Thicker Than Water (18 page)

They arrived on her corner. “Better that we're not seen together,” she said. “My building is just up the street.”

Damon nodded, his dark eyes narrowing as he studied her face. “I won't ask you any questions,” he said. “I don't need to know.”

Kia tipped up her face, expecting him to kiss her; instead he just pressed his lips against her forehead and stepped back. “Good night.”

Disappointed, Kia looked down at the ground. “Good night,” she said.

He pulled something from his pocket and held it out to her. She took it and saw that it was a flyer for another “invitation only” event.

“Maybe I'll see you there,” he said.

Kia looked up at him. “Maybe.” So he still invited her even though she hadn't worked up the nerve to go to the last one. She cleared her throat. “Thank you. For tonight.”

He gave her a little bow. “My pleasure. Really.” He grinned. “Well, I hope there was some pleasure for you too.”

Kia laughed. “Oh yeah.”

“Good. And now, before you tempt me any further, I'm going to take off.”

“See you.”

She watched him step off the curb and flag a cab. Once he was out of sight, she let out a little shriek and collapsed onto a stone planter in a fit of giggles.

The doorman came out of her building. He glanced up and down the street, spotted her, then stood there. Watching. Kia headed inside.

She shut her eyes in the elevator, leaning against the wall as she rode up to her floor, remembering how it felt to be so close to Damon, to have him caress her skin, to press against him with abandon.

Then she remembered the rats and felt that same chill again.

The elevator stopped and she pulled out her keys. Slipping inside the apartment, she realized there had been all kinds of strange moments: Rex and then that girl, the rats, the dog. Even the turtles hurling themselves into the water. Everything seemed to react to something about Damon.

Then she remembered something else. When they stopped making out, when he pulled away and decided it was time to go.

What had he meant about that being a bad a idea? Why would he think that?

Her shoulders slumped. Maybe Kali really was his girlfriend and he didn't want to cheat on her.

Or
maybe ...
A tiny current ran through her, making her skin tingle.

What if all those odd occurrences pointed to something about Damon that Kia hadn't let herself really believe? An explanation right in front of her—hiding in plain sight.

What if the most logical explanation that tied together everything she had discovered about him was also the most impossible?

Kia finally let the thought reveal itself bare and unadorned: Damon was a real vampire. And he wanted to stop because he was he worried he would get carried away and bite her for real.

Kia sat on her bed and gazed at her reflection in her mirror.

W
hat does siring mean?“ Kia asked Hecate during work the next afternoon.

Hecate looked up from the pile of shoes she was sorting. A bunch of girls had tried on almost every shoe in the store and now Hecate and Kia were putting them all back.

“Siring?” Hecate repeated. “In vampire terms, you mean?”

“Yeah.” Kia stacked a box on top of the pile. “This weird guy, Rex Notorious, said something about siring to Damon last night.”

Kia had already given Hecate most of the details of her incredible night.

Hecate snorted. “Rex is whack. Don't pay attention to him.”

“I'm not,” Kia assured her. “But he said some strange things that I didn't understand.” She sighed. “I just don't want to seem stupid or naive or something around Damon.”

Hecate paired some stray shoes and stuck them in their boxes. “Siring is what it's called when you make someone a vampire. At least, according to the lore.”

Kia stared at the boots in her hands. Rex had thought that Damon was her sire. That he had made her into a vampire.

She frowned. “So then, what's blood-bonding?” she asked.

“I'm not sure,” Hecate said. “I think it's how vampires get married. They drink each other's blood and then they're bonded for life. Or afterlife.” She laughed at her own joke.

“Hmm.”

Hecate's almond eyes widened. “Did Damon suggest you two get blood-bonded?”

“I wish.” Kia sighed. “I think he and Kali might be blood-bonded.”

“Oh.” Hecate frowned. “That's like going after someone who's married, Kia.”

