Page 24 of Hunters and Prey

Epilogue

The great thing about being the only regular human working the midnight shift at Sucker Punch was that no one else hogged the fan in the break room. Shifters and vampires never really seemed to be affected by the change of weather, nor Margaret, the witch waitress who’d started around the same time as Chloe. A breeze seemed to follow her wherever she went. Lucky bitch. Chloe might have asked her to perform the same charm on her, but it would probably cost her an unborn child or something like that. If the locals knew anything about covens of NOLA, it was that magic always cost more than what it was worth.

Chloe had only moved south five years ago, in her effort to run far from the drama attached to her name. When she failed to find somewhere where they didn’t know about her, she looked for a place where they didn't care instead. NOLA fit the bill. The city harbored more sups than anywhere else in the United States. They were used to freaks, paranormal attacks, and when the locals woke up with a strange rash in uncomfortable cracks, they just filed a complaint with the head of the covens rather than waste their time and money at the ER.

It wasn't a home, but it was the closest thing Chloe had.

"Hey, blondie."

Chloe wasn't blonde; she had dark hair that turned silver-white after growing a couple of inches, like her father and her brother. People assumed that she had it styled that way. Back in the day, through middle school and high school, she'd been very sensitive about it. As a little girl, she'd vocally protested, saying that it was just her hair, and she couldn't do anything about it. From twelve onward, she'd dyed her hair brown. Now, shelet people talk. About her hair, and everything else. She knew no amount of effort would change who she was.

"Some tourists turned up en masse," Margaret told her, grimacing. "Bachelorette party. Do you mind cutting your break ten minutes short? You can catch a breather during my break."

"Of course."

She regretfully relinquished the coveted spot near the large commercial fan and headed out of the employees' break room, toward the club.

Like all of the establishments belonging to Charles, the most notorious vampire in New Orleans, Sucker Punch was always packed, and twice as much on a Saturday.

Chloe's eyes widened as she got to the bar. As well as the two bartenders on shift today, there was a tall, handsome, incredibly fast vampire mixing drinks. Charles himself. It was rare that the boss picked up an apron.

"Is this one going next?" she asked, pointing to the tray of drinks in front of her.

Some bartenders placed the most urgent order on the right side of the bar, and others on the left; it got pretty confusing when righties and lefties were working at the same time.

"Who knows," Margaret said with a shrug. "Charles just shoves them where he wants to."

She took the tray, glancing at the table number on the receipt. It was heading to one of the alcoves on the second floor. Chloe groaned. Businessmen.

Some people complained about tourists, frat boys, or even werewolves, but Chloe didn't think anyone was quite as rude as successful guys in expensive suits. They believed they owned the world, and everyone in it.

Plastering a smile on her lips because she needed tips, she placed their order on the middle of their table, doing her best to ignore their obnoxious conversation.

"All I'm saying is only one percent of sups even go to high school, not even university. They're all brawn and no brain. Have you ever heard of a sup scientist, or astronaut? Vamps are rich as fuck, but only because they live long enough to amass their wealth. We're really the superior species."

What the fuck were they doing at Sucker Punch if they were anti-sups? Charles's clientele was notoriously mostly paranormals and tourists.

"Now, now," said Obnoxious Two, eyes cutting to her. "Sups are generally great company." His eyes roamed over her curves, making her want to puke.

Because she worked here, people often assumed she was a sup of some kind, and it was no secret that shifters and vampires had a high libido, so that invited shit-tons of unwelcome demands from idiots. Idiots, because if she had been a vampire, or a shifter, she could have kicked their lecherous asses.

Tips, tips, tips, she reminded herself.

"Enjoy your drinks, gentlemen."

Making her way back to the bar, Chloe ran drinks to the bachelorette party, another alcove, the balcony, and to a private party in the back. There were eleven waitresses on the floor tonight, and they managed to clear the orders relatively fast.

Chloe took a second to stretch her sore wrists while the three bartenders worked on the next rounds. She was moving on to cracking her neck when a pair of large hands circled her waist. She froze, turned around, and slapped them away.

They belonged to a large, plastered tourist. He was drunk, and so high he might just fly away. Knowing there was no point in attempting to lecture someone as far gone as that guy, she just pointed away, shouting, "Move your fucking ass before I move it for you."

She said it with so much authority the guy stumbled in the direction she'd pointed to, without stopping to consider that a five-foot-five woman who hadn't stepped inside a gym since high school P.E. would have had a hard time moving his two-hundred-pound ass anywhere.

When she returned to the bar, Charles was looking at her, smiling.

"Meow," he mouthed, extending his fingers in a catty gesture.

She laughed, and mouthed a roar. Ancient vampire or not, the boss was great fun.

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