Night 5 part 1
The soothing sounds of Mozart filled Victoria's apartment, drowning out the pattering of sleet against the ceiling-high windows. Already nine p.m., Victoria noticed. She wondered when Sands would call. He had said he would when he said that he wanted to go out. Something about going goth. She wasn't sure what that meant.
It had been several days since she had last seen Sheldon Jeffrey Sands and she found him creeping into her thoughts; that half-smile that caused her insides to flutter, the dark eyes that could look downright angelic at times. She sighed, picked up her book and continued to read, shaking him from her mind.
She smiled when the phone rang. Jumping up from the couch she quickly crossed the floor and answered the call. "Hello, Sands." she said pleasantly.
"Hello, mind-reader." He sounded amused. "Did you still want to go goth with me?"
She felt her own cheeks dimpling with a smile. "Whatever that means."
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You've lived in a cave for the past hundred years. Well, just dress all in black. If you have really dark make up, wear that. Try to look like a movie vampire...sort of."
Her eyes narrowed. "Are you pulling my leg?"
"No, but if you'd like, I'm available for any body part you want pulled."
She could imagine him grinning wickedly on the other end of the line.
"All right," she paused, her curiosity growing, "I'll be ready. What time will you be here? Or would you rather I meet you?" she asked.
There was a quick response. "I'll come get you, that way if you're not quite goth enough, we can stop and get what you need."
She smiled, "What time?"
"How about half-past eleven?" he asked, and she couldn't help but remember he might sound very American now, but he was still a Brit under the skin.
"Don't keep me waiting," she teased and then soften her voice. "I've missed you," she said quietly before hanging up the receiver, not giving him a chance to respond.
Victoria ran up the stairs and, flinging herself into her closet, she began hunting for an outfit, all the while thinking 'movie vampire, movie vampire.' and giggling to herself.
Precisely at 11:30 there was a chime from the doorbell. Victoria's head whipped around. She took a deep breath and studied at herself in the mirror.
Nervously she straightened the black fishnet stockings and sighed deeply. This was definitely a new look for her. Making her way down the staircase, she crossed to the door. Well, best to get this over with, she thought. "You better not laugh!" she said through the door before flinging it open.
There stood Sands, but he looked so very different. He wore mascara, she was sure of it, and he dressed all black; black v-neck vest, black jacket, black trench coat, black boots. And his hair had excessive amounts of mousse in it. He looked at her with a small smile playing across his mouth as his eyes locked with hers.
"You look," he paused to rake her with his gaze, "edible."
She leaned against the door and motioned him in. "Thank you. I like your eyes," she complemented him.
"Pure decadence," he responded, walking in and pausing, pressing the length of his body against hers. He leaned forward, lightly kissing her cheek, one hand gently holding the angle of her jaw.
Stepping back from his embrace she asked, "Is this goth?" as she turned, modeling her fishnets and black paten leather boots. "I wasn't sure about the dress?"
Her gaze was drawn to his tongue as he studied her, because he wet his bottom lip before gliding his teeth over it. "You look yummy, darling."
She smiled and tugged at the torn edge of a black fishnet top. Her black bra showed through. "Well then, shall we go? I am very curious to see where you are taking me."
He watched as she reached for her coat. "It's called The Darkness. The people there...well, you'll see. It will be fun." He smiled more fully. "I hope you like to role play."
She turned quickly a sparkle in her green eyes. "Of course I do." Then she reached for his arm. "Let's go, you can tell me who I'm supposed to be on the way."
Victoria was a little surprised to see Sands had hired a limo and driver for the night. "Good evening," the chauffer said, holding an umbrella over them as they dashed from the front door of her building to where it sat double-parked in the freezing sleet, it's door ajar.
"What's this?" she question, as she ducked her head and entered the vehicle. The mood lighting was on and the roof twinkled in turquoise and purple stars. Sands slid in beside her, a mischievous smile across his lips. Her eyes were drawn to those beautiful lips.
The driver walked around and soon the limo was merging into traffic. That was the thing about New York, she mused, the city was never quiet.
The window was up between the chauffer and them, she noticed.
"I thought we might enjoy it," Sands finally replied to her, jerking his head to refer to the limousine. "We don't have to worry about no place to park. In the last century, we would have hired a carriage, wouldn't we?"
She couldn't help but notice the mascara on him again. It emphasized how long and thick his lashes were, and she smiled. "You look different, almost dangerous," she told him.
"I am dangerous," he told her in a low, growling voice. He leaned toward her, nipping at her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.
"I know you are," she responded as she tilted her head and leaned into his nibble.
They arrived at The Darkness a several minutes later. Victoria straightened her straps and pouted at Sands. "Is my lipstick all right?"
He licked his own lips. "Tastes good to me." He grinned at her, raising his brows mischievously.
Once again, the chauffer acted as their protector from the weather, holding a large umbrella over them as they walked toward the club's door. The anteroom within was crowded with people. At the far end stood a very tall, muscular man. He stood before a velvet rope, keeping them from entering the club, a clipboard in one hand.
