Chapter 14 Asher
SITTING AROUND THE apartment isn’t going to work for me tonight. I can’t get what Cord did earlier out of my mind.
Why, if he was so adamant about staying away from me, did he take me like that?
The strange part about it was, Cord rarely tops.
You’d think, with him being the bigger and stronger of us, that wouldn’t be the case, but he’s nearly always deferred to me.
Yes, he did take the initiative now and then, but that was maybe one time in ten and usually after I goaded him into it.
Not that I mind. I’m open to anything he wants to do. Is this a new side to him, or was it just something that happened in the heat of the moment?
The sex almost made me forget the reason we went there.
Surprisingly, despite knowing what he does for a living, that was the first time I ever saw Cord kill a man.
While a part of me was appalled at the violence of the act, I couldn’t deny I was aroused by the raw emotion I saw in him. It was exhilarating.
What does that say about me? I’ve never been one to seek out violence. I’ve had other Clansmen invite me to go with them to the underground fights, and I’ve always begged off, insisting that I’m not into that sort of entertainment.
But am I? Or was it just because it was Cord? I know he fights in the clubs. It used to be a bone of contention with us, though I have to say the sex was always great when he came home from there.
I know Cord has had a dark side, even as a kid, and he’s never been shy about expressing it.
It used to get him into trouble all the time when we were young, and was the reason why we were both confined to the halfway house after we aged out of the group home.
Him by his actions, and me by association with him.
Maybe it’s a side of him I need to embrace, especially if it results in more acts like the one he initiated earlier.
To that end, I scroll through my phone for the number I want. He answers on the second ring.
“Asher. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Miro Virtanen is an old friend from my early days of working for Carlyle. We still occasionally meet socially, though he tends to be a lot more outgoing than me, definitely exploiting his wealth in a fast and furious lifestyle.
“I’ve got a question for you.”
“I’m an open book,” he replies.
I know for a fact he isn’t lying. It’s a characteristic that has held him back from establishing a successful business of his own, though he’s moved up the ladder to be Carlyle’s number two. “Do you still go to the fights?”
“Of course. Nothing gets the blood going like a little unhinged violence. Why?”
“I was wondering if you were going tonight.”
“I wasn’t planning on it, but I could easily be persuaded.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
He chuckles. “I thought that wasn’t your cup of tea.”
“So did I, but something came up, and well, I might want to explore the option.”
“Great. I’ll pick you up at nine. You still live in the same place?”
“I do.”
“See you then. Oh, and bring some cash.”
“For what?”
“Betting, of course. You want the full experience, don’t you?”
I’m not a betting man, but I decide to defer to Miro since he’s the expert in these things.
? ? ?
Miro rolls up outside my building at nine sharp in a black Ferrari. Never let it be said the man is subtle. He roars through the streets, darting in and out of traffic like he’s late for something until he brings us down to a windowless building in a darkened neighborhood near the docks.
The parking lot is jammed with every kind of vehicle imaginable, from rusted out beaters to high-end limousines. Miro finds a parking space on the outside edge of the lot, leaving plenty of room between his and the surrounding cars.
We make our way to the door and I can hear the roar of the crowd before we even get inside. It’s amazing the building doesn’t attract more attention, though I know admittance is confined to vampires only.
The bouncer at the door seems to recognize Miro and bends over to give him a rundown on the upcoming fights. I take the opportunity to look around.
The room is about the size of a large nightclub, with bare concrete floors and walls, harsh overhead lighting, and a huge cage that reaches nearly to the ceiling in the center.
What looks like several hundred rabid spectators from all walks of life are pressed around it, all shouting and pumping their fists at whatever is going on in the cage.
The bloodlust is palpable and impossible to ignore, even for me, but I swallow it back and concentrate on maintaining control.
As we push our way into the crowd, Miro leans over to me to shout above them, “The next fight should be a good one.”
“How do you know?”
“They’re both champions. Come on, let’s place our bets.”
He leads me toward a short, dark-haired man in a ratty suit who’s clutching a small pad of paper in one hand and a fistful of cash in the other.
“Charlie!” Miro calls.
The man turns to us and smiles. “Miro. You want in on the next one?”
“You know it. My friend here does, too.”
He pushes me forward as Charlie pulls out a pen. “What’ll it be?”
“Dunlo.”
“Odds are in your favor,” he says as he flips to a new page of the pad and scribbles something. Miro pulls out five one hundred dollar bills and hands them to the man before he turns to me.
“Same bet?”
“Uh, sure.” I pull out my wallet and peel off the money, handing it over. I have no idea how this man knows who bet on who or how much they wagered, but Miro doesn’t seem particularly concerned about it, so I let it go.
“Good luck, gentlemen,” Charlie nods before diving back into the fray.
Miro grabs my arm and pushes us forward.
Apparently the current fight is coming to a head, judging by the level of frenzy in the crowd.
A spray of blood flies out over the heads of those near the cage as a collective groan goes up from some while the others are cheering. The bell rings, ending the match.
Almost immediately I see Charlie swamped by betters who I’m guessing are cashing out. A spot near the cage opens up and Miro points toward it and motions for me to follow him. After seeing the blood flying, I’m not sure I want to be this close to the action.
An attendant is helping what I assume is the loser up off the floor and out of the cage. His face is badly bludgeoned and one arm hangs loosely at his side. I know vampires are tough and almost impossible to kill, but he’s still got to be in pain.
