Closing time was an hour away. Only the stragglers remained finishing off their games of chance, downing the last of their drinks before heading out the door. Willy wiped off the bar. Only one customer of any note remained, one of his regulars, a particularly ugly bastard who liked bourbon almost as much as he hated his harpy of a mother.
Always a good listener, Willy did not mind hearing about the demon’s family woes. It made him feel better about his own solitary existence. The bar was his home as well as his main source of income. A little barbering on the side brought in a few extra bucks. Not to mention the tidy sum he made by keeping his ear to the ground.
There was something nasty brewing in Sunnydale. Not that the concept was anything new. Just a different sort of nasty that made it seem like something really bad was about to happen. Willy had not quite figured it out. No one was talking, but that was just a matter of time. The bar had been full for the past few nights. Lots of visitors in town, and none looking particularly touristy. His ‘I Survived a Night on the Hellmouth’ t-shirts were usually a big hit, but had not drawn any interest from the closed-mouthed demons.
Tiny had to put two or three of them down permanently when a nasty fight broke out. A couple of fledgling vamps and two newcomers decided to use the pool table as a spot for a bloodletting. Some dumb kid had followed them in, gotten past Tiny when he was on a break. They obviously did not care how hard it was to get blood out of felt.
Still annoyed, Willy was mentally tallying up the cost of tonight’s repairs when the bar door opened. Some guy stepped through with a sneer on his lean, angular face looking more like he belonged in some ritzy city club than a demon dive bar in Sunnydale. Oh, shit! He looked like trouble, all suave and sinister at the same time.
Willy’s hackles went up. Despite his clientele, he usually felt pretty safe in his own place, providing a service for the locals, but he felt a shudder as the stranger’s cold black gaze settled on him. Even if he was not in game face, this was obviously a vampire, one who had seen some time in this world, and not a human who had taken a very wrong turn.
Breaking the tense silence, he greeted the vampire with a simple nod. “I’m Willy. First drink is on the house,” he said sensing that he should keep him on his good side.
A grunt sounded from his regular at the bar, who knew that freebies were not the norm. Willy flashed him an annoyed stare before turning back to the slowly approaching figure. Styled up in some fancy retro black-on-black suit, he was a little too starched up. Willy felt his skin crawl with gooseflesh with each step the vampire took closing the distance between them.
Most of the local vampires had gone to ground over an hour ago. Dawn was coming up anytime now and the sun was not exactly good for their complexion. Then, it occurred to him that might be the problem.
“You lookin’ for a room?”
Willy did not run a hotel. He knew better than to point that out, but was already going to offer the couch in the back room just to keep things civil. The lanky vampire stared for a moment, and then glanced down at the demon at the end of the bar curling his lip as if to flash a fang. A hiss sounded, ochre eyes flared from his otherwise human face striking fear into the pitiful creature, who scrambled off of the bar stool taking his leave.
Making a mental note that his customer had been chased off before he could pay his tab, Willy forgot he was supposed to be nice, and asked with an irritated whine, “What do you want?”
When he spoke, it was with a thickly foreign accent. One Willy had never heard before. “Information.”
Somehow, Willy was not surprised. “That’s comes in spades, but it ain’t cheap.”
The vampire reached into his pocket, pulled out a large roll of currency dropping it onto the bar top with a sneer. Willy’s eyes widened into round saucers. “Whoa, that’s a lot of dough.” He snatched it out of sight before anyone else could see.
“Tonight, I have killed many unworthy opponents seeking information on local matters.” The revelation came with a cool veneer as if murdering a few unsuspecting victims was the norm. “You have been named as one who may have the answers I require.”
“M—m—me?” Stuttering nervously in front of a vampire was never good. It gave them a thrill, confirmation of their intimidation power. They could taste fear itself. “G-getting a little close to daylight for you vamps, ain’t it? Maybe you should come back tonight.”
Gulping down a swig of Scotch, Willy ignored the burn and tried to focus on what he was saying. He silently cursed the fact that he had let Tiny off an hour early once the bulk of the customers had gone home, and edged toward the register where he stashed a stake he kept for emergencies.
