Come Softly into the Night
Chapter 1: Merry Meet and Merry Meet Again
Midnight Illusion was a new-age ruse; everybody knew it.
It was a popular place for unpopular youth because it was open late and its kitschy quality kept away the high school and college elite. The shop also had a reputation for an easygoing staff that allowed people to loiter in the faux-velvet loveseats and wooden in the alcoves that were hidden among the bookshelves.
But even Midnight Illusion's most valued customers made fun of it, dubbing it "Mid-Ill" to save from having to say the whole cheesy name out loud.
The so-called magic shop hosted strings of beads to part doorways, tapered black candles, and untidy bookshelves overflowing with astrological paperbacks. The thick smell of incense wafted throughout the considerably large store.
The beads at the store's entrance clicked together as a group of teenagers entered. They all wore an overabundance of black, with hair long and dirty. Even though Halloween was in a few weeks, the store was mostly empty: it was a school night, therefore a slow night.
While most of the group dispersed throughout the shop, browsing through books and picking up pewter figurines of fairies, one boy made his way over to the bored salesgirl who sat on a tall stool behind the check out counter, glancing over his shoulder at his friends as he did so.
Idly, she flipped through a magazine that sported some sort of Celtic cross on the cover. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes: teenagers.
"Hey," he boy said, looking uncomfortable as he leaned against the counter. His eyebrows were fair, the left pierced with a barbell. His hair was a faded black; blond roots were showing. When he spoke, another metal piercing gleamed on his tongue.
The salesgirl was unmoved. "Can I help you?" she asked in a perfunctory manner, barely glancing up.
"Did you do a love spell?"
The salesgirl looked torn between confusion and irritation. She settled for frowning. "…Excuse me?"
His flush was dark against his pale skin as he hurriedly finished, "Because it worked on me."
Again, the pierced boy's eyes flickered toward his friends who were snickering in the background. One girl who wore thick-soled boots that looked odd on her slight body made a moue and crossed her arms over her diminutive chest. Her hair was blond but shot though with red and black and could possibly be considered pretty if she weren't wearing so much eye makeup.
"Listen, buddy," the salesgirl began, stamping out the indignation that she felt bubbling under her cheeks. It was not a blush. She did not blush, and certainly not over a teenage punk in a perpetual awkward stage. "It's almost closing, and if you and your friends aren't going to buy anything—"
"Sorry," the boy interjected, still quite red. "It was a dare. My friends have a twisted sense of humor." He fidgeted under the salesgirl's hard look. "I'm Simon," he introduced himself, ducking his head shyly.
Simon offered a hand; his fingers were long and slim, bedecked with two silver rings.
The salesgirl studied his hand for a moment. Just as Simon was about to pull back his hand and stuff it in his pocket in embarrassment, she took it. "Bethany Camden. If you don't pull that shit again I'll be happy to help you," she announced, her handshake firm.
Half an hour later, with the group having spent a total of $41.23, Bethany ushered the teens out. When the last one was out the door, she locked up the store and turned off the lights.
In the employees lounge in the back room, there was a staircase that headed up to the loft above the magic shop, which Bethany headed up taking two stairs at a time.
A boy with rich brown hair and a smattering of freckles lay sleeping on the couch in the middle of the room; he was so tall that most of his legs were actually hanging off the couch's armrest. A trickle of drool slid down the corner of his mouth.
Bethany kicked the couch hard. "Get up Russ, it's almost midnight."
Russell James awoke with a start, body shifting into a fighting stance almost instantaneously. A long silver knife materialized in his hand; it looked surprisingly like one of the shop's chintzy "ceremonial knives", but the way Russ handled it made it seem less like a joke. He looked about ready to hurl it at someone; when he spotted Bethany, that look didn't change significantly.
