Good, the Bad, and the Vampire (23 page)

The red haze of rage consumed her, took her over, and blinded her.

Olivia swallowed the bile that rose in her throat, disgusted with her basest instincts and the primal pleasure she took from eviscerating him. She was a monster. A killer. No different from the vicious, pathetic excuse for a man she killed.

But there was a price to pay for her vengeance—there's always a price.

His blood memories would remain with her for eternity, and that was her penance. The horror and fear of all the women he raped lingered in her memories now, including Maya's last conscious, horrifying hours as a human.

Monsters don't go unpunished, and Olivia knew she was no different.

* * *

The music pounded loudly through the club as it reverberated through Olivia's body. She walked the dance floor, taking note of the various humans writhing with one another amid the pulsating lights. She stuck out like a sore thumb, since she was the only one wearing a black Armani suit, not the leather or spikes of her faithful patrons.

Olivia waved at the regular customers peppered throughout the club and allowed herself a moment of pride. The Coven had become one of the most popular dance clubs for the Goth set in NYC, and she had worked her ass off to make it happen.

She paced the floor more than usual tonight because she had been on edge ever since walking in on Maya. She could not afford any mistakes that would draw human attention or piss off the Presidium. Humans were easy enough to deal with, but she was less than pleased at the idea of vampire officials butting their noses into her life.

She liked it here and had no desire to leave, but the drawback of immortality was that moving on eventually was an annoying necessity—can't stay somewhere for thirty years if you don't age. Although, the prevalent use of Botox among humans certainly helped explain her lack of facial wrinkles.

Olivia scoped out the club and marveled at how far society had come—and yet not.

Humans who loved to dress like vampires, or what they thought vampires looked like, flocked to this place every night as the sun went down. Except Sunday—she closed the joint on Sunday, since the place used to be a church. She figured it was the least she could do. Olivia grinned and shook her head as she watched the humans wooing one another in their
vampire
garb.

Ironically, most vampires did not dress like horror-movie rejects; many adopted the fashion of the era they lived in, but not all did. Vincent, for example, liked the Victorian era so much that sometimes he still adorned himself in a top hat and ascot, although she thought it looked ridiculous. Vampires retained their individuality at least.

Imagine if they knew this club was owned and operated by an actual vampire who preferred silk and cashmere to leather and spikes. Olivia had to wear the leather sentry uniform every day for a century and loathed the idea of wrapping herself in it again.

I'd be a sad disappointment to them.

She glanced to the bar as she made her way to the DJ platform. Maya was playing up her charms with various drooling idiots who were only too happy to give her enormous tips in exchange for the smallest bit of her attention.

Trixie, her other bartender, was Maya's opposite but worked her charms with equal fervor. Her short pink-spiked hair and black eyeliner were a stark contrast to Maya's blond, innocent look. Both vamps were great at bringing in the crowd and keeping them happy. They gave a quick wave to Olivia as she passed, and Maya stuck her tongue out in her usual flippant, childish manner.

Olivia climbed onto the DJ's platform and gave Sadie a pat on the back. Sadie was one of the best spinners out there, living or undead, and Olivia's oldest, most trusted friend. She was dressed much like the patrons of the club, except Sadie actually
was
a vamp, and the girl had a serious passion for leather and lace.

“Hey, boss. Feels like a lively crowd tonight.” Sadie winked and smiled. “No pun intended.”

“Did you hear what Maya did?” Olivia kept her eyes focused on the crowd, her senses alert for anything out of the ordinary. A sense of impending doom flickered up her spine. Trouble was coming. “She's a pain in my ass.”

“Sure did, and she sure is.” Sadie put her headphones around her neck. “Think that girl will ever listen?” she asked with a nod toward the bar, as she laughed and pushed her long brown hair out of her eyes. “'Cause I don't.”

“Maya's still young.” Olivia gave Sadie a friendly nudge with her elbow. “It took you a little while to get the hang of it, if I'm not mistaken?”

