Anya is staring at him in open mouthed shock. “I know it’s a lot to process, but you must listen. My sister, Kathleen’s grandmother, protected the book, and she helped me look after you.”
“This is crazy! I’m not part angel, Da. I’m a freaking tour guide!” Panic begins to set it and Anya leaps up to pace. Christian’s mind is spinning as he looks at Keane.
“This is crazy, Keane. Angels, vampires, and demon hunters! What else don’t we know?” Christian wonders.
“The book is buried in the garden at Katie’s. It explains everything in detail. Anya, your mother was judged by her people because of you. She fell in love with a vampire, which was forbidden. A child of the light and the dark would have untold powers. It took years to decipher it. I read the book before I entrusted it to my sister. It spoke of the one who would be able to…”
“No! Stop it right now. I won’t listen to any more of this. This is crazy!” Anya spins and moves so quickly that Christian can’t stop her. She races through the hospital unseen and runs as if her life depends on it.
After a few minutes, Anya begins to calm down and realizes she has run four blocks in a matter of heart beats. “This can’t be happening. I need a drink!” She spies the Temple Bar, one of her favorite places, but she needs to think. Somewhere that won’t be the first place Christian looks.
Anya turns and walks away from the local hangouts. She walks until she notices a blinking red flame on a black sign. The Laisar Mill. Faint memories of being snockered, dancing and drinking, followed by running and passing out. Perfect.
As she nears the entrance, she catches a tantalizing scent on the breeze that has her fangs lengthening and her mouth, watering. Her eyesight sharpens and she realizes that those entering this club are not all human. Too traumatized to think it through, she hopes that maybe she will find some answers here.
The interior of the club is elegantly designed, with its navy, velvet lined walls and black and silver accents. Three intimate dance floors are strategically placed with a mix of table and chairs scattered about. Or for a more private experience, chaise lounges in low lit areas with small tables.
A gorgeous black marble bar with a magnificent waterfall feature is the centerpiece of the club. It is lit from behind, with a dancing red flame beneath the water. Anya is entranced and heads straight to the bar, bobbing and weaving through a throng of people.
It is crowded for this time of day. Her heart thumps in time to the beat of the music and that scent, oh how it calls to her! Parched, Anya finds an empty seat at the bar and waits for her turn to order.
“What will it be?” The bartender asks.
“Vodka, neat,” she replies and spins her seat around to watch the dance floor while her drink is poured. Her mouth goes dry and her heart almost stops as she glances around the club. Humans dance with demons, unaware of the evil holding them. Black eyes, nails and long teeth. Pain flashes through her head as she tries to remember, but it’s no use. The others terrify her. They are creatures she cannot identify, and they are scattered amongst the vampires and humans, as though they belong here. Surely, she is the only thing out of place. The humans seem to be dancing, laughing and enjoying themselves.
“Here you go, love.” She turns to collect her drink and pay, but he stops her and points to a corner where a male vampire is seated on a chaise lounge. Perfection is all she can think. Long, lean and blonde, with a strong jaw, but that is where the perfection ends. His black eyes give away his true identity. Black and soulless, he stalks her with his gaze.
Anya’s eyes snare his and he blinks as though surprised. With a grin, she watches as a flicker of annoyance crosses his face as the human female with him, tries her hardest to get his full attention. Barely dressed in a tight strapless purple mini, she strokes his thigh and whispers in his ear. Anya watches sipping on her vodka and winces at the bland taste.
The moment she tastes it a flash of irritation has her turning back to the bartender. “Is this some kind of joke?” Anya snaps. “This tastes like water.” The bartender returns and grabs the bottle from under the counter to check the date. He pours a finger full into a shot glass and tastes it.
“I can assure you, miss, this is top shelf vodka. Not water. Can I bring you something else?”
Anya shoots it and grumbles in frustrations. “It has no flavor at all, just bring me a glass of wine, please.” When he returns, she pays and carries it with her to the open air terrace. Maybe some fresh air will wash away that incessant scent.
She moves outside, unaware that his eyes follow her every move. A breeze blows and Anya is thankful to be wearing black jeans, turtleneck, and boots. A young woman around her age bumps into her, almost spilling her wine.
“Oops, sorry.” She blots at Anya with her napkin and giggles.
“No worries, maybe you can help me.” Anya looks at the human girl and steps closer so she can speak into her ear. The girl’s perfume surrounds her and beneath it the scent of alcohol.
“Do you smell something, strange?” Anya asks.
“Sorry, all I can smell is sweat and alcohol.” She waves at her friend and moves away to join her.
As the girl walks away, a gentle breeze blows her perfume away, clearing the air around Anya.
