Immortal Obsession (6 page)

Chapter Eight

A
MANDA ENTERED THE
tiny midtown apartment she shared with Bethany. She had decided to make a quick dinner of pasta and a salad, and then try to nap before hitting the club scene later. Bethany had agreed to accompany her to the Grey Wolf tonight rather than go out for a drink with her boyfriend Jeff. If Christian was there, Amanda promised herself she would find him.

She flipped on the television and ate dinner on the sofa while catching up on the news. Bethany would not be home until at least nine o’clock. It was the beginning of tax season, and already she was putting in fourteen hour days. Amanda loved their cozy apartment, filled with eclectic used furniture, lots of stereo equipment, and shelves of books.

Family photographs, old maps of Paris, botanical prints, and several framed posters featuring French exhibitions at the Metropolitan Museum of Art hung on the sea green walls. An antique black-and-green Oriental rug covered the hardwood floor. Potted plants occupied the floor space in front of the living room windows, and Bethany’s exercise bike and free weights sat in one corner.

Amanda slipped off her high heels and rested her feet on the coffee table as she wolfed down dinner. She glanced down at the matchbox resting on the coffee table. She was sure Ross was hiding something from her.
Thank God for that old sixth sense again, Amanda.
Ever since childhood, the random thoughts of others flashed into her mind as if they were being broadcast, like radio waves. She had never told anyone except Bethany and Ryan about it. He had laughed in her face.

Only years later she found out that he had a similar ability to read information from thoughts or objects. She guessed that the fear of his gifts made her brother try to hide them, first with marijuana and then heroin.

Then there was Christian. The stranger she had been searching for ever since that horrible night in Central Park. She had been hoping to see him again, trying to find him when suddenly he appeared in her life. How did he and Ross know each other? Amanda did not believe in accidents. Things happened for a reason she always told herself, until Ryan’s death. What purpose had been served by his death? The shock of it still haunted her. She often woke in the night in a cold sweat from dreams of fighting off the monster that had killed him.

Amanda’s mind drifted back to the night in the tunnel when Christian had come toward her, his hypnotic gaze moving over her.

He was much more handsome in person than she remembered him being the night in the park. She closed her eyes, leaned back on the couch, and flipped off the TV. She knew that this man would change her life forever.
How can I stay away from him now that I know where to find him?
She did not trust herself, a realization that scared her. No man had ever captivated her or dominated her thoughts as Christian had over the past six months. His deep voice and dark eyes drew her in like a magnet. Amanda felt her hands tangled in all his hair as he held her close. While he ran his smooth hands over her body, he kissed her passionately and she felt herself weaken. It was as if she were drowning in her own emotions, her lust and need for him. Cold lips pressed against her throat and when he pierced her skin she was not afraid as her own blood trickled down her neck.

“Amanda?” Bethany sat beside her, rubbing her head. “Hey, are you okay? You were moaning.”

Amanda woke suddenly in a pool of sweat. It took her a minute to realize she had fallen asleep on the couch.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She rolled over toward the light from the kitchen. “What time is it Beth?”

“Just nine o’clock. Time to get cleaned up and go man hunting.” Bethany smiled.

“Do you still want to come with me?”

“Yeah, why not? I am dying to meet this guy. Sounds like quite the hero and besides, what are friends for?” Bethany smiled again and flipped her long auburn hair behind her ears. At 5’7”, she towered over Amanda and was as light as Amanda was dark. They had been best friends since junior high school and had shared the same dream of moving into the city the day after graduating high school.

Both had attended NYU, but while Amanda had pursued both an undergraduate and graduate degree in Art History, Bethany had chosen a career in finance.

Amanda stood up slowly. “I’d better get in the shower.”

“What does one wear to a Goth club?” Bethany called behind her, running her hair through her wavy auburn hair.

“Lots of black, my friend,” Amanda said with a sigh as she stumbled into the bathroom.

“Well, that was interesting.” Amanda climbed out of the idling cab. They were across the street front of the Grey Wolf.

“I think he thought we were hookers.” Bethany laughed as she slammed the cab door. The cab driver had not been able to take his eyes off them.

