Second Chance (10 page)

A small crease formed on Morgan’s forehead. He looked up briefly, as if perhaps the answers were in the ceiling tiles above. Not finding them there, he looked back at Joss and shrugged. “Maybe. Why?”

“Because I heard about it today, and I think we should check it out.”
“Heard about it.”
Not
“dreamed about it.”
And certainly not
“hallucinated it.”

Morgan nodded. “Abraham will want a solid reason to investigate, y’know.”

He was saying no already, before Joss had even had a chance to set foot inside the place to see whether or not Dorian’s suggestion had been a dream or something else entirely. “My gut says we should do it anyway, Morgan.”

After regarding Joss for a minute with a look that said he wanted to help, Morgan flipped through the papers sprawled across the desk. Near the bottom of the stack on the upper-left corner, Morgan produced a pink sheet of paper, covered with nearly unreadable handwritten notes. He slapped it down on top of the stack in front of Joss in a triumphant gesture, pointing to a paragraph on the center of the page that had the word “Element” scribbled across the top. “There. That place used to be owned by a vampire named Ignatius, but it changed ownership to a human about five years ago. Since then we’ve lost track.”

“Why do you have this?”

Morgan looked exhausted, and very much like he was fighting a tired yawn. “I told you. Abraham wanted more information. So I went back a hundred years. Do you have any idea how much crap is in the New York files for the last hundred years? But this place caught my eye, so I kept it. Just in case it lead to something. Besides, it’s got everything a vamp could want. Secluded areas, darkness. Whatcha thinkin’, kid?”

Joss looked from the scribbled notes to Morgan and dared to say aloud his greatest hope. “I’m thinking we should hit the club tonight, Morgan. And I’m thinking there’s no reason to tell my uncle about it until after we gather the information I think is waiting for us inside that club.”

Morgan frowned, throwing a glance behind Joss at the door, likely checking to see if anyone were in the hall to overhear their little chat. Seemingly satisfied, he moved his eyes back to Joss. “Of course . . . while you could certainly pass as old enough to get into a club, your uncle would literally kill me for sneaking you into one, no matter what the reason.”

Joss searched his mind for some excuse, some shred of semiconvincing reason that he could offer Morgan to get him to escort Joss into the club. But his mind came up blank.

Morgan snapped his fingers loudly, a grin on his face. “Got it!”

The enthusiasm in his voice caused Joss to raise an eyebrow in suspicion. “Got what?”

Morgan walked around the desk and gripped Joss’s shoulders, a sparkle in his eyes. “Go get dressed. We’re going clubbing, little brother.”

J
oss walked alongside Morgan after they’d exited the subway station, nervously adjusting his red tie. It was hanging loose from his neck, the bottom tucked into his gray pinstriped vest, which was embroidered with bold black swirls that matched his black shirt. His pants were gray and black plaid, and topping off the ensemble were black Converse tennis shoes. Joss had argued with Paty over her fashion choices for the evening—after all, who wore Converse with a tie?—but in the end, he couldn’t deny that he looked a little punk, pretty cool, and older than he actually was, which was certainly key to getting inside a nightclub when you had no legal business being there. As he walked, his shoulders straightened, and a small smile formed on his lips. For once, despite the fact that he was technically on the hunt for vampirekind, he was honestly feeling confident, and his smile was sincere.

Beside him, Morgan was dressed in short black leather boots, black pants, crisp black shirt unbuttoned at the neck, and a matching fedora. Morgan was smiling, too.

The tension that had infected the air between him and the other Slayers had melted away for the evening, and he and Morgan were just having a good time. For the first time, it felt like Joss had a big brother. Not a fellow Slayer. Not a mentor. Just a brother. One he could hang out with and just enjoy himself. They were going out on the town. They were heading out to a premier nightclub in New York City. The very idea of that, while slightly terrifying to a reserved fifteen-year-old, was immensely appealing.

