Below you will find the first three chapters of Vampire Detective Agency: Double Date. This is the second book in a series of pulpy detective noir inspired romance infused vampire novels. I hope you enjoy the fresh dramas that Larry and Veronica face in this new case.
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Chapter 1: The Mistress’ New Meal
Vampires had awoken Anja from the most lovely afternoon nap. The urgency of the matter requiring her attention was clear before they’d even spoken a word. For no matter the season, they loathed rising before the sun had started setting. Staring at their fanged faces, she’d let a small sigh escape her lips as the blanket fell back onto the warm bed. Alone.
With her mother’s help, she’d hurriedly packed a few bags before they whisked her off to the airport. The private plane had barely waited for her to sit down before it screeched off into the setting sun. Bound for a destination across the ocean to help someone she’d never met. Given the haste of all involved, she knew one thing: This person was incredibly important.
The attendants were shocked when she flung open the window blinds, letting in the last of the day’s sunlight. For Anja was not a vampire, but she’d spent her whole life surrounded by them. That tends to happen when one’s blood is so unique that vampires, not known for caring much of humans, give your kind a name. Hailjan. It used to seem silly to her that they’d named it. Blood is just blood. Mine is just healthier for them. Then she’d discovered that in certain circles, a drop of a her blood was more valuable than gold.
Not that she got to visit those places. As King Henry’s personal Hailjan, she spent much of her life sitting around the palace, occasionally brought out for parties. Asked to offer her arm to any muckety-muck deemed worthy of a taste of her. A few sips and then she’d be escorted back to her room before clothing and decorum were shed for the evening.
It was a quiet life.
Until today.
When the plane landed, the staff did not follow her down the stairs onto the tarmac. They huddled inside the plane, waiting for her to leave. Descending slowly, she carried her two large suitcases by herself. When they touched the ground, she found that a large black sedan had arrived. It looked out of time and place, but she wasn’t surprised. Vampires tend to hang onto relics of from their past. What shocked her was the driver when he stepped out to greet her. For they were neither a vampire or a human.
Zombie!
She’d never seen one in person before. She’d heard many, many, tales of them from her mother though. Their ash gray skin and fire red eyes were a warning to all that they were a threat unlike any other. Even vampires were wary of them, for a zombie would eat any flesh they could get their hands on.
This one did not have red eyes. In fact, his eyes were almost colorless, but warmer still than any vampire she’d ever met. When he shook her hand, she was struck by the softness of his grip. His massive muscles and height, closing in on 7ft tall, looked almost comical under simple black slacks and a pocketed vest. The mismatched combination of size and outfit made her think of her mother for some reason.
“Christoph,” he softly murmured as he released her hand.
Gulping down her nerves, she quickly replied, “Anja.”
A broad smile crossed the giant’s lips, “Of course.” Without further comment, he’d scooped up her bags and loaded them into the trunk of his massive sedan.
This was not her normal black limo experience. She hesitated, unsure whether to get into the front passenger seat or the rear. Thankfully, he opened the back door and gently gestured for her to get seated. Without anything else said, they started the long drive from the private airport to her final destination.
New York City.
As they approached the city, she pressed her nose against the passenger window, drinking in the details as the buildings towered and the lights shimmered in the night. It put to shame all the cities she’d seen in Europe during her travels. But she worried this was all she’d ever get to see of the majestic city.
“Is there time to drive around a bit? I’ve never been to America before,” she asked, her voice wavering.
The zombie, Christoph, only glanced in her direction for a moment. Unaware of how brave she was to make a personal request of her keepers.
“I’m afraid not. The Mistress wished to begin feeding as soon as possible so that she might leave the house of healing and return home.”
Her jaw slackened, She’s still in the house of healing?
The story, such as the gossips of the court had let slip in Anja’s presence, was that the Mistress of New Amsterdam had fallen for a human who’d gotten her corned by vampire hunters. In the ensuing battles she’d been badly injured by silver and sunlight. That such foes would be so brazen as to attack her, in a sanctuary city under the protection of the court, was a shock to vampires across Europe.
“To be there for months,” she paused, considering her words carefully for she did not know what he might report back to the court, “how badly was she hurt?”
Christoph honked at another driver, he does that a lot it seems, before answering her.
“Significantly. It is only by sheer force of will that she survived.”
She gulped, feeling guilty about even suggesting that they not immediately see to the Mistress’ needs.
“Unbelievable. I understand why I am here now.”
He chuckled, “Well, you’re here because the Twins were coming and she didn’t want them running around her city unchecked. Otherwise, she would have stubbornly refused old Henry and done bloodbaths for another year.”
She’d heard whispers that the Twins, enforcers of vampiric justice in Europe, had set out of their own accord to see who would be so foolish to attack vampires in a sanctuary city. That they made the Mistress of New Amsterdam nervous was curious. There must be something else at play here.
Her nose scrunched, “They are difficult.”
“So they are,” he replied, his eyes narrowing as he gave her a wry winking smile.
The car had snaked through side streets with piles of dirty snow covered in trash bags for what felt like forever. I would have thought a city as famous and wealthy as New York would put more effort into cleaning its streets. Finally, as travel fatigue started to settle in, Christoph pulled up in front of a large ancient manor nestled in-between even older looking buildings.
“This is it,” he announced as he opened his door.
She hesitated, only realizing as he lumbered towards the manor that he wasn’t going to open her door for her. An unfamiliar embarrassment rattled her as she got out and followed.
As they approached the front door, a pair of women sitting on the front stairs stared at them. They gave Christoph a look of concerned disgust, but nodded politely nonetheless. However, her they sniffed. Their fangs dipped below their lips as a taste they could only smell danced across their noses. Her steps faltered as she saw thirst in their eyes.
“She’s not tonight’s buffet,” Christoph grimly joked, putting his hand on her back and pushing gently.
