Denise pursed her lips as they went down the stairs of the Bombay Coast hotel. Drai's was underground, of course. What better environment than a black-and-red lacquered basement-turned-nightclub to discuss selling her blood? She didn't know what Spade's plan was, but she didn't like it.
And when Denise got a good look at the people in Drai's, she really didn't like it. Almost a third of them were vampires. Their pale skin and too-graceful movements gave them away compared to the other patrons, even in the very low lighting.
She shuddered. Underground in a place filled with the undead. Possibly the drug-addicted undead, and here she was, with a narcotic fountain running through her veins. Oh yeah, a PTSD attack couldn't be too far off.
"Let's get a drink," Black Jack said.
Denise wasn't drinking anything here. It would probably come spiked with supernatural roofies, but when they got to the bar, she ordered a scotch to look polite. She hoped Black Jack wouldn't notice the level of liquid in her glass never went down.
Spade sipped his own scotch and exchanged absolutely pointless pleasantries with Black Jack for about ten minutes. It was enough to make Denise grind her teeth in frustration, which didn't help the panicked, claustrophobic feelings already rising in her. So many pale faces. Cool flesh all around her. Blood would follow. Death would follow. It always did.
Black Jack gave her a suspicious look. "You all right, missy? You smell awful nervous."
Denise tried harder to push back the memories, but they came faster than even her improved willpower could deal with. We're trapped. That terrible howling. All those screams. Something wet and thick on the kitchen floor...
"I don't think I can do this," she mumbled.
Spade began rubbing her shoulders with firm, soothing strokes. "There, darling, just relax. You'll get your fix soon."
Denise concentrated on the feel of his hands - strong, cool, and steady. They were her anchor while she kept trying to pull her mind out of the deadly quicksand of memories. It's all right. You're not there. You're not trapped. You're here, and Spade won't let anything happen to you.
"What's she hurtin' for?" Black Jack asked.
"OxyContin," Spade replied shortly. "Forgot it back at the hotel. Don't bother about it, she'll be fine."
"I might have some," Black Jack replied, and smiled. Even in Denise's state with reality battling memory, she noted his smile was like a shark's - all teeth, no humor.
"Yes, why don't we see what you've got?" Spade drew out meaningfully.
"Come to my office."
They followed Black Jack to a door in the back. It led to another flight of stairs, possibly a service entrance or a fire escape, from the looks of it. At the bottom was a short hallway with three doors. Black Jack took the first one on the left, holding it open so they could go inside, still grinning in that predatory way.
The last thing Denise wanted to do was go farther underground to a smaller space with even fewer exits, but she had no choice. She was breathing harder by the time she sat on the animal print sofa, and her heart was racing. Spade pulled her into his lap as if it was normal to them to sit that way, his strong fingers continuing to knead her neck and shoulders.
Denise clung to the feel of his hands as she pushed at her panic. It's okay. You're safe...and this has got to be the ugliest couch ever.
"So you think you have some Red Dragon to sell, huh?" Black Jack drawled. "Ante it up, then."
Spade leaned forward. "Not so fast. I said what I had was better than anything you had, but you haven't given me a sample yet to prove that, have you?"
Black Jack grunted. "If I hadn't already pocketed a lot of your money, I'd swear you were just lookin' for a free handout. You have yours with you?"
Denise tensed, but Spade didn't hesitate. "Yes."
"Alrighty, then." Black Jack opened a lower drawer on his desk, ruffled through it for a few seconds, and then pulled out a tiny dark vial. He handed it to Spade. "This is top-shelf Dragon, ten CCs. Goes for a grand at friend prices. If you have anything half as good, I'll cover your losses from the past two nights. If not, you pay me twice. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
Spade took it with one hand, still using the other to trace firm patterns across her shoulders. Denise almost held her breath as he popped the top on the vial and then tilted it to his mouth. What was he doing? Wouldn't that make him insane with hunger, as it had before?
Spade closed his eyes, swallowing. Her heart began to thump when he set the vial down and opened them. They were bright green...and fixated on her neck.
Then he turned to Black Jack. "You sell that shite for a grand? That's bloody robbery, in the most literal sense."
Black Jack's eyes went green as well. "Now you're insulting my business, pardner, and I don't take kindly to that."
"You'd take kindly to the idea of quadrupling your profits, wouldn't you?" Spade shot back. His hand slid down from Denise's shoulders to her arm. "Hand me a knife and I'll show you what I mean."
Her eyes widened. He couldn't intend to give him her blood, could he?
Black Jack looked both intrigued and annoyed as he pulled out what looked like a silver switchblade from his jacket. Spade flicked it open one-handed and then pricked her upper arm, tightening his grip when she would have pulled away.
"Don't," he said in an uncompromising tone.
Denise froze, but not because she was afraid of Spade doing anything to her if she refused. If he was so insistent on this course of action, he had to have a reason. I trust you, Denise thought, meeting his gaze and then relaxing her arm.
Spade held the knife, slanted, against the cut he'd just made. A drop of crimson pearled onto the blade. Spade took the knife away and then offered it to Black Jack.
"Taste."
The vampire laughed. "Is this some kind of joke?"
Spade didn't blink. "Do I look like I'm laughing?"
Black Jack gave another amused snort and then took the knife, licking the tip where her blood stained it.
As soon as he swallowed, his eyes widened, and then he bolted out of his chair.
