Chapter 2
"Deme una Corona allí amigo, ninguna cal por favor," sang the sweet, smooth and sultry, distinctly feminine voice next to Seth. She'd asked for a Corona, no lime. Hard drinker she must have been.
"Algo para tal dama hermosa," replied the bartender. Anything for such a beautiful lady. Seth then knew he at least needed to turn and take a gander, to see if his tastes were all that different from those South of the Border. Then again, the barkeep could have just been playing nice to ensure he'd get a good tip.
Seth turned to his left to view this so-called beautiful dama. Nope. The bartender wasn't sponging for a tip. He had been fairly accurate. She was indeed a beautiful woman... dressed a little butch for his tastes though. She was wearing a cut-off black tee that exposed her navel and prominent silver ring attached. She sported tight black stretch jeans with a silver chain belt round her hips. Rugged high-heeled black snakeskins, several chains around her neck and wrists, and cropped dark hair, obviously dyed black, were all the mark of a tough hombre. Yet, she'd sounded so placid when she's spoken. Weird.
"Obtendré esto, el compañero," Seth suddenly found himself speaking up. He was offering to pay for her drink.
"Gracias," replied the dark and beautiful stranger, turning toward Seth and gracing him with a friendly smile. She had perfect white teeth.
"¿Habla inglés?" Seth asked smoothly, raising his brows. She looked American. She nodded.
"You are American too, I see," she commented cheerfully. Seth nodded and raised his glass to her as the bartender slammed the Corona onto the counter. The woman lifted the bottle to her lips, ignoring the glass that had been set down next to it.
She took a swig, then wiped her luscious, dark lower lip. She turned toward Seth again, looking hopeful, as though she wanted to converse with him. "I'm Gretchen," she stated calmly, extending her hand to shake his.
"Name's Jacob," Seth replied flatly, remembering always to use his alias when meeting new folks. No surprise he'd chosen to take the preacher's name. That man had changed his life in more ways than one. He took her delicate hand and gave it a firm shake.
"Nice meeting you, Jacob," Gretchen admonished sweetly.
"Same here, Gretchen," Seth responded casually. She had the prettiest gray eyes he'd ever seen. They were wide and child-like with fluttering dark lashes. They danced when she smiled. He couldn't help but wonder what such a vision of loveliness was doing in this place.
Gretchen took another swig, and set the bottle down, looking ahead at the mirrors on the wall, all advertising different brands of liquor. She sighed. "I've never been partial to places like this," she commented dryly.
Had she read his mind or something? "Neither have I," he countered. "In fact, the last time I was in a place like this I... lost someone very close to me," he finished, not wanting to let on more than he should.
"What a coincidence. So did I," she replied blankly. "Fucking Titty Twister, that Hell hole," she uttered bitterly under her breath.
Seth's inner antennas immediately began to blare. He choked on his whiskey, almost spitting it across the bar. "I'm sorry. Did you say the Titty Twister?" He asked, incredulous.
She faced him again, a half-smile upon her face. She was faking it. "Yeah, I did," she replied, sadness evident in her voice. She rested her chin in her hands, mulling over the half-empty Corona bottle.
"That was the same place I was talking about!" He exclaimed. He snickered pensively, shaking his head. "Small fucking world."
"At least for vampires," Gretchen remarked with foreboding in her tone.
"They come after you too, huh?" Seth asked rhetorically, for he knew the answer. He then began to wonder just how in the hell a petite dama such as herself had managed to escape, when he barely had, with an arsenal at his disposal, no less.
She took a long swig of her drink, then slammed it down, sighing. "I lost my girlfriend to that pack of hell hounds," she said bitterly, looking straight ahead once again.
Seth turned his whole body to face her this time, resting his elbow upon the bar, looking quite pensive. He cocked a brow. "Girlfriend?" He asked gingerly.
She tossed him an affirmative glance, nodding. "Yeah. I'm a dyke," she offered nonchalantly.
Seth didn't bat an eyelash. "Well, sorry for your loss, Gretchen. I lost my brother to that same pack of beasts. As for your being a dyke, well that's your business. Doesn't mean I'm not going to buy you another drink," he said charmingly.
She chuckled. "Thanks for being liberal," she said, raising her bottle to his glass.
He winked. "Thanks for being human and talking to me," he responded happily. He then did a quick double-take. "You're not a fucking vampire, are you?" He asked with mock anxiety.
She cackled. "No, are you?"
He shook his head vigorously. "Hell fucking no," he stated with conviction. "I killed enough of those godless things to know the world is better off without the likes of them."
"I nailed plenty of them too that night," Gretchen acknowledged solemnly. "The one that bit my woman got some extra special treatment," she added.
"I can imagine," Seth retorted.
