Chapter Nine: Damien
Raven stared out into the moonless night from the second floor of his old plantation style house. The rumor was that it was haunted. Raven figured as long as he lived there, it was.
His mind kept returning back to the night before. Sonja and her blood lust, Pixie and her sacrifice. As much as he himself hungered, he just couldn't bring himself to leave the solitude of his home. His lip curled with the ironic thought that one night wouldn't kill him.
Maybe it would, maybe it wouldn't. Maybe, just maybe, it was what he deserved.
With a sigh he pushed away from the window.
At least he'd saved one life. He supposed that was going to have to be enough for now.
Little did he know that just across town Abigail sat at her dressing table and styled her hair. She had no intention of staying away from the club, this night or any other. She'd never been one to do what she had been told, and this would be no exception.
She was not afraid, she kept telling herself. She hoped eventually she'd even believe it.
The club was alive with music that stirred her heartbeat as she entered the room. Her eyes scanned the crowd for Raven's face, expecting to see disapproval etched so deeply in those dark eyes. She had her speech all ready, and had even practiced it all the way there. It started with "Who do you think you are?" and ended with "You don't get to tell me what to do!" She hoped she managed to get through it without any kind of pout.
It sounded so familiar to the arguments she had had with her parents, her father in particular. He had done his best to shelter his daughters. Her sister grew tougher under his rigid hand, but Abigail had simply rebelled.
She dated the bad boys, got in trouble with the head mistress at their private school. But despite the fight between them, she had made her father secretly proud as she set out on her own and did everything she said she was going to do.
She went to college on her dime, not his. She worked her way through four long years of no social life, just study study study, work work work.
Her sister had not gone to college. Instead she had traveled overseas in a quest to "find herself". Apparently it had worked, because no one had seen her since.
To each their own, Abigail had long since decided. She had other things to worry about.
She was so focused on finding Raven she never spotted the other redhead behind the bar. But the newest bartender noticed her. Despite her larger frame, she managed to hunch down and slink out of sight before Abigail's gaze swung back around in that direction.
The new bartender bumped right into Sebastian, who was making a rare appearance during peak party hours. He'd grown tired of that scene and normally avoided it at all costs, but he wanted to see how she was doing.
"Ginger," he said in a low, commanding voice.
The redhead straightened to greet him. "Sebastian."
He smiled as his eyes traveled from her uniquely colored hair, her dark glasses and her generous curves. He knew it had probably been a mistake hiring another human for Sonja's old position, but she had enchanted him. She was strong, much like Sonja had been -- maybe even stronger. "How's it going?"
"Good," she said, not one for long conversations. "I just needed a break."
He nodded. He understood. "Get Xavier to fill in for you."
She nodded and then walked away, making sure they didn't touch. She was aloof, Sebastian noted, but in this place who could blame her from reserving judgment on whom to trust. She was a rabbit in the den of many wolves.
He still had a smile on his face as he entered the club. Despite whatever mistakes he'd made with Sonja, he hadn't lost her. Better still, her replacement gave him hope that one human could stand strong among them. The smile died however when he caught sight of the other redhead who was surveying the crowd. Had Raven sent for her, Sebastian wondered. If so, why did she return?
Humans. They were like moths drawn to the flame.
He made his way over to where she stood.
She watched the handsome man approach, and was instantly captured by his mysterious light colored eyes. He reached out a hand. "Abigail," he said, and it made her wonder how he knew her name. "I'm a friend of Raven's," he answered her unspoken question. She had no way of knowing that this was a vampire who fed upon the psyche, rather than the flesh. "My name is Sebastian."
Instantly recognition sparked in her eyes. "You own the club," she stated. She had done her research. But nothing prepared her on how to respond to his intense aura. Despite how weak kneed it rendered her, she had the innate sense that he meant her no harm. She smiled. "It's nice to finally meet you," she added. He knew in an instant she was out to use her wiles to pump him for information.
Perhaps she would also be willing to share some of her sublime energy he could feel deep in his soul as he stood next to her and absorbed her. He allowed her to lead him over to a secluded booth.
Back in the staff area of the club, Ginger located Xavier -- the spiky blue haired Goth vampire who doubled as a bartender. It was the best way he'd found to lure beautiful humans and trap them under his spell, so he didn't mind the rather menial job for an immortal. He watched this new human with fascination. "Sebastian said you could cover for me," she said. No pretense, no waffling. Just direct and to the point.
He liked that.
"Sure," he said as he rose in a languid stretch. He sauntered over to where she stood. "Provided you'd be willing to return a favor for a favor one day."
She eyed him suspiciously. "Like what?" she asked, again direct.
He slowly moved around her as he drank her in. He loved the smell of her musk, which seemed to rise the more agitated she got. "You tell me," he whispered and ran his tongue along his fangs.
"Sorry, I don't mix business with pleasure," she told him and turned away.
He grabbed her but the minute their skin touched he wrenched away like he'd been burned. "What the hell?"
"Should have listened," she said as she turned away again. This time he grabbed her and this time he held on even though he looked as though it caused him great discomfort.
"Listen, bitch," he hissed, and that was all it took for her to flip him around and push him up against the wall.
"Don't call me names," she warned in a low voice. "And never, ever touch me again."
He wasn't sure what hurt worse, the way she had his arm bent or the touch of her skin on his. "Got it," he bit out. He normally didn't allow women to get away with such disrespect, but she wasn't just any woman.
She let him go. They stared at each other for one long moment before he finally turned away and headed back toward the club.
She took one deep breath to calm down and then flopped into a chair.
"That was quite impressive," a male voice with a British accent said.
She swung around to see a man who was leaning against the door frame. He wore a goatee and a mustache and long, wavy dark hair. His dark eyes were playful as they danced over her rigid frame. "Relax," he said as he causally strolled over to another chair. "It was just a compliment."
"Do I know you?" she asked, her voice as stern as her face.
He did a mock bow. "Damien Cross, at your service."
"The only service you could do me is to leave me alone," she said. She was still on edge because of what happened with Xavier.
Luckily, or unluckily, for her Damien seemed to know that. "Young Xavier has not yet learned how to deal with the fairer sex."
Her eyebrow raised. Was that a sexist remark?
He smiled. He liked her already. "Of course I couldn't say you were weaker, now could I? You seemed to dispatch young Mr. Luna quite efficiently. Well done."
"Thank you," she finally managed.
"Wise, that," he went on, her participation in the conversation seemingly irrelevant. "Being a human in a nest full of blood suckers, it's a good idea to have a few moves like that up your sleeve."
It was her turn to smile. "I'm not afraid of vampires," she assured him.
