yet. But the thirst is there, coiled inside me, waiting to pounce. This sucks. Can I really do this? Be one of the bloodsucking undead? Given the only other option is true death, and that doesn’t exactly appeal…
The human waitress’s date casually leans in and bites her neck. And with a beatific grin, she closes her eyes and succumbs to the moment. All I can do is watch.
Lucas walks back to me impatiently. “What are you staring at?”
I nod at the couple by the bar.
“It is possible to find willing victims. Some of them even like it. Come on.” He grabs my hand and leads me toward a door at the back of the bar.
The weight of the stares of those we pass becomes heavier with each step. No one tries to stop us or talk to us, but they all whisper and watch. I have never been in a roomful of killers. Not to my knowledge, at least. And their uncanny beauty and grace is disturbing.
I hold on to his hand as tight as I can. Guess Shirley was right, better the devil you know.
Another ridiculously tall and built vampire guards the door at the back of the room. It’s like someone made an army of undead himbos. This one nods to Lucas and steps aside. No one seems to be making a move, so I reach out to open the door. And the handle promptly breaks and comes off in my hand. Oops.
Lucas swears under his breath.
“Sorry,” I say. “I was trying to be careful.”
He snatches the handle from me and gives it to the guard, who is now looking at me with a mildly horrified expression. Damaging the fittings is obviously a major faux pas. Lucas pushes the door open and drags me inside. And he says my manners are appalling.
There are no Art Deco touches in here. The spacious back room is painted black and is bare apart from a myriad of thick white candles and a long wooden table with five, throne-like chairs behind it. Vampires are seated in three of the chairs. And the only other creature in the room is one standing off to the side, wearing a long black robe and holding a digital notebook and stylus. Guess he’s here to take notes. A supernatural, undead personal assistant. Ha.
Lucas pulls his hand out of my grip, steps forward, and says, “You wished to see me?”
“Hello, Lucas.” A stunning woman with umber skin and her long hair in braids gives him a smile. Her blood-red dress dips low at the front to reveal a massive ruby pendant. A definite statement piece. “It’s been a while.”
“Rose.”
“Where is Christos?” demands an old man. He looks ancient, with white skin and hair. The style of his suit is dated as heck. Something from a century or more ago meant for hanging out in ballrooms or carriages. “He was supposed to accompany you.”
“My apologies, Archie,” says Lucas. “He won’t be joining us.”
He snarls. “You killed him?”
“Yes.”
“He was mine.” His lips flatline. “You had no right.”
“Have I really been gone so long that you thought I would tolerate being followed?” asks Lucas. “Let alone his disrespectful behavior. He killed one of my lackeys.”
“Never did know when to keep his mouth shut,” says the last person at the table, a handsome man with brown skin and dark hair. “But you can’t go around just killing our kind, Lucas. At least, not ones from other families without the agreement of their sire or the board. We have rules now.”
“What rules, Javier?” asks Lucas with a raised brow. “There’s a board?”
“You’ve been gone a while. Seventy years. Much has changed.” Rose taps her nails against the table. She nods to the man writing on his digital notepad in the corner. “The scribe will ensure a copy of the rules are sent to you if you give him your email.”
Lucas turns to me with one dark brow raised in question.
“Your electronic mail address,” I say. “We can set one up later.”
“The point is, we rule Los Angeles now,” growls Archie. “Not you.”
Rose clears her throat. “Things got a little out of hand near the end of the last century. A group of younger ones started running wild and causing chaos. Leaving bodies lying around for humans to find. Far more than their officials could reasonably be expected to ignore or excuse. They put our whole race at risk.”
“I see,” says Lucas.
“This board was formed, and one of our first decisions was to implement a cull. The troublemakers were destroyed, along with any known to associate with them. Many lives were lost in the conflict, but it was necessary.”
“It was the only way for us to regain control,” says Archie.
“We had no choice. They were making swarms of newborns to aid them in their stupidity,” says Javier. “The seventies were a trial, but the nineties were a fucking mess. We came this close to all-out war. You’re lucky you missed it. Though, the music was quite good.”
“Once it was done, we did our best to put the violence behind us. The board started to meet regularly to discuss any issues regarding our kind. We have as little as possible to do with the human world. They’re more than capable of governing themselves. But the board agreed to adhere to a set of rules for a term of thirty years to avoid another cull,” says Rose. “One of these rules was a moratorium on creating newborns.”
“Which is still in effect until we vote on it in a few days, unfortunately,” says Archie, turning his hateful gaze to me. “Awful timing on your part. This one will, therefore, have to be destroyed.”
I freeze in horror. They want to kill me, and Lucas doesn’t say a damn thing. We may have only known each other a few hours, but surely I am owed a little loyalty?
Rose frowns. “He was unaware of the rule when he made her.”
“Ignorantia juris non excusat. Ignorance of the law is no excuse.” Archie slams the table with the flat of his hand, making the thick wood groan. “I’ll do it myself if you lack the conviction. And I’ll do it slowly. It’ll be a fitting punishment for him killing my guard.”
“You’re about to vote on these things?” asks Lucas, ignoring the other man’s tantrum. “How were the board members chosen?”
“Some of the rules will perhaps be eased. And isn’t it obvious?” Javier shrugs. “We’re the strongest and our families the largest.”
Lucas nods. “Who owns The Hills?”
