Hi,
Hope your weekend was as good as mine! Okay, so we're back at the club and âguess what â Andy's not the only one that's paying Alexander a visit ;-)
Thanks for reading and have a great week :-)
Lara
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Chapter 49
ANNA
The club was bursting at the seams, the queue outside longer than ever. Unstable times created a vacuum that begged to be filled with something. Most people crammed it with trivial distractions like dancing, sex, alcohol and the less legal drugs â in the hope wild nights could bring the sense of abandonment everybody was after. It didn't even matter if they were human or not.
The red fur carpet seemed to come to life under her feet as she walked down the line, past vampires staring at her as if they were fantasizing about the taste of her blood. All they saw and smelled was a human with a little bit of witch blood, a twenty-something with long brown hair, brown eyes, a black leather jacket and tight dark blue jeans. She could feel eyes on her face, lingering on her lips. She'd painted them red with lipstick, her eyes a black-rimmed creation.
The first time she came here, she'd put on make-up as a kind of war paint. This time she wasn't wearing make-up because she was afraid or because she wanted to hide behind a mask. It just felt good.
She was power. She would work on achieving her goal and not stop until she had what she wanted. And no one would stop her.
What the vampires didn't see was what was on the inside. She was barely reigning her power in, felt it compressed tightly inside of her, the magical planes around her so full of potential, of dark magic she could use. Oh and how she wanted to use it. That rush of power, that sweet tingle in her veins Spirit never failed to induce.
She would use it.
Soon. Very soon.
When he saw her, the bouncer put an arm across the entrance, stopping a vampire from entering. His eyes locked on her.
"Long time no see, girlie," he said, flashing fangs in a grin.
She gave him a level look. Her eyes brushed over the bald head and took in the beefy arms that might crush her with one motion alone. Still. This vampire was no threat to her. The real and only threat was inside the club.
"Will you let me in?" She said.
She let the statement hang in the air. In the end it didn't matter. She would get in, one way or another.
He stared at her in stony silence. She met his stare without blinking. There was a time when she might have avoided a vampire's eyes. Not this night. No more.
His smile faltered, and he nodded slowly. "Don't get yourself into trouble, girlie."
"Not if I can help it." She made to move past him, then stopped for a moment. "Don't call me, girlie."
She walked into the club without waiting for his reply.
The insides were as boisterous and shrill as she remembered. Nothing in here pointed to an inner calm, a stoicism most people would expect from the undead â as if the vampires were trying to make a point against it.
The blue marble floor flew under her feet as she made her way through Club Ryon, heading straight for the door at the back of the club. She flung it open, and moved into the corridor as if she owned it.
She spotted him immediately. Human. Servant. Representing all the head vampire wanted her to be. He was dressed in black, almost faded into the cloth behind him. Jack was guarding the curtain to the Blue Room like a pale-faced soldier with a penchant for Goth.
There wasn't even a hint of surprise on his face. That meant Alexander was probably already aware of her presence already.
Good.
She walked up to him, and nodded as she passed him.
"Jack."
His arm shot out, grabbing her by the elbow. She stopped, keeping her eyes on the curtain in front of her. Jack's grip was strong for a human.
"Feeling good, walking in here like you own everything?" He said, leaning in. "I know what you did and I know what you are. You think you got us all in the palm of your hand, don't you?"
She said nothing, kept staring straight ahead.
"You're wrong," Jack said. "It's thanks to Alexander that you're still alive. Be careful what you do." He squeezed. "One wrong move, and you're dead. Just like that."
For a moment she glanced at his white-knuckled hand on her arm, then raised her eyes to meet his. The smile settled on her lips like a lock clicking into place.
"What makes you think I care if I die?"
He let go of her hand, staring at her. She averted her eyes and moved towards the dark curtain. She needed those artifacts. That was all that counted.
The curtain brushed her cheek, cool black satin that felt like more than just cloth. She stepped into the poorly lit room nonetheless. Blue cushions, drapes, and couches in a shadowland of secrets and danger. Blue drapes hugging the walls in a lover's embrace, enclosing the stage for the head vampire's very own nightly amusement.
