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Instead of going into the ballroom, I opted for the elevator leading directly to the VIP lounge. Another bouncer sat on a stool in front of the elevator doors.
“Name?” he asked without looking up from his magazine.
“Sabina Kane.”
His head snapped up and his eyes squinted in the dim light. He was obviously a vamp, since the VIP area was reserved for our kind.
“Password?” he clipped, still eyeing me.
“Rasputin,” I said. It was common for these vamp clubs to use the names of historic vampires as passwords. Since most humans didn’t know these famous figures were vamps it was unlikely they’d guess the word.
The bouncer nodded and pushed a button on the wall. The doors opened immediately. I started to enter the elevator, but he stalled me with a calloused hand on my arm.
“You’ll have to check your weapons.”
I eyed him with my best “make me” expression, but he didn’t seem impressed. Finally, with a sigh, I retrieved the gun from my waistband, where it had been hidden by my leather vest. Handing over my weapon made me feel naked, but I still had a stake in my boot.
He took it and handed me a ticket stub, so I could get it when I left. The bouncer picked up his magazine and dismissed me with a wave of his hand.
When the doors reopened, the deep bass of techno music buffeted my body. The occasional red laser punctuated the darkness and a cloud hovered from the overworked smoke machines. The VIP area was a large balcony overlooking the dance floor. Below, a mass of writhing bodies danced under two massive chandeliers.
I walked past the railing to the bar on the far wall. Most of the vamps waiting for drinks were young. They tended to like Goth clubs like this one because the patrons were easily seduced.
I eased my way into an open space and waited for service. A few of the vamps cast curious glances my way. I didn’t see any familiar faces, so I ignored them.
After a few minutes, the bartender finally deigned to notice me. “What’ll it be?”
“A-pos with a shot of vodka,” I said.
He paused. “What?”
“A-positive,” I enunciated, “with a shot of vodka.”
“We don’t serve blood here.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing is the world.
“Why not?” I asked. “You used to.”
“Some mortals are getting the passwords somehow, so we have to be more careful,” he said.
Freaking mortals. “Fine,” I sighed. “Just the vodka then.”
When the drink finally arrived, I spotted a couple of free chairs near the railing. I settled back into one, which gave me a good view of both the VIP area and the dance floor below. A few other vamps lined the balcony railing, scoping out potential meals below.
It didn’t take long for company to arrive.
“So you’re the notorious Sabina Kane.” Despite the concussive music, I heard him clearly, taking note of the slight accent. He wore a silk shirt open at the throat to reveal a thin gold chain. A matching hoop winked from his right earlobe. Combined with the accent, the full effect screamed Eurotrash.
I took a sip from my vodka. “Look, if I killed one of your family members, you’re going to have to take a number.”
He smiled. “No, nothing like that. Allow me to introduce myself. Franco Allegheri, at your service,” he said with a slight bow. The movement caused a cloud of cologne to drift in my direction. I grimaced, overcome by the scent of musk.
I crossed one booted foot over my jean-clad knee. “Sorry, Frank, but I’m not looking to get serviced tonight.”
He grimaced at my use of the Americanized version of his name, but didn’t correct me. “You misunderstand. I represent a certain party who would like to contract your services.” He motioned to the chair next to mine. “May I sit?”
I shrugged. Inside, I did a little happy dance. If my hunch was correct, Frankie Boy worked for Clovis.
He sat in the club chair across from me. I waited as a waitress came to take his drink order. He asked for a martini, which left me in serious doubt about his character. After she left, I sipped on my drink and waited.
“My employer—” he began.
“And who would that be?”
He smiled again, a tight expression totally lacking in friendliness. “I am not at liberty to divulge his identity at this time.”
I leaned forward, finishing off my drink before speaking. “Well, Frank, I am not at liberty to discuss my activities with strangers.”
He nodded. “Would it help if I mentioned my employer and you shared a friend in common?”
“Depends on the friend.”
“David Duchamp.”
My stomach dropped. I’d managed to avoid thinking about David until now. I didn’t enjoy the reminder.
“My employer would like to extend his condolences on Mr. Duchamp’s recent passing.”
I nodded slowly, wondering how much Clovis knew about the circumstances surrounding David’s death.
“My employer would also like you to know that he is aware that you were merely carrying out orders. He does not hold you responsible for Mr. Duchamp’s death.”
Well, that answered that question.
“Boy, that’s a relief,” I said. “But I didn’t kill David.”
Frank sent me a look, clearly indicating we both knew that was bullshit. “Nevertheless, my employer would like to offer you his friendship.”
“How does your employer know I would be a good friend to have?” Normally, this kind of verbal poker made me impatient. But I found myself enjoying the game. If I played my cards right, I’d be on my way to San Francisco to kill Clovis in no time.
The waitress came back then with Frank’s martini. I ordered a beer before she took off again.
“Sabina, might we speak candidly?” When I nodded, he continued. “Word on the street is you’re looking to become an independent contractor. My employer believes you and he might be able to form a mutually beneficial arrangement.”
“Mutually beneficial?”
“Indeed.” He nodded. “My employer would like to offer you protection from the Dominae and other unsavory elements in return for your services.”
I laughed then. “And what makes him think I am in need of protection?”
“Didn’t you just imply you have a line of angry vamps waiting to seek revenge for your past deeds?”
“True,” I said. “But remember those skills you mentioned?”
He shifted in his seat. “Please understand. I do not mean to suggest you cannot take care of yourself. However, given your circumstances plus your … shall we say questionable heritage, my employer feels you would benefit from an alliance with his cause.”
