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CHAPTER 1
NEW CLIENT
I do a line of stardust from the glass table and rub the leftover violet powder into my gums. Relief hits instantly. The weight lifts from my shoulders. The pain that never really leaves me, and the memories that aren’t even mine, finally dissolve. I sink deeper into the velvet couch and watch bodies move beneath the strobing lights.
Le Vertige is one of my favorite clubs in Midnight City. On Saturdays like this, the place is packed. Vampires, wolves, witches, succubi, dealers, killers, socialites. Everyone comes here because nobody starts wars on neutral ground. Well, usually.
The vampire beside me takes a double line of stardust and leans back with a low groan. Color rushes back into his pale cheeks. His dead heart starts beating again beneath his designer shirt.
Yeah. He loves it.
“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Lara.”
He hands me a thick stack of cash. I count it fast and slide it into my black Bottega Veneta bag. The vampire is already tapping out another line for the woman beside him. His free hand is disappearing under her skirt, and she’s barely breathing. I stand, smooth my black dress, and walk out of the VIP section.
The main floor is full. I can smell the sweat, perfume and something distinctly animalistic. Werewolves and succubi are rubbing their bodies together in time to the electronic music, while vampires drift elegantly through the crowd like they’re moving through water.
I push toward the bar to get a plain tonic. The night is still young, and I don’t want to be half-gone before it starts. Luckily, the client treated me with the stardust he paid for, so I didn’t have to touch mine. The bartender knows me well enough to pour without asking. I sip it slowly and pull out my phone. Twenty-seven unread messages. Everyone wants something. There’s never enough stardust to go around, not in a city this size, and I don’t chase low-margin work. I pick the highest-paying jobs and let the rest sort themselves out.
There is one I know I need to take. The Crown Hotel. A new client from a referral. A young vampire prince. I set down my glass, leave a hundred-dollar bill on the bar, and head for the door.
The tonic doesn’t cost a hundred dollars, but connections and trust do. I pay everyone: bartenders, door selectors, security, hostesses. It’s one of the better investments I make, right up there with Chanel bags. Because of that, I always know what’s going on around the city and how to avoid trouble.
The promoter gives me a nod on the way out. My driver, Sava, is waiting for me at the curb in my black BMW. He’s a former Yugoslavian mob guy. One of the few genuinely useful things my dipshit father left behind. Sava sits behind the wheel smoking a cigarette, silver hair slicked back, wearing old-school grandpa glasses and a checkered shirt. He barely speaks and never asks questions. It’s the closest thing I have to a perfect working relationship.
“The Crown,” I tell him as I slide into the back seat.
He catches my eye in the mirror and nods.
We pull through the city center, past clubs and restaurants and lit-up windows, the streets still thick with traffic, despite the hour. Midnight City never sleeps. When most humans try to hide, the monsters come out to play. I’ve loved this city at night since long before I started dealing. I was always a creature of the night. I love the early hours of the evening, when everyone is charged with anticipation and the air feels electric. I love it less at the end of the night. When the bad decisions have already been made. When daylight and reality are about to come crashing back in. When the loneliness of the morning hits you hard.
The Crown Hotel presents itself in marble and old money. Sava pulls up to the entrance, and I divide the purple stardust into small bags. I never carry all my products at once, those are rookie mistakes. My heels click across the lobby floor in a rhythm I like, breaking the polished silence of the place. Everything here feels softer, quieter, muted. No one raises their voice here. At the Crown, only money talks.
At the hotel bar, I spot the familiar faces of dealers and prostitutes. We’re not too fond of each other, but it’s not my fault their product is shit. Off to the side, a few shady-looking men sit watching the lobby. Broad shoulders, dark tattoos. Not the usual crowd, but even at the Crown, people still do business with gangsters.
The bodyguard who meets me in the lobby rides the elevator up without a word. On the top floor, two more guys wait in the suite’s main room. Low club music hums through the speakers. Across the room, framed by the floor-to-ceiling windows, with all of Midnight City burning beneath him, stands a tall, slender blond man in a suit that looks like it walked straight off a Loro Piana campaign.
He turns when he hears me.
His hand is holding a glass of whiskey. Vampires don’t usually drink, but he’s new enough that his human habits haven’t died yet. I’m expecting the standard trust-fund asshole, the dead eyes, the practiced boredom. Instead, when he sees me, he smiles. Warm. Genuine. Like he’s actually glad I’m here.
That’s new.
“Lara Voss.” He says my name, more to himself than to me. “Nice to finally meet you. I’m Julian. A friend told me you have the best dust in the city.”
“Some say,” I respond with false modesty.
But he’s not wrong. Stardust is scarce and hard to source. Most of what moves on this market is cut to hell or outright fake. You can see the quality in the color. Very dark purple means you’re buying dead shit. The cleaner the color, the higher the grade, and mine was the best lavender you could get.
“Can I offer you a drink?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
He signals to his guards and they step out, pulling the door behind them. We’re alone. I move toward the coffee table, but on my way there I notice a girl’s body behind the sofa. Red hair fanned out across the carpet. Eyes open. Not breathing.
Pretty girl. Such a waste.
He is old human money but young vampire blood. I hope he will learn how to control it quickly. He must have quite an appetite if he sucked a girl dry and still needs more stardust. I give him another glance, searching for the monster in him. But he seems normal. Too normal.
