Andrew rifled through John's wardrobe, rejecting band tee after band tee and flannel after flannel.
"Do you seriously not have any dress shirts? Did fashion die while I was asleep?""Hey, beggars can't be choosers!" John shot back. "There should be one in there somewhere. I don't exactly get invited to many weddings."
Andrew finally tugged a shirt off a hidden hanger at the very back - slightly creased, but intact. Good enough. He peeled off the blood-ruined mess he'd been wearing and slipped into the clean shirt, his skin already flawless beneath it. No scarring, no bruising, no memory of the beating except the faint lingering ache in his pride.
John watched him button the shirt, top button left carelessly undone. "So we're heading to Violets, huh? It's been a long time since I've been out clubbing. I'll need to break out the aftershave."
Andrew's head snapped toward him. The look alone could've put frost on the walls.
"We aren't going anywhere. I'm going to get Eclipsaria, then I'll come back and we'll decide our next move." He pulled on his jacket.
"I can't risk you getting hurt, John. You're out of practice. And we have no idea what these people can do."John scoffed. "Oh, bite me."
"I'd rather not.""I'm serious, Andrew. You almost died tonight."
"And I'm fine now. You wouldn't be."John stepped in front of him, arms crossed, blocking the path to the door like a guard at the gate. he stood with the confidence of a man who thought he could actually prevent Andrew from leaving if he tried.
"I'm not letting you walk into a vampire nest alone."
"You're not letting me?" Andrew repeated, arching a brow.
"You don't let me do anything.""You need backup."
"What I need is for you not to get your throat torn out because you're trying to help."John held his ground. "And what, you're trying to protect me?"
"Yes." Andrew said flatly, without hesitation.
"Because you're my friend. My only friend in fact. And because I am not dragging your corpse back here and explaining to whatever gods still bother with me why I let you walk into a slaughterhouse."John hesitated for a moment. "This is bullshit."
"Pretty much." Andrew agreed.
"But that's life."He walked past him, but John grabbed his arm, stopping him momentarily. "Look, I know I can't stop you, but at least let me help." He moved over to his bed and slid a trunk out from underneath. He rifled around inside for a moment before pulling out a small object, wrapped in black cloth.
John planted the item in Andrew's hand, and after unwrapping it he realised it was a dagger, but even just holding it Andrew could tell it was no ordinary blade. It hummed with energy, like something was coursing through the ornate etchings on the flat of the blade.
"Damn, John, you've been holding out on me."
"I have my secrets. Had to get better equipped once you went missing."
Andrew flipped it once between his fingers before sliding it into the inner seam of his boot.
"Let's just hope they don't frisk me at the door."
The music thumped so hard the walls were practically shaking. If Andrew had any warm blood pumping through his veins, he might've shared the sentiment of the college girls behind him: shivering in short dresses and whining about the cold.
Instead, he just stood there. Almost statuesque with his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets and his shoulders hunched.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached the front of the queue, greeted by a pair of enormous bouncers with shaved heads and black shades. Thralls. He could smell it on them.
He suddenly half-wished he'd brought more weapons. Or John. No. No, he couldn't think like that. John never asked for this life, and Andrew had already dragged him back into it. He wasn't dragging him further.
He just had to be quick. Find Rico. Find Eclipsaria. Leave. The larger bouncer eyed him suspiciously. "I.D.?"
Andrew blinked. Of course. For someone who didn't age, he still never got used to looking twenty-something. This could be a problem. The DMV didn't exactly hand out licenses to centuries-old creatures of the night.
"Must've left it in my other jacket. C'mon, guys, I come here all the time.""I've never seen you here before." the smaller one said, leaning to check if Andrew was alone. He was. That helped. Only two types came to a club like this alone: creeps, or vampires. Now a creep was easy feeding, but a vampire could get him ascended to full vampiric status, or killed. Either way he knew better than to take his chances. Plus, this guy looked pale and gothic enough. "Alright, you can go through."
Andrew breathed a sigh of relief as he crossed the threshold seperating the outside world and the in. His cover hadn't been blown, at least not this knowledge. A little bit of stealth in a situation like this was crucial.
The music inside hit him like a physical force, he could almost feel it in his bones. It was pounding, so much louder than one might've expected outside. It almost disorientated him, his enhanced hearing making it sound closer to a constant flashbang than music. He needed a drink, both blood and alcohol.