Inside, it smelled of blood and scented candles. To regular people it would be unsettling, but she wasn’t regular people. She’d been amongst such scents her whole life. There was little that gave away what the building was used for, and if not for the tall woman wearing medical scrubs who approached them, one might think it was just a home.
The nurse gestured towards a long hallway on the right wing of the manor. They followed in silence as she led them to a door, marked only with a vampiric house glyph. The shape was unfamiliar to Anja, but she had seen only a dozen in her time at court. They were reserved for vampires of great and powerful importance.
Christoph and the nurse entered without any hesitation. She paused, the room was dimly lit, even by vampire standards. Something about standing at the edge of such darkness, without her chaperones, so far from home made her nervous. Squinting, Anja could make out nothing beyond a bed, small table and a reading chair.
A scratchy voice growled out from under the bed covers, “Why so many visitors at this hour?”
Christoph coughed, “Mistress, the King has sent his Hailjan. This is Anja,” he paused, as the woman rubbed her eyes and yawned.
A woman under the bed covers sat up, stretching her arms and rolling her neck. She seemed so small in the bed, cloaked in darkness, but when she looked at Anja it was as if her gaze could pierce one’s soul.
Her skin shivered as fear snaked across her, growing strong with every passing second, until the nurse flipped on the lights. Blinking hard as her own vision readjusted, Anja realized that the vampire’s eyes were as white as her bedsheets. She’s blind.
“Hello, I am Anja. At your service until recalled by my king or dismissed by your hand.”
Pushing the blanket back, the vampire on the bed smiled, her fangs pressing against her lower lips, “No curtsy? My how the decorum has faded.”
She gulped, “How?”
Laughter overflowed her small frame as the vampire swung her legs over the edge of the bed, “My eyesight hasn’t returned yet, but my other senses are razor sharp. I could hear that you didn’t bob and dance for me.”
She quickly curtseyed, but the vampire waved her hand.
“It’s fine. I’m just messing with you. We don’t do that shit here in America. Remember, we kicked our kings out.”
Christoph motioned towards the doorway, “We’ll give you a few minutes.”
The nurse followed him out, and even with her human hearing, Anja could hear them start to discuss the Mistress’ care and health on the other side of the door. Sadly their whispers quickly grew too quiet for her to follow the conversation, but she did make out that the vampire’s recovery had been frustratingly slow due to silver poisoning.
She turned her attention back to the vampire on the bed, “How would you like to proceed, Mistress?”
“First, don’t call me that. It irritates me when Christoph does. Just call me Veronica.”
Her lips hesitated, even on the court, amongst vampires she’d known for years, none let her call them by their first name.
“Really, it’s okay,” Veronica patted the bed next to her, “please sit down. Your anxiety is draining me.”
She apologized, “Sorry Mis… I mean Veronica.”
Sitting down on the bed, she had a chance to examine Veronica up close. She’s beautiful. Sharp cheekbones, jet black hair that fell in a short bob over her ears, and a wiry frame that looked appropriately curved in all the right spots. I’m jealous, Mother often says I could stand to lose a few pounds. It looked as if she’d been turned in her early thirties, or maybe late twenties. It was difficult to be sure. People born in the past, living under harsher conditions, could look older than their actual age when turned. Of all the things she’d heard about the King’s ex-wife, her human age was never one of them.
For a vampire of her status, the Mistress’ clothing was surprisingly simple. Just a faded black t-shirt that clung tightly around her chest. She couldn’t tell whether it had always been one size too small or if it had shrunk with age. Equally weathered looking was her underwear, which sported a few small holes on the elastic band. No one on the court would ever wear such, common, items.
“You look,” Anja paused, suddenly unsure what to say next, as suddenly many feelings gushed through her.
Veronica tucked her hair back behind an ear, “I know. Not too shabby looking for someone who was flame broiled by the sun two months ago. Don’t ask how many blood baths it’s taken to get to this point.”
I’d wager a king’s ransom. I wonder if she got alimony when she divorced the King? Was that a thing back then?
She chuckled, “You mean VIRGIN blood baths.”
Veronica joined her in laughing, “I know, they keep calling them that, and I’m like, folks there ain’t enough consenting adult virgins in all of America to fill a soaking tub once, let alone several dozen times.”
I don’t think I’d fill a quarter of a tub. Even squeezed.
Shrugging her shoulder, she swept the hair away from her neck, “Blood baths are a tried and true healing method when one doesn’t have a Hailjan around, but I think you’ll find my blood far more invigorating.”
Veronica smiled, “I can hear the blood in your body pulsing, and I can guess that you’re offering your neck, but my eyesight is basically non-existent. This will be easier with an arm for now.”
“Oh, of course,” she muttered, feeling rather silly. She pulled her jacket off and then stretched her arm out into the vampire’s waiting hands.
With a care that felt alien, Veronica brought Anja’s wrist to her face. She sniffed, “You’re younger than I expected. How long has Henry employed you in his service, Anja?”
Thrown by the question, she answered honestly, “I’m 24 years old and I’ve been his personal Hailjan since I turned 10.”
Veronica hands squeezed tightly as her voice shook, “What the fuck?”
Using learned deftness, she quickly moved to change the subject, “It is a long story. One we will have time for later. But for right now, let us focus on getting you back to your healthy self.”
Veronica, even blind, saw right through it based on the expression on her face. She only clicked her tongue and nodded in response.
Bringing the wrist back to her face, Veronica gingerly pressed her lips to the offered arm. It was more a kiss than it was a bite, and the sensation sent goosebumps up Anja’s arm. As the vampire’s lips opened to allow her tongue out, the goosebumps swiftly traveled across her body. Her face flushed, and her body warmed in ways that only happened when she read certain kinds of books.