Sadie was the first vamp she had ever turned. Olivia and Vincent were traveling through a largely unsettled part of Arizona and picked up the distinctly potent scent of blood. The Apache Indians had been attacking settlers at that time, not that Olivia could blame them, and Sadie's family had been among their victims.

Sadie was barely alive when she found her. The faint beat of her heart called to Olivia, and before she even knew what she was doing, she turned her. It was an instinctive need to save her, to help this poor girl who had lost everything, left seemingly alone in the world.

Vincent, of course, was less than pleased, and that was the beginning of the end for them.

Olivia looked fondly at her friend and smiled. “You have been around a couple hundred years longer than she has.”

“Truth.” Sadie winked and adjusted the headphones around her neck. “You're just a sucker for hard-luck cases. Face it. You would rescue the world if you could.”

“Not the
whole
world,” Olivia said dramatically. “Just the ones who really need it.”

“I sure needed it,” Sadie said with a warm smile.

Olivia swallowed the surprising lump in her throat before looking back at the crowd. Sadie had tried to thank her on several occasions, but Olivia never let her get the words out. Deep down inside she felt as though she hadn't saved Sadie or the others. Perhaps the vampire hunters of the world were right. What if vamps really were damned to burn in hell for eternity? Would anyone thank her then?

“I should get back down there before Maya finds another boy toy.”

Sadie grabbed the microphone and Olivia's arm before she could escape.

“Everyone having fun?” Sadie bellowed into the silver microphone. The crowd responded with insanely loud screaming and whistling. “Then I think we should all give it up for Olivia Hollingsworth, the owner and proprietor of The Coven.”

Olivia waved to the screaming crowd and shot her friend a narrow-eyed look as she made her way down from the altar. She hated being the center of attention, and Sadie knew it but delighted in razzing her on occasion.

Another loud, bass-driven song tumbled over the crowd as Sadie's voice floated into her head.
Hey, boss. I see our VIP table is full again tonight with your boyfriend and his crew.

Olivia threw an irritated glance over her shoulder at Sadie and shot back.
He's not my boyfriend. He just wishes he was. What a termite.
She could hear Sadie stifle a giggle as she navigated the crowd and made her way to Michael's table.

How
long
has
it
been
since
you
got
laid? I forget.
Olivia did her best to ignore that last jab from her friend. Other than Vincent, Sadie was the only one who knew that Olivia had been celibate since becoming a vampire.
Don't you think you've tortured yourself long enough? I never knew this Douglas guy, but if he really loved you the way you say he did, would he want you to spend eternity alone?

I'm not alone.
Olivia threw a wink over her shoulder.
I've got all of you, and sex is overrated anyway.

Damn.
Sadie's laugh jingled through Olivia's mind.
Now
you're just talking crazy.

Olivia shook her head and smiled. Her heart had been stolen long before Vincent made it stop beating, and besides, even if she did have her heart to give, Moriarty certainly would not be a candidate.

Michael was a greasy little worm who used his family's reputation to get what he wanted. He came to The Coven every Saturday night with his gaggle of dirtbags, and Olivia could smell his fear and feelings of inadequacy a mile away. He'd been trying to get into her pants for months now, and apparently was still trying, even after a multitude of rejections.

She felt his eyes on her all night and had managed to ignore him, but now it was time to play the game. She had to placate the little weasel. Jerk or not, he was a customer—a customer who spent a lot of money in her club.

Olivia flashed the most charming grin she could muster as she approached Michael and his motley crew.

“Hey there, hot stuff.” He leered at her and his lips curved into a lascivious grin. “I was wondering how long it was gonna take you to get your sweet ass over here.”

She wanted to bite his face off. What an asshole.

“Hello, Mr. Moriarty,” she said through a strained smile. “Are you gentlemen finding everything satisfactory this evening?”

“We're just fine, aren't we, boys?”

