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I knocked, and a doorman answered, slowly pulling it open but barring my entry with his impressive bulk. More than six feet of muscle, he had to outweigh me by more than five stone, a mass that his black and white striped top struggled to contain.
He sneered down at me. “Members only.”
“So I see.” I glanced at the nearest pile of rubbish bags. “Discerning clientele?”
His sneer twisted. “Very.”
“And if I want to become a member?”
“Not accepting new members.” He seemed to be having difficulty keeping the smugness from his voice. “But if you give me thirty quid, I’ll let you in with a guest pass.”
“Ah, and if I happen to of left my wallet at home?”
“Then I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave, sir. Where would you like to land.”
“Oh, I don’t think that will be necessary.” It certainly would have been fun watching this brute try to strong-arm me out, but time was of the essence and that sort of struggle would have drawn too much attention from the denizens within. Instead, I simply looked him in the eye.
It took all of a few seconds. All brawn and no brains, the doorman refused to look away, yet was no match in a battle of wills and visibly quelled, until all defiance had fled him. “Of course, sir.” He conceded, shuffling back like a whipped dog with his tail between his legs “Welcome.”
I walked past without sparing the weak-minded fool a second glance, into the warehouse’s interior. It was massive, three stories tall with catwalks running along the second and third that had been converted into frames for the speakers and lighting. Amidst the gaggle of perilously thin bodies dancing around a performing DJ, a mass of dusty old crates and plywood lengths had been fitted together to serve as a makeshift bar. Old and well-used tables and chairs were haphazardly scattered around, the sort you might find at a cheap DIY store sale and were likely to collapse the moment you started to get comfortable.
The atmosphere practically buzzed with energy and sexual tension.
I circled the floor twice, weaving in and out amongst the bodies, taking the time to admire some of the choicer morsels as I went, their tight young bodies writhing to whatever beat pulsed through the sound system, adorned in as few garments as possible, hearts racing, blood pulsing. It had me practically salivating at the thought of plunging my fangs into their milky-
Then I forget all the rest, my eyes locked on a stark and desolate beauty, seated on the edge of the crowd. Detached and alone in a sea of life.
The first glimpse of her had me at first doubting my own eyes. She certainly didn’t have the look of someone you’d usually find frequenting a shithole like this.
Dressed in jeans and a red long-sleeved turtleneck, there was nothing showy or made up about her. The beauty was all her own. And she was beautiful, with soft, delicate features and diamond blue eyes framed by long flowing curls, dark and lustrous as ravens’ wings. But there was more. Behind that girl next door exterior. An edge. A stiffness. A haunted tension that never should belong in one so young.
Hmm… interesting. Resisting the impulse to walk straight over to her, I detoured over to the bar and ordered a drink. All the while keeping one eye fixed on the girl at the table.
At its heart, the hunt was nothing more than a game. It could be played with subtlety or like a bull in a china shop. The latter was easier, but far less satisfying, or fun. And where would we be without a little fun now and then?
“That’ll be a tenner, mate.”
I glanced back. The bartender, a greasy guy with enough oil in his hair for it to shimmer and dance with colour beneath the laser lights, stood over me, an impatient look on his face and a clear drink in a dirty plastic cup waited on the bar.
I looked from him to the drink, then back to him. “It’s half empty.”
“Too bad, that’s all we have.” He makes no effort to hide the kegs and bottles stacked behind the bar. “Don’t like it? Fine, piss off. But you still gotta pay.”
“Really?”
“Yea, really-” I looked him in the eye and the words die in his throat. “Well, um… of course, I can set up a slate for you. Yes, I’ll get a slate put in your name, Mr… oh it doesn’t matter, I’ll just put down my name, no problem…”. He turned and scurried off out of my sight.
“Pathetic.”
Not bothering to watch his retreat, I reached into my jacket and took the hip flask out of the inside pocket. Careful to ensure no one was watching, I unscrewed the lid and poured a measure of the crimson contents into the cup.
Shoving the flask back into its hideaway, I turned back to watch the girl, a small grin tugging at the corner of my mouth, revealing the hint of an ivory fang.
She was very, very lovely…
“Is this seat taken?”
She whirled around, eyes widening at the sight of me looming over her. I had to force back my toothy grin. She looked like a scared little rabbit. A rabbit with the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen.
