Bitten 2 Read Free Page B

shit, Sherlock.
    I resisted the urge to make a smartass comment and settled for murmuring “Thanks” and stepped up to the door. I didn’t want to find out firsthand what kind of damage one of his undead meat hooks could do to my face.
    The massive wooden door of the church was easily four inches thick but moved smoothly and soundlessly, opening onto a small foyer lit by flickering sconces nestled in amongst the blood red draperies covering the walls. I felt like I’d stepped into someone’s boudoir and half expected to be greeted by a doe-eyed manservant in silk pajamas. Instead a buxom blond with the same dead, milky eyes as the doorman stood behind a podium that had been crafted to look like an old fashioned coffin. The hostess’s fingers moved in a blur over the screen of her cell phone, typing out a message faster than even the most technology-addicted teenager. I’d braced myself to be inundated by pounding techno music, but instead was enveloped in a soft hush.
    Quiet as the grave , the voice lurking in the back of my mind piped up, sending a shudder down my spine.
    As I approached, the hostess managed to pull her attention away from her phone long enough to pass her undead eyes over me in an assessing look. The minute wrinkle of her pert nose made me hazard a guess that I didn’t measure up to the club’s usual clientele.
    “Cover charge is a hundred bucks,” she said in a grating little girl falsetto that set my teeth on edge.
    It had been my experience that some vamps, in an effort to detract from their ageless nature, adopted an almost childlike persona, speaking in high pitched voices and dressing in the latest teen trends. Rather than achieving the appearance of humanity that they were aiming for, they ended up coming across as something out of a low budget horror movie. The hostess gazing at me with a dead stare was no different, and her childish appearance gave me a serious case of the heebie-jeebies.
    “I have an appointment with Cordova.”
    “One moment please.” Picking up a phone hidden in the back of her coffin podium she spoke in the same rapid whisper as the doorman, and after a moment disconnected the call.
    “You can go on through, Ms. Cray.”
    Yay. Let the games begin.
    As the curtain swung shut behind me, I decided it must have been enchanted to block out the noise and the smell of the club. The fierce pulsing beat of techno music I had been expecting in the foyer started reverberating in my chest, echoing the pounding of my heart. I felt the assault of the music almost as keenly as the stink of vampire that bombarded me, making me wish I had a couple tissues to shove up my nostrils. Somewhere between a mildewed towel and rotten wood, the scent of the undead was far from what I’d call a pleasant aroma.
    Ugh. How can mundanes not smell that?
    The relentless music and pervasive smell made it hard to think. The human half of me was sorely tempted to duck back through the curtain and hightail it back to my cabin as fast as I could, while the wolf was invigorated by the influx of sensory input. Squashing my warring desires, I faced the main room of the club and immediately felt all other thoughts fade away.
    Silence fell over my mind as I was struck by the feeling that I’d stepped into the medieval lair of a blood thirsty villain.
    Everywhere I looked was some prop meant to lend the club a dark and dangerous air—massive wrought iron candelabra, taller than I was and draped with ribbons of shredded lace, were scattered around the space to create islands of light. I had to wonder what the fire department thought of the plethora of thick candles lending their flickering glow and distinctive scent to the air. It was sure to pose some kind of fire hazard. Tall bookshelves and curios, filled with a pawn shop’s worth of spooktacular trinkets and oddities, were interspersed between plush velvet couches and leather arm chairs that would have been just as at home in a gentleman’s club.