“I do,” says Archie. “Central L.A. is mine. You’ve rested on my lands for decades.”
“The runes must have really bothered you.” Lucas slips his hands into his pants pockets. “Not being able to step foot on my property.”
“I’ll break them one day, Lucas. That, I promise. And when I do, I’m coming for your head.”
“Not in the next few days without our approval, you’re not,” says Javier. “I am sorry, Lucas, but we cannot let your newborn live. We’ve gone almost thirty years with no exceptions. We can’t afford to look weak now.”
And again, Lucas says nothing. The fucker.
“Wait.” I rush forward. “You can’t just kill me. Again.”
Lucas grabs my arm and holds me back. “Quiet, Skye. Why divvy up the city, Rose?”
“To enable us to enforce the rules. It was either divide the city and give the strongest families the job of patrolling the territory or form some sort of central army. The first option was the fastest to implement and seemed the best idea at the time.”
Behind us, the broken door opens and the big dude enters. The one who had been standing guard. He tries to shut the door behind him, the broken handle stopping him. Music from the bar floats through, and oh man. I swear the monster’s footsteps shake the room, he’s so damn huge. And he’s coming straight for me. There’s no emotion displayed on his face. It’s impossible to know if he cares about turning me to ash or not.
“Say goodbye to your sire,” says Archie, with his trademark evil grin.
“Fuck you,” I say.
“Language.” Lucas sighs. “It would seem this is unfortunately inevitable.”
“It’s nothing personal,” agrees Javier “You can see we have no choice. The rules have kept peace in the city for decades now.”
“What happens if they’re set aside?”
“They won’t be. Not all at once. That would be chaos. But an easing of some of them will allow the vampires in the area to return to being largely self- or family-governed.”
“Interesting,” says the jerk who turned me.
“Lucas,” I hiss. “Do something!”
Like the utter bastard he is, he simply pats me on the hand. All I can do is stare in disbelief. He is absolutely going to just stand there and let me die. I don’t believe this shit.
Then, in a blur, he flies at the large vampire and separates his head from his neck.
It’s as if Lucas’s hands turned into claws or something. Or they’re just that damn strong. I have no idea why he’s more powerful. But thank goodness he is. Blood sprays everywhere, and the body falls with a thump before it turns to ash. The air around us fills with gray dust.
Rose just sighs.
Archie screeches and rises from his seat, but Lucas isn’t finished. He leaps across the table and attacks him, too. Both of their bodies blur as they fight, Archie’s hands beating at Lucas’s chest.
Then Lucas decapitates him, as well. It’s a lot messier than his heart extraction. Acid burns the back of my throat, but I swallow it down. Neither Rose nor Javier seems impressed with this turn of events. Neither of them moves to intervene, however. I back up until my spine hits the wall, my eyes as wide as the moon. Vampire politics are something else.
Kneeling on the long wooden table, Lucas pulls out his handkerchief for the second time tonight and wipes off his hands. Though with the amount of ash covering him, it’s a wasted effort.
Rose slumps back in her seat. “Archie shouldn’t have threatened you. That was foolish.”
“Most people feel better after a nap,” says Javier. “But you seem to have woken up in an even fouler mood than before.”
“We can make a case for him having challenged you, which resulted in this.” Rose frowns. “But you can’t just go around killing vampires. Especially not board members. We really do have rules now. At least for the next few days.”
“Don’t make us have to hunt you.”
Lucas’ smile is bitter. “I can’t believe you want to regulate our existence. Attempting to avoid just that is why most of us came here.”
“It was necessary,” says Rose. “You have no idea the dangers we faced.”
“Do you truly believe either of us would have agreed to it otherwise?” asks Javier.
Lucas grunts. “No one touches a hair on my pretty little newborn’s head.”
Rose sighs some more. “Yes. You’ve made that quite clear.”
“The Hills are mine.” Lucas jumps off the table. “I don’t want to see another vampire in the area uninvited.”
“We’ll see that word gets around,” says Rose. “But Archie’s family is sizeable, and their loyalty to him zealous, to say the least. I would anticipate visitors out for revenge, if I were you. Whether we condone such activities or not.”
Lucas nods. “I understand.”
“You are, of course, permitted to defend yourself. Will you be taking Archie’s seat on the board?”
“Hell no.”
“Lucas.” Rose sighs. “One way or another, someone will need to represent your territory. Even if the rules are relaxed, we hope to continue working together for the betterment of our kind.”
“I am not spending the rest of eternity in fucking board meetings.” He wanders over to stand at my side. His vintage suit is trashed. The formerly white shirt smudged with ash. “It was good to see you both. Hopefully next time we can have a proper visit and not talk business.”
Javier just waves him away.
“You picked the worst damn time to wake up. It would have been simpler if you’d stayed asleep,” says Rose. “You know that, don’t you?”
“I know,” says Lucas. “But it was time. Or near enough.”
“Time for what?” I ask as we’re heading out the door. I do my best to keep any lingering fear out of my voice. And any hint of a freak-out off my face. Lucas doesn’t seem the type to appreciate either.
The trip back through the bar is even worse this time. Patrons are no longer content with just whispers and stares. We’re actually getting growled at. Which is rude. In all likelihood, they’re members of Archie’s family.
“Time to live, Skye,” he says, throwing an arm around my shoulders. As if his night of killing has made him merry. Such a psychopath. “It’s time for us to live.”