With a groan, he threw himself back onto the couch, knife disappearing somewhere in his sleeve. "Jesus Bethy, I had a twelve hour shift today,"
Bethany poked at him with the blunt end of what looked to be a wooden stake. "It's Bethany. And I just got hit on by some kid because I was the one who took over your shift after you whined about it, even though you owe Jon the entire day after what you did. Remember?"
"So what, this is payback?" Russ demanded, voice muffled. His head was buried in a throw pillow.
"No, it's hunting," Bethany said, rolling her eyes. "Now get up."
Midnight Illusion was a teenage Goth trap; everybody knew it. That's why it was the perfect cover.
Midnight was a special time for monsters and hunters alike. For the Night World, it had some mystical significance that Bethany was altogether skeptical about. Whatever the reason, the monsters came out to play in their blatant little flower clubs at midnight, and that meant prime hunting for her and Russ.
Currently, they were at the old part of town, where the buildings stood in magnificent deterioration. They took Russ' motorcycle, which they parked on a street adjacent to a very specific alley. The whole neighborhood was riddled with graffiti, but the only part of the wall art that mattered to Bethany was the sketch of a rose done in black spray paint.
A vampire club.
Bethany patted her weapons to assure her of their presence.
Luckily, the strict rules for the clubs worked just as well for the hunters as it did for the club's secrecy. All the monsters were required to park at least a block away from the club, so that all a hunter had to do was sit and wait.
The waiting was the hard part.
Russ was looking impatient and eager, all traces of sleepiness having left him at the tangible prospect of a good kill. For Bethany, the hunt had the double benefit of blowing off steam and getting rid of the monsters at the same time.
For Russ it meant something more personal, more primal. Sometimes, his eyes glittered feverishly in those moments just before the kill. Bethany never asked why.
When they saw the couple leaving the alley and walking to a mid-sized sedan, Bethany had to grip Russ' arm hard to keep him from gassing up right away. Bethany realized with a start that it was that little prick Simon and the girl with the boots. When she shook his hand earlier, she hadn't noticed any visible flower. She never really understood the black flower system that the Night World used to identify each other, but she didn't question things that made the monsters easier to spot.
Just as Russ pulled up next to the couple and Bethany got ready to pounce, the couple seemed to have a romantic moment: the girl with the tri-colored hair pulled Simon close, and gazed into his eyes. She then buried her head in the crook of his neck.
Simon's eyelids fluttered down.
He was already screaming by the time Russ and Bethany attacked.
Angelica hooked her arm in his before he could protest.
Really, he just wanted to go home after that incident at Mid-Ill. Simon Lovell decided right then and there that he was never going to accept a dare again. Being embarrassed in front of the pretty twenty-something salesgirl had been fun for just about everyone but him.
"Where are we going?" he asked Angelica when he realized they weren't heading in the direction of his parents' apartment. David, the only one who had a care besides Angelica, was probably already halfway to Sera and Aiden's house, leaving him quite alone with a girl who Sera insisted had a crush on him.
Simon took a furtive sideways glance at her, and quickly averted his eyes when he saw that she was already looking at him.
"There's this great club that I've been meaning to show you," Angelica said with a secretive smile.
Pale eyebrows shot up in surprise. Angelica Hart was the type of girl who liked to pretend that she was disaffected about everything. The club would have to be something special to get that kind of response.
"Yeah? What's it called?"
"I'll tell you when we get there," she said confidently.
As Angelica's Chevy passed through the progressively older neighborhoods, Simon ticked through a list of things to talk about. It wasn't so much that he disliked the silence, but that he felt it was expected of him to fill it.
"How's the music at this mystery club?" Simon asked, reaching over to fiddle with the air conditioning. His arm brushed against hers.
Angelica considered the question. "Better than most, but nothing great," she admitted. "Think experimental techno and possibly some ambient rock."
He nodded, but wondered: if the music was just OK, than what made the club so great?
