“Yes, we would,” Laurence said. “And you should be grateful. How long since you’ve spent time with a woman?” He held up another photo, this one of a model dressed like vintage Vampirella.
Ignoring the picture, Devereux opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, struggling for the right words, then gave a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I have constant female company. In fact, I have too many women around me. I would love to take a break from them.”
As if on cue, two identical human women stepped away from the large group of females surrounding the booth, approached the table and stared at Devereux. He scanned the new arrivals.
Appearing barely old enough to be legal in the club, the pair stood swaying in their high heels, a little worse for alcohol. Their long dark hair was streaked with shades of bright red which matched their lip color and the hue of their pointed fingernails. Each wore a short skirt,
Twilight
T-shirt, and multi-color thigh-high socks.
“Twins, Devereux,” Laurence said, pointing at the women and leering. “This is your lucky day.”
“Quiet,” Devereux grumbled before refocusing his attention on his audience. “Good evening, ladies,” he said, morphing back into his role of club owner. “Is there something you need?”
“Oh, you shouldn’t have said that,” Elliott stage-whispered.
Devereux gave him a quick glare.
The two women’s lips moved, but no sound emerged. Eyes still locked on Devereux, both took a step forward and reached out a hand. As if they were moving in slow-motion, they each stroked a finger down the front of his sky-blue silk shirt, then combed their fingers through his hair, lifting the strands and watching them fall.
They stood, transfixed, mouths hanging open.
Muttering under his breath, he grasped their wrists gently and lifted their hands from his head. Staring into their eyes, he said, “It was nice to meet you, ladies, but it is very late and time for you to leave. Go now.” He lightened his tone. “And please. Drive carefully.”
With blank expressions, they turned and stumbled away from the booth.
The moment the twins were gone, four new women hustled forward and arranged themselves in front of the trio. One, a bald woman with tattoos of naked men on her scalp stepped closer, and opened her mouth to speak.
“No,” Devereux said, pointing his finger at her. He stared hard at each of them.
Eyes suddenly vacant, they spun and retreated, the hairless woman scratching her head in confusion.
Devereux slumped in his seat, frowning. “As I was saying, I suffer no shortage of females. That is why I rarely spend time in the main part of the club.”
“Wow. Impressive. Even without trying, you’re the ultimate babe magnet.” Elliott stroked a hand down the arm of Devereux’s dark blue designer jacket. “It’s got to be the leather. Not just anyone can pull off the ‘elegant biker’ look.”
“Yeah,” Laurence agreed. “I never did understand why someone as stuck in the past as you are would choose leather clothing. Seems an old Druid robe would be more to your taste.”
“Very funny,” Devereux said. “As I have mentioned previously, I come by my love of leather naturally. A branch of my biological family made garments from the skins of animals. I learned the craft and became quite good at it.”
“Yeah?” Elliott tugged at the leather fabric. “Why don’t I remember that story?”
Devereux shrugged. “I have noticed that when I say something that does not involve women or blood, you do not pay attention. You simply remind me to stop thinking about the past.”
“Oh yeah, maybe you did tell us. I remember now, but you’ve got to admit you tend to drone on about the good old days,” Laurence said. “It’s time you joined the twenty-first century.” He skimmed through a few more of the photos.
“I suppose so.” Devereux pointed to his current ensemble and launched into a topic he found comfortable. Something that wouldn’t trigger his discontent again. “Speaking of the present, this is one of my designs. I simply combined my knowledge of leather-working with my own innate creativity and started a business to sell them.”
“Ah, yes. Master Devereux the wealthy entrepreneur,” Elliott said, adopting an upper-crust British accent. “Always thinking about ways to make money.”
Devereux studied each friend and raised a brow. “Scoff if you must, but this particular company continues to delight stockholders. I use a lot of the profits to bankroll various vampire-protection enterprises, and to influence elections of
reasonable
politicians in the human world.”
“Ha!” Elliott barked. “You mean politicians whose brains you’ve controlled.” He raised a picture of a muscular male wearing a pouch and vampire fangs. “Speaking of politicians, isn’t this one of Colorado’s senators? I’m sure I’ve met him in the club before. I’d recognize that jugular anywhere.”
