To Catch a Vampire (14 page)

“Wow. Are we having a
real
conversation for once? People wouldn’t recognize us.”

“I could make another pass at you if we have stepped outside your comfort zone, if you wish.”

“No, thank you,” I chuckle. “I’m good. And I’m sorry I was such a jerk before. I’m just frustrated. If you had interviewed those girls today … I don’t know. I just want to find these guys and … you know.”

“I know. And we will find them, of that I am sure. We just have to let the local police do their jobs. There cannot be that many blue BMWs in this area. And tomorrow, if you feel you must, you may join them in their search. The best thing to do now is to continue asking questions. The motley crew you describe had to have been noticed. We will find them.

“And then you may chop their heads off.”

_____

Who knew there would be so many yuppies in Purgatory? I should have guessed though.

The dance club is split into four levels: Hell, Purgatory, Heaven, and Upper Heaven. We’ve cased all levels and decided that Hell has the scariest group. Purgatory with its peach, yellow, and blue lounging area clashed with my black velvet. Though, if I get bored, I can sit at the martini bar and watch boxing. Fun. That level was wall to wall twenty-somethings either wearing next to nothing or pastel polo shirts with popped collars. Pink on men is somehow disconcerting. No self-respecting vamp was found in Purgatory or the two heavens for that matter.

Oliver and I stood out in Heaven. It was all white. White chairs, white bars, white tables, white tile dance floor. Heck, even the waitresses were dressed as sexy angels, which is wrong any way you look at it. More popped collars and emaciated girls gyrating to horrible remixes of Madonna and Common. There were one or two vamps up there, younglings who can blend in, according to Oliver. We didn’t, so we banished ourselves to Hell.

Hell is as uncomfortable as it should be, with concrete bar tops and dance floor. The seats my companion and I occupy are of the aluminum variety, and our drinks sit on a stainless-steel stool. The room is almost totally dark except for the orange and red swirls on the dance floor above, and the glow from the neon light under the bar. Hip hop (not my cup of tea) blasts from the DJ booth. Either they’ve turned down the music on this level, or I’ve gone deaf. Thank God either way.

Some vamp whose name I think is Colin chats with Oliver while I sit and watch the people and vamps dance. Judging from the lack of tans and seriously outdated clothes—Members Only jacket? Please—I’d put the vamp to human ratio at thirty to seventy and growing. Some dance, others attempt conversation with other vamps or their prey. I’ve delegated myself the task of keeping an eye out for the bad guys. Oliver has taken the role of talking to everyone but me. From the few words I’ve been able to hear, the conversations have nothing to do with the case, unless our cabal is on
Jersey Shore
or frequented Studio 54. I’ll have to ask him about that last one. All in all, I was happier driving around. At least then I could hear myself think.

Oliver says something, and Colin laughs. This is the fifth vamp who has sat down in the last two hours, and each one has laughed. It’s so unfair. I always get the boring job. I sigh and take a sip of my water. Ten bucks for a water, highway robbery. And now I have to pee. I tap Oliver on the shoulder and mouth “bathroom.” He nods then returns to his conversation with his new best friend.

The bathroom is relatively empty, meaning I only have to wait in line for five minutes. After I’m done with Mother Nature’s call, halfway back to my seat, I spot a young, petite blonde at the bar who wasn’t there before. I can only see her in profile, but she matches the description. Right age, pale, talking to a girl about her same age. She’s like half the girls in here, though a lot less tan. Instead of going back to the table, I cut across the dance floor. The girl vamp doesn’t register my presence, she’s too busy talking to a teenager in short shorts and pink halter. The girl vamp chuckles. She’s dressed in a black and red bondage miniskirt with matching red sweater. Her dark blonde hair hangs down to her butt, with square bangs framing her elfin face. She reminds me of
Alice in Wonderland
, especially with a smattering of freckles across her button nose. Trying not to be obvious, I order a screwdriver. Over the music I can’t hear what they’re talking about. I sit and drink.

This continues for a few minutes where I glean nothing while being eyed by a few drunken frat boys. Okay, drastic measures. I “accidentally” sweep my arm, spilling screwdriver all over my quarry.

“What the fuck?” the possible Julie shouts, jumping off her stool.