“Maybe it’s the dress, or the lipstick.” Amanda looked down at her stiletto black heals and wool coat that covered a short black satin dress. A white lace petticoat peeked out just below the hemline. It was the latest fashion, especially when paired with sparkling black stockings. It was not her usual tailored wear-to-the-museum style, but she felt sexy.

Will this get his attention?

She noticed her reflection in the cab’s window. Bethany had convinced her to apply lipstick, something she rarely wore. The color was dark, but not trashy and ironically titled
Blood Lust
. It felt strangely appropriate for this evening. Also reflected in the cab’s window was the red neon sign Grey Wolf, which loomed in the darkness on the two-story loft.

So this is the place.
Amanda’s heart was racing.
Suppose he is here, then what?

Surrounded by trendy shops and restaurants, the club had become the most popular night spot in the West Village. On weekends, the line extended around the block, like a dark snake moving through the narrow streets. Tonight was no exception. It was Friday night and despite the snow, the club would be crowded.

As Amanda crossed Bleeker Street, the image of the one Christian had called Lucien filled her head. His dark, empty eyes suddenly morphed into Thomas’s face. Amanda had forgotten to tell Bethany about her possible date with Thomas. As she recalled her fantasy of making love to Christian and surrendering her neck to him, a thought crossed her mind.
Suppose Ryan was right. What if they
are
all vampires?

Chapter Nine

I
T WAS ELEVEN
o’clock, and already the club was full of mortals anxious for another night of drinking, dancing, and mingling with the undead. Christian sat at the main bar and watched Michel mix a chocolate martini for a young overweight blonde. He smiled and laughed with the young woman as she leaned closer, unable to take her eyes off him. Another bartender and vampire, his friend Sabin seemed more focused while he mixed drinks, barely smiling at the women at the bar. Even the snow had not kept them away tonight.

Christian questioned his affect on women. Watching Michel, he realized that it was more than just vampiric powers that held women in Michel’s sway. Even as a young man in France, they had fallen all over him. He was charming and a good listener. Christian watched as his best friend simultaneously mixed drinks, talked with customers, and held a cell phone pressed to his ear. He effortlessly moved from one woman to another, each of whom hoped to catch his gaze.

Women in black leather and heavy eye makeup poured into the club. The smell of blood, perfume, sweat, and alcohol bombarded him. It was almost too much for his senses. Soon the upstairs would fill up as naïve mortals coiled around one another, hoping to rub shoulders with a real vampire. He had never relished the idea of being the center of attention or being a part of a circus act, and he avoided the young barflies as much as possible.

Multitudes of impressionable young men and women came to the Grey Wolf seeking out their kind, but few gained the honor of becoming a donor. Christian could think of other words for what they did with his friends, mingling sex and blood in the private rooms upstairs. He scanned the narrow entranceway as more women poured into the club. If they approached him, he simply scowled until they left him alone.

“Don’t look so excited,” Michel chuckled sarcastically approaching Christian. “Why did you bother coming tonight? No new novels to read?”

Christian shrugged. He tolerated the club just to hang out in the bar with his friend; astonished that after nearly three hundred years of friendship he never tired of Michel’s company. Usually he was content just to sit there but tonight he was distracted, watching the crowd; waiting.

Aside from Michel and Sabin, Christian enjoyed the company of very few vampires and even fewer mortals; Detective Burt Ross was the exception. When he had come down to the Grey Wolf to investigate the homicide of a young barfly, most of the vampires had fled, fearing persecution. Ross had managed to make the investigation go away, earning Christian’s trust, and to a lesser degree, Michel’s. Christian knew that Ross was enamored of him and he liked the fact that there was no guesswork to Ross. The vampire admired his values and persona. He said what he meant, and he meant what he said. Compared to the shrouded world of his kind, where nothing was ever as it seemed and most vampires were not to be trusted, Christian found Ross’s honesty refreshing and strangely comforting.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Michel calling his name above the loud music, just as her scent hit him. Although it was too crowded to see her, Christian knew she had just entered the club.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, my friend. What is it?” Michel asked.

Amanda followed Bethany into a huge room with high ceilings. It took a minute to adjust to the darkness. Loud dance music blared from huge speakers suspended from a second-floor catwalk. They stood for a moment as young men and women moved past them. Amanda scanned the room, not exactly sure what she was looking for. The crowd was made up of mostly young, average-looking college students wearing way too much leather and eye makeup.