Devereux cracked a smile.
“Yes,” Elliott continued, “we’ve heard about your work on our behalf and we do appreciate it. But you’re acting like the father figure of the vampire community, the one who’s taking care of business while the children play. That doesn’t seem fair to you. You deserve some happiness.”
Happiness? Does that even exist?
“It is a path I have chosen. It was not inflicted upon me. At this point, I would not know any other way to be.”
Or what else I would do.
“So you’ve always been this stuffy and serious?” Laurence asked. “What about when you were a human teenager? I remember you talking about having a rebellious period.” He punched Devereux’s arm. “See? I was paying attention.”
“I don’t remember hearing that,” Elliott said. “And I don’t believe it. I think Dev’s always been a tight-ass.”
“I do not consider myself to be stuffy.” Devereux stared blandly at his friends. “Or a tight-ass. But I will admit to being serious. And, yes, I did have a time when I behaved badly as a young mortal. Then later, when I made the transition, I was as out-of-control as any other new bloodsucker.” He shook his head, reliving the memories. “There were many times I was so wild and thoughtless that I almost caused the capture and death of others. After that, I learned very quickly to rein in my instincts. I became a practitioner of various martial arts and meditations and taught myself to discipline my actions. I worked hard to expand my consciousness.”
“Yes, yes. Yada-yada-yada,” Elliot said, making a flapping-lips gesture with his hand. “We know you did, oh-great-and-wise guru. You’re world-renowned for it. But don’t you think you’ve let things get a little out of balance? Gone a bit too far?”
“Perhaps,” Devereux said with a half-shrug.
“Well, then,” Laurence countered, “this is a good chance for you to throw away your rule book and have some fun with three luscious women. What have you got to lose?”
Devereux sailed his arm through the air to indicate yet another group of women peeling off from the crowd gathered nearby, heading toward the booth. “As you can see, I do not need to be set up with blind dates. For whatever reason, I attract plenty of unwanted female attention on my own.” He made eye contact with each approaching devotee and they spun and retraced their steps.
Weary of the attention, he signaled one of his security guards to stand near the booth to keep the women away.
Perhaps it is time for me to crawl into a coffin and take a long nap. My staff can get along without me.
“Hold on,” Elliott said, nodding in the direction of the women. “We’re not talking about the groupies – human and vampire – who lust after you because of your erotic vampire hormones, or whatever it is that makes them go nuts for you. Of course, we all attract humans. And some of us,” he flicked his long red hair behind his shoulder, “are definitely ladies’ men – ”
“Wait a minute,” Devereux chuckled. “You two are terrible with women. You are incapable of saying
no
. They twist you around their fingers. Why should I trust you with such a decision? I think you both hold the record for the worst relationship decisions made by vampires. Ever. If given the choice between a thousand healthy females and one walking disaster, we all know who you would pick. Even with your vampire abilities, your skill at ferreting out lies is dismal. I remember centuries of questionable choices.”
“Hey!” Laurence complained. “That’s not true. Well, maybe it’s true of Elliott...”
Elliott smacked his friend on the side of his head. “Lies, Devereux. All lies. We’ve had more than our share of triumphs with women, but even if you’re right about our success rate with females in the past, we’ve gotten better.”
Devereux raised a brow.
“Seriously. You can trust us. We’ve learned our lessons. We don’t believe anyone anymore. Mostly. But as I was saying, you have something special – some extra ingredient that makes all women lose their minds and want to tear off their clothing in your presence. Lucky bastard! You don’t appreciate the gift you’ve been given. I wish you could bottle it. Maybe I should drink your blood to see if the vibe will transfer to me.” He bared his fangs and pretended to aim for Devereux’s neck.
Grinning, Devereux swatted Elliott away. He really did appreciate his carefree friends. Existence would be unbearable without them. Even if they did make horrible decisions about women. At least his friends tended to give others the benefit of the doubt, no matter how convincing the evidence to the contrary. Despite the pain of their former lives, they’d kept their dead hearts open.