Purple lights strobed overhead, washing the room in ultraviolet haze. Bodies writhed on the dance floor, sweat and spit mixing as human and vampire flirted and fed off each other in ways most of them wouldn't understand until it was far too late.
He glided over to the bar, sidling in between two frat boys laughing and spilling drinks over each other and raising a hand to be served. A Bloody Mary was far too on the nose, even for him, and ordering one would just make half the room look at him like he'd walked in wearing a neon sign that said 'VAMPIRE - ASK ABOUT MY FANGS.'
"Whiskey sour, please." he said instead when the bartender finally approached. Simple. Human enough. And crucially: served in a glass deep enough that anything could disappear into it without being noticed.
The bartender slid the drink across to him. Andrew palmed it with one hand and, with the other, slipped a single blood packet from inside his jacket - one of the few he'd pocketed from the chop shop earlier. He kept it low and angled away from prying eyes.
His own personal cocktail was completed. Some whiskey, lemon juice, and the special ingredient - stolen blood. He lifted the glass and took a cautious sip.
It hit his tongue with a metallic tang that didn't belong there. Not wrong enough to be undrinkable, but wrong enough to raise an eyebrow. Then he remembered. The first century as a vampire was the worst. You can't eat, or drink normal food without throwing up. No doubt the alcohol had been modified, better suited for these young vampires undeveloped palates.
He set the half-finished glass down, eyes scanning the club with new clarity as the blood settled uneasily in his veins. The fog of the music lifted just a little. The lights sharpened. He could feel the pulse of the dance floor vibrations through the soles of his boots.
And somewhere in the building, behind all the bodies and smoke and sweat he could feel it. Eclipsaria wasn't far.
Finally he zeroed in on what could only be his target. The VIP section, up a flight of stairs and into a room that overlooked the dancefloor. A gaggle of silhouettes chugging alcohol and moving behind a screen.
He straightened, downed the last burning inch of the doctored whiskey sour, and let the false warmth seep into his muscles. His senses sharpened further, his focus narrowing. The sourness of the drink, the metallic twinge of the blood - all of it was irrelevant now.
He slipped away from the crowded bar and moved through the shifting bodies like a specter, weaving between drunk humans and hungry vampires, the bass vibrating along his bones with every step.
A pair of thralls guarded the entrance to the stairs. Not subtle ones, either - big, broad-shouldered, the type chosen more for intimidation than intellect. They scanned the crowd with that glassy-eyed dullness that most bouncers displayed.
Andrew approached without hesitation, feigning confidence as well as he could manage.
The bigger thrall lifted a hand. "VIP only."
"I know." Andrew said with a practiced sigh, already fishing through his pockets with an air of mild annoyance.
"Hold on. I had my wristband a second ago."He patted himself down. Jacket. Back pocket. Inner pocket. Shirt. Coat lining. The thralls waited all the while, barely looking at him. Andrew leaned in conspiratorially.
"Between you and me," he said
"Rico doesn't actually want me wearing the wristband. Makes the others...nervous."The thralls exchanged a confused glance. It was all the opportunity he needed. Andrew's hand shot out, impossibly fast, a swift, perfectly placed hook that caught him in the temple and sent him tumbling backwards unconscious. The second lunged for him, but Andrew caught him by the shirt, spun him, and cracked his head once against the railing. The noise of the scuffle drowned out by the thumping electronic music.
He stepped over their bodies and started up the stairs. With each step the presence of Eclipsaria grew clearer. There was a familiar hum thrumming beneath his ribs, like the sword itself recognised he was near. His fingers twitched with anticipation. God, he missed that blade.
At the top of the stairs, he came face to face with the entrance to the VIP room: frosted glass, pulsing lights behind it, muffled laughter, clinking glasses, and the unmistakable scent of fresh blood being passed around like fine wine.
Andrew exhaled, pushing a hand through his hair and straightening his jacket. Go time.
Then he pushed open the door and the room fell silent. Half a dozen vampires turned their eyes toward him - all young, all decked out in designer clothes, all staring at the odd one out who had just stepped into their den.
And lounging on a low red couch, legs kicked up, wearing sunglasses indoors like the pretentious idiot he was - Rico. He couldn't help but laugh at the sight of Andrew before him.
