In popular culture, vampires are usually shown holding an elegant glass of red wine. It's probably because it looks like blood or whatever. Anyway, honestly, I find red wine disgusting — I'd much rather have an ice-cold beer.
But whether it's wine, beer, or any other kind of alcohol, what really matters is who you're drinking with. And that's why even beer doesn't go down as smoothly when I'm stuck sharing it with him: John Hardley, one of New York's fast-rising figures in organized crime. A man in his forties with slicked-back black hair and piercing ice-blue eyes — giving him an old-school gangster vibe.
He moved to New York just a couple of years ago, yet he's already taken over a huge part of the criminal underworld — no surprise there, helped by the so-called "mysterious" deaths of nearly all his competitors. But his meteoric rise isn't only about brains or charisma.
John Hardley is a demon.
Yeah, a real demon. And I'm almost certain the way he looks is just some human disguise created by his demonic magic.
Sounds crazy, right? This world is crawling with demons, vampires, and other creatures that look like they came straight out of a fantasy novel — all coming from a world called Elyndra.
As much as I hate John — just being near him gives me chills — I learned everything I know about my species and the world I come from from him.
Even though I still don't know how I ended up here. As far back as I can remember, I lived in the orphanage where Veronica found me.
Just a couple of years later, around age twelve, I started feeling that uncontrollable urge to drink blood, and things would've turned ugly if I'd still been trapped inside that moldy building.
«Jace Lance, I hope you've had time to consider my offer since we last spoke,» he says, sipping a glass of red wine.
We're sitting on a couch inside one of his many clubs spread across New York — this one in Queens.
I'd bet money that the way he sips that wine so pompously is just an act to seem sophisticated.
Yeah… his offer: joining his criminal organization.
Ever since he showed up in this city, he's been recruiting every creature from Elyndra he can get his hands on, and by now there are dozens of them. I didn't realize so many of them lived in New York alone.
It was a freezing winter night last year when one of his lackeys caught me drinking a homeless guy's blood after killing him, and ever since, he hasn't stopped pestering me to join his little army.
But seriously — why the hell would I give up my luxurious, comfortable life with Veronica just to become his hitman? Only a desperate idiot would agree to something like that.
«Same answer as last time — and the time before that,» I reply firmly. «Come on, John — I've got nothing to gain by joining you. And besides, I'm way too young to get myself killed by some Monster Slayer.»
Yeah… the Monster Slayers: humans gifted with sacred powers, trained since childhood to hunt and eliminate creatures like me and John — beings that aren't supposed to exist in this world.
I already risk my neck every night when I go out to feed, and I have zero intention of playing with fire more than I already do.
John doesn't even blink at my answer — he'd probably be more shocked if I accepted with a big smile.
«Since I made you come all the way out here, at least let me give you a ride home,» John offers as he sees me getting up from the couch.
Sure, I'm pretty far from the Midtown Manhattan penthouse I live in, but only an idiot would get into the car of a crime boss — especially when that crime boss is also a demon.
Besides, the idea of taking a relaxing moonlit walk actually sounds pretty tempting right now, and on top of that, talking to John has left me a little hungry. If you know what I mean.
And anyway, I'm in no hurry at all tonight — Veronica thinks I'm sleeping over at Naomi's, so I've got plenty of time.
After I turn him down yet again, John just gives me one of those heavy, fatherly pats on the shoulder — like he's trying to encourage me.
This man is getting a bit too friendly for my liking — he doesn't like me, right?
Shit, I really hope not — gross!
💋💋💋
The streets of Queens are really dangerous at this hour — crawling with the worst kind of human scum.
Veronica always says the same thing: Stay away from those places, there are bad people out there! Did you read the New York Times this morning? They found five men with their throats slit in one of those streets — probably a gang war. Promise me you'll never go there, not even during the day!
I love when she acts like a wild nymphomaniac, but I love it even more when she gets all protective like that.
By "bad people," she probably meant the three guys who just noticed me walking alone through the backstreets toward Midtown — and who decided to turn the same way I did, down a narrow, dimly lit alley.
I can hear them speeding up behind me, their footsteps echoing through the alley — their intentions are pretty obvious.
Their footsteps close in, until…
«Don't make a sound or I'll kill you!» one of them growls.
At the same time, the other two grab me by the arms and slam me against the wall, while the one who threatened me pulls out a gun and presses it against my stomach.
Wow. Big surprise. Who could've seen that coming? I'm truly surprised…
«Didn't your mommy teach you to stay away from places like this at night?» the one with the gun sneers.
The other two chuckle under their breath, throwing me the same kind of pathetic threats.
«Yeah, my mom did tell me there are bad people around here, which is exactly why you three should be careful too — it's really dangerous,» I reply with that same sinister grin.
BOOM!
A blast tears through the quiet of the night.
That little provocation is all it takes to make the armed guy snap.
I guess they're the kind of thugs who dish out threats but can't take them.
First, there's the cold — the bullet tearing straight through my stomach. Then comes the heat, the blood spilling out, soaking my insides before dripping down my clothes, and… fuck, it burns like hell!
«W-What the fuck…?» the guy stammers as the other two jump back, instantly letting go of my arms.
They're terrified — I can see it in their faces.
I don't know if they're more horrified by the hole in my stomach closing up almost instantly, right in front of them… or by my eyes.
Blue like the open sea, bright as sapphires. But right now they're no longer blue — they're glowing in a just-as-beautiful but slightly more unsettling blood-red.
The armed guy, completely overwhelmed by panic, fires two more shots.
One bullet hits me square in the shoulder, punching clean through. The other slams into my jaw at point-blank range.
Same thing as before, obviously — both wounds seal up instantly.
Then, the other two change tactics and pull out knives.
Stubborn little idiots, aren't they? Not that running would've helped them anyway — they were doomed the moment they stepped into this alley with hostile intentions.
I'd love to keep toying with them, but honestly I'm tired. Right now, all I want is to go home and take a nice, long hot bath.
The terror in their eyes just moments ago is nothing next to what I see now, the instant they notice the deep gash opening across my palm.
Rivers of blood pour from the wound, yet none of it falls to the ground the way it normally would.
Instead, it floats, suspended in the air around my hand, swirling faster and faster, stretching out and hardening until it takes the shape of a massive crimson axe — metallic, as if forged from my own blood.
The three of them erupt in inhuman screams, deafening and panicked, but they last only a heartbeat — just long enough for the razor edge of my axe to slice clean through their flimsy necks with a single swing.
Well… since I'm already here, I may as well drink a little, even if scum like this tastes awful because of all the alcohol and drugs they drown themselves in day in and day out.
I don't think I've ever tasted blood this disgusting, but hey, better than nothing.
Anyway, I should get out of here fast — I can't risk running into a Monster Slayer.
I'm sure tomorrow morning the New York Times will report three more criminals found decapitated.
Damn gang wars…