“But we’re not talking about the hormonal masses. What we mean,” Elliott retracted his teeth, “is someone you might actually
want
to be with. Someone important. Meaningful. I’ll bet you haven’t had such a woman for a long time. ”
Is there such a woman? I once thought there might be.
Devereux repressed the despondent feeling that washed over him and gave his friends a lighter answer. “It is simply easier to remain uncommitted. I have so much work to do, both in my individual businesses – like this club – and my self-appointed task of keeping vampires safe from discovery. I have never met the one you speak of. In fact, I no longer believe she exists. I do not have time for foolish games.”
I used to dream of her, but I was deluding myself.
“Foolish games, is it? After all the effort we put into this surprise? And don’t even try to pretend you actually spend time running this club. You have a well-oiled machine here, quite the efficient management team. You rarely come here if you can avoid it,” Laurence said. “I’ll have you know we’ll be completely offended if you won’t even meet with the three women we’ve scheduled. ” The corners of his lips kept quirking as he fought a smile, totally negating his efforts to appear stern.
“That’s right,” Elliott agreed with a toss of his hair. “So offended we might not ever come and keep you company in this tedious club of yours. It’s absolute torture to have to be here with all these succulent humans. Smelling all that blood and knowing there are so many of them and only one of me.” He smiled and looked at the clusters of women hovering nearby.
“Yes.” Devereux arched a brow. “It must be hell for you.”
“Come on, my friend,” Laurence said, nudging Devereux with his elbow. “Have some fun. You really have nothing to lose. You might even find the woman of your dreams. Or, at least a woman who can make you smile.” He sobered. “Seriously, Devereux. Indulge your old chums. We’re concerned about you.”
“There is nothing to be concerned about...” He studied a photo of a woman in a demon costume and started to dismiss the silly idea, but then intercepted an unprotected stray thought from Elliott’s mind and the words caught in his throat. They feared he was preparing himself for true death, that his lack of interest in the things the three of them used to share meant he had given up. They all knew it wasn’t unusual for old vampires to grow weary of existence and to yearn for the
final night
, as they called it. He hadn’t realized his existential angst had become so apparent.
Well, that explains some of the strange looks I have gotten over the last few months from coven members
.
It would not do for them to question my state of mind.
What would it hurt to go along with his friends’ outlandish idea? He knew them well enough to know they had good intentions. Even if they held true to form and the dates were disasters, at least the experience would be something different. He toyed with the notion and tapped his finger on the table. At worst, he’d be bored. But what else was new? Lately he was bored wherever he was. If he were honest with himself, the idea of true death
had
occurred to him, albeit in a detached, academic sort of way.
“All right.”
“What?” Laurence said, a skeptical look etched on his face. “Really?”
“Yes, you are right,” Devereux admitted. “I have allowed myself to become too work-focused. It would be nice to relax, maybe even to distract myself.”
Laurence and Elliott exchanged confused glances.
“Well, good,” Elliott said tentatively, studying Devereux. “Wait – is this a trap? You’re being too calm. Are you agreeing, and then you’ll do something awful to us? Chop our heads off and hide them so we can’t reattach them? Even with our heads nearby, you know how long that takes to heal, and I really like this shirt. I’d never get that much blood out of it. Or maybe you’ll add the
coup de grâce
and rip our hearts from our chests to make sure we’re truly dead. I know how much you used to enjoy that.”
“No.” Devereux laughed. “No heart ripping. It is not a trap. I am accepting your sincere attempt to provide me with a pleasant evening, or to drive me insane with more evidence of your total ineptitude with women.” He saluted them. “I appreciate it. It is helpful to be reminded that isolation is not good for anyone, even vampires.”
“Hmm. Okay then,” Elliott said, appearing grudgingly convinced that Devereux was telling the truth. Back to being his impetuous self, he clapped his hands. “Let’s tell him what we arranged, Laurence.”
“Oh, yes! So, we’ve followed Charlie’s story line, the three visitations, starting at midnight.”
“Who have you selected for me? You said the first would be someone from my past. After eight-hundred-plus years, that does not narrow it down much.”