As the vampire’s soft tongue flicked with surprising strength, it circled a spot repeatedly. Clearing the way for what was coming next: Veronica’s fangs slicing into Anja’s skin. They stung, as any injury to one’s skin does, but something about the way her tongue never stopped moving made the pain harder to focus on. Instead, there was only the strangely euphoric tingling that ran through Anja’s whole body.
She’d never been bitten like this. Her mouth hung open, and when Veronica started to pull away, she felt words on her lips that surprised her, “Don’t Stop,” but, she didn’t get a chance to whisper them.
They were interrupted by Christoph returning to the room.
“My apologies Mistress, I should have knocked. I can go back out and wait.”
Veronica scoffed, “It’s fine, Christoph. I’d like to get out of here and go home. I can already feel the Hailjan blood working. Another couple of days and I’ll be back to normal. Besides, I want to see, I mean, we should check in on our houseguest. He’s probably bored staring at the basement ceiling.”
Houseguest? Is that the same man she fell in love with?
Christoph looked uncomfortable, “Mistress, he’s not been staying there around the clock. He’s been working for the NYPD and Nite Time Investigations.”
An investigator? The rumors said he was a vagabond.
Waving her hand, drops of Anja’s blood still flecked across the back of it, the vampire growled. “I’m blind, not stupid. I remember you told me he was working. I just meant that he’s probably tired of spending his nights at the brownstone.”
If he was not already ash gray, Christoph might have become white, for his upper lip almost seemed to tremble as he adjusted his collar slightly.
This the vampire could hear.
“What is it?!”
“He’s been going on long walks.”
Veronica’s voice almost cracked, “At night? Alone?! Charles told me he was keeping him on a short leash to keep him safe.”
There was a pause, another adjusting of his collar, and finally, “Yes, but that’s only while he’s working. The rest of the time, he is a man. And he roams. He’s not a house pet who waits by the door.”
This comment, offered as a jesting joke complete with smile, was met by utter fury from Veronica. “FUCK YOU!” The words fell behind her as she lunged out of the bed, fangs bared, charging at the zombie.
Despite his large size, Christoph was no lumbering slug. He moved swiftly to catch the speeding vampire. He let her flail angrily against his chest for a few beats until her voice shattered. Her ‘fucks’ faded into a soft whimper that almost escaped human ears, “He was supposed to wait for me.”
Releasing her arms, Christoph braced her shoulders with his large hands, “My dear, you have been many things over the years, but never a fool. Do you really think him out at night doing anything other than looking for you?”
This statement brought a smile to the vampire’s blood covered lips. She shook herself free of his grip, turning back to Anja, “Come on. We’ve got to go find him before he gets himself into trouble.”
“How do you know that he’s getting into trouble?”
Christoph and Veronica both answered at the same time.
“Because he’s human.”
Anja’s teeth threatened to clatter. The back seat of Christoph’s large black sedan was bitterly cold, not because the car’s heater didn’t work, but because Veronica wanted to look for her human. She had her window down, her face almost hanging outside the car, as she took deep breaths. Hunting for a scent.
They passed by some men dressed as Santa Claus on street corners ringing bells. Christmas was clearly a big holiday in the states, but vampires of the court didn’t celebrate it much. After a few centuries everything becomes tiring she’d been told. I think they’d rather ignore the good spirits and gift giving because it gets in the way of drinking and orgies.
She pulled her jacket tighter and hugged the other side of the back seat. Watching as Veronica scanned the city streets. Strange. The thought came so loudly to her that for a moment Anja looked around concerned she’d spoken it aloud. It wasn’t true. A vampire falling in love with a human wasn’t at all strange, that kind of thing happened all the time.
“How else could there ever be new vampires, if not for affections of the heart?” Her mother was fond of saying whenever the topic came up.
No, what was strange was Veronica’s concern. The court, and the King, had spoken of the Mistress of New Amsterdam as a heartless monster who cared not for anyone but herself.
“Pull over!” Veronica suddenly commanded.
Christoph roughly stopped the vehicle, and Veronica threw open her door. She was off and shuffling, one cane assisted step at a time, before Anja had managed to slide across the back seat.
As she started to get out of the car to follow, a hand grabbed her arm, “Wait, child. She’ll be fine.”
“How? She can’t see,” she whispered, trying not to anger the Mistress.
Christoph leaned out the driver’s side window, “Anja, our dear Mistress knows every brick and stone of this city by heart.”
Her lips pressed tight, for it was not her place to question him. Instead, she watched silently as Veronica walked towards a small park. As she grew near, the vampire started to shout at someone to keep their hands off her human. Don’t say things like that in public, what if someone hears you? She looked around, but the city seemed unconcerned about the events happening in the park right now.
After a few moments, there was a rush of air that pushed past her. She grinned, knowing what had just happened. It was a favorite vampire party trick, moving at speeds that made them appear to blink into place right in front of you.
“Who’s there?” She asked the wind.
There was no response, but there were footsteps from her left. She turned to see Solène grinning at her. The unkind half of the Twins. If she had to pick one of them to spend time with, it would never be Solène. The stories Anja had heard about the vampire’s antics would make a nun sick to their stomach.
“Such a tasty morsel, all alone on the cold streets,” Solène purred as she twirled her silver hair in her fingers. Her lips were dark red, but not from lipstick. Blood. The way she looked at you was always narrowly balanced between desire and hunger. Tonight, those lips looked dangerous no matter which way you read them.
There was another rush of air and they were joined by Lazare. The diplomatic half. He gave her a terse smile, his silver hair shimmering under the light of the streetlamp. Even though his face was spattered with dirt and blood, likely from a fight, he looked dreamy. There was a reason vampires of both sexes always asked her about Lazare. Of her chaperones, he was the only one she liked.
