Page 55 of My Mr. Vampire

Natasha’s expression grew severe. “Do not engage unless absolutely necessary. You observe, you report back. This is reconnaissance only. There is a time to take her out and that time will be planned without any mishaps.”

“Got it. I’m a shadow. Just watching, not touching.”

“This is serious, Harlen.” Her voice took on an edge that made me pay attention.

I nodded, understanding the gravity of what she was asking. Despite my reputation for impulsiveness, I knew when a situation calls for caution and discretion. “I’m not going to do anything to fuck this up.”

“I may have found a way to kill a vampire without the loud and noticeable use of fire. I need to see if my potion works. Teresa will be my test dummy.”

“What? A potion?”

“It’s a secret potion. In these modern times, we need to move with secrecy. Setting vamps ablaze and watching them burn to ashes is just prehistoric. I’ve been working on something. I need her alive to test my quiet death.”

Was Natasha a scientist too? Did she really have some poison elixir that could kill vampires? “Wait. What are you talking about?”

“You heard me. It’s my secret weapon. If it works, we will reign without the threat of any vampires who dare challenge us.”

“Does my brother know about this?”

“Of course he does. He funded my research. He knows, I know, and now you know. Don’t fuck it up. We’re counting on you to report back with no incident. Can you do it?”

“I can. I will.” I stumbled over my words. I was still trying to keep up with all the things I learned in this brief meeting.

“You start tonight. Club Bailar Caliente becomes busy after ten. Teresa typically arrives by midnight. Go.”

I looked down at my watch. It’s 9:15PM. As I stood to leave, Natasha stood.

“And Harlen?”

“Yeah?”

“Zand is counting on you.” This was my chance to prove myself useful, to show that I’m more than just Zand’s reckless younger brother.

“I won’t let him down.” I said, and I actually meant it.

Natasha’s only response was a skeptical arch of her blonde eyebrow before she returned to her screens, dismissing me with the wave of her hand.

As I left her office, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was walking into something much bigger than a simple surveillance job. Teresa never does anything without purpose, and if she’s frequenting a Mexican club in Chicago’s West Side, there’s got to be a reason.

Three hours into my stakeout and I was feeling like this wasn’t going to produce any intel more than Natasha had already acquired. I was slumped so low I was practically horizontal. My eyes were fixed across the street on the entrance of Club Bailar Caliente. The neon sign bled red light onto the sidewalk, turning the faces of patrons into crimson masks as they stumbled in and out of the establishment. Bass-heavy Latin music pulsed through the walls. I checked my watch: 11:12 PM. If Natasha’s intel was correct, Teresa should arrive soon. Or was she already inside?

I twisted open a bottle of blood, AB positive, sipping it to pass the time. The car Natasha provided smelled like leather and a tropical fruit air freshener. The car was suspiciously clean for a surveillance vehicle. I wondered how many stakeouts had happened in this same sedan. Maybe none. I wasn’t sure Zand had any troubles before Teresa, Marisol and Marisol’s brother blew into town. His life in Chicago appeared to be pretty sweet.

The club itself didn’t look special. It was just another hole-in-the-wall nightspot with peeling paint around the windows and a bouncer who checked IDs with practiced boredom. What drew Teresa to this place? It wasn’t up to vampire standards. We all didn’t live like the rich, but we felt we fit in better in middle-class settings. It was easier for us to blend in, and being undetected was paramount for our kind.

A Hispanic couple emerged from the club. The woman was laughing too loudly and clutching her companion’s arm for balance. The man was stone-faced. He scanned the street with quick, darting eyes. A drug dealer, probably. They disappeared around the corner, and I returned my attention to the entrance.

The night drug on. I watched people arrive in groups. The young ladies wore less clothing than strippers. They didn’t appear to be twenty-one, but they could still gain entry. The neighborhood wasn’t the worst in Chicago, but it’s not somewhere tourists would venture after dark. Perfect hunting ground for vamps. Plenty of people no one would immediately miss.

I stretched in my seat, fighting the urge to doze. Maybe Teresa wasn’t coming tonight. Maybe Natasha’s intel was dated. Or maybe Teresa sensed she was being watched and changed her routine. She’s paranoid enough for that.

Just as I’m considering calling it a night, the crowd outside the entrance parted.

“Teresa.” I muttered softly to myself.

Even from across the street, I’d know that silhouette anywhere. She moved like a predator, like a new vampire that wasn’t used to her body. Some people would call her movements masculine, but they were normal for a newer vampire. A severe knot at the nape contained Teresa’s blonde hair. She was wearing a simple short black dress that somehow looked more elegant than the flashy clubwear around her.

She didn’t bother to look around as she exited. There were no furtive glances, no checking to see if she was being watched or followed. Either she was confident that no one was watching, or she didn’t care. Both possibilities were unsettling. Did she really think she had a chance here in Chicago? I had been back in my brother’s life for just a short time, but it was clear to me that he loved Chanel, and he would, and had killed anyone that threatened his human.

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