As if sensing my concerns, Miro pats my arm reassuringly and points toward a bank of lockers and benches against the wall outside the cage. “They provide donors for the fighters.”
I watch as a thin young man in dirty clothing is led over to the loser of the fight.
The attendant hands the fighter a knife and he cuts the man’s neck and begins to feed.
Ordinarily the sight would be arousing, but something about the donor’s body language leads me to suspect he is unaware of what’s actually happening to him.
I suppose, since the fights are sanctioned by the Crimson Guild, that it’s all above board, but it just seems a little seedy. Does Cord feed like that after a fight?
After a few minutes the crowd starts to filter back toward the cage as the attendant dumps a bucket of water on the floor inside to wash away the worst of the blood in preparation for the next fight.
The excitement starts to build and people edge in, vying for a spot as close to the action as possible.
A cheer goes up as one of the combatants enters the cage and goes to the far corner. He’s a huge brute of a man, tall with thickly-packed muscles and a wild shock of dark hair that almost obscures his beady eyes. He pounds one fist against his open palm and snarls as his opponent steps inside.
This one is shorter by half a head, but built like a brick wall. His hands could easily cover my entire head, and I shudder to think what he could do with them in a fight. He goes to the opposite corner and glares at the other man. I get the feeling these two have met in the ring before.
The anticipation in the crowd builds until I can feel it vibrating against my skin. The attendant announces the two combatants then steps outside the cage and locks the gate. A moment later the bell rings and all hell breaks loose.
These two make what Cord did to Smyth look like a lover’s spat. In no time both men are covered in blood as they kick, punch, gouge, and bite each other relentlessly. The crowd around me surges forward with every blow, their hunger for blood and violence transforming them into a rabid pack.
After about three minutes of this I’m ready to escape. I glance at Miro and see his eyes are glazed over with the same lust as the rest of the crowd. Apparently my own appreciation of violence extends only to Cord, because personally speaking, all this spectacle is doing is disgusting me.
Five minutes seems like an eternity. When the bell rings I suck in a ragged breath and try to collect myself in anticipation of the second round.
The last thing I want is to endure another five minutes of this brutality, but I’m stuck so I might as well make the best of it.
I look around the crowd across the cage from me to see if anyone else is having a similar identity crisis, but all I see is fanatical anticipation.
Maybe I’m just an anomaly among vampires.
The second half of the fight isn’t any easier to watch than the first. If anything, it’s even more brutal, with both men exacting severe trauma on each other’s bodies. By the time it’s over, I couldn’t tell you who won. Neither looks victorious to me.
“That was fantastic!” Miro gushes, his eyes bright with lust. “Let’s go find Charlie.”
And hopefully get out of here.
After we collect our winnings, Miro asks if I want to stay for the next fight.
“I think I’ve seen enough,” I tell him. If he doesn’t want to leave, I’m sure I can get a cab home. When I mention this, he grins and slaps me on the back.
“Cabs don’t come down here this time of night. Come on, I won’t make you stay if you don’t want to. What’s say we hit the den?”
Grateful to be getting out of here, I’ll agree to almost anything, though once I’m in the car I reconsider what I just signed up for. Hopefully he means the White Guild den, because I’m not up to any more walks on the wild side tonight.
Turns out, Miro is as much of a blood snob as me. He pulls up in front of Lupercalia and hops out, handing his keys to the valet. There was a time when I used to come here several times a week, before I started ordering my donors in.
The White Guild owns the whole building, which is home to an exclusive nightclub on the ground floor. Humans are allowed in the club only, and the mix is mostly half and half on any given night.
The blood den occupies the second and third floors, while the upper floors are living quarters for the staff and donors. A member key card is needed to access the elevator to the upper floors.
The room we emerge into is dark and moody, with several well-placed palms and curtains positioned to obscure booths where feeding is taking place. There are more private alcoves in the back, as well as rooms for those who want to indulge in sex with their feeding on the next floor.
I’m not interested in that tonight, but Miro is, which I learn when the director, Esmerelda, approaches us with her iPad.
“Good evening, gentlemen. What will it be tonight?”
“A girl and a room,” Miro replies, quirking a brow at me. When I shake my head, he tsks. “Come on, Asher, live a little. Surely the fight got your blood going.”
I flash him an indulgent smile. “You go ahead.”
Esmerelda scrolls through her tablet then turns to Miro. “Room ten. Angelique will meet you there.”
He looks at me again. “Sure you won’t indulge?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll meet you downstairs at the bar.”
He heads for the spiral staircase at the back of the room while Esmeralda turns her attention to me. “I have just the man for you, Asher. He’s fairly new, but quickly becoming a favorite. You want a booth or an alcove?”
“A booth is fine. I’m not interested in lingering.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. We rarely see you around here anymore, though Lazlo tells me you keep him busy.”
“He’s very good at anticipating my needs.”
“He is our best broker.” She motions for one of the skimpily-clad runners. “Bring Apollo to booth five.”
I make short work of feeding and within twenty minutes I’m sitting at the bar in the club downstairs with a McCallan in front of me, sated and a little less confused.
It’s obvious violence isn’t my thing unless it involves Cord.
Apparently everything in my life comes back to him, which means I have to find a way to get him back.