Trinity of Blood: The Complete Saga (Strange Vacationland)

Chapter 1

Damon

The Sun had barely set on All Hallows’ Eve and the doves were already up to no good.

“Tonight’s the night, Damey,” Pearl murmured in that breathy voice of hers that drove the clientele wild. “The veil is thin and the spirits await to show us visions of our future husbands.”

Mattie’s no-nonsense Irish brogue interrupted our one-sided conversation. “If a spirit managed to cross the void, it wouldn’t waste precious seconds on parlor games for our amusement. Put yer foolish cards away, Pearl. Your future husbands await—downstairs.”

The would-be fortune teller tittered as Mattie stomped away, before she turned to face the vanity again.

I watched in the mirror’s reflection as Pearl swept another layer of ash across her eyelids, unable to resist admiring her signature smokey allure—the hint of “soiled” status in her otherwise virginal white aesthetic.

As if anyone in this establishment is still a virgin.

Including me.

I wasn’t one of Madam Roulette’s doves—not least of all because I was a man—but I was as bound to this place as any of the painted ladies currently hustling down the hallway to head downstairs for the evening.

Being born in one of the bedrooms surely has something to do with it.

My mother had worked for the Madam from the time she was a teenager up until her dying day—the same day I was born and took her life from her.

Of course, no one knew who my father was—and he wouldn’t have claimed me if they did—yet I somehow beat the odds.

Madam Roulette could have surrendered me for adoption or drowned me in a washbasin.

Instead, she saw the long-term situation for what it was, and I ended up with room and board in exchange for permanent, off-the-books employment.

Getting my hands dirty for the doves.

It wasn’t like I had a choice, but I also never bemoaned my circumstances. My lot in life could have been far worse, and what I lacked in blood relations, I more than made up for with an entire brothel full of surrogate mothers and meddlesome sisters.

And what do I care that the roof over my head is one of ill repute?

“Since you’re not working the faro table tonight, you should sit with us in the parlor,” Pearl cooed, rising to stand and wiping the excess ash over my lids before planting an unapologetic kiss on my cheek. “Your pretty face attracts the real money.”

I rolled my eyes, even if it was no trouble at all to obey Pearl’s thinly-veiled demands.

Faro paid well—aside from my required cut to the Madam—but I preferred to watch over the ladies in case any customers crossed the line.

It didn’t happen often, since the House of Eternal Moonlight was an upscale establishment with strict rules and a code of gentlemanly conduct, but I’d occasionally needed to remove unsavory characters.

One of my favorite tasks.

Despite the Madam’s rule of “no murder” on the premises.

“You don’t need me to attract customers, Pearl,” I huffed. “All the doves have been chattering about your finely-dressed gentleman from last night who apparently reeked of money.”

Blood money, no doubt.

Pearl smirked knowingly. “Oh, you mean Mr. Max Luna? He did bleed money, even if all he wanted was to rub my feet…”

I barked a laugh. “Why on earth would he want to—”

“…and ask about you,” she smoothly added.

What the hell?

“Me?!” I sputtered, my focus immediately diverting from the foot massage to the oddness of this revelation. “B-but I’m not for sale.”

“Oh, sweetie…” She laughed sadly, reaching behind her to blindly select a tarot card before pressing it to my chest and sweeping past. “We all have a price.”

“Well, I don’t,” I muttered, even though that wasn’t entirely true.

I did occasionally allow men to pay for the pleasure of my body—more out of boredom or need than anything—and the men were sheathed to avoid infection. These exchanges only occurred in the alleyway behind the House, as was customary for such a commonplace yet clandestine pairing.

We shall blame the encroaching Victorian morals.

While I was also interested in women—and could have had my nightly pick of the highest quality doves around—my affections toward Pearl and the others were mainly familial. Thus, I simply found it easier to pursue rougher encounters with the working men of this booming mining town.

Easier and far more pleasurable for me.

Regardless, this Max needed to understand there was no one alive who could sway me from my loyalty to the House.

It wasn’t until I heard Pearl’s chatter fading down the hallway that I realized I was still clutching her tarot card to my chest. Turning it over, I saw it was the Two of Cups, but without our resident fortune-teller to enlighten me, I had no idea what it meant.

Surely nothing I need to concern myself with.

What I needed to do was hustle to my post before the doors opened for the night. Once my charges had secured their clients, perhaps I could find my own release in the shadows.

A cold chill swept across the back of my neck like a caress, making me shiver. Grabbing my duster, I shrugged it on over my loose white shirt and leather pants, tucked the tarot card into my pocket, and strode into the hallway to join the doves downstairs.

The evening awaits.

An hour or so later, I was perched on a stool with my back to the bar—duster removed so my guns were visible—as I half-watched Pearl hand out fortunes like soul cakes while Clara sang “Buffalo Gals” to the accompaniment of our piano man.

The majority of my attention was on the audience—the House’s regular clientele of local business owners with a few new faces mixed in.

I wonder if one of them is Mr. Luna…

“Damon.” Madam Roulette glided over, the beaded accents on her dress sparkling in the low lamplight. “I have a task for you, son.”

I know it’s something important when she calls me “son.”

She leaned in close, enveloping me in her usual dizzying cloud of lavender perfume. “We have a new client with incredibly deep pockets who is inquiring about you…”

I tensed, my gaze snapping to a figure standing in the cardroom doorway, somehow instinctively knowing that was the client she was referring to.