From a distance, you might think this silver-haired duo to be quite old, but up close they barely looked to be out of their teen years. Solène though, did her best to age herself up with heavy black eyeliner and a hairstyle perpetually changing to match the latest fashion. Meanwhile, he never seemed to care what people thought of his appearance.
Lazare stopped his ‘sister’ from grabbing her, “Our meal is somewhere else tonight,” he paused, looking at Anja from top to bottom, “unfortunately.”
This statement made Solène grimace, but as she gave Anja one last look she softly hissed, “Another time perhaps.”
The sound of a cane clunking towards them sent both of the Twins blinking off into the night as quickly as they’d appeared.
“Damn fucking brats,” Veronica huffed.
Anja watched as the Mistress was helped by a tall lanky human male. That’s him? But as he came into the light of the street, she started to see the appeal. Dark brown hair thick enough that you could make him into prince charming with a comb and some patience. Of which he seemed to have neither. He also seemed to have no time for shaving either, as his chiseled jaw line was covered in a heavy five-o-clock shadow. He was not hard on the eyes despite his lack of grooming skills.
When they had reached the car, the vampire gestured, “Larry, I want you to meet Anja. She’ll be staying with us for a while to help with my recovery.”
His smile radiated pure honesty and kindness as his hand struck out ahead of him, “Pleased to meet you, Anja.”
Holding out her own hand, she realized no one had smiled at her like this before, “Likewise.”
Larry’s hand gripped hers and a single thought thundered through her, Oh, I want this one.
Chapter 2: Not So Fast Cowboy
Larry struggled to focus as he heard the sound of something thunking against the cobble stone path in the park. What is that? The sound slipped away from him as his hearing faded. He started to have trouble remembering why he was even out here tonight. Then it struck him. The nightmare. Veronica. Sunlight. Fire and ash. It was almost a nightly occurrence ever since they’d been attacked by vampire hunters. She’d almost died saving his worthless little life. They’d whisked her away to recover. Leaving him alone. Walking the city, chasing sleep.
I was out walking again.
He’d stumbled across hunters attacking a vampire with silver-hair. A smile had crossed his lips before his fists had even started flying. Finally, an excuse to work off his frustrations and help someone in need. Only, something had gone wrong. What was it?
The silver-haired vampire’s sister grabbed me!
His legs started to go limp as shock shook him out of his stupor, but he didn’t fall. The woman’s vampiric strength was more than capable of holding him tightly aloft as she drank greedily from his neck. He couldn’t tell how much blood she’d taken from him. Any is too much, I like my blood on the inside. His surprise at being attacked was matched only by what she’d done without suffering consequences. Normally, his blood was acid to the undead. It’s why they call me a burn blood.
“HEY BITCH! HANDS OFF MY HUMAN!”
The woman holding him dropped him at the command. His vision wobbled back into focus now that there wasn’t a hand wrapped around his throat. As he laid there on the ground, he watched as VERONICA! growled at the sight of him waylaid.
With a voice dripped in sarcasm, the silver-haired woman finally responded to Veronica, “Oh, dis’ little hoo-man? I did not see any markings. He seemed lost. And lonely. So, I was just giving him a little kiss. Perhaps other things if the night allows.”
A fierce growl proceeded Veronica’s short reply, “Solène, you damn well know the Council has outlawed hunting humans in Manhattan. Even if that were not enough, I know you know he belongs to me.”
Running a finger across her blood soaked lips, Solène grinned, “He doesn’t taste like he’s your type. Too… spicy.” Her fangs glistened in the light as she taunted.
“We meant no disrespect, Mistress of New Amsterdam. We were merely wounded and hungry after our tussle with these vampire hunters,” the silver-haired male vampire interjected, clearly trying to head off hostilities between the two women.
Veronica snapped at him without looking, “Stay out of this, Lazare. This is between me and your stupid cunt of a sister.”
Grabbing Veronica by the arm, Solène’s throat rumbled so loudly that Larry could feel it in his bones, “Do not speak to him like that. He offers you words of kindness. You should take them, and your human, and go home. This night is ours. We will deal with your city’s vampire hunter problem.”
With that threat, the two silver-haired vampires vanished into the night. He looked around and noted the four hunters had also disappeared. It was unclear if they’d left of their own accord, or if the Twins had taken them. Not that I care either way right now.
Jumping to his feet, he rushed over to Veronica, wrapping his arms around her. Wanting to confirm she was really there, and he wasn’t hallucinating, he pressed her against him as hard as his exhausted arms could muster.
“Oof, easy human,” she whimpered, stumbling backwards from his embrace.
“Sorry, I just,” he stopped short. Noticing for the first time that her eyes were almost completely white.
She smiled, “Yes, I’m blind. No, it’s not permanent. Just until my eyes finish regenerating.”
“How did you…”
Patting him on the arm, she chuckled, “Your heart fluttered, your arms motioned, and your voice dropped. Also, I figured that standing this close to me, not under threat of Solène, you probably finally noticed.”
“Speaking of, who were they?”
She started to wave her hand, but instead she started coughing violently.
“Vee!”
He wrapped his arms around her tight, holding her up upright as the cane clattered to the ground.
A deep laugh poured out from her, in-between coughs, “I’m… okay…”
He chuckled, “Here we are again. In a park at night, only this time you’re in my arms.”
She reached out her hand and found his face, stroking it softly. Though her sight was gone, she tilted her head up, her lips looking for his in the darkness that wrapped around her. He pressed his lips to hers. They kissed until her mouth began to warm. She pulled her lips away, still holding her hand on his face.
He watched as a smile wrapped around her face. She finally embraced him back. Squeezing him tightly, as if to hold him against all those who might take him away from her.
“Let’s go home. We’ll deal with the Twins another night.”
“As you wish, Mistress of New Amsterdam.”