“Oh, my God!” I say. She winces at that last word just as I hoped she would. Vamp. “I am so sorry!” The bartender hands me a towel, and I start dabbing her sweater. She looks at me with disgust, snatching the towel away. “Um, are you okay?”

“Fine,” she spits back.

“Why don’t we go to the bathroom and get you cleaned up. It might stain.”

“Just leave me alone,” she says. Okay, this is as far as my plan went. I have no idea what to say or do now.

Then, as if he can read my mind, Oliver saunters over, God bless him. The girl, sensing him, looks up. Her fear is immediate. I wonder how young she is.

“Is everything well here?” Oliver asks, touching the girl’s arm lightly. Her body tenses.

“I spilled my drink on her,” I say.

He smiles. “Your clumsiness will be the end of you someday, my darling.”

“You two are together?” the girl asks.

“This is my consort, Beatrice.” He takes this opportunity to slip his arm around my waist.

“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Two men saunter up to us from the dance floor, and I force a poker face to hide my excitement. One is wiry but muscled in dark blue jeans with tight, dark green shirt. He has cheekbones that can cut rocks, full lips, and ink black hair. The other is tall and looks my age, with an average build, but with a gorgeous face and sandy brown gelled-up hair. It’s them. No question. Oliver tightens his grip on my waist, no doubt afraid I’ll attack them on sight. If I had my machete Bette, darn straight I would. For now, I’ll play it cool.

“What’s going on?” Rick asks.

“Nothing,” the girl who I have no doubt in my mind is Julie says.

The two size us up. I smile nervously, but Oliver’s face remains concrete. JR looks Oliver in the eyes but glances away a moment later.

“I spilled my drink on her,” I say. I turn to Julie. “I really think we should wash that out before it stains.”

Julie looks at me, then at her two companions. Geez, we’re going to the bathroom, not Borneo. JR nods. Rick doesn’t look away from Oliver. I pull away from him. “Be right back. Play nice.”

I take Julie’s cold hand, practically dragging her to the bathroom. We bypass the line, walking straight to the sinks. She waits as I grab some paper towels and wet them. I look down into the sink, then as I look up, she’s pulling off her sweater. And she has no bra on. I see every rib through her translucent skin. Of course I can’t take my eyes off her boobs. They’re small like oranges with no areola and tiny nipples. Jesus Christ, she couldn’t have been more than fourteen when she was turned. Sick.

“This is easier,” she says, turning on the water and scrubbing the sweater. The women in line look at the naked girl, rolling their eyes. I just stand with my soggy paper towels.

“So, who are those two guys? I think I’ve seen them around before.”

“That’s JR and Rick. We live together.”

“Where?”

“All over.” She turns off the faucet and goes to the dryer.

“How long have you been in Dallas?” I shout over the dryer.

“About four months, I guess. JR knows some people here.”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

The dryer stops. “Not really. We’ve had some threesomes together and stuff, but he mostly plays for the other team. Rick’s the one who turned me.”

“Oh, how long you two been together?”

She puts the shirt on. “Five years, I guess. What about you? Who’s the old guy?”

“My husband.”

“He’s old. And powerful. I think he’s more powerful than Lord Freddy even, but don’t tell JR I said that. Your guy freaked me out when he came over.”

“Don’t worry about him. He’s as harmless as a kitten.”

“Cool. So how long you two in town for?”

“Not long. You know, I have seen you guys around though. Weren’t you at the Church before?”

“Yeah, we go there a lot. Easy pickings.”

“I thought so. Yeah, you were with that pretty African American woman.”

“Serena? Yeah. She’s a bitch. I don’t know why JR keeps her around.” She slips into her damp and clingy sweater and walks out of the bathroom as I follow. “So, where are you guys staying?”

“The Dauphine. What about you?”

“This stupid farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. I hate it.”

“Is it near a town at least?”

“Venus. Which might as well be the planet. At least we go out every night, or I would have taken up sunbathing by now.”

We both scan the dancing horde for our men, and Julie spots them in the back corner. They seem to have declared a truce as Oliver and JR seem deep in conversation.
Hey, hey, the gang’s all here.
Two skinny Asians, a man and woman, sit at the edge of the couch making out hardcore, like rounding third base. Next to them is a bored Serena. The first thing I notice is that her lips take up a quarter of her face. Rick sits to her right watching the dance floor. Squished between Rick and JR is a vamp I presume to be Gerry. He takes up half the couch with all that muscle. The image of him writhing on Petra, his hands roving everywhere, flashes into my mind. I push it away. I have to play nice, at least until we get an address.

