Nora's POV
The bartender slides my drink across the bar. Pink liquid in a delicate glass that reeks of cucumber and pretension. I don't care what ridiculous name they gave this concoction as long as it has vodka in it.
The first sip burns perfectly as it travels down my throat. I needed this. I couldn't do it. Couldn't walk through Lena's front door and face everyone. I drove all the way here, parked outside her house, and actually got out of my car. My plan was simple: walk past casually, gauge the atmosphere.
Then Phoenix appeared on the front porch, laughing with Lena's husband Zed like they were old friends. Something I hadn't experienced since my days at Harold Gate Academy happened.
I lost my nerve completely.
My heart plummeted and I spun around, practically jogging away until I found refuge in this ridiculous hipster establishment. One drink, some food, then I'll wander around the city where anonymity comes easy until I'm sober enough to drive home.
My thoughts drift and suddenly I'm seeing sterile white walls, feeling the sharp sting of a blown IV in my left arm. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the memory back into its box. Another gulp empties the glass.
What was I thinking?
That party isn't happening. Not for me. I feel guilty about disappointing my niece and even Lena, but absolutely not. No point in torturing myself.
"Excuse me," a voice says as someone claims the barstool beside me. I turn, fully aware that my expression could freeze hell over.
"Oh. Hi."
He adjusts his seat and grins. Average looking guy, carrying extra weight, drowning in cologne. "My friends wagered fifty dollars I wouldn't have the guts to approach the most gorgeous woman here. So...want me to spend their money on your next drink?"
I actually laugh. The line is so terrible it's almost charming. Almost. This guy screams leaves the lights on during scary movies. He couldn't handle what I bring to the table.
"You know what?" I begin. "Tonight's been hell. Sure, but don't get any ideas. I'm going home alone."
His eyebrows lift. "Maybe I could convince you otherwise." The words escape before he processes how bold they sound. His face flushes red and it's actually endearing. "Sorry your night was rough."
"Thanks."
He signals the bartender for another pink monstrosity.
"I'm Benjamin."
"Nora."
"Want to share what went wrong tonight?"
"I'd rather forget completely." I manage a smile. "So Benjamin, what's your day job?"
He launches into details about his IT career while my mind wanders between his words and thoughts of what potions I should brew when I get home. My banishing mixture is losing strength and I always keep fresh supplies available.
My second drink arrives and disappears just as quickly as the first.
After more small talk, he coaxes me onto the dance floor with promises to keep things appropriate. Ophelia and I used to hit the clubs monthly before life got complicated. I miss moving to music.
Three songs later, my mood has significantly improved.
Benjamin introduces me to his buddies at a corner table where we order another round. I sip my third cucumber vodka creation, finally registering how strong these are.
And I skipped dinner entirely.
I excuse myself for the restroom. After taking care of business, I weave through the crowd toward the bar for water. Then I sense it.
Different energy emanating from the far corner. Different, but completely familiar.
Vampire.
I freeze mid-step, spinning to scan the room. Everything tilts slightly, but I locate him immediately. He's bent close to a young woman's face, staring into her eyes. She stands motionless, mesmerized, and my jaw nearly hits the floor.
Drunk Nora has zero poker face.
Only ancient ones possess that kind of hypnotic power. Most of the original vampires died off ages ago. The new generation's emergence led to them revealing themselves publicly. The originals never would have permitted exposure.
I dig through my purse for weapons.
Standard arsenal: silver dagger, vanquishing potion vial, several crystals, and black salt. Silver-tipped wooden stakes are preferred for vampire elimination, but unnecessary for me if I can generate enough energy to incinerate them internally.
This vampire is clearly preparing to escort that blonde outside for a feeding session. She nods obediently at his words and follows his lead.
I shove through a group of drunk bachelorettes doing some ridiculous line dance, nearly losing sight of my target.
He disappears with the girl through black swinging doors just as I spot them.
I sprint after them, gripping my dagger and ready to launch it at the bloodsucker.
The doors open to a dark hallway leading to stone steps descending into the basement. I take the stairs as fast as possible and draw my weapon.
"Hey!" I shout, squinting to see in the darkness.
The vampire already has his fangs buried in the girl's throat. She's pressed against the wall with his hand muffling her screams.
He jerks back, mouth open displaying bloody fangs. Crimson drips from his chin.
"Let her go," I warn as he steps away.
"Volunteering as her replacement?" he sneers.
"Absolutely," I reply and hurl the dagger. It strikes him center chest. Silver won't kill him, but it'll hurt tremendously. Especially enchanted silver. I extend my hand, channeling magic through the blade, sending energy pulses through his body. The pain drops him to his knees, convulsing as magic continuously courses through him.