As if sensing them, he looked up as Victoria and Sands entered, and immediately moved to unlatch the velvet rope's hook and hold it so the two of them could pass into the club beyond.
They walked down a very dark hallway, stopping only to give to give their coats to the cloakroom attendant. They continued on to a door, which Sands pushed open. A vast wall of loud, thumping sound flooded over them. Victoria held her hands up to her sensitive hears, but Sands pulled one down and put something soft into it. She squinted down and saw earplugs. With a laugh, she fitted them in.
"They're the kind they use to filter out loud sounds, but allow you to hear the voice," he informed her, smiling at her. "Sorry, I remembered to bring them, but once I saw you, all thoughts of them vanished until now." He shrugged.
"I'm glad you remembered." She looked into the club. It was swarming with people dressed similar to them, illuminated by very dim ultra-modern lighting, and decorated with couches, chairs, and a long bar. One end of the long narrow rectangular room was a video screen where an old horror film played, drowned out by the loud music.
"Why do they dress like this?" Victoria asked Sands, her mouth up against his ear.
"They're pretending to be vampires," he explained.
"What?"
"I guess you never read Ann Rice." He looked into the room, taking her hand. "Come on, we'll mingle. You'll get the gist of it."
"I don't..." But he had drawn her further into the crowd and she could no longer continue her line of questioning.
Victoria looked around the room at the strange array of humans. Their myriad thoughts came flooding in on her and she suddenly stopped in her tracks, causing Sands to turn and look at her. She held her hand to her head.
"What's wrong?" Sands bent over so he could look up into her face. "Are you in pain?" There was real concern in his voice.
She slowly shook her head. "No, too many thoughts, too many emotions." She dropped her hand and looked into his chocolaty eyes. "I'm okay now, I just became overwhelmed for a moment. I've blocked them all out now." She smiled to let him know she was fine. "Lead on."
"Are you?" he asked, still studying her.
"Yes." She smiled, squeezing his hand.
He took her at her word and led her past the bar to a door. This one was watched over by yet another over-sized man, who saw them coming and opened it for them. "What's this, then?" she asked Sands. "Are you a regular here or something?"
"Something, yes," he said mysteriously.
She couldn't help but notice that the large man inclined his head to them as they passed through into what appeared to be a private side of the club. This was much smaller, much more quiet. There were only a few darkened tables and a stage on one end, a small bar along one side.
"What's this?" she asked, still clutching his hand.
"This is for us and friends. Not the public." He turned and went towards two couples sitting at a table. "Hello, Chris, Stacey, Angie, Jo. How are you this evening?"
They all smiled, and Sands introduced her by her first name. These four were thralls, she was sure of it. She wondered why he was so friendly with them and why they all knew him.
"S.J.," someone called from behind them.
They turned and a waiter stood there, a drink on a tray held out for Sands. "What will the lady have?" he asked, and his question was politically correct, in that it was directed towards both of them.
Victoria surveyed the scene with an eye of caution. This was all very strange.
"What would you like, darling?" Sands asked her.
She knew Sands would not lead her into danger. "I'll have whatever he's having," she said with a smile, all the while keeping her guard up.
"Oh, I don't think you want this," he told her. "It's a bad habit I picked up from Abberline. Would you like a mint julep or something?"
"What I'd like is a bourbon on the rocks with a twist of lime." Victoria looked at him questioningly and took his glass from his hand. Raising it to her lips she tasted a little bit of the odd colored liquid inside. Her nose wrinkled and she returned his glass. "Ah, Absinth. I'll stick to bourbon."
The waiter nodded and moved away. Sands turned back to the foursome. "I hope you enjoy the group tonight," he told them with a little wave. "The set should start about one."
"We heard they are great," Jo smiled.
Sands lead Victoria off to a table marked with a 'reserved' sign. She noticed some of the other darkened tables had couples.
"Alright, what's going on?" she questioned playfully. Sands motioned for her to slide into the booth.
"What do you mean, what's going on?" he asked innocently.
She looked at him skeptically. "You know: The door. The man with the velvet rope. The guy at the bar." She motioned around the room. "Those four. I mean I know you're charming and all, but come on."
He began to grin. "Well, you see, I sort of own this club."
Victoria's mouth dropped open a bit, as she blinked her eyes. "You own this place?" She looked around a little in awe. "You own a place where people pretend to be vampires." The humor struck her at that moment and she couldn't help but laugh.
Sands laughed with her. "You get it." He nodded. "Yeah, you see, I learned about these sort of clubs where people come and pretend to be vampires and I thought, what a great way for us to feed, and to have fun, and to hang out in peace." He gestured around. "We have it all here."
"How many of our kind know about your place?"
He shrugged. "All of our clan knows. I imagine those who read that rag they publish out of there know, too. But no unfriendlies would venture here."
"That's good." Her eyes raked the room. "And them?" she questioned nodding to the group they first encountered. "Friends of your?"