Veronica laughed as Larry picked up her cane and helped her out of the park. As they approached the street, he saw the Lincoln Continental waiting for her. Christoph gave a small nod from the driver’s seat. More than I usually get from him. He must be in a good mood. Surprisingly, the aloof zombie was not alone.
A woman was standing next to the car. She looked to be about his age, and based on the flushness in her cheeks from the cold, she was human. Strawberry-blonde hair hung slightly past her shoulders, and framed her round face neatly. However, her colorful jacket hung down over her hips such that he couldn’t really tell what kind of figure she had underneath. Not that I’m checking her out. I’ve got Veronica right here.
The way her lips pursed when she saw him and Veronica seemed to indicate something, but as his boss was keen to point out: Larry was no investigator yet. He couldn’t read her face or reaction at all.
Veronica introduced the woman, but her cute appearance distracted Larry from the finer details of what the vampire was explaining. As soon as the woman had spoken, he’d realized she wasn’t from around here. Her accent had undertones that made him think German, but her English was perfect.
Clearing her throat, Veronica interjected into his stunned silence, “She is a Hailjan on loan to me from King Henry.”
Hailjan?
His confusion must have been clear to the newcomer, for Anja was quick to giggle, “You weren’t lying Christoph, he doesn’t know anything of our world.”
Apparently sensing his bubbling anger at being out of the loop again, Veronica put her hand on his shoulder, “A Hailjan’s blood is the most potent healing agent vampire’s have found.”
Many questions stirred inside him, but a sinking thought drowned them all out. Veronica’s gonna replace me with someone who’s blood won’t melt her flesh.
Christoph leaned out the driver’s window, pointing towards his neck, “What happened there?”
He pressed his gloved hand to the side of his neck, feeling where the silver-haired vampire had bitten him, “Got bit by a vampire who liked the taste. First time for everything it seems.”
The zombie chuckled, “It happens but normally not without consent. Least not in this city.”
Veronica sighed, “Yes, Solène made the comment that he wasn’t marked.”
He interjected, “But that doesn’t matter, there’s no hunting of humans on the island.”
Anja smirked before snidely noting, “Such rules don’t apply to Royals. She can drink from anyone who’s not claimed by another vampire.”
Scratching his chin, and grinning, Christoph was quick to comment, “Mistress, you should probably collar him if you don’t want her coming around for another sip.”
Despite the suddenly serious vibes, Larry laughed, “I can’t wear a dog collar 24/7, even in New York City that’s gonna look weird.”
Grabbing his arm and pushing him towards the car, Veronica hissed, “Christoph, we need to get Larry marked tonight. Take us to Maym’s Tattoo Parlor.”
“Really, tonight? It’s the finale of the Bachelorette. I’ve been waiting all month to see if she…”
Veronica cut Christoph’s complaints short with a growl.
“Fine.”
Larry’s joy at seeing Veronica again was short-lived, for he was quickly ushered into the passenger seat next to Christoph. Meanwhile, Anja got to ride with Veronica in the backseat. Even conversation was interrupted by the new third wheel that had come into the picture.
Anja pointed at and asked questions about everything in the city as Christoph drove them across town. Somehow unable to control herself, Veronica had answered each inquiry like she was the woman’s personal tour guide. For all her growling, she does love to talk about this city.
When Christoph pulled up in front of a grungy looking little shop on a street that New York City forgot, Larry thought maybe now he could spend some time catching up with Veronica. Only, before he could even open his mouth, Anja pushed herself over the seat and excitedly pointed to a red neon sign in the window next door.
“Abhartach Bottles!”
“What?” Larry asked, looking at the storefront. It appeared to be newly assembled, given the stack of cardboard boxes on the sidewalk.
“It’s an elixir of blood and alcohol that’s very popular in Europe. Rare and expensive. I’d not thought to see it sold here in New York City,” Anja explained as she threw open the passenger door.
Veronica smiled, “We’ve got everything here. Well, boys, it sounds like I’ll be getting a drink next door while you get inked up.”
Christoph looked concerned, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Sticking out her tongue in his general direction, she dismissed any concerns, “We’ll be fine. Come on Anja, let’s find you a blood free drink.”
Pausing on the sidewalk, Larry tried to inspect the shop the women vanished into. Through the front window, he saw rows of obscure looking bottles and a countertop in the back. He started to step up to the window to peer into the shop, but the large hand of Christoph landed on his shoulder.
“Come, the sooner we start, the sooner we leave.”
He nodded obediently, stopping only to look up at the weathered sign for the tattoo shop. Each letter had been recycled from another sign. To him it looked like a six-year-old girl had done a number to a bottle of glitter while a serial killer had done a number to a magazine cover.
“Auntie Maym’s Inks,” he muttered, feeling his neck again to see if his neck wound had closed.
Not yet.
Entering the shop was like stepping back in time. It reminded him of college nights spent in dive bars. Only there wasn’t the smell of motor oils and the tint of cigarette smoke in the air in those seedy joints.
As Christoph started impatiently ringing the bell on the front counter, he decided to use the rare opportunity for conversation with the zombie for all it was worth.
“So what’s the deal with this King Henry? Is he, and are the Twins, really royalty?”
Leaning against the counter, his massive frame dwarfing the small shop, the zombie huffed.
“They’re just like your politicians, assholes who got everyone to agree to their declared rule.”
He gulped, “Declared?”
Christoph shook his head, turning to glare at the woman in the back, who continued to fuss with something instead of coming up to help them. He was clearly bored and annoyed with this conversation. As if these were the questions a small child would ask.
“There was a meeting, blood was spilled, and they came out on top.”
He nodded, “Got it. Since we’re talking…”
Further questions were interrupted by the tattoo artist, finally making her way up front. She looked out of time, her outfit and haircut seeming better suited for the 1950s. Whether she was a vampire or just a fan of thrift shopping near retirement communities was a question he couldn’t answer.