She was aware of him the moment she set her first step into the room, as if she was a star in a solar system that spun on an axis around him. Power. So much power.
He had been expecting her. He was standing in front of the bed-couch, dressed in black pants and a white tailored shirt that exposed marble-white skin in a deep v along his chest.
Blue eyes latched on to her the moment she entered and for a fleeting second she lost her cool. He was looking her up and down, as if she was a new oddity in his zoo, or a new acquisition he was eager to examine. He raised his hand and took a small sip from a blood-filled whiskey glass she had failed to notice on her entrance.
She shook herself mentally, forced herself back into that quiet place she felt comfortable in. It was a gift that had come with the fifth element and the dark magic. And she was going to embrace it and never let go.
"You have something that belongs to me. I want it back," she said.
"Ah, the thief coming back to reclaim what she stole," Alexander said, walking towards the small in-built bar in slow, measured steps. His eyes remained on her all the while, that two-thousand-yard stare that felt vaguely familiar.
Thief. As if.
"There's no honor among thieves. You would know best," she said.
"Touchè."
He took a small sip of the whiskey glass. His hands were shockingly white against the silky red of the blood. Skin void of scars or imperfections. Unreal.
"The city is falling apart and you're drinking blood," she said flatly.
"What exactly is it you disapprove of, little witch?" He said softly. The word stirred something, another faint memory that tried to worm its way into the front of her mind.
Little witch.
It reminded her of times she wanted to forget. Anything seemed to remind her of what she tried her best to forget these days.
"Don't call me that," she said.
"Then what do you want me to call you? Anna?"
She cursed inwardly. Her name was worse than him calling her little witch, but she'd never admit that.
"I'm not here to negotiate over pet names. I want the magical objects," she said.
He set down the glass and walked toward her. Again slow, controlled steps. "I see you're as impatient as ever. Well, then we might be done with the banter and come to the point."
He came to a halt before her, blue eyes fixing hers as if they were the only thing in existence. His presence was overwhelming, trying to make her bend to his will by his power alone. She straightened and raised her chin, met his stare without flinching.
"They're mine. I want them back," she said.
A subtle smile settled on his lips. He smiled with the confidence of a cocky conqueror that knew he was going to win no matter what.
"They are mine now," he said.
"Hand them over. Now."
"Be careful, Anna. If you enter this dance, you will not be able to stop or walk away from it whenever you wish. I will have you dance till the end. Until I am satisfied."
The smile settled on her lips â a forced move as far as facial expressions went, but she was past caring. Anything to get what she came for.
"I thought you were done with the banter? I said, I want them back," she said.
"Then you will have to earn them," he said. His face was void of emotion. Blank, ethereal beauty on the outside â a mask that hid a much darker abyss inside.
Earn them. Of course. The head vampire was calculating and manipulative to his core. Logic dictated, if he didn't steal the objects for his own use, he took them because he wanted something to bargain with.
"What if I just take what belonged to me?" she said.
Alexander folded his arms in front of him, smiling. A trickle of emotion in that mask, or perhaps another part of the mask he chose to put on just in that moment.
"I was informed that someone entered my mansion forcefully tonight," he said. "You already tried taking them, Anna, but you could not find them. And you will not find them, no matter how hard and how long you look. If you want the objects, you will pay for each single one of them."
Pay for each single one of them. Pay.
It would be another moment of indecision, another second as a servant in the palm of his hand. Another second too much.
She was power. She wasn't weak anymore, and she'd never be again. The magic hummed under her skin, clawing its way out of her system like a living, dying cataclysm. She raised her hand, bolts dancing along her fingers. It might have been liquid gold. She was back again in that place deep inside of herself. The silent one. She was po-
He grabbed her wrist and jerked her to his chest.
"You want the objects? You believe that you can take me and obtain them forcefully?" His voice was dancing on a razor edge of power and the first signs of compulsion, like a sleeping predator, stirring and rising slowly.
She stared into his eyes that deep blue in there that seemed to be in constant motion this night. And for a fleeting moment she wondered why.