“Yeah.” She felt deflated. “But if he was really serious about her, he wouldn't be with me. He seems pretty unhappy. In fact, the reason we went uptown was because he said he was sick of all those people.”

“Maybe he does need a change. But seriously, Kia, he's gotta be a lot older than you. I know he's deeply hot, and you like him, but be careful.”

“Of what?”

“I don't know. Just ... be careful is all.” Hecate started shelving boxes. “Damon and Kali, well, like I said, they're into a much more intense scene. I just like to play around with the vampire thing. I don't take it all that seriously. Plain old goth works for me too.”

“Oh.” Kia glanced at Hecate. What if she could show her what it was really like with Damon? Maybe then she'd understand.

“Listen, I know it isn't exactly your scene,” Kia said, getting up and grabbing her purse, “but do you want to go with me to this?” She handed Hecate the flyer Damon had given her.

Hecate let out a low whistle. “Interesting.”

“Damon gave it to me last night,” Kia said, feeling warm at the memory.

Hecate cocked her head, the beads in her braids clinking against each other. “Are you sure he'd want you to bring me along? Third wheel, you know.”

“I don't think he'd mind,” Kia said. “It's a party. Not a real date date.” What she didn't say was that going on her own made her nervous—she was afraid she wouldn't know how to act or that she'd get there and Damon would be busy with Kali.

“I have to say, I am intrigued,” Hecate admitted, rocking back on her heels. “I've heard rumors....”

“Like what?” Kia asked, eager for any information she could gather.

Hecate shrugged and handed Kia back the invitation. “Just that it can get really intense. That it's the true inner sanctum.”

Kia looked down at the flyer. If going to this party brought her deeper into Damon's world, then she wanted to be there. “So, you're in?” she asked Hecate.

Hecate nodded slowly. “I'm in.”

 

The address on the invitation wasn't very far from Vampyre Central. With the entire stock of NightTimes at their disposal, Hecate and Kia were outfitted spectacularly. They were determined to fit in, so they really did it up.

Hecate had chosen a skirt that was no more than strips of leather studded onto a wide sash. She wore it over a fishnet body stocking and tall boots. With Hecate's petite figure, big eyes, and glitter makeup she looked like an S-and-M version of one of Shakespeare's fairies.

Kia stuck with the Victorian style that had become her trademark, tweaked by Hecate. She wore a corset made of shiny black leather. It was designed to leave gaps between the lacings, so she had a lot of exposed skin, which she covered with glittering body lotion. Her skirt hung low on her hips and was long in back but short in the front, so that she flashed the tops of her thigh-high stockings when she took long strides. A studded leather choker completed the look. She and Hecate both “borrowed” warm, floor-length velvet cloaks.

“This isn't a club,” Hecate said when they arrived at the address on the flyer. “This is an apartment building.”

“Well, it's a party,” Kia said. “Makes sense that it would be at someone's house.”

“It also means that all bets are off in terms of rules.”

“Oh.” Kia felt a twinge of apprehension.

A muscular bald man with an intricate tattoo covering one side of his face answered the door. “Invitation?” he growled.

Kia held up the flyer. “Damon gave it to me,” she added.

The bouncer eyed her, then Hecate. Kia bristled under his scrutiny. After a long moment, the man stood aside and the girls entered the building. “Loft three,” he called after them. “Take the elevator.”

Usually Kia had to work to keep up with petite Hecate, but now she led the way. She pushed the button, then she pushed it three more times.

“A little eager?” Hecate teased.

Kia blushed. “I should play it more cool, shouldn't I?”

Hecate laughed. “Just a bit.”

The elevator arrived and a bare-chested man in leather pants stood in the entrance. “Where are you going?” he asked.

“Loft three,” Kia said, trying to sound confident and not look at his nipple rings.

“Invitation?” he demanded.

“Wow, serious security here,” Hecate murmured as Kia showed the invitation again. “This is way beyond velvet ropes.”

The half-naked guy pressed a button and the elevator took them up to the third floor, then opened directly into the loft. They were in.