The woman, Maym he suspected, looked at Christoph for a long silent spell while she twirled her fingers in her brown hair.
“Did I tag you?”
Christoph chuckled softly, “Not personally. It was a long time ago, I believe your master’s master did the work.”
He got tagged?! What?
Turning to address him, a wry smile wrapped around her lips as she pointed to his neck, “Looks like you left the city without a proper tag.”
His hand went to his neck, which still felt damp, “Something like that.”
“Come on, you can clean yourself up while I get my log book out.”
Gesturing at a small utility sink, she flung a square bandage at him like a playing card. It almost went sailing past him, but he’d spent enough time with vampires in the past few months to be ready for anything. As he got to work washing and drying his neck wound, she pulled a three-ringed note binder down from a shelf.
“Whose mark am I looking for tonight?” she asked, splaying the large, heavy book out on the countertop.
“Ms. Veronica Chilton.”
Maym stopped cold, looking up at Christoph and Larry as if for the first time.
She hesitated before repeating the name, “Veronica-Veronica? The Veronica? Mistress…”
“Yes, the one and only Mistress of New Amsterdam,” he deadpanned. Having heard that title multiple times now in a single night.
Slamming the book closed, the woman went back to the shelves and pulled out a small leather-bound book. She flipped through the pages rapidly, stopping only to spin the book around for Christoph to inspect.
Trying to sneak a peek, he was disappointed to see that it just looked like a library checkout log, with a list of names and dates. Above those was a pictographic symbol circled in red. It was of a language that he’d never seen before. All he could tell for sure was that it was a flurry of lines and dots that made no lick of sense.
Christoph nodded, “That’s the one.”
As the zombie pushed the book back across the countertop though, for a brief moment, Larry was able to see that one of the names on the list was Christoph! His head swirled with questions, but he knew the gruff man would never answer them.
Maym pointed towards the chair, “Get in.”
As he jumped in, she pulled out a tray covered in plastic wrap. When the cover came off, the smell of antiseptic agents hit his nose. It reminded him of all the bad places he’d been in his life.
“First tattoo?” Maym asked.
This amused Christoph, who’d taken to leaning against the wall looking disinterested until this moment, “What gave it away?”
Pointing to the tray as she started to open a disinfectant wipe, she smiled wide, letting a pair of petite fangs dance below her lip line, “The way his eyes keep darting over every pointy thing in the room.”
He gave a weak laugh, “Yeah, I went to a shop when I was in college, but chickened out. I’ve got a low pain threshold.”
Maym laughed hard before snorting out, “Then this will suck for you.”
He gulped.
“The mark of ownership goes behind one’s left ear lobe,” Christoph helpfully advised as he fingered his own ear.
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he muttered.
Her brown eyes shined under the harsh lights as Maym grinned, “All the bony spots hurt like the dickens.”
He felt sweat forming on his forehead.
“Don’t worry, Veronica’s mark is not terribly detailed,” Christoph reassured him.
Maym’s latex gloved hand pushed on the back of his head as she started to wipe the skin behind his left ear with a pad. Then she flipped on some mechanical switch with her foot as she started humming some tune. He couldn’t begin to place the song because the tattoo machine now vibrated loudly against the floor.
The mood in the room had shifted without conversation. It made him feel like there was something they weren’t telling him. He tried to get them talking again, “Do I get to pick the color?”
She chuckled from behind him, “Nope, darling. Vamps love their black. Now take a deep breath, if you squirm too much, I’ll have your tall friend hold you still.”
Larry gulped as she pressed the tip of the needle to the back of his head. It felt like a thousand tiny skin pricks delivered by an angry bee. But, he clenched his teeth and thought of Veronica stepping into the sun to save him. If she could do that, then I can do this.
“So,” Maym gently inquired, breaking the droning hum of the machine, “Veronica’s back in town?”
Christoph quickly answered, “The Mistress is always here. This is her city.”
From under the needle, feeling like his brain was being vibrated into soup, he called out, “Why this goddamn spot?”
Thumping the back of his head to admonish him for moving, Maym answered, “Because it’s where vampires agreed to check for ownership. At least the well-behaved ones. I’ve heard southern vamps started biting arms to claim ignorance. So arm tattoos are now becoming a thing.”
There was a tutting from the corner of the room, “Poor behavior? From southerners? Why I never.”
Larry laughed.
Maym slapped his arm, “Don’t move!”
There was a rustling of the curtain behind him, but he couldn’t see what was happening. It felt like someone was watching him, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The sensation plunged suddenly upon the sound of familiar laughter.
Of course, it’s Charles.
“What brings you here tonight?” Christoph asked, the tone of his voice giving away his displeasure at the sight of the vampire.
“I was going to the bottle shop next door for a special delivery, but then I heard a familiar whining,” Charles replied, pausing only so that he could walk around and put his face close to Larry, “Didn’t think I’d find my favorite human and my least favorite zombie here tonight.”
Maym chuckled.
Larry pressed his lips tightly together into something resembling a smile. The Detective looked surprisingly put together. His rich brown skin had been freshly shaved, removing the normal thick salt and pepper stubble that could be mistaken for a beard on any other day. Why he’d bothered to shave was unclear, and further deliberation on what the grooming meant vanished as soon as the well-dressed man spoke.
“Why are you here?” Charles inquired, his grin almost as insufferable as his tone.
He sighed under the assault of the needle, preparing for Maym to smack him for speaking, “Veronica wanted me to get marked because the Twins are in town.”
Sputtering as he stood up, Charles barked at Christoph, “The Twins are in New York? Why didn’t anyone tell me?!”
Christoph sighed, “Worried you’ll have to be presentable for once?”
“Shut up, zombie.”
“Make me,” Christoph snapped back.
Maym let go of Larry’s neck, “No fighting in my shop!”