He took a long sip of his martini as he ran his hand up the leg of some young girl who was draped all over him, probably believing he'd make her rich and famous. She definitely didn't fit in with the other clubgoers. This blond was more mainstream and never would have stepped foot into The Coven if it weren't for Moriarty. Many humans were easily swayed by money and power. Moriarty had both.

“I'd be doin' a lot better if you'd come here and sit with me.”

The girl next to him made a noise of disgust, shoved his hand away, grabbed her purse, and stomped off. He shrugged and snickered as she stalked through the crowd toward the door.

“It seems you've upset your date, Mr. Moriarty.” Olivia watched the foolish girl run from the club. She probably expected him to chase her. Not likely. “Looks like she's leaving.”

“She's not my date,” he spat. “Just some bimbo hanger-on—you know how it is. She should know better than to do that.” His lip curled in disgust as he watched her leave, and the smile faded. Olivia felt the anger roll off him as he stared after her. “I don't give second chances. One and done. Know what I mean?”

“Yes, of course.” Olivia smiled tightly and looked at him like the black-haired little bug he was. “Well,
gentlemen
, I hope you'll let me buy the final round here. It's almost last call.”

She motioned to the waitress who covered the three VIP tables opposite the bar. Suzie, one of only two humans who worked at The Coven, came over quickly, but Olivia sensed her anxiety long before she arrived at the table.

“Sure, baby.” He leered. “You can buy me a drink.”

Olivia wanted nothing more than to glamour this guy into dancing naked in the middle of the club with only his socks on, but the image alone would have to be enough.

“Suzie. Please get our guests their last round.” She flicked her gaze back to Moriarty. “On the house, of course.”

“Yes, ma'am.” She looked like a skittish lamb surrounded by wolves. She almost hadn't hired Suzie due to her naive nature, but Olivia was a sucker for hard-luck cases. Suzie was straight from the farm and as green as the fields. By hiring her, she figured she could at least keep an eye on her.

Olivia nodded and said a brief good-bye before working her way to the front door. The place was starting to thin out, since it was just about last call. The tension in her shoulders eased as soon as she set eyes on the only other human who worked at the club—their bouncer Damien.

Damien, unlike Suzie, knew what Olivia and the others were. He was what some referred to as a
familiar
, but Olivia hated that term. It seemed like a dirty word, laced with innuendo and ill intent. Most humans who worked with vampires did it out of love and friendship.

However, Damien wasn't just a friend—he was more like family. He was the only human who knew what Olivia was and kept her secret, and not because he had to, but because he genuinely cared for her. She'd met him when he was a boy, spending most of his time on the streets and clearly heading down a bad path.

She'd heard his cries one night, and even though it was against Presidium rules to interfere with humans and their problems, she couldn't help it. That cry of a young boy in the dark overrode any rules she was supposed to follow, and before she knew it, she was plucking him from what was sure to be a deadly situation.

She planned to rescue him from the local drug dealer and send him on his way. Yet the second she looked into those soulful, brown eyes, she was hooked. At first, she told herself that she would only check on him for a few nights to be sure he was safe, but those few nights turned into weeks, and then years. Since vampires couldn't have children, Damien was the closest she'd ever have to a child, and she loved him as if he was her own.

“Hey there, handsome,” Olivia said. She walked through the vestibule crowded with folks leaving for the night. “How's it going out here?”

“Hey there, boss,” Damien said in his deep baritone.

He gave her his trademark toothy, white smile, the one that completely changed the perception of who he was. He was a wall of solid muscle, stood over six feet tall, and had lovely olive skin. One look from this hulking fellow would send most people running, but in reality, Damien was a giant teddy bear.

“So is everything okay on your end tonight? Nothing, um, out of the ordinary?” Olivia asked as she scanned the exiting crowd warily. Damien raised one eyebrow at her skeptically. “You know, out of the ordinary for us?” she clarified.

“Just the usual fare and a few drunken idiots. I did have one crier though, just a little while ago,” he said as he pulled the velvet ropes in for the night. “She looked pretty upset. I tried to stop her, but she ran away, down toward Sixth Ave.”