Page 6 of Vampire Soldier
I reach over blindly for the light switch, turning off the porch light in hopes he won’t linger. I had to run, had to deny him my name. That way, it’s not real. It’s a fun moment in time that I can think about when the dark nights get too lonely.
If he comes up to the door, I might let him in. One night couldn’t hurt me. I lock the door, hoping that if he does, it’ll stop me making a bad decision. Another bad one, at least.
“Mom?”
A sleepy Charlie in pajama shorts and one of my old oversized tees appears at the top of the stairs.
No, one night with a man like him could ruin everything I’ve worked for. The fact that I can feel his lips still against mine will have to be more than enough.
I push off the door and slip my shoes off on the bottom shelf of the rack. Hanging my purse on the hook above the shoe rack, I grin up at my daughter as I hurry up the stairs.
“You, missy, should be in bed by now,” I tease, loving the way she rolls her eyes at me.
Maybe one day I’ll let myself look for a relationship with a man, but not now. My daughter is too important to me.
ChapterThree
MALACHI
The blonde bombshell, clad in sheer pink wisps of fabric, stares at me with an expression she must think is alluring and sexy. All I see is a dazed duck, lips pouted and parted, her eyes half-lidded behind the weight of false eyelashes.
I’ve lived through centuries of cosmetic trends—makeup and false lashes don’t faze me. What does is the auditory assault of her rendition of “Crazy in Love.” My ears are still ringing.
“Thank you,” I say, not bothering to stand from the stool I’m perched on. I glance down at the stack of manila folders on the mahogany high-top table I’ve positioned in front of the bar. “We’ll be in touch if?—”
“I have other dances I could show you.” Jessie—Jessica? Hell, I can’t remember—interrupts, her voice tilting with desperation.
I look up again, doing a double take when I see she’s moved to the edge of the stage, crouched low with her legs spread wide enough to give me a view better suited for a strip club. It takes effort to keep my expression neutral as I give her a tight, dismissive smile.
“That won’t be necessary,” I say, then glance at Perry, my manager, who’s standing beside me. Perry, a human who knows my true nature, has been invaluable in organizing everything for the opening, including handling the initial phone interviews for staff.
When Courtney, our original stage producer, quit four days ago after a dumbfounding and explosive conflict with the dancers, Perry was the one there keeping it from turning violent. Two hours later, he informed me of her immediate resignation and that he already had previous candidates scheduled for interviews.
He steps forward, offering a hand to help her down the stage stairs like a gallant gentleman. “Let me show you out, Ms. Hall. I’m happy to answer any questions you have.”
As they leave, my nose twitches as her heavy perfume assaults my heightened senses. To a human, it might be pleasant, but to a vampire, it’s nauseating. The old wives’ tale about garlic repelling vampires? Only true in the sense that any overpowering smell would make anyone want to avoid the source. I’d rather spend a week in a garlic-filled pantry than endure her cloying scent for another minute.
Sighing, I reach for my glass of water, only to find it empty save for a few ice cubes. Checking the time, I decide there’s enough of a break before the next interview to refill it myself and head to the bar.
Walking behind the bar, I can’t help but feel a warm pride as I take in the space I’ve spent months perfecting. After centuries as the Nightshade’s general, I’ve grown restless. Ambrose’s iron-fisted control over the Barrows has left little need for my skills as a leader of men. The closest thing to a real battle in the last five years was our skirmish with Aeternaphiel and his hired mercenaries—lycan and jackal shifters who were no match for my vampires.
When I approached Ambrose about opening a business venture, he agreed without hesitation. It wasn’t just about personal fulfillment; this restaurant and burlesque theater would give the Nightshade clan an official foothold in Topside—Newgate, the human-dominated metropolis across the river.
The location, a prime spot in the historical museum district, is why my eyes itch from the brown contact lenses I wear to disguise my golden irises. Most Topsiders get nervous around anyone who isn’t clearly human.
The restaurant and theater were once an office space. I had crews tear down walls, build a custom stage, and create an open, theatrical atmosphere. The property spans two floors, with my office overlooking the stage, much like Ambrose’s at Noir. I’ve never felt the need to lord over my space, but that’s why I’m not the king of the vampires. I’d rather be in the trenches with my soldiers, letting them know I see them, that I’ll do everything in my power to bring them home safely.
But there are no trenches anymore, no battles to wage. Without war, what good is a general?
Carla, the bar manager, offers to refill my glass, but I wave her off. She’s been a brilliant find—late thirties, with a bombshell personality she can switch on to flirt and upsell customers. Since we haven’t opened yet, she’s all business, sharp-witted and ruthless—a shark. If Perry ever leaves, she’s my first pick to replace him.
Perry approaches the bar, frowning at his watch. “Last interview’s running late,” he says, clearly annoyed. “Should’ve been here five minutes ago.”
I refill my glass, scooping in fresh ice. “Did they let you know?”
He exhales sharply. “Yes, but it’s still unacceptable. This is for a stage producer—a role that requires precision and punctuality. If Blake can’t show up on time for an interview, how can we trust them to keep the performances running on schedule?”
I chuckle, waving his irritation away. “Relax, Perry. Theater’s notorious for starting late. Some performers believe starting on time is bad luck. Maybe Blake’s of the same mindset.”