Leaning against the wall furthest from Christoph, Charles’ voice dripped with sarcasm, “Well, I’m happy that Veronica is back. Though I’m surprised to see you upright. Figured it would be a few days before she let you out of her sight.”
He chuckled, “About that…”
Christoph interrupted, “The Twins take precedence over everything. They’re dangerous to everyone in this city.”
This did not deter Charles, who retorted, “We don’t have to worry about the silver devils. We’ve got ourselves a burn blood right here!”
He started to explain to his boss that actually, the silver haired vampires were somehow immune to his burn blood, but Maym was quicker.
She blurted out, “Burn blood?!” And lurched backwards away from him on her wheeled stool.
Charles cooed, “Don’t worry about it. You’ve got gloves on. Despite the legends, burn blood isn’t literally acid.”
Her anger vibrated almost as intensely as the tattoo machine, “It is when it touches a vampire! And you! Didn’t think to mention this to me?” She slapped the back of his head as her throat rumbled.
“Hey, I didn’t know you were a vampire when we started,” he whined as the back of his head throbbed from being stabbed and punched.
Always on-point, Christoph stepped forward and put his hand on the angry vampire’s shoulder, “My apologies, but his status as a burn blood is not something we want to advertise for a multitude of reasons. You are two lines away from being done. Please return to his neck and finish up. I will see that you are paid double for your trouble and discretion.”
She pulled her shoulder away from his giant hand, “Triple. The mark, my trouble, and my lips staying shut.”
“Of course.”
As she returned to working on his neck, the pressure of her line-work feeling rougher, Charles tried to smooth over the situation his way.
“Now that we’ve settled that, why don’t all of you come over next door when done. The shop just got in a crate of this Peruvian Devil’s Kiss that’s delicious. It tastes like raspberry bushes went to town on the berry pickers.”
Christoph joined Maym’s muttered acceptance with a loud, “Well, I, for one, would love a drink on the Detective’s dime.”
Charles laughed as he left the shop to go next door.
As soon as the door slammed shut, she quickly inquired, “So, who was that hot Indian professor?”
There was a disgruntled huff behind him as Larry replied, “That… was my boss. Detective Charles Henry George.”
She did a soft whistle, “Damn. Didn’t know NYPD had them that fine. Shame.”
“Why?”
Her tongue clicked, “Because all cops are bastards.”
This caused Christoph to break out in full on laughter.
Larry said nothing. Enduring silently as she resumed pressing the lines and dots on his neck that marked him as Veronica’s property.
Chapter 3: Blind and Leading the Way
As a vampire, Veronica had heard her share of bad ‘bat’ jokes over her long undead life. Mostly they didn’t bother her. Hell, I’ve made a fair share of them. These last two months had tested her patience. She’d been on the receiving end of so many ‘blind as a bat’ comments that her fangs were sore from snapping at people.
What bugged her the most was that she wasn’t really blind. She could see shapes, or rather the light and dark blobs that moved. They gave no indication of depth, so she was always walking with her hand slightly in front of her, feeling for the world. Thankfully, her other four senses were alive in ways she’d not experienced since being turned into a vampire.
The sound of melting snow falling down into sewer grates. The smell of the different colognes worn by the men walking down the street. The taste of the air as Anja guided them towards the front door of the bottle shop. It was rotten outside, with garbage bags waiting for pickup. But when they stepped inside, it was like a delightful alcoholic beverage soaked in blood was dripping over her mouth.
Anja practically panted as she huffed, “It’s so warm,” releasing Veronica’s hand and moving swiftly to unzip her jacket.
For her, the warm air was like a lost friend wrapping around her for a hug. She smiled, whispering to the dark blob in the corner of her distorted vision, “Because those of us who drink blood run cold.”
The human must be nodding, even if she couldn’t see it, she could hear the muscles moving and feel the vibrations through the air as her head tossed up and down.
“There’s a bar in the back, past all the bottles, do you want to go sit down there?” Anja inquired once her coat was open.
Now it was her turn to nod, “Yes. I think I know the man slinging drinks, at least my nose does.”
As they approached, the bartender spun around and greeted them. “Ah, if it isn’t my favorite drinker of Long Island Iced Teas.”
She ignored the barb about her drinking habits, “Thomas, I didn’t know you worked here.”
He grimaced, or at least she thought he did base on the sounds of all the muscles in his face contracting at once, but it was his tongue that was first to strike from this coiled position, “I don’t work here! This is my shop! Half of it anyway. I’m hoping to buy out my investors after it gets going.”
A fanged huff left her lips as she used her fingers to find the bar seat she could sense was in front of her, “Congratulations on the horror of owning and operating a business in the city where red tape is made.”
“And who is this,” Thomas hesitated as the sound of a few not so subtle sniffs rang through the air, “delightful woman you’ve brought into my fine bottle establishment tonight?”
His hand must have gone out to grasp or shake Anja’s offered hand, because she could feel the sudden burst of heat radiating from the young woman. The bartender’s charm was most effusive. If you’re into that sort of thing.
“This is my guest, Anja. She will have your finest non-alcoholic beverage tonight.”
Thomas clicked his tongue, “Of course, and for you Veronica, we have this delightful sparkly-wine-blood combination. I think you’ll enjoy it.”
The sound of a cork popping, followed by the glug-glug-glug of a glass being filled, followed. Through her hand on the counter, she felt the vibrations as he slid it in her direction. It almost touched her, but not quite. He knew more than he said, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of addressing the elephant in the room.
“As for you my dear Anja, I have some strawberry flavored fizzy water, oh wait a second. I’ve got to grab a fresh case. I’ll get some ice too. Can’t serve warm water. Don’t want to risk the bad review,” he chuckled. His footsteps told of his retreat from them.