A group of girls giggled past them and hurried across the street to a building that that looked a bit like an old bank. It was warmly lit, and outside was a line of people waiting to go in. Morgan paused at the corner. Joss paused beside him, squinting at Cratian’s old driver’s license. No one was stupid enough to believe that the fifteen-year-old guy holding the license was the twenty-one year old in the picture. They didn’t look anything alike! Joss shook his head. “There’s no way I’m getting in there.”

Morgan sighed. “You are, too. You look older than you are, can carry yourself confidently, and the picture is kinda blurry. You wanted to know more about blending in in an urban environment? This is part of that.”

“But Morgan . . .”

Morgan looked like he was losing his patience. “Look, kid. I have a contact at the door anyway, so getting into Element shouldn’t be much of a problem. But getting downstairs, into The Vault, might be another issue. Let me do the talking, and if someone presses the issue of how old you are, just tell them you’re a guest of Dorian.”

Joss’s heart seized in his chest. Morgan couldn’t be talking about the same Dorian who had gifted Joss with a stake. Could he? He must have widened his eyes a bit, because Morgan looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay, kid?”

“Yeah. Just . . .” Joss blinked, taking slow, deep breaths, trying to calm his heart rate. “Who’s Dorian, anyway?”

A flash of suspicion crossed Morgan’s eyes then. “The guy who owns the club, but not many know it. My buddy at the door said that if we so much as utter Dorian’s name, it’ll make people treat us right.”

Joss nodded, his eyes on the nightclub across the street. He tried to appear calm but had a feeling his acting abilities were off tonight. The line at the door was growing.

In a moment, Morgan’s hand was on his shoulder. “So exactly how do
you
know Dorian, little brother?”

The inside of Joss’s chest felt like it burst into flames, flashing quickly with immense heat before turning to ashes and blowing away inside of him. He felt hollowed out. He felt empty. Slowly—so slowly that it seemed like time was barely clicking along at all—he turned his head and met Morgan’s eyes. Morgan shrugged. “I could see it written on your face the moment I said his name. So how do you know him?”

The lie formed on Joss’s tongue, but blew away like the ashes inside of him, leaving only truth behind. “He gave me my stake. My great-great-great-grandfather’s stake.”

Morgan eyed him momentarily before speaking. “I wondered where you got it.”

Joss’s eyes went wide. “You knew?”

Morgan nodded.

Joss felt his insides start to burn again. The heat permeated his flesh, warming his cheeks. “Do you know Dorian?”

Morgan shook his head, adjusting his fedora slightly with one hand. “No, kid. Never met the guy. And I’m highly suspicious as to why he’d give you a stake. But I knew somebody had, and I knew that it was through no doing of the Society. A tip, though: get a holster. You don’t need to carry the case around in a bulky backpack. Most of that stuff, you’ll hardly ever use.”

A memory flashed through Joss’s mind, the angry words of a vampire he’d once been friends with. Vlad had tossed Joss’s container of holy water on the ground and given him a lesson that came out sounding like a warning. “Just so you know, the cross won’t work either. They’re myths—kinda like how all vampires are evil.”

Joss chewed the inside of his cheek momentarily, mulling over the way that vampires kept managing to get close to him. He debated how Dorian kept seeping into his life, and wondered for a moment what this would mean for his future as a Slayer. With a hopeful tone, he muttered, “So . . . you’re not going to tell my uncle that I carry a stake?”

“Tell him what? I’d rather you were armed.” Morgan winked then and crossed the street. After a single heartbeat, Joss followed.

As they approached the line, Morgan led Joss right up to the front, much to the irritation of those who were already waiting in line. Morgan nodded to the doorman, who nodded back, ushering him and Joss inside.