“That need not concern you, human,” he gestured in an elegantly European way. “My master desires to find someone of particular importance. I suggest that you reveal all you know.”
Scene 99
Hues of yellow, pink and orange appeared on the horizon signaling the night’s end. Nicolau felt the dawn’s arrival even before the light peeped through the closed slats of the Venetian blinds. His beloved Isobel lay beside him, half draped across his chest, content and exhausted from hours of energetic sex.
Although tired, he could not let himself sleep without knowing the identity of the one who had stolen their sacrifice. It was not a simple matter of choosing another human to replace her. The powerful magicks involved to identify her had brought down a rain of fire from the heavens. Without her presence, the Rites of Tavrok would fail to open the portal, and the House of Solaris would never achieve the greatness it deserved.
Anger swelled within him. For centuries, the vampires of his clan had followed the path laid out for them by the Master of Solaris, worshipping a demon god when their kindred eschewed such religion. Their link to Amolon promised a power no others possessed. Even now, the demon’s power reached across the dimensional barrier to grant the clan’s master vampires a taste of that power.
Through the centuries, it gave them an edge and a means for survival. However, even the strongest of their minions remained as vulnerable any other to the power of the sun. Anton, voluntarily turned to vampirism over a century ago, had still not returned from his assigned task. Multitalented, he was possessed of a cool head and a thick cock that made him quite useful to both Nico and Isobel on a number of levels.
Their sire bond provided a connection allowing him to sense Anton’s general wellbeing, but it was impossible to tell if he had run afoul of trouble that might prevent his return. With every passing moment, the morning light brightened. Soon it would be impossible to track the human and her vampire captor. No doubt, the dark-haired vampiress would have gone underground by now, or found some dark refuge in which to hide from the deadly rays of the sun.
The others minions he had sent out had returned within the past hour safe and sound. Their discoveries were interesting, but useless. Stories about Slayers filled his ears, but there were none to point directly to the missing sacrifice. One had procured a name for the girl, Cordelia Chase. Knowing it might prove useful, but time was of the essence.
“Anton will return,” Isobel stirred against him trying to reassure him. Propping her chin on her hand as it rested on his chest, she said, “If he fails to bring good news we can torture him until you feel better.”
Mischief glittered in her eyes, but Nicolau knew his lover would happily make it a reality if he so desired it. “Save your enthusiasm for our prey’s captor. I will discover the truth about her involvement one way or another.”
Nicolau had no doubt that he would find the elusive Cordelia Chase. It only angered him that he was inconvenienced into conducting this search. He was already looking forward to making her captor pay for involving him in such a menial chore, especially if she was whom he suspected. The description of her dark beauty matched that of his memory, stirring his insatiable lust, but also trepidation. He did not care to admit that he could feel fear, even to himself, causing anger to bloom inside him.
A knock sounded. Finally, Anton had returned. Rising from the bed careless of his nude state, he issued a clipped order. “Enter.”
The anger he felt remained, but the only hint of it was his stone cold mask of irritation. Anton ignored it with his usual aplomb. “I have news, master.”
“Dragging in at the crack of dawn will not save you from my wrath.” He fully considered taking out his anger upon no matter what information he gathered, or better yet, letting Isobel turn her vicious skills upon Anton’s pale flesh while he watched the action. “Tell me something I want to hear.”
Head bowed, Anton approached and then kneeled before him. “Forgive the delay, Sire. It could not be avoided. You will be pleased.”
Isobel elevated herself onto her elbow, the sheet draping loosely across her hip, leaving her beautiful rose-tipped breasts bare. Pleasing Nicolau was her greatest joy, no matter the form it took. Disappointing their sire often meant facing her wrath as well as his. “Do tell, Anton. Where do we find our missing Varstrae?”
Keeping his eyes on the floor, Anton admitted that he did not have a location. “I have a name,” he hastened to tell his master. “One I think you will recognize.”