Page 51 of House of Crimson Kisses
“I swear on the Mother of Blood if you don’t get the fuck over here and help me sprint this body across the city, I will tell Mother who actually b?—”
“—Fine,” he sighs, dramatic and exaggerated, then flicks his hair back as if this is a great endeavour. He sidles over to me and then turns his nose up at the unconscious vampire.
“It smells.”
“Yes, well, he was drunk, and then he got a serious head injury. What do you expect?”
“Here’s the drug Rhea gave you.” Xavier hands me a heavy-duty needle.
I stick it in the vampire’s neck.
Xavier’s nose wrinkles. “He’s probably going to piss his pants or defecate. There was enough drug in that dose to sink an elephant. Now. Come the fuck on, Xavier, before we end up ashing ourselves because dawn breaks?”
He picks up the man’s arm and a leg while I pick up the other arm and leg, and then we run. We’re slower than we were at dusk, but nonetheless, we make it to the Whisper Club in good time, and we only have to change paths twice to avoid being seen, thank the Mother of Blood.
The club seems to behave itself and know that we need shelter because the door appears the minute we step into the Midnight Market. I shove the door open, placing my finger on Broodmire’s spike.
“Should I ask?” he says.
“No, get Erin.” His eyes roll shut and however he sends messages, it gets across because Erin appears, panting, a few moments later.
She’s covered in blood.
“What the fuck?”
“There was an incident earlier. But it’s all sorted.”
“Fine. Clear the dungeon. Make sure no one is in there and that the back corridor is clear too. We need to interrogate him.”
She sprints off, her booted feet clapping against the tiles. She’s back just as the vampire we’re carrying starts to stir.
“All clear, I left a chair and silver chains. I can tie him if you want, or I put gloves in there too for you,” Erin says.
“You’ve done more than enough. Thank you, Erin, we will take it from here,” Xavier says.
We race past her and drop the vampire into the seat. I put on the gloves and chain him to the chair. This son of a bitch isn’t going anywhere.
The club’s dungeon is gloomy but not like Mother’s castle dungeons, which are all cold stone cobbles, iron bars and damp puddles. This is mostly a clean space. Grey walls, and plain, empty rooms. No clocks, no windows, and a muted light that is continuous no matter the time of day.
Xavier picks up a piece of plastic from the back of the room and prods the vampire’s cheek.
“Oi,” the vampire says, biting and tearing at the plastic, only to realise he’s tied up. “What the fuck?” he hisses. And then the panic sets in.
He tries leaping up and down and writhing his body around, but the chair is bolted to the floor, and he is chained to the chair. This motherfucker is going nowhere.
Erin knocks on the door and hands Xavier and I a goblet of blood each.
“Ooh, my favourite,” Xavier says.
“Essence of hope and essence of despair. Gods, Erin, you’re more twisted than I thought. You’re going to make a wonderful vampire.”
The chained vampire growls as the scent of blood drifts into the air.
I thank her and place the goblets just out of his reach.
“Only good boys get blood,” I say.
“Bad boys get bloody,” Xavier continues and swings his fist at the vampire’s face, landing a savage blow that makes his head recoil backwards and a splatter of blood spray onto both Xavier and the floor.
