were the aforementioned security guards. Most were the residents, largely vampire groupies. But a few immortals were peppered throughout the crowd, looking just as concerned and uncertain as the mortals around them. They all spoke in hushed tones, the hum of gossip and speculation rumbling through the hall. Everyone who had emotion on their face wore masks of concern. That made me nervous. Vampires have a high threshold for bad news, and the mortals who live with them are used to chaos and death.
Aidan got in front of me and pushed through the crowd. A couple of the mortals pawed at Aidan, trying to get him to stop and give them answers, but he shook his head and pushed forward. I hurried after him.
There was a low, miserable moan coming from down the hall. It was like the soundtrack to a zombie movie. The hair on my arms stood at attention.
The crowd gave the open door a wide berth, save for a guards posted at either side.
Inside, the room was decorated like the living room of a modern luxurious apartment: sofas with square edges, a big-screen television, a cable box, some video game consoles, a glass coffee table that had been pushed against the TV stand. Cazimir stood in front of the blue sofa with several other vampires and a single mortal. The mortal man wore a suit jacket and loose tie and had pens in his shirt pocket. One of the vampires beside Caz was Lark, an old acquaintance of mine. We’d never been friends, but we’d always been civil. She was tall with a muscular frame, and tonight she had mascara streaking down her cheeks. Her eyes were bloodshot, which happened almost every time a vampire cried. Lark had never been one to emote in public, so that made my stomach twist into pretzels.
I didn’t recognize the other two vampires.
The moaning was coming from the sofa.
As I got closer, the smell hit me like a freight train: rot and something even more foul and noxious, like human waste. Then I saw what they were all staring at and my nausea hit new levels: a red and blotchy thing was writhing on the couch. I stepped around the couch and stood next to Cazimir, whose expression was pained as he watched the miserable creature.
“What the fuck?” Aidan exclaimed when he saw it. I couldn’t fault him. I was thinking the same thing. His face twisted in disgust.
Caz’s head shot up at his mortal pet’s words. “Aidan!” Warning tone. “Go stand in the corner and be quiet!” Aidan looked uneasily at the thing on the sofa, then back at his lover, and finally did as he was told. Good boy.
I steeled myself, swallowing bile, and looked at it more closely. It wasn’t a thing, of course. It was a vampire. It— he —was a mess of angry red boils bubbling up from his pale white skin, oozing blood and dark mustard-colored pus. It was hard to recognize him with the oozing pustules on his face. They made his cheeks red and bloated. Then I finally realized who it was: Thomas. Thomas had been turned a few years ago by Lark, who had sworn never to damn another to this life, but had fallen so hopelessly in love with the man that on his fiftieth birthday, she’d given in and made him a vampire. Thomas had always looked dignified and impressive as a vampire. Now his lips were chapped and parted, and pinkish foam came out of his mouth every time he moaned. The boils covered every exposed inch of his skin.
Lark sobbed once. She reached out, hand so fast it was like a shot. She grabbed a fistful of the fabric at the back of my work shirt and yanked me to her. “What the fuck is happening, Henri?” she demanded, brown eyes hard and cold, her jaw tight and set.
My human heart slammed into my ribs. “I don’t know. How would I know?” I demanded. I looked at Caz. “What’s going on?”
“Lark.” Caz’s voice was soft but with an edge of warning. Lark let go of the fabric, but I could tell she wanted to tear my head off of my neck. I stepped closer to Cazimir, wondering how he had become my ally so
Aidan got in front of me and pushed through the crowd. A couple of the mortals pawed at Aidan, trying to get him to stop and give them answers, but he shook his head and pushed forward. I hurried after him.
There was a low, miserable moan coming from down the hall. It was like the soundtrack to a zombie movie. The hair on my arms stood at attention.
The crowd gave the open door a wide berth, save for a guards posted at either side.
Inside, the room was decorated like the living room of a modern luxurious apartment: sofas with square edges, a big-screen television, a cable box, some video game consoles, a glass coffee table that had been pushed against the TV stand. Cazimir stood in front of the blue sofa with several other vampires and a single mortal. The mortal man wore a suit jacket and loose tie and had pens in his shirt pocket. One of the vampires beside Caz was Lark, an old acquaintance of mine. We’d never been friends, but we’d always been civil. She was tall with a muscular frame, and tonight she had mascara streaking down her cheeks. Her eyes were bloodshot, which happened almost every time a vampire cried. Lark had never been one to emote in public, so that made my stomach twist into pretzels.
I didn’t recognize the other two vampires.
The moaning was coming from the sofa.
As I got closer, the smell hit me like a freight train: rot and something even more foul and noxious, like human waste. Then I saw what they were all staring at and my nausea hit new levels: a red and blotchy thing was writhing on the couch. I stepped around the couch and stood next to Cazimir, whose expression was pained as he watched the miserable creature.
“What the fuck?” Aidan exclaimed when he saw it. I couldn’t fault him. I was thinking the same thing. His face twisted in disgust.
Caz’s head shot up at his mortal pet’s words. “Aidan!” Warning tone. “Go stand in the corner and be quiet!” Aidan looked uneasily at the thing on the sofa, then back at his lover, and finally did as he was told. Good boy.
I steeled myself, swallowing bile, and looked at it more closely. It wasn’t a thing, of course. It was a vampire. It— he —was a mess of angry red boils bubbling up from his pale white skin, oozing blood and dark mustard-colored pus. It was hard to recognize him with the oozing pustules on his face. They made his cheeks red and bloated. Then I finally realized who it was: Thomas. Thomas had been turned a few years ago by Lark, who had sworn never to damn another to this life, but had fallen so hopelessly in love with the man that on his fiftieth birthday, she’d given in and made him a vampire. Thomas had always looked dignified and impressive as a vampire. Now his lips were chapped and parted, and pinkish foam came out of his mouth every time he moaned. The boils covered every exposed inch of his skin.
Lark sobbed once. She reached out, hand so fast it was like a shot. She grabbed a fistful of the fabric at the back of my work shirt and yanked me to her. “What the fuck is happening, Henri?” she demanded, brown eyes hard and cold, her jaw tight and set.
My human heart slammed into my ribs. “I don’t know. How would I know?” I demanded. I looked at Caz. “What’s going on?”
“Lark.” Caz’s voice was soft but with an edge of warning. Lark let go of the fabric, but I could tell she wanted to tear my head off of my neck. I stepped closer to Cazimir, wondering how he had become my ally so
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