Page 2 of Kissed the Mark
THERE WERE A HANDFUL OF vampire dens in Mayfair,among other hangouts. Mateo Rivera was high up on the hierarchy,though, which meant I had to go to their main location, where theyhad security staff among other measures in an “abandoned” mall onthe edge of town they boldly dubbed “Vampire Central.” I’d onlybeen a couple of times, and each time, I was made less thanwelcome. They didn’t like outsiders as a rule, but in my opinion,by involving a werewolf they were breaking the rules anyway.
I knocked on the door and checked my phone.Just an hour until sunrise. They’d be going to bed soon, or atleast those of them who kept a regular schedule. The windows of themall were predictably boarded and likely did not allow for even asingle ray of sunshine. A vamp pulled the window slat down an inch,revealing an inquisitive eye that looked red in the street light.“Business?” he asked.
“I’m here on Guild business,” I said.“Looking for somebody.”
His expression soured, and I understood why.A lot of the kill bounties were for vampires—anyone who resorted tomurder, really, and they were prime candidates, being notoriouslyhaughty and thinking they existed outside the rules. It reallyboiled my blood sometimes (which they would probably like).“Looking for a vampire?” he asked. The second I told him what I washere for everyone would be alerted, I knew. But they wouldn’t letme in without it.
“Looking for Mateo Rivera. He’s not the markbut he’s associated. The person I’m looking for isn’t avampire.”
“What are they?”
I considered before answering.“Werewolf.”
The vampire burst into laughter. “Hell wouldfreeze over before you’d find a werewolf here.”
“I’m just looking for Matt Rivera,thanks.”
“Let me see if he’s available.”
The vampire disappeared. They loved to makeme wait, and I could already see how the night would go—the vampirewould pretend to look for Rivera, and then when he’d procrastinatedlong enough for sunrise, I’d be told to come back tomorrow. Bywhich point, not only could the werewolf have run, but someone elsecould’ve found him, and my reputation couldn’t take the hit. Iknocked on the door again.
Another vampire poked her eye out. Theynever left the door unmanned. “Business?” she asked.
“Is Matt Rivera there or not? I need to talkto him.”
“Password?”
“Are we in the second grade?” I closed myeyes and took a breath. Losing your temper got you nowhere withvampires, because their eternal lifespans made them the mostpatient, infuriating beings around. “May I please just speak withhim, or his assistant?”
“I will get his assistant.”
“No!” I shouted, envisioning her joining theother bouncer in his procrastination. Calm, Olympia. “I would liketo go in myself. You can escort me if you’d feel more comfortablewith that.”
There was a moment of silence, and then thesound of at least four locks unlatching. An ethereally beautifulvampire opened the door and smiled at me with her fangs—a reminderthat she could suck my arteries dry if I did something wrong and noone would be able to prove I’d ever been there. She had a robustpair of breasts which she highlighted with an impressively lowplunging neckline.
“What’s your name?” I asked amicably.
“Esmeralda,” she said.
“That’s…very Victor Hugo of you.”
“I don’t like your fairy sass, MissOlympia.” She led me past a series of ex-storefronts, law offices,churches, counselors, and in one case, a yoga center. The vampiresdid little to cover up the old businesses, and my guess is that ifthe place was ever raided by a SWAT team, at least the plaques saidJOHN WASHINGTON, ESQ. rather than ELVIRA: MISTRESS OF THE DARK.“Matt’s at the art store.”
There was an old, dust covered statue of agiant pencil and some paper cranes hung from the ceiling with wiresoutside the art store. The windows had been of course completelycovered beyond that, the old glass doors replaced with too-newlooking, opaque wooden ones. Esmeralda tapped on the door with adainty little knock that made me think she’d slept with Mateobefore. “Matty?” Definitely slept together. “Got a bounty hunterlooking for you.”
Rivera opened the door, in the flesh. Vampsalways liked to pretend they were important enough to need all theassistants they got, but really, they were sitting there twiddlingtheir thumbs most of the time, only having minor business to doovernight, and not much at that. “Who is it?” He looked up at mewith eyes that were too close together and the enormous chin I felthe was known for. Vampires were pop culturally hot, but in reallife, a lot of them looked like average Joes. The real reason theycould look good was that after being around for two hundred years,you could afford that facelift or boob job you’d been saving upfor. “Olympia Carter.” My name came out like a curse.
“Mateo Rivera,” I said, with a sarcasticlittle curtsy. He glowered at me. “Just a couple questions for youif you have a minute.”
“I’m very busy.”
“I’m sure you are. I won’t be muchtime.”
He nodded the bouncer vampire away. Oddswere it was easier to not answer my questions tonight and make myefforts look hopeless from the start rather than fending me offevery night. “Come in,” he said.
Every vampire room I’ve ever been in hasbeen a stereotype, and this one was no exception. The walls werelined in black velvet drapes. There was an assembly of rich redchairs and a mahogany desk with a single manila folder and a laptopon it, though I doubted either had much use. Rivera had areputation for partying and sleeping in his free time, often notalone. “Lovely place,” I said. I heard from an oddly humble vampirea few years ago that a lot of vampires crafted their aestheticsaround reputation, and that before humans had made all thosevampire movies and books, they decorated with just the normal colorpalettes everyone else had, no elusive manors or gothicblack-and-red in sight.
“Thanks,” he said insincerely. “What bringsyou here?”