Rick holds out his hand to Julie, pulling her onto his lap. He plants one on her and she responds in kind. I feel like calling
To Catch a Predator
.

“I missed you,” Rick says.

“Vomit,” Serena says.

I second that.

Oliver takes my wrist, guiding me onto his lap as well. He slides his arm around my waist again, resting his hand on my thigh as if it was nothing. If I feel anything move, it will be the last time it does. “Beloved, may I introduce you to JR, Gerry, and Serena, and the affectionate two are Liang and Ken.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“We were discussing the nightlife. JR recommends the Lizard Lounge, is it? Quite a lot of willing donors.”

“You don’t feed from her?” Gerry asks.

“Only on special occasions,” he says, patting my thigh.

“Do you share?” Serena asks.

“Never,” Oliver answers in a predatory tone.

She actually shrinks back in fear. “Just asking.”

Change of topic time. Don’t want to alienate them just yet. “It must be nice for all of you to be together. Oliver was just complaining how he’s dying for the company of other vamps. Julie said you all live in a farmhouse together?”

“Yeah,” JR says.

“Oh, my G!” a girl cries near us. “It’s you!”

The whole group, except the necking duo, gaze over at the oncoming girls. Oh, crud. The Stick and the Twig—Denise and Pam—scurry toward us. Serena rolls her eyes and JR plasters an obviously fake smile on his face. The others just watch.

“Pamela. Denise,” Oliver says.

“We thought we might find you here,” Denise says with a huge grin. “And you found your friend.”

“Yes, we found a friend,” I say quickly. “A lot of them actually.”

“Hello, girls,” JR says. “Not at Freddy’s tonight?”

“We actually just came from there,” Denise answers.

“Shut up!” Pam says. Her eyes jut to JR. “We have a phone call to make.”

“What? Why?” Denise asks. Pam scowls at her. “Oh! Right! Will you excuse us? Urgent business and all. We’ll stop by later.” The girls totter back the way they came.

“What fucking morons,” Serena says with a sigh. “And now I’m officially bored. You guys enjoy your time with Ma and Pa Kettle over here. I’m going hunting.”

“No trouble tonight!” JR calls.

She rolls her eyes and scoffs. “I’ll see you back at the farm,” she shouts before sauntering off into the sea of bodies on the dance floor.

“I think we will follow suit,” Oliver says, standing up, which means I do as well. “I have the strongest desire to dance with my beautiful wife. Will you all please excuse us?”

Oliver takes my hand, leading me to the center of the floor. We’re surrounded by the sweaty and horny. The song is fast and pumping but Oliver grabs my waist, pulling me into his body. “What?” I ask.

“Act as if you are in love with me. We are being watched. Head on my shoulder.”

I rest my head in the crook of his neck, inhaling the Gucci cologne. I wrap my arms around his torso, as he does with mine. Some of the other dancers give us sideways glances. Whatever. This is how people should dance.

“I can’t believe we found them,” I say as quietly as I can, which still means I’m kind of shouting.

“The fates are on our side.”

“Do we have a plan? I only have the knives and Mace.”

“No, striking now would be ill advised.”

“So we do what?”

“I suppose we must try to finagle an invitation to their domicile. That way we may return on the morrow with the proper reinforcements.”

JR, who has been watching us, looks away toward his pocket. He pulls out his cell phone and listens for a few seconds, talking a moment later. He glances at us, then speaks again.

“Can you hear what he’s saying?” I ask.

“No.”

A huge smile crosses JR’s face as he looks away. He continues talking, not looking at us again until he hangs up. He turns to Rick, saying something, and Rick smiles. Gerry leans in to listen to the conversation. I’m getting paranoid. “So what’s the plan? Schmooze now, search and destroy tomorrow? What if they … you know … want to do things with us when we get there?”

Oliver doesn’t answer. The song ends, and he releases me. Guess it’s time to rejoin the serial killers on the couch. Oh, goody. When we do, JR scoots over to let us sit.

“You two look really cute together,” Julie says.