Pink and blue lights bathed them in an eerie glow as her gaze followed the catwalk around the second floor. The high ceiling blended into the shadows and a large bar filled up the center of the room. Off to the left of the bar was a dance floor filled with more men and women who looked liked Goth GQ models.

“This way,” Bethany yelled, grabbing her hand. “If anyone knows their clientele, it’s the bartender.”

Amanda held her girlfriend’s sweaty hand as they pushed their way through the crowds toward the bar. It was wall-to-wall people, and getting anywhere was slow work. Turning abruptly, Bethany backtracked toward the entrance and then made a sharp left. Amanda realized that she was circumventing the crowd by hugging the outside walls of the bar. She saw an opening, and they made another left, still pushing their way through the crowds.

It was then that Amanda spotted him leaning against the bar. He towered over the people around him. She recognized his brown leather coat from the precinct. He was talking to someone who was blocked from their view.

“I see him.” Amanda yelled out to her. “Keep walking.”

As if he sensed her presence, he stopped talking and looked right at her. Half his face was hidden behind a curtain of hair but their eyes locked as she came closer. It was then that she saw a dark-haired man behind the bar. He wore a short black bolero jacket open to his waist, exposing a white chest. He moved with unusual grace and speed for a man, pulling down glasses and mixing drinks while talking on his cell phone and flirting with women at the bar.

“That’s Christian, isn’t it?” Bethany yelled at Amanda.

Amanda took her friend’s hand and pulled her closer to the bar.

Christian nodded, making room for the two women. “Ms. Perretti, what a coincidence.”

The bartender came closer, dangling a wine glass by the stem.

“Michel, this is Amanda Perretti.” Christian gestured as if he were presenting her.

Amanda felt Michel’s eyes peer into her as if she were under his personal microscope, yet she could get no read on him. She felt as though she had smacked up against an invisible wall.

“Welcome to the Grey Wolf.” He said, and she heard the trace of a French accent.

Then he kissed her hand before she could react.

Amanda could not believe her luck. “This is my best friend Bethany Daniels.”

Bethany nodded, unable to take her eyes off both men.

“What is your pleasure this evening?” Michel’s voice felt like silk wrapping around her.
He reminds me of Thomas in a weird way
, she thought.
Maybe it’s the way his voice makes me feel
.

“I’ll have a glass of Merlot, thanks.” Bethany blurted out and reached for her purse.

“Nothing for me, thank you.” Amanda waved her hand.

“It’s on the house, my beauty.” He smiled, poured and then pushed the wine glass toward Bethany.

Michel seemed young, with his smooth skin and flirtatious manner. In fact, they both looked young, yet their eyes spoke of age and pain. Christian’s were especially bottomless, yet sensual, while Michel’s seemed icy and cold under all his bravado. She sensed a deep connection between them.

Out of habit, Christian flipped his hair behind him. “So we meet again?”

“They say that meeting once is coincidence but meeting twice is fate.” Michel winked at her.

“Is that what they say, Michel?” She smiled, staring at Christian. “This is quite the place. Do you come here often?”

“We own it.” Michel blurted out before Christian could respond to her question.

Amanda was surprised at his candidness. She glanced at Bethany, who gave her one of her “are they both for real” looks.

“I was telling Bethany how I happened to meet you at the police station.”

Michel leaned on the bar. “Well, it is the night for coincidences, I must say.”

“I happened to be visiting detective Ross when Ms. Perretti arrived.” Christian confessed.

Michel raised his eyebrows at him.

“Could I speak to you for a moment?” Amanda interrupted, “I just need a minute of your time, if you don’t mind.” Amanda felt herself blush under Christian’s intense gaze.

Christian nodded at Michel and ushered her away from the bar. Amanda followed, trying to keep up with his strides as he led her up a flight of steps and onto the catwalk. Christian stopped abruptly in front of a glass wall. He pushed against it and a door opened inward. Christian held it as Amanda hesitantly stepped into a dimly lit room. A mahogany bar ran the length of the small room. Black lacquered tables and chairs were scattered throughout. A mirror ran the full length of the wall behind the bar.