Gingerly, she stretched her fingers across the counter, feeling for the glass. After a few inches, they met glass. Tracing upward, she smiled as she realized it was a champagne flute. She held the concoction to her nose, listening to the bubbles popping. It smelled of blood and a sickly-sweet honey wine.
“What does it look like?”
Anja hesitated, but after a moment she responded, “Sorry, it looks like champagne with a syrup mixed in.”
“So not red?”
“No, it’s dark orange in color.”
“Interesting.”
Veronica took a sip. Instantly, it felt like her stomach was being kicked by a mule. Again. Like that night in Mexico in ‘34.
“Are you okay?” Anja asked, clearly seeing the look of discomfort sprawling across the vampire’s face.
She waved off the concerned human with her other hand, “It’s just not agreeing with my stomach. Must be all the sugar. Why did you hesitate to answer my question a moment ago?”
Anja leaned closer, “It wasn’t clear if it was safe to speak of your eyesight. I was surprised that Thomas didn’t say anything.”
She listened for the bartender, but he was clearly still fussing in the backroom. Far too busy fighting with a cardboard box to be eavesdropping on them.
“Most vampires who know who I am are afraid of me, even in this state or maybe,” she paused as the front door rang out, but it wasn’t Christoph or Larry. Though she would have expected them by now. It was someone else. He smelled strangely foul, though she could not place the scent.
“Or what Mistress?”
“Or he’s a dedicated salesman and didn’t want to distract from the sale.”
“Ah, of course. I know their kind well from the court.”
Turning away from the man, who’d slunk off to look at bottles in one of the isles, she addressed the blob in front of her that sounded and smelled like Anja.
“Speaking of the court, I must apologize that the accommodations at the brownstone will be less than you’re used to. I don’t live that kind of lifestyle anymore.”
Anja coughed, “I mean, I go where I am asked. I am not always kept in a gilded cage, Mistress.”
“You’re about to move into my basement across the hall from Larry who you’ll have to share a bathroom with, so please, call me Veronica.”
“Oh.”
“Is something wrong with my name?”
The Hailjan’s heart started beating fast, “Oh no, no, no, Mistress, I mean Veronica. I’m just surprised, that Larry doesn’t sleep with you. I thought he, I thought he was your, you know…”
The words stumbled, but not from fear of Veronica. No, she’s turned away. Is she looking at that smelly man?
Tucking her fangs back behind her lips because she couldn’t tell whether the man was of her kind or not, she gave him a curt greeting, “Can we help you?”
“No, my apologies for interrupting your conversation,” he briskly replied. His deep voice giving no indication of his true intentions.
As he turned and went back to the front of the shop, she tried to listen for the sound of his heartbeat. Such a thing would tell her what kind of man he was, but the thunking of bottles as he browsed the shop was too loud. Efforts were also made more difficult by Anja’s continued babbling about the topic of Larry.
“I just thought you’d both be sharing, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t speak of…”
Tiring of the apologies, she reached out and grabbed Anja’s arm, “Never apologize for asking questions. You want to know something? Ask it clearly. And if I want to, I will answer it. Now, as for me and Larry, it’s complicated. You’ll be here awhile, so don’t worry, you’ll probably hear about the whole saga before you leave.”
The front door swung open again, the blast of cold air and the chime of the bell competing for which was more annoying. The scents from the two who came into the shop were easy to place. Vampires. She turned her head, trying to hear if the strange smelling man had left when they’d entered. No good. They’re talking about sports too damn loud.
Approaching the bar, one of the men beelined for Anja, “My dear, what is a lovely looking morsel like you doing in a dicey bottle shop like this?”
He followed the awkward pickup line with an outstretched hand. The smell of his many years on Earth caused Veronica’s lips to curl with old memories. She wanted to tell Anja not to shake it or offer her hand back in that stupid European courtly handshake, but it was too late.
The vampire had his mangy hands on Anja before she could speak. The sound of his back creaking as he leaned over to kiss it was unmistakable. He was older, but unknown to her. His accent was not of the city.
This might be a basic bitch jacket Christoph brought me, and my hair might be a mess, but I’m still Veronica. This dude should be showing me respect. Unless, he doesn’t know who I am.
The sound of the man’s lips dragging across the back of Anja’s hand was unmistakable. A crude gesture from the old days when vampires treated humans as cattle and not people. She tuned her senses to the sound, waiting for the moment his lips left the Hailjan’s hand so that she could tell him to fuck off into the night.
“Ouch!” Anja recoiled her hand from the man, the smell of blood following the motion.
The older vampire offered a thin apology, “I’m sorry, my teeth are sharper than my lips.” He was grinning, that she could tell from the way his muscles moved and the way Anja’s heart did not stop pounding. “If you would allow me to buy you a drink as an apology.”
A fierce growl erupted from inside her as she snapped her hand out, hitting the man as she groped in the dark for something to grab onto. It took a moment, but she managed to get a good grip on his jacket.
“Leave,” she commanded, with every ounce of her fury restrained only by the thought that killing someone in Thomas’ shop might mean he wouldn’t make her any more delicious cocktails.
Stunned, no one said anything for a moment. But the old vampire only held his response back for a moment. The delay was the giveaway. He can tell I can’t see shit. He’s barely a black blob in a white circle to me, even at this close distance.
Pulling on her fingers, he snapped at her, “Do not tread on this jacket. I got this from Napoleon himself and will not suffer lightly from some blind little bat!”
The sound of her growl turning into a hiss must have alerted Thomas that something was up, for the bartender ran into the room carrying a box of something that clinked loudly. He started to yell at them, but the words disappeared behind a smell. Her blind gaze followed her nose, towards the front of the shop. Gunpowder! Any thoughts of warning the others were shattered, much like the peace and quiet of the shop, when bullets started flying towards the gathered group of vampires and the King’s personal Hailjan.