Stepping off the elevator, the first thing Kia noticed was the smell. Pungent incense made the room smoky, and it tickled the back of Kia's throat. The space was very dark, illuminated only by candles. It took a moment for Kia's eyes to adjust from the bright fluorescent light in the elevator. Once the bodies and furniture became distinct from one another, her heart thudded harder.

“Now I get it,” Hecate said beside her. “All the screening. This is one high-intensity event.”

“Yeah,” Kia said, her breath long and slow. “And we've been invited in.”

They hung their cloaks on a rack, then stepped farther away from the elevator. The room was large and obviously formerly some kind of industrial space. It had exposed brick walls and pipes everywhere and all the windows were painted black. There were several low sofas in the center of the room, and lying on the large coffee table was a woman in a corset, a torn white lace skirt pushed up around her waist, revealing a garter belt and stockings. People placed bottles, drinks, ashtrays all around her. A few stroked her, while someone helped her drink from a bottle of absinthe. A man dripped wax from one of the many candles onto her exposed thigh; she never flinched.

Music thrummed at a low decibel, more a feeling than a sound. Kia heard laughing and sighing, and nearby someone was humming, but it wasn't the same tune that was playing over the loudspeakers.

“This is kinda weird,” Hecate said. “See anyone you know?”

A couple crouched in the corner, snorting some kind of powder. Glasses of dark red liquid were perched everywhere. Kia peered into the shadows, wanting a drink badly. And even more badly, she wanted to find Damon.

She heard applause in the next room. “There must be some kind of performance going on in there,” she said to Hecate. “Let's check it out.”

“Okay,” Hecate said. They wound their way through the couples, trios, and foursomes making out and stepped through a brick archway.

“Oh my God,” Hecate gasped beside Kia.

Kia's mouth dropped open. This room was even larger, large enough to have a rickety wooden platform set up at one end of it as a stage. Onstage, handcuffed to wall pipes, were a man and a woman. Both were naked to the waist; the man wore only a leather thong, the woman the same. The woman faced the room; the man had his back to the crowd.

What held Kia riveted was the blood. She moved straight through the crowd to the front, forgetting Hecate, pulled by the sight.

Thin red lines crisscrossed the pair's bodies. The man had scarring all along his back, and Kia realized they must be from much older, deeper cuts. They created an intricate pattern on either side of his spine. Fresh cuts bled in diagonal stripes. The woman had her head thrown back against the pipe and Kia could see a long, winding cut from just under her jawline, down between her collarbones, and ending just above her bare nipple. She too had the faint lines of previous cuts. Two men wielding scalpels stood on either side of the stage. They wore little vials of red liquid around their necks.

Kia felt a hand on her arm. “Come on, let's go. This is way over my limit,” Hecate said, tugging slightly.

Kia let Hecate lead her away from the edge of the stage. As they left the performance area and went back into the front room, Kia's eyes landed on Damon.

He leaned against a blacked-out window, two women slumped at his feet, a man gazing up adoringly at him. What struck Kia was how bored Damon looked.

Until he saw her.

He smiled and stepped over the women.

“You came,” he said, his smile brightening the entire corner of the dark room, the entire world.

“Yeah, but we're leaving,” Hecate said.

“Oh?” Damon looked at Kia, his pale eyebrows arched above his black eyes.

Kia shook Hecate's hand off her arm. “I'm not.”

“Kia?” Hecate looked around the room, then at Damon. “Are you sure?”

Kia nodded. “Go ahead. I'll be fine.”

“I hope you know what you're doing,” Hecate said. “But if this is your scene, who am I to kill the buzz, right?”

“Right,” Damon answered for Kia.

Hecate walked away and the room blurred around Kia; all she could see was Damon. She knew that all kinds of kinky weirdness was taking place around her, that the drinks might be drugged, that it had become something of a clothing-optional event, but she didn't care. Damon had his hand on her hip as if it belonged there by right, as if she was his. Just how she wished it.