"We're here," Angelica announced as she pulled up next to the sidewalk. Simon looked around: there was nothing but old buildings. The corpse of an old Camaro sat in a pathetic heap at the curb; a couple in an apartment above them was having a loud fight.
"Right. Where's 'here'?"
When they got out of the car, she slipped her hand into his and answered, "The Black Rose."
They walked for a good block before they got to the actual club. Simon's hand was beginning to feel uncomfortably damp by the time they walked up to the alley-side entrance. The door was unmarked except for a black rose that was spray painted above it. Simon felt his lips quirk at how excited Angelica seemed to be at the symbol.
"It's kind of an underground club; no one's supposed to know about it," Angelica explained.
She rapped on the door sharply, and received a growl of, "What?" for her trouble. An eye level slot opened and a pair of amber eyes stared out at them.
With an unimpressed toss of her hair, Angelica simply met those amber eyes. For a second, Simon actually thought he saw her gray eyes actually flash silver. He blinked to clear his vision.
The door opened and Angelica led the way, tugging him along behind her.
Immediately, they were assaulted with the droning music that was blasting through the club. Before Simon could get a good look at his surroundings, Angelica steered him to the bar, even though they were both about four years short of being able to buy alcohol.
Amazingly, when she met the bartender's eyes and ordered two beers, the bartender complied.
"How did you do that?" Simon wanted to know, taking a small swig.
Angelica looked pleased with herself. "A friend of my older brother owns the club."
"Nice guy," he commented.
"He's not so bad," Angelica said with an indifferent shrug. "I just hope my brother doesn't find out. He can be a little—"
"Angie, what the hell do you think you're doing here on a school night?" a voice demanded loudly. The person that followed the voice was a tall blond guy. He was impeccably dressed in a dark blue button down shirt and dark slacks.
"—Protective." Angelica finished with a wince. She twisted a piece of blond-and-black hair nervously. "Hi Basil," she greeted, her tone long-suffering.
Basil apparently noticed the beer right then. "Who the fuck gave you that? Where's the bartender? I'll kick his ass—who the hell gives a seventeen-year-old beer? Did he even card you?"
Instead of answering, Angelica grabbed Basil's arm and dragged him several feet away from the bar. Simon sympathized with him; Angelica was none-too-gentle when she was directing someone.
It appeared that, Simon was now the issue of the argument because Basil wasn't even bothering to hide his gesturing.
Angelica spoke to her brother in fierce, low tones. Simon thought he heard Basil say the word "vermin". Simon felt his face heat. His black clothing and piercings usually earned him some pretty nasty words, but "vermin" was new.
"—Doesn't matter—mine—turn tonight—"
As they began speaking in lower tones, Simon finally decided to give up eavesdropping in favor of studying the club. Pool tables were set up at the far corner. An astounding amount of good-looking people writhed on the dance floor on the opposite side of the room. Trance music pulsed loudly throughout the room.
It was really not his scene.
He didn't want to offend Angelica, but he was ready to get the hell out of there. The girl who slid in the barstool next to him flashed a smile with too-sharp teeth. The bartender, who apparently decided it was safe to show his face, was giving him odd, intense looks. He knew he was underage, but the amount of scrutiny he was under was ridiculous.
Just as the girl sitting next to him leaned over to say something to him, Angelica was by his side, whisking him away. "Let's get out of here," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear.
Simon let himself be led out.
When they exited the club, the night seemed particularly still in comparison. They were almost to Angelica's car when she turned to him and looked him in the eye.
For a moment, Simon became caught up in those twin points of silver as the rest of the world faded into the background. Angelica suggested something, and Simon nodded absently, closing his eyes as she pulled him into an embrace.
That was when the pain began.
A sharp prick at the junction where his neck and shoulder met ripped a startled yell out of him just as a large body tackled him to the ground. His head hit the pavement and for a moment the world went black.
When he opened his eyes a minute later, he saw two people wearing motorcycle helmets and dark clothing. They stood over Angelica's crumpled body, which had something wooden sticking out from her chest.