It was a strange thing, walking into a club when you were very underage and clearly didn’t belong. Joss had expected the crowd, the music, the line at the bar. But he hadn’t expected a few of the leering glances from some of the women and some of the men. Morgan led him to the bar, where he grabbed a glass of some gold-looking liquid without ice, and Joss a glass of Mountain Dew with ice. They found an unoccupied bench and sat down, Morgan swirling his drink around in the glass before taking a healthy sip. Just as Joss was beginning to wonder what they were waiting for, Morgan leaned over and spoke as quietly as he could to be heard over the music. “See the guy at the bar? The one in the loose white shirt, tight leather pants, and snakeskin boots?”

Scanning the bar, Joss spotted the guy Morgan was talking about. His hair was long, semicurly, and dirty blond, his eyes such a crystalline blue that they could even be seen from this distance. And though he was obviously there alone, he seemed at complete ease with himself, as if frequenting clubs alone were a regular thing for him. It was, Joss assumed, largely because this man was a hunter, and nightclubs were clearly his hunting grounds. He wasn’t a man at all—and Joss couldn’t really identify his reasons for knowing this, beyond pure instinct—but a vampire. Joss casually moved his gaze away and sipped his Mountain Dew before replying to Morgan. “What about him?”

Morgan sipped his drink again, and Joss wondered if he were doing so to appear casual, or if he really needed a drink at that moment. “He’s not alone. Look near the door.”

Standing by the door was a woman, tall and lean. Her hair was black and sleek, hanging down to her waist. She was in a sparkly blue dress that fit her like it was two sizes too small, and heels so high that Joss wondered if they inhibited her movement at all. He hoped so, in fact, largely because Morgan was right. Two vampires were inside Element, and Joss wasn’t exactly sure what he and Morgan were going to do about it. He sipped his Mountain Dew again, mulling over just that, and by the time he turned his attention back to Morgan, Morgan had stood and drained his glass dry. “Stay with him, kid. Watch him. Get close, but not too close. And if you need me, you call, okay? I’ll come running.”

Joss raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Where are you going?”

A smile settled on Morgan’s lips as he nodded to the female vampire by the door. “With her.”

Joss furrowed his brow, worried that perhaps she was using some kind of mind control on his friend. “You do recall that she’s a monster, right? And that we kill her kind? With good reason?”

As if Joss had slapped him, Morgan shot him a look. “If either of us has a chance of getting close to that thing and finding out what it knows, it’s me.”

He took this in for a moment, realizing quickly that he had insulted Morgan after Morgan had actually eased the tension between them for the time being. He was just worried, that’s all. Worried that he couldn’t trust Morgan’s sensibilities, worried that yet another vampire would dupe him and he’d be left to pick up the shattered pieces of his existence once more. But, he reminded himself, Morgan was an old pro. Morgan knew how to tail vampires and how to get information from them without whipping out his stake and torturing it out of them. He looked at Morgan then and lowered his head a bit in shame. “Sorry, Morgan. I just—”

“I get the feeling you don’t have many friends, little brother. But I want you to know that I
am
your friend. And I will never betray you. Not like Sirus. Okay?” Morgan held his gaze for a moment, letting his words sink in. They did. Deeply.

“Okay, Morgan.”

“Hey . . . about that private job. If you ever want to talk about it—”

“I don’t.” Joss felt his jaw twitch slightly.

Morgan nodded slowly. “Too soon?”

“You could say that.”

As Joss swallowed hard, Morgan cracked a sincere smile. “We’re brothers, right?”

Joss nodded. They were brothers. Morgan was an important part of Joss’s extended Slayer family. If he could trust anyone, he could trust a fellow Slayer. “Morgan?”

Morgan tilted his head curiously at Joss’s inflection. “Yeah?”

“Holy water is useless against vampires, okay? Crosses, too. Just . . . just trust me on this, all right?”

Morgan seemed to mull this bit of information over for a moment. Joss could tell he desperately wanted to ask how Joss had come by this pertinent information, but in the end, he decided not to pry. He nodded slowly, and scratched his chin. “Good to know. Thanks, kid.”