“Have a seat.” He gestured, walking toward a table. The rustling sound of his leather coat seemed loud in the empty room.

“The bar is fine.”

Her high heels echoed on the black and white tiles as she passed him. She checked her appearance in the full-length mirror as he approached. He was silent and graceful for someone so tall. She tried not to stare as he stopped beside her.

She suddenly felt nervous as she fumbled around in her purse for the book of matches. Remembering they were in her coat pocket she tossed them on the bar.

“It’s my lucky night. I have been looking for you since last July and I find these in the Detectives’ office.”

Amanda focused her attention on him. The color of his wavy hair reminded her of wheat viewed through filtered sunlight, and his brown eyes darted nervously, never resting on anything for long, except when he turned his gaze toward her. Amanda thought his features were chiseled yet delicate for a man’s, but she didn’t consider his beauty otherworldly like Michel. Despite his lean frame and flowing hair, he was utterly masculine and commanding.

Christian said nothing, but picked up the matchbook, a silver signet ring on his pinky finger, caught the light. It reminded her of a piece of man’s jewelry she had researched for the recent exhibition on
Jewelry of the French Revolution
. Amanda wanted to ask him about it, but then thought better of it.

“Why don’t you sit down?” He gestured toward a bar stool.

“I’ll stand, thank you. Do you work here, too?”

“I am a rare book dealer.”

“Really? You impress me as more of the musician type. Where is your shop?”

“I work from my home.” He tossed the matchbook onto the bar.

“I tried to catch up with you at the precinct,” she began, unsure of where to start. “I can’t believe I finally ran into you after all these months. You have to understand, I am still trying to make sense of what happened that night in Central Park. I—”

“Amanda, I can assure you. You have the wrong man.” He touched her hand gently and she felt her knees buckle as what felt like an electric current ran up her arm.

“There cannot be two men who look like you.”

He smiled slightly and Amanda noticed his beautiful white teeth. His smile seemed to transform his face, and for a moment he seemed to relax.

She smiled back at him in the mirror. He was too beautiful to stare at directly.

“I am not looking to involve the police. I just need some answers.

I know I sound crazy but—”

“I am sorry you had to come all the way down here.”

She gently touched his arm. He felt cold.

“Ryan was saying such strange things the night that he was murdered. He was talking about a club, hanging out with these people who were beautiful and different. And in the same breath he was talking about—”

She caught her reflection in the mirror.
I can’t believe I am going to say this aloud.

“Amanda, your brother sounds like a very troubled soul,” Christian interrupted. He pushed the matchbook down the bar towards her. “Why don’t you go home and try to move past such an unfortunate turn of events.”

He stepped back as if he were dismissing her but she ignored him. “He was talking about selling his blood to vampires. I know it sounds bizarre, but I know my brother, Christian. He was addicted to heroin, but he was not crazy.”

“Vampires,” he whispered, shaking his head. “You don’t believe in that nonsense, do you?”

“I’m not so sure anymore. Look, I may work in a museum surrounded by all this physical stuff, but I consider myself to be a very open-minded person. I am not above believing Ryan came into contact with someone or something … unusual.”

“And the possibility of that does not frighten you?”

“I’m not sure,” she confessed, shaking her head. “It sounds farfetched and crazy, but I think the man that attacked him was a vampire. I did a little research, and one of the ways to kill a vampire is through decapitation.”

He chuckled halfheartedly.

“You laugh, but my brother’s blood poured onto the pavement right before my eyes.” She stared off into space as if reliving that night. “This thing was covered in his blood…. I still lose sleep over it.”

“Any self-respecting vampire would never allow that to happen.” Christian waved his hand dramatically, coming closer. “An immortal would have hypnotized him first. The effect is like being pulled into a dark chasm that has no return, and yet you go there willingly. If your brother had been a woman, the vampire would have kissed her gently with cold lips before sinking his fangs into her warm flesh. She would have no sense of her life being drained away by the beautiful specter until it was too late.”

Amanda listened to his deep, soothing voice. The experience he described was terrifying, and yet so inviting and erotic that it made her blush, like her dream. She had no recollection of moving closer to him, but suddenly she was next to him, being pulled into his eyes. His leather coat rubbed against her stockings and she realized that she was wedged between the bar stool and his body.