"Ho-lee shit!" he shouted. He was around the desk in a blink, but Spade was standing, too, blocking his path to Denise.
"No more. Too much will make you lose control, and I can't risk her safety for obvious reasons."
Part of Denise was still battling against the horrible memories from New Year's Eve. The other part was telling her to run like hell. But still she waited, trusting that Spade had a plan that didn't involve selling her blood to this asshole.
"She's a source," Black said almost reverently, staring at Denise in a way that made her want to hide. "And she's a woman! A beautiful woman. Good Christ, boy, do you know how much fuckin' money we're going to make off her?"
Spade smiled coldly. "I haven't decided if I want to partner with you yet. So far, you've only shown me that you're a peddler of inferior goods. How do I know you'll be able to provide the sort of protection that would be necessary to keep her away from the Law Guardians, or any other meddling vampire trying to stop the trade?"
Anger made its way through Denise's other emotions, covering her panic. She knew Spade was faking, but Black Jack meant it when he was talking about her like she wasn't even a person.
Black Jack threw up his hands. "Do you know how rare sources are? There's only one, to my knowledge, so we have to dilute his blood seven ways from Sunday to stretch it and still keep him alive. That's why the Red Dragon you tasted is like puke compared to her blood. But another source...and a woman..." The vampire shuddered in what looked like ecstasy.
"What's the bonus of my being a woman?" Denise couldn't help but ask. "I mean, blood is blood."
Black Jack opened his mouth and then shut it. "We'll talk more about details later, but you have nothin' to worry about."
"We won't talk at all if you don't start impressing me with your connections," Spade replied inexorably. "So far I haven't heard any. Perhaps I should go to the other peddler Ian told me about."
It clicked then what Spade was doing. Denise saw the logic of his strategy even as she wanted to run away from the looks Black Jack kept giving her.
"There might be other sellers, but none like me." Black Jack leaned against his desk, smiling cockily. "My Master is Web. You'll have heard of him, and he has direct access to the people who started the Red Dragon trade. Connections don't get higher than that."
Spade snorted. "Nice story, but where's the proof? Anyone could say they're one of Web's. I could claim it myself to someone who wouldn't know better."
Now Black Jack looked frustrated. "What proof do you want? You'll meet him once I tell him about this. Believe me, he'll want to collect her personally."
"Ring him. Right now. Let me hear his voice. Otherwise, I walk out with her and find someone else to partner with."
Black Jack didn't like being threatened; it was clear from the fury that crossed over his expression. But just as quickly, his face smoothed into another smile.
"No problem."
He picked up the phone on his desk and dialed, whistling. "Give me Web," Black Jack said to whoever answered. After a few minutes of waiting, his smile widened.
"Master. I have the best news for you - "
Spade's hand shot out, grabbing the phone. Black Jack went to snatch it back, but stopped at the glare Spade gave him.
"What is it?" Denise heard an annoyed voice bark from the phone. Then, "Black Jack? Can you hear me?"
"I hear you just fine," Black Jack said, almost whooping. "And so does my new pardner, Henry - "
Spade clicked the phone off and then, to Denise's surprise, ripped the base from the wall. Black Jack's whoop turned into a curse.
"What the fuck you'd do that for?"
Spade handed Denise his own cell from his jacket. "Go up to the main hotel entrance and call for our ride. I'll meet you there."
Glad to get out of this drug-infested vampire under ground, Denise snatched Spade's phone and headed for the door.
Black Jack immediately tried to block her, but Spade was faster, grabbing him by the collar. "No, mate, we have some further business to discuss whilst she gets the car."
The other vampire relaxed, letting out a snicker that made Denise's skin crawl. "Right. See you soon, sweetie."
"Yeah, sure," Denise muttered.
She made her way up the metal staircase to Drai's main room, then up the nicer staircase that led to the ground floor of the Barbary Coast hotel. The hotel driver answered on the first ring - a perk of staying in a penthouse, she assumed. She'd just given their pick-up instructions and clicked the phone shut when a cold premonition slid up her spine.
Spade had never before sent her off by herself to get the car. He was militant in his chivalry, not to mention his protectiveness. Yet he'd just sent her unaccompanied through two floors of vampires with a shallow cut on her arm. Something wasn't right.
Denise swung around and practically ran back into the hotel. She darted past the people and raced down the stairs. A few heads turned in Drai's when she continued with her frantic pace, but she ignored them, focusing on getting down that last staircase to Spade. Right as she reached the narrow hallway, Black Jack's door burst open and Spade appeared. His jacket was ripped, he had blood on his shirt, and there was a redsmeared silver knife in his hand.
Denise didn't need to see the inside of the room to figure it out. "You killed him," she whispered.
Spade put the knife in his jacket, giving her a frustrated look. "You weren't supposed to be here."
Denise stared at Spade, taking in the lethal aura coiling around him. Her growing emotions had blinded her, but nothing had changed. Spade was a vampire, so he lived in a world dominated by violence. Blood will follow. Death will follow. It always does.
She opened her mouth to voice her repugnance at what he'd done, but Spade grabbed her, moving so fast everything blurred. Shouts sounded behind them, doors banged, there were popping noises, and Spade shoved her head against his chest, cutting off her vision. Then, a few frenzied moments later, that nauseating lift of her stomach followed by a whooshing everywhere told her they were flying.