"I tried to kill her myself. She'd turned into one of them," she remarked, her voice cracking a bit. "But she was too fast for me, and I lost her... to a world of darkness and flesh-eating."
"Same situation with me. Except I did kill my brother. No choice. Not a very positive tie that binds us, eh?" He queried flatly.
"Not at all," Gretchen affirmed.
"What was her name?" Seth asked gently, pressing a bit. He always had this way of prying without being overbearing.
"Santanico," she responded somberly. "Santanico Pandemonium. At least that was her stage name. She used to dance at that place. God, I loved the hell out of her." Gretchen took one final swig before casting the empty bottle down.
Seth immediately motioned for the barkeep to bring another. He had a feeling this was going to be a long night. Santanico, this woman's so-called beloved paramour, had been the first to take a bite out of Richie that fateful night. She'd done the deed. He had eventually delivered her demise. How would he explain that one?
"What was her real name?" He asked, trying to sound conversational. He did have an endearing quality with people.
"Samara," Gretchen retorted tearfully. "She was my... you know, first... woman I mean. Before that I dated men. One of my ex-boyfriends was called Sex Machine. He and I were good friends with Samara. Then, one night, I don't really know why, I decided to indulge him in his fantasy... give him the both of us. From that point on, I knew that men just didn't cut it for me anymore. I'd fallen in love with her."
This shit was getting wilder by the minute. Sex Machine had been there that night as well, and had died there after turning into a vampire. But he'd been such a help with killing most of the monsters in the bar. Seth figured he could at least mention that. Perhaps it would make her feel better.
"I met your ex," he began casually. "I met him that night. He was a good guy. He died a hero in my book."
"Yeah, somebody told me he was dead. Poor guy. I didn't believe them. I just figured he'd taken off on his Harley somewhere, heartbroken that I'd left him for a woman."
She started drinking her second Corona. "Then, come to find out, Samara died along with most of her kind, around the same time as Sex Man. Weird. Top it off, the bounty I'm looking for was the hero."
Seth almost dropped his shot glass. "Come again?" He asked, quite concerned. Bounty? Oh Lord.
"I'm a hunter for a bondsman. I've been on the move looking for Seth Gecko," she replied coolly.
Now, this time, Seth did spit out his whiskey, right onto the floor. "You're a bounty hunter?" He inquired, trying his best to sound unaffected by her last words.
She nodded, taking another swig.
Seth sighed heavily. This was going to be a long fucking night.
"Deme una Corona allí amigo, ninguna cal por favor," sang the sweet, smooth and sultry, distinctly feminine voice next to Seth. She'd asked for a Corona, no lime. Hard drinker she must have been.
"Algo para tal dama hermosa," replied the bartender. Anything for such a beautiful lady. Seth then knew he at least needed to turn and take a gander, to see if his tastes were all that different from those South of the Border. Then again, the barkeep could have just been playing nice to ensure he'd get a good tip.
Seth turned to his left to view this so-called beautiful dama. Nope. The bartender wasn't sponging for a tip. He had been fairly accurate. She was indeed a beautiful woman... dressed a little butch for his tastes though. She was wearing a cut-off black tee that exposed her navel and prominent silver ring attached. She sported tight black stretch jeans with a silver chain belt round her hips. Rugged high-heeled black snakeskins, several chains around her neck and wrists, and cropped dark hair, obviously dyed black, were all the mark of a tough hombre. Yet, she'd sounded so placid when she's spoken. Weird.
"Obtendré esto, el compañero," Seth suddenly found himself speaking up. He was offering to pay for her drink.
"Gracias," replied the dark and beautiful stranger, turning toward Seth and gracing him with a friendly smile. She had perfect white teeth.
"¿Habla inglés?" Seth asked smoothly, raising his brows. She looked American. She nodded.
"You are American too, I see," she commented cheerfully. Seth nodded and raised his glass to her as the bartender slammed the Corona onto the counter. The woman lifted the bottle to her lips, ignoring the glass that had been set down next to it.
She took a swig, then wiped her luscious, dark lower lip. She turned toward Seth again, looking hopeful, as though she wanted to converse with him. "I'm Gretchen," she stated calmly, extending her hand to shake his.
"Name's Jacob," Seth replied flatly, remembering always to use his alias when meeting new folks. No surprise he'd chosen to take the preacher's name. That man had changed his life in more ways than one. He took her delicate hand and gave it a firm shake.
"Nice meeting you, Jacob," Gretchen admonished sweetly.
"Same here, Gretchen," Seth responded casually. She had the prettiest gray eyes he'd ever seen. They were wide and child-like with fluttering dark lashes. They danced when she smiled. He couldn't help but wonder what such a vision of loveliness was doing in this place.
Gretchen took another swig, and set the bottle down, looking ahead at the mirrors on the wall, all advertising different brands of liquor. She sighed. "I've never been partial to places like this," she commented dryly.