"Go," I tell the girl who's blinking confusedly, hand clamped over her bleeding neck. "Find someone to call for help."
She pushes off the wall and stumbles past me.
"That won't be necessary," a deep voice echoes from the stairwell.
Oh damn.
More vampires.
Maintaining my connection to the dagger, I turn and lock eyes with a towering, intimidating figure.
He's not human.
He's vampire.
I can tell instantly. He absorbs all oxygen from the space, not because he requires it.
He hasn't breathed in centuries. The energy radiating from him exceeds anything I've encountered before.
He makes my current victim look like an infant, and somehow I can't stop staring. Tall and muscular with a sharp jawline shadowed perfectly. Behind him stands a female vampire, arms crossed, looking bored and irritated.
"What's happening here?" the tall, ancient vampire asks. He seems equally bored, like he expects to use vampire speed to eliminate me easily. I have news for him, my stomach gurgles. Dammit. I swallow hard, regretting that last drink.
"Vampires feeding on unwilling humans," I say through clenched teeth. Drunk and surrounded by three vampires. I've faced worse odds, probably. Maybe not. I think I can manage, but I'd rather avoid testing that theory. I gesture toward the ancient vampire, sending my enchanted dagger flying toward his chest.
He catches it mid-flight.
Son of a bitch.
"Interesting," he says, examining the blade between two fingers.
"She's a witch," the wounded vampire gasps, collapsing.
"Just figuring that out?" the ancient one responds. Dressed entirely in black with dark hair swept back effortlessly. I'd have to be blind not to notice this lifeless creature's devastating beauty. "A powerful one too. You're fortunate, Malcolm. She could have killed you."
"Kill her!" Malcolm shouts, struggling to his feet. He lunges at me but I blast him with raw energy from my palm. It hits his chest and sizzles through his body. He crumples, convulsing as the energy ripples through him.
I conjure another energy ball and narrow my eyes at the vampires on the stairs. The female steps behind the ancient one, eyes widening.
"I suggest you release the human and get medical attention." I raise my hand higher, attempting intimidation while hoping I don't vomit on my shoes.
"You need to stop her, James," Malcolm pants, trying to stand again.
James, apparently annoyed that I know his name now, races down the remaining stairs to Malcolm. My heart skips but I maintain focus, impressed with my energy ball's stability.
"Is her accusation accurate?" James demands, grabbing Malcolm's collar and lifting him effortlessly. "Did you feed without consent?"
"I had her spellbound. She wouldn't have remembered."
James slams Malcolm against the wall and plunges my dagger into his chest. He tilts his head, seemingly puzzled.
"This didn't kill him."
"Obviously," I snap. "It won't. But it does this."
I refocus on the blade, sending energy waves through Malcolm's body again.
"Impressive," James says dryly. His gaze travels over me appraisingly. Something intimate in his examination, like he's mentally undressing me, wondering what lies beneath my clothes.
I might be curious about him too. Maybe. A little. He's all hard muscle and angles with a face that would make gods envious. Then our eyes meet and something indescribable passes between us.
James stiffens, suggesting he felt it too.
He moves with vampire speed, scooping up the blonde and passing her to the female vampire.
"Handle her," he instructs. "Discretely."
"What does that mean?" I demand.
"Take her to the office and treat her wounds. I have a reputation to maintain and won't lose business over vampire attacks in my establishment."
I snort with laughter. "You own this hipster nightmare?"
James raises one eyebrow and I nearly melt with desire. "Yes. One of many establishments I own." He avoids my gaze, looking at Malcolm. "Do whatever you want with him. Or leave him for me to handle."
Something tells me James's punishment would be far worse than death.
I twist my wrist, rotating the dagger in Malcolm's chest. I release my energy ball into him and the blast renders him unconscious. He'll be out for hours minimum.
"Hey," I start, looking at James. But he blurs past me, heading upstairs. "Immortal jackass," I mutter, approaching Malcolm's body. I extract my dagger, clean the blood, and return it to my purse.
I head upstairs into the bar, needing to check on the girl's condition. It takes several minutes of stumbling through this packed place to locate the office. The door is locked, but that's hardly a problem.
Except it is, because I'm unsteady. Three attempts are required to magically unlock the door. But hey, I succeeded, right?
"What the hell?" The female vampire looks up from tending the girl. A first aid kit lies open on the desk and she's carefully cleaning blood from the blonde's neck. A bloodstained cloth sits in the trash, making me wonder how she resists the scent. How she maintains control.
"You should leave," the female vampire says with a slight British accent. "If you value your safety."
"Funny thing is, I specialize in doing exactly what's bad for me."