“How would I know? I’m just a bouncer.” I detect bitterness in his voice. Despite being his half-brother, Leo is nothing to Alfo but two fists and supernatural strength. A shield and a bludgeon. “He got a call. He got the keys. Bon appétit.” The liquid slides from the glass and down his throat in a single fluid motion.
I grunt, scowling at my fuzzy reflection in the old, marked mirror behind the bar. I look like shit. Angry, hungry, sick.
I need dinner.
Leo jerks his head toward the back room. “Go. He’s waiting.”
If only my coterie, my vampire family, could see me now. A half-demon’s personal emotional whipping post, foot stool,andbidet. Who ever said I couldn’t multitask?
A narrow hall takes me through the winding rooms of Hades House. They follow one after another, the ceilings getting lower and lower as the heavy, cock-eyed stone walls seem to close in around me. I follow the sounds of grossly overstated yelps of female pleasure accompanied by pulsing music until I reach the door they’re spilling out from under.
I rap on it twice with my knuckles, announcing myself. “Alfo, it’s Orfeo.”
“Fuck.” There’s a series of ruffling, some grunting noises. Then, the music cuts. “Come in.”
His office is cramped and windowless with no furniture other than his crowded desk and a few folding chairs. It stinks like stale smoke, sex, and cocaine, which altogether are not unlike the smell of toxic waste left to rot in the sun.Vile.
Alfo looks even more demonic than usual under the flickering halogen lights. Thin lips, wet mouth, a sickly green glow to his big, lumpy face. Like most half-demons, Alfo has gotten extensive plastic surgery to appear more human. A bridge added to his nose; veneers to replace his razor-sharp teeth; tattoos on most of his skin to try to mask the green-grey hue. Leo is an exception, mostly because his mother was a siren, not a human. That bastard looks like a marble bust.
Probably why his half-brother hates him so much.
A woman sits up from where she’s been lying across Alfo’s lap, adjusting her skin-tight dress. She’s beautiful, though not quite my taste, and all human. I can smell it in her blood; sweet like a Moscato, not even the drugs and alcohol pulsing in her veins can hide it. She tosses her mane of copper hair and slinks toward the door. When I raise my brows in a greeting, she rolls her eyes.
As ifIam the fucking loser here.
“Michelangelo.” Alfo bares his teeth like a wolf, red nostrils flaring as he leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his bald, shiny head. “Where the fuck have you been?”
“Well.” I take a seat across from him. “I had class and some shit to do.”
“Shit to do.” He mimics my accent and my temper flares. Fucking dumb-shit half-demon can barely even speak one language.
But I’m powerless—even if I could snap his pink, beefy neck with a flick of my wrist. This man essentially owns me, that’s how deep my debt goes.
“From midnight until sunrise, you work for me, and in two days we’re reopening thosefuckingdoors”—he jams a bloated finger toward the front of the club—“as the number one supernatural club in America, so the onlyshityou haveto doisget on your fucking back and paint my ceilings like the Sistine Chapel.”
It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve told this dick why Michelangelo had to lie on his back and why that wouldn’t be necessary, Alfo remains fixated on the visual of me, tits up.
I twirl my finger in the air. “This place. Why?”
“Why not?” Alfo smirks. “The blond bitch who owned it and his whole blond-bitch family are broke. Echidna’s mayor is the top demon-fucker in the county. And vamps from New York and Philly deserve a country getaway too.” He taps the bottom of a rolled-up bill on the desk. “Sounds like I’d be fucking stupid not to buy this place. Do I look fucking stupid to you?”
I wait for his vacuous nasal sucking to cease before I reply. “I thought you wanted to keep a low profile.”
Alfo presses a cigarette between his lips and tosses the crushed pack down onto his desk, disrupting the residue he left behind. He narrows his eyes at me. “Ballsy tonight, aren’t we?”
“This is my life.” I shrug. “If I die, doesn’t the debt reverse? Won’t you owe something to my coterie?”
Alfo points the smoldering end of his cigarette at me. “I am keeping a low profile, you pretentious fuck. But it’s not my fucking fault this town is already crawling with magic.” He leans forward and begins to count off on his big fingers. “Everyone wants to fuck a vampire, hire a demon, or feed off one of my girls. This club is gonna be invite-only with a five-hundred-dollar cover fee. All the pussy, blood, and vodka you could ever want.” He blows a cloud of smoke into my face and then erupts into hard, maniacal laughter.Disgusting.
“Is there something you wanted to tell me?” I slip a cigarette between my own lips.
“Speaking of your coterie—they called. Some fucking illiterate named Davìd. Barely spoke English.”
Deep, deep inside me, the last vestiges of my humanity tremble. Davìd, my brother. Before this half-life, I’d lived with him in a crowded, dirty apartment on the outskirts of Rome. And if everything went as I quietly hoped, I’d one day find my way back to him.
“What did he want?” There’s no emotion in my face, in my voice. I lean back in my chair.
“He said someone named Vittò is dead.”