"Oh God," The words were torn from his mouth before he could stop them.
The two figures turned toward him. The first was ridiculously tall and well over six feet. The second was about a foot shorter and slim in comparison. Both were holding similar wooden weapons in their hands.
When the slimmer figure took off the dark helmet, pale brown hair tumbled out to the shoulders of his rescuer. Simon's eyes widened. It was the same salesgirl that told him off not two hours ago.
Before he fainted, Simon's last thought was that he was going to die by the hands of a girl who sold unicorn posters for a living.
Russ looked at the boy on the couch nervously. "We should have just left him," he said as if Bethany hadn't already figured that out.
It was a bitch to get the unconscious boy back to Midnight Illusion on that stupid motorcycle.
"He was just bitten by a vamp. Not to mention that he could have a concussion." The answers were reasonable, but Bethany was more concerned about the fact that he might have seen her face. How stupid could she possibly get?
"When Jon gets home—"
"He'll agree with me," Bethany said. I hope, she added silently.
The boy moaned just then, clutching his head. "Angelica?" He looked disoriented and confused as he gazed upon the loft. When he realized whom he was in the room with, his eyes widened in fear.
Bethany exchanged a disbelieving glace with Russ. They just saved him from a vampire and he was afraid of them?
"OK, buddy—" Bethany began.
"It's Simon," he interrupted. He seemed afraid but had a determined set in his jaw.
She rolled her eyes. "I don't care if your name is Boy Howdy. We saved you, bandaged you up, and now we need to know that you aren't going to be telling your little friends about us."
"Saved me?" he squeaked. "You—you killed Angelica!"
Russ looked confused. "Who?"
Simon's jaw dropped. "The girl I was with that you stabbed with a piece of wood!" he exclaimed, voice rising hysterically.
"Whoa, you mean the vampire?" Russ asked, obviously not catching on to Simon's irrational state.
The boy on the couch seemed to collapse into himself right then. He closed his eyes and pressed the palms of his hands over his ears, rocking back and forth. Bethany thought she heard him mutter, "This is not happening, this is not happening,"
Huffing in annoyance, Bethany strode up to him and slapped his hands away from his ears. "All right, buddy—Simon—whatever, this is not just some fucked up dream. It's not going away tomorrow morning. So listen up because a lot of lives are at stake."
Simon looked as if he was going to protest, but Bethany held up her hand imperiously. "They call it the Night World…"
"So you're telling me that one of my best friends was a vampire who tried to feed off of me and belonged to a secret society that is made up of not only vampires but witches and shapeshifters, too?" Simon asked slowly. He valiantly attempted to keep his voice from cracking.
"Pretty much," the big guy called Russ said in a much too cheerful voice.
Simon took a deep breath to keep from laughing hysterically; this was like some B horror movie. Maybe if he just played along…?
"OK. I won't tell anyone that your magic shop is just a cover for you and your roommates fight with evil."
Bethany gave him an irritated look. "I know it's hard to swallow, but you have to realize that your so-called friend has probably been feeding off you regularly. She's been using you as food."
He shook his head in denial. "No. Sera told me that Angelica had a crush on me. I—she liked me," he said, standing up. "This is crazy. I'm going home,"
Russ stood in the doorway, blocking it quite effectively while Bethany pulled him in front of vanity mirror on the wall near the entrance.
"Look," she said, pushing away the hair that brushed the nape of his neck.
Cautiously, Simon looked. On his neck, there was what looked like two neat puncture wounds, already mostly healed.
Simon swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. His head injury must have been worse than he thought because he was starting to believe them.
...to be continued in Chapter 2: A Nighttime Trade
Author's Note: Thanks for reading! If you liked/disliked anything you've just read, please feel free to leave a review. I don't have a beta reader at the moment, so if you've noticed any typos or anything like that I'd love it if you could tell me.