"Ey' who's this clown? What year were you turned grandpa 1965? Nice outfit!"
The rest of the gang burst into laughter. Andrew's eyes drifted up to a cabinet on the wall, his sword trapped in a glass prison behind it. Rico noticed Andrew staring, then followed his gaze. A grin split across his stupid face. "Yeah. Pretty sick, right?"
The others murmured in agreement, eyeing the weapon from afar like it was a caged tiger. None of them wanted to go near it, even just looking at it made their hair stand on end.
Rico crossed the room in a lazy swagger and flipped the lid to the glass case, then reached in carefully. He wrapped both hands around the blade using the sleeve of his jacket as a buffer, like he'd practiced retrieving it without touching the metal too directly. He lifted the blade with a whistle as he gripped the handle.
"Man, you know how rare it is to find silver this pure?" He held it up to the light, the centre of the sword glowing a faint blue. "This thing could slice a vamp in half."
He swung it once, poorly. All bravado and no technique. He was far enough away that there was no danger of hitting anyone, but still his buddies flinched. Andrew stood tall and still.
Andrews hands balled into fists. He was acting with emotion rather than logic, he should've been scanning the room, looking for exits, weapons, and cover. Instead his eyes were locked onto Rico, the man who had stolen his prized possession.
Rico turned back toward him, still grinning. "Donโt suppose you came to buy it?"
Andrew took a single step forward.
"Not quite, I'm here to take it."The room erupted in chaos. Two vampires came at him from either side, Andrew ducked one swing, drove his elbow into a sternum, spun and slammed a forearm across another's throat. A third leapt on his back; Andrew twisted violently, sending him crashing into the wall hard enough to dent the drywall.
A flurry of fists and claws tore at him. Andrew answered with knuckles, elbows, knees, precision and rage in equal measure. A vampire lunged, Andrew grabbed his head and drove it into the edge of the bar. Another tried to pin his arms and Andrew flipped him forward with a vicious snap of his shoulder.
He fought like a whirlwind, one against five. And for a brief moment he was winning. Then his gut dropped. He felt faint, like his blood had turned against him. He could feel cold sweat dripping down his forehead - if he could've gotten any paler he would have.
His vision began to double and it took every ounce of energy to defend himself or even lift his arms in any way. A fist clipped his jaw and another caught his stomach. The vampires were on him, kicking, clawing, biting, anything to take him down.
He tried to lunge forward towards his sword, but his legs buckled beneath him.
"Knock him down!" One of them shouted. Soon three vampires had crashed into him at once. Andrew slammed one to the ground, but his strength was evaporating, slipping between his fingers like sand. He struggled, clawed, dragged himself up by sheer instinct, only to be slammed back to the floor again.
Rico approached slowly, holding Eclipsaria like a baseball bat. "Look at you!" Rico said, amused. "Barrels in here throwing hands with half my crew, and for what? You don't even know us. And we sure as shit don't know you."
Andrew tried to speak, but whatever poison had taken hold of him squeezed the breath from his lungs. His arms were pinned behind him, his cheek pressed to the floor.
Rico crouched, holding the blade gingerly so he wouldn't accidentally cut himself. "You know what I like about silver?" he said conversationally. "It leaves marks."
He pressed the flat of Eclipsaria to Andrew's back and even that contact made the vampires holding Andrew flinch. The metal hissed faintly against undead flesh. He let out a pained noise through gritted teeth. "Relax." Rico said with a smirk. "Not the face. I got standards."
Then he shifted his grip, angled the sharp edge of the blade and dragged it across Andrew's side, tearing the shirt and drawing a line from his waist to his ribs. He did it slowly, enough to cause agony but not nearly close enough to kill.
Andrew's body arched involuntarily, a guttural snarl ripping from his throat. The silver burned through skin and flesh, leaving a searing, permanent line.
Rico stood again, admiring his work like he'd just autographed a painting. "There." he said cheerfully. "Now you'll always remember crashing my party. Well, for a little bit at least."
The room blurred. Andrew's limbs went slack. The mix of poison and pain sent his head swimming until the world went black.
Rico nodded at the others. "Bag him. I'm sure the Doc will love this little gift."
3x Thank
