Part 18 (1/2)
A magnificent throne. The crowd of lower vampires reverently parts, allowing her to move unimpeded through the ruined temple and take her place there. Her rightful place as their queen.
Even those who had once lorded over her now bow deep as she seats herself.
Endless blood. She gorges on it, allowing her subjects to feed from her, an endless wave of pleasure as countless souls pa.s.s through. And still there is more.
The children come. Her children: a new breed. Thousands of them, their steely eyes taking in the room, the crowd, the throne. They are the new vampire ruling cla.s.s.
She watches, laughing to herself as they consume the old guard vampires, taking flesh as well as blood, reducing them to nothing. Neil and Cameron are effortlessly pulled apart, their skulls crushed like eggsh.e.l.ls between the children's spiky fingers. The children feed and feed until Sara is the last remaining of the old breed.
And they turn to her.
”Two eighty,” she shouted over the music.
The kid handed her a stack of bills and tried to take the bag. She knocked his hand away. ”Hold on, there, sport. Gotta count it.”
”Oh, right.” The kid watched sheepishly as she did, then turned nervous, staring at something over her shoulder. ”Um, listen,” he said. ”Could you hurry up? I-I-I've got someplace I gotta be.
Who's coming? Neil? Her head snapped over her shoulder, ready.
Benny Downer. The kid was afraid of Benny Downer, not Neil. She finished counting as the kid squirmed, releasing the eight-ball when she was sure.
She turned as Benny got closer. His attempt at a smile made her feel cold but she managed to look into his poisonous eyes.
”Liked that base you had,” he said. ”That rock. Some fine s.h.i.+t. They be easy to sell, them rocks. How you make that s.h.i.+t. Baby?”
”I don't know how to make 'em,” she said. ”I got 'em from a guy I know. Can you trade me for some pills?”
”Oh, yeah. And tell your friend I wanna meet 'im.”
”He won't meet anyone. But I can pick up as many as you need.”
”Yeah? I want a lot. Tomorrow.”
”I'll get 'em. What you want? Like, ten or something?”
”Naw. Like maybe a hundred tomorrow. Then maybe a thousand next week. Tell your friend I give 'im five bucks a rock.”
Cameron stared at her from over by the bar. Neil had to be close by, hidden in the shadows.
”Um, excuse me?”
Her head snapped toward the voice, which had seemed to come so clearly to her ears over the club's music. It was some suburban rich kid in a b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt. He glanced from side to side. ”Are you ... Morticia?” he asked.
She narrowed her eyes. ”Who are you?”
”Um, someone said if I was looking for some blow, I should talk to Morticia. They pointed at you.”
She sighed. ”Okay. Sure I am.” This guy was skinny and had the glow: definitely on c.o.ke. Her eyes flicked over Cameron, who was puffing out his cheeks as if to say ”You poor, stupid b.i.t.c.h.” She looked back at the kid. ”Whatta you need?”
”Just, you know, an eight?”
She nodded, reaching into her purse.
”Whoa,” he said. ”Um, not here, okay?”
”What?”
”Uh, you know. There might be cops or something. Can we go outside for a minute?”
”f.u.c.k you. I'm not going out there. Go waste someone else's time.”
”No, no, really,” he said. ”They watch this place now. Cops are everywhere. Please?”
It might be true. Cops were starting to come into the clubs these days. And it was uncomfortable to deal with Cameron staring at her, anyway.
But what if they put him up to this? What if he's the bait for me to go into some trap?
But she could feel the eyes on her. From Cameron. From Neil, wherever the f.u.c.k he was. Maybe from cops, too. ”Alright, kid. I'll go outside. But I'm not following you. You'll have to come to my car with me. And show me the money now.”
He showed her a big roll of bills. They left the club, walking in silence down the street and around the corner to where she'd parked. She scanned the doorways and alleys and behind the Dumpsters. There was n.o.body hiding, n.o.body waiting to attack. The kid probably didn't talk because he was inexperienced, too nervous. Or maybe just shy. Sara had a faint, obscure memory of what it felt like to be that way.
The kid kept twitching and wiping his palms on his pants as they reached the Benz. Sara unlocked her side first, watching for an ambush. She slid in and then reached across to unlock the pa.s.senger door. He got in, pulling the door mostly closed but not making it latch.
”So, an eight, right?”
He nodded. ”Yeah.”
”Two-eighty,” she said.
”Two-eighty? Everybody else is going two-sixty.”
”Well, I'm going two-eighty. If you want it from somebody else, get out of my f.u.c.king car.”
”Okay. Two-eighty.”
She fished in her purse for the eight-ball, feeling the sizes of the different bags. Finding one of the larger bags, she pulled it out and held it up for him to see. ”Two-eighty,” she repeated.
He grabbed the bag from her and swung the door open. Sara grabbed for the bag but he blocked her with his shoulder.
With a cry, she dove across the seat after him, snagging a fistful of his clothes to slow him down, but he kept going, lunging from the car, yanking her to her feet as he stood up.