Joss wanted to tell him where that knowledge had come from—that it was from the mouth of a vampire he’d once called friend—but he couldn’t. It was too embarrassing, having been duped twice by an undead creature of the night. He wanted Morgan to like him, respect him, admire him. How would Morgan ever do that if he knew that Joss was a Slayer who was incapable of recognizing his natural enemy? No. There was no way he could share the details of his encounter with Vlad with Morgan. Not now. Maybe not ever.

The female vampire turned and exited the door. Morgan tensed. “I have to tail her. You stay on him. Where he goes, you go. If you overhear anything about those vampire brothers, listen in, then hightail it back to base. You got it?”

But he didn’t stick around for Joss’s answer. Before Joss knew it, Morgan had slipped out into the night, leaving him alone in a nightclub in New York City. Unsettled, Joss took a drink of his soda and set the glass down on the small table to his right before turning his attention back to the vampire at the bar.

Except . . . the vampire wasn’t there anymore.

Joss looked quickly around the club, but couldn’t locate his mark anywhere. Frowning, he chastised himself for having lost the beast. But he wasn’t about to go home empty-handed. The vampire hadn’t gone out the door, so he had to be in here somewhere. Joss stood up, grabbed his glass, and headed for the stairs that led to The Vault. A large, meaty hand planted at the center of his chest, and the owner of that hand—who stood over a million feet tall and had shoulders the width of the Catskill Mountains—glared down at him with angry, slanted eyes. “Where you think you’re going, son? In fact, how did you get in here in the first place?”

Joss swallowed hard, a small squeak preceding his reply. “Dorian. Dorian said I could be here.”

The man didn’t remove his hand, but with his free hand, withdrew his cell phone from his inside jacket pocket and flipped it open, pressing a button for a number on speed dial. His eyes stayed on Joss the entire time. “Yes, sir. It seems you have an underage guest in Element, trying to head down to The Vault. He says he’s a friend of yours. His name is . . .”

Joss swallowed again. His throat was beginning to feel like someone had rubbed it over with a fine-grained sandpaper. When he spoke, his words came out in the form of a question, even though he hadn’t intended them to. “Joss?”

The big man nodded. “He says his name is Joss, sir.”

The pause between sentences must have only lasted a few seconds, but to Joss, they dragged on an eternity in length. And the entire time, his heart beat in slow motion. Loud, pounding beats thumping in his ears slowly. Solidly. When the man spoke again, Joss had to resist the urge to bolt. “I see.”

Suddenly the meaty hand released Joss’s chest, and the man’s demeanor changed. He flicked his gaze around the room nervously. “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t realize. Of course. Anything he wants, on the house. Yes. I apologize. I will. Right away, sir. Have a nice trip.”

He closed the phone, returning it to his pocket then, and when he spoke to Joss, his voice was gentle and kind. “I’m so sorry, Mr. McMillan. I didn’t realize you were in Dorian’s inner circle. You have to understand my position. Young kid, nightclub full of . . . well . . . I’m so sorry. Anyway, whatever you want, sir. I’ll get it for you. On the house, of course. Courtesy of Dorian.”

Joss could feel his eyebrows threatening to go up in surprise, but he smiled politely and nodded, concealing his utter shock. “Thank you. No hard feelings. Hey, have you seen a blond guy in black leather pants and snakeskin boots around?”

An eager smile appeared on his face. “Do you mean Kaige? He just went downstairs. Do you want me to find him for you?”

Joss shook his head. The last thing he wanted was a vampire to be fully aware that a Slayer was looking for him. “No, I’ll go look for him. Thanks anyway, though.”

As he descended the stairs, Joss’s entire being was enveloped by music with a heavy bass line. It thumped in his chest, down his legs, into the marrow of his bones. The lights were dim, as dim could be, and bodies filled every available inch of space. But something about the scene wasn’t suffocating or intimidating at all. It was invigorating, energizing, and Joss liked the way that it felt.