He wasn’t particularly tall—I reckoned I had a couple inches on him—but his presence was undeniable. Aside from his brightly-patterned cravat and pocket handkerchief, his finely-tailored suit and Derby were on par with those around him, yet he exuded a power the others lacked.

I focused on his face next, and immediately wished I hadn’t.

His deep brown eyes were heavy-lidded, giving off an intoxicatingly sleepy appearance, even as his gaze remained fixed on me.

As I stared back, his irises momentarily flashed silver—like a mountain lion caught in the lantern’s light—and I had the distinct impression I was facing off with a predator.

Max…

I must have said his name out loud, as the Madame pulled back and smiled brightly.

“Oh, so you’ve heard! This fine gentleman traveled all the way from San Francisco to visit our establishment and select the prettiest dove.

However, Mr. Luna confessed the moment he laid eyes on you, he knew he’d be willing to pay any price for a night in your bed—”

“My bed in the attic, Madam?” I snapped, more overwhelmed by the situation than angry. “Since when am I one of your doves?”

“Since I’ve allowed you to run your own whoring business in my back alley,” Roulette replied, her practiced pitch turning icy and dangerous. “Or would you rather I charge you interest on those unlicensed transactions.”

Shit.

I almost denied the exchange of money, or the encounters entirely, but it would have been futile. Nothing happened under this roof—or in the entire boomtown of Opalite—without the knowledge of Madam Roulette. I’d been a fool to believe my transgressions would go unnoticed by her watchful eye.

“But…” I hopelessly began, unsure how to appeal to one of the shrewdest businesswomen in the west.

And one who is completely devoid of maternal instincts…

Like a moth to the flame, my attention drifted to Max again. His handsome face was now twisted in consternation, his gaze alert and deadly-focused on where the Madam had dug her painted talons into my exposed forearm.

She’s in danger.

I wasn’t sure how I knew that, since Max was displaying mild annoyance at best, but I did. Despite the corner Roulette had backed me into, I was willing to defend my employer—-my savior—to the death.

He’ll have to go through me first.

Before I could warn her of the perceived threat, the Madam abruptly released my arm. “It’s entirely your choice, of course. Why don’t you retire for the night, son? The doves will be well taken care of.”

She glided away and I could only gape at her retreating back, marveling over how drastically her disposition had changed.

How strange…

I glanced toward the cardroom again, only to find the doorway empty. The relief I expected to feel was replaced by disappointment, and that odd emotion shifted to pure anguish as I spotted Pearl leading Max upstairs.

No…

Clara’s tinkling laughter distracted me, and I saw she was now dancing with Shorty Cross, the owner of the town’s largest gold mine and one of her favorite clients. The others were nowhere to be found or already paired off, and I realized the Madam was correct.

The doves are taken care of.

It was tempting to go outside for some air—or a fuck—or stomp upstairs and rip Pearl out of Max’s arms like a lunatic. Instead, I grabbed my jacket from the neighboring stool and unsteadily stumbled up the service stairway to my attic abode.

There was no logical explanation for what had just transpired.

If Max had truly offered an obscene amount of money for an evening with me, Roulette would have never let that opportunity pass—not without fully, and rightfully, threatening to abandon my ungrateful carcass to Nevada’s desert hills if I didn’t comply.

My reaction to the situation was equally strange. I was no blushing virgin, yet Max’s gaze from across the room had caused me to instantly freeze in place.

Like prey submitting to the kill.

Once I crossed my bedroom threshold, I released a sound between a sigh and a groan. Tossing my duster aside, I dropped my head into my hands, allowing my long hair to cover my face like a veil.

What is the matter with me?

No one had ever intimidated me the way he had—no matter how much coin was rattling around in their pockets—yet, here I was, practically shaking over a brief encounter that meant nothing to the other party involved.

As evidenced by how readily he followed Pearl to bed.

Most distressing of all was the white-hot jealousy coursing through my veins—as if I couldn’t walk outside and easily find a client of my own…

It won’t be Max, though…

Why do I care?!

Panic was bubbling up my gullet, but before it could take hold, my gaze fell on the candlestick I’d left on top of the chest of drawers.

Calm yourself, you backwoods idiot.

With shaking hands, I lit the candle, staring into the flame while taking slow, deep breaths—just like Pearl had taught me.

“Tonight’s the night, Damey…”

“The veil is thin and the spirits await to show us visions of our future husbands.”

An odd memory arose—a parlor trick I’d watched the doves perform many times with little interest—yet it now seemed vital that I recreate it.

Feeling every bit the desperate fool, I took a step backward, intently staring at the empty space over my shoulder in the mirror's reflection. It was about midnight on All Hallow’s Eve, and legend had it, one’s future wife or husband would appear behind you in such candle-lit circumstances.

I don’t even know what I’m looking for.

Yes, you do, Damon…

“There you are.” A voice that had my knees trembling zipped down my spine like lightning, and I spun to find Mr. Max Luna leaning in my doorway.

How long has he been standing there?!

And why didn’t I see him in the mirror—

“Looks like we finally found each other, pet.” He grinned, his expression so friendly, my fine-tuned defenses crumbled like a house of tarot cards. “May I come in?”