Had she read his mind or something? "Neither have I," he countered. "In fact, the last time I was in a place like this I... lost someone very close to me," he finished, not wanting to let on more than he should.
"What a coincidence. So did I," she replied blankly. "Fucking Titty Twister, that Hell hole," she uttered bitterly under her breath.
Seth's inner antennas immediately began to blare. He choked on his whiskey, almost spitting it across the bar. "I'm sorry. Did you say the Titty Twister?" He asked, incredulous.
She faced him again, a half-smile upon her face. She was faking it. "Yeah, I did," she replied, sadness evident in her voice. She rested her chin in her hands, mulling over the half-empty Corona bottle.
"That was the same place I was talking about!" He exclaimed. He snickered pensively, shaking his head. "Small fucking world."
"At least for vampires," Gretchen remarked with foreboding in her tone.
"They come after you too, huh?" Seth asked rhetorically, for he knew the answer. He then began to wonder just how in the hell a petite dama such as herself had managed to escape, when he barely had, with an arsenal at his disposal, no less.
She took a long swig of her drink, then slammed it down, sighing. "I lost my girlfriend to that pack of hell hounds," she said bitterly, looking straight ahead once again.
Seth turned his whole body to face her this time, resting his elbow upon the bar, looking quite pensive. He cocked a brow. "Girlfriend?" He asked gingerly.
She tossed him an affirmative glance, nodding. "Yeah. I'm a dyke," she offered nonchalantly.
Seth didn't bat an eyelash. "Well, sorry for your loss, Gretchen. I lost my brother to that same pack of beasts. As for your being a dyke, well that's your business. Doesn't mean I'm not going to buy you another drink," he said charmingly.
She chuckled. "Thanks for being liberal," she said, raising her bottle to his glass.
He winked. "Thanks for being human and talking to me," he responded happily. He then did a quick double-take. "You're not a fucking vampire, are you?" He asked with mock anxiety.
She cackled. "No, are you?"
He shook his head vigorously. "Hell fucking no," he stated with conviction. "I killed enough of those godless things to know the world is better off without the likes of them."
"I nailed plenty of them too that night," Gretchen acknowledged solemnly. "The one that bit my woman got some extra special treatment," she added.
"I can imagine," Seth retorted.
"I tried to kill her myself. She'd turned into one of them," she remarked, her voice cracking a bit. "But she was too fast for me, and I lost her... to a world of darkness and flesh-eating."
"Same situation with me. Except I did kill my brother. No choice. Not a very positive tie that binds us, eh?" He queried flatly.
"Not at all," Gretchen affirmed.
"What was her name?" Seth asked gently, pressing a bit. He always had this way of prying without being overbearing.
"Santanico," she responded somberly. "Santanico Pandemonium. At least that was her stage name. She used to dance at that place. God, I loved the hell out of her." Gretchen took one final swig before casting the empty bottle down.
Seth immediately motioned for the barkeep to bring another. He had a feeling this was going to be a long night. Santanico, this woman's so-called beloved paramour, had been the first to take a bite out of Richie that fateful night. She'd done the deed. He had eventually delivered her demise. How would he explain that one?
"What was her real name?" He asked, trying to sound conversational. He did have an endearing quality with people.
"Samara," Gretchen retorted tearfully. "She was my... you know, first... woman I mean. Before that I dated men. One of my ex-boyfriends was called Sex Machine. He and I were good friends with Samara. Then, one night, I don't really know why, I decided to indulge him in his fantasy... give him the both of us. From that point on, I knew that men just didn't cut it for me anymore. I'd fallen in love with her."
This shit was getting wilder by the minute. Sex Machine had been there that night as well, and had died there after turning into a vampire. But he'd been such a help with killing most of the monsters in the bar. Seth figured he could at least mention that. Perhaps it would make her feel better.
"I met your ex," he began casually. "I met him that night. He was a good guy. He died a hero in my book."
"Yeah, somebody told me he was dead. Poor guy. I didn't believe them. I just figured he'd taken off on his Harley somewhere, heartbroken that I'd left him for a woman."
She started drinking her second Corona. "Then, come to find out, Samara died along with most of her kind, around the same time as Sex Man. Weird. Top it off, the bounty I'm looking for was the hero."
Seth almost dropped his shot glass. "Come again?" He asked, quite concerned. Bounty? Oh Lord.
"I'm a hunter for a bondsman. I've been on the move looking for Seth Gecko," she replied coolly.
Now, this time, Seth did spit out his whiskey, right onto the floor. "You're a bounty hunter?" He inquired, trying his best to sound unaffected by her last words.
She nodded, taking another swig.
Seth sighed heavily. This was going to be a long fucking night.