"Those are thralls of some of the Danner clan. We're allies, you know. Lots of our more friendly clan members or their thralls hang out here." He leaned forwards, putting his elbows on the table and holding his drink with both hands. "See, the visitors come in three flavors: Vampires, Thralls, and Mundanes. The Mundanes come in three flavors: Toursits, Regulars who pretend to be vampires but think they're mythical, and Regulars who know we're real and are vying to become thralls themselves."
"Well I think I prefer the regulars who think we're mythical." She leaned closer to him. "The others are too dangerous."
"Ah, but those who know we're real can't tell one of us from a human. The real danger is from the thralls who are not well controlled. They want to drink our blood so they can become one of us, but we must never give it to them. Those who control them should be the ones who turn them. Bloody hell!" He sat straight up, his eyes narrowing, the corners of his lips pulling down.
"What is it?" Victoria looked around and saw a couple enter.
"It's Ron Agellon. I hate the bastard," Sands seethed. "He double crossed me once, stupid bloody idiot."
"Why would Ron Agellon come here?" She glanced casually to see the couple who entered the room. "Especially if he knows this place is yours?" Victoria returned her gaze to Sands and whispered. "Trouble always seems to follow the two of us when we're together."
Sands' eyes closed for a moment. When he opened them, he was looking into her eyes. "He's not trouble, Sugarbutt. He's a jerk. I could handle him with both my eyes plucked out. In fact I have." He flashed a very quick wicked grin. "He probably heard I was out of the country and thought it was safe to visit here. I could send him a drink. He'd think it was poison. That might be fun."
The soothing sounds of Mozart filled Victoria's apartment, drowning out the pattering of sleet against the ceiling-high windows. Already nine p.m., Victoria noticed. She wondered when Sands would call. He had said he would when he said that he wanted to go out. Something about going goth. She wasn't sure what that meant.
It had been several days since she had last seen Sheldon Jeffrey Sands and she found him creeping into her thoughts; that half-smile that caused her insides to flutter, the dark eyes that could look downright angelic at times. She sighed, picked up her book and continued to read, shaking him from her mind.
She smiled when the phone rang. Jumping up from the couch she quickly crossed the floor and answered the call. "Hello, Sands." she said pleasantly.
"Hello, mind-reader." He sounded amused. "Did you still want to go goth with me?"
She felt her own cheeks dimpling with a smile. "Whatever that means."
"Oh, yeah, I forgot. You've lived in a cave for the past hundred years. Well, just dress all in black. If you have really dark make up, wear that. Try to look like a movie vampire...sort of."
Her eyes narrowed. "Are you pulling my leg?"
"No, but if you'd like, I'm available for any body part you want pulled."
She could imagine him grinning wickedly on the other end of the line.
"All right," she paused, her curiosity growing, "I'll be ready. What time will you be here? Or would you rather I meet you?" she asked.
There was a quick response. "I'll come get you, that way if you're not quite goth enough, we can stop and get what you need."
She smiled, "What time?"
"How about half-past eleven?" he asked, and she couldn't help but remember he might sound very American now, but he was still a Brit under the skin.
"Don't keep me waiting," she teased and then soften her voice. "I've missed you," she said quietly before hanging up the receiver, not giving him a chance to respond.
Victoria ran up the stairs and, flinging herself into her closet, she began hunting for an outfit, all the while thinking 'movie vampire, movie vampire.' and giggling to herself.
Precisely at 11:30 there was a chime from the doorbell. Victoria's head whipped around. She took a deep breath and studied at herself in the mirror.
Nervously she straightened the black fishnet stockings and sighed deeply. This was definitely a new look for her. Making her way down the staircase, she crossed to the door. Well, best to get this over with, she thought. "You better not laugh!" she said through the door before flinging it open.
There stood Sands, but he looked so very different. He wore mascara, she was sure of it, and he dressed all black; black v-neck vest, black jacket, black trench coat, black boots. And his hair had excessive amounts of mousse in it. He looked at her with a small smile playing across his mouth as his eyes locked with hers.
"You look," he paused to rake her with his gaze, "edible."
She leaned against the door and motioned him in. "Thank you. I like your eyes," she complemented him.
"Pure decadence," he responded, walking in and pausing, pressing the length of his body against hers. He leaned forward, lightly kissing her cheek, one hand gently holding the angle of her jaw.
Stepping back from his embrace she asked, "Is this goth?" as she turned, modeling her fishnets and black paten leather boots. "I wasn't sure about the dress?"
Her gaze was drawn to his tongue as he studied her, because he wet his bottom lip before gliding his teeth over it. "You look yummy, darling."
She smiled and tugged at the torn edge of a black fishnet top. Her black bra showed through. "Well then, shall we go? I am very curious to see where you are taking me."
He watched as she reached for her coat. "It's called The Darkness. The people there...well, you'll see. It will be fun." He smiled more fully. "I hope you like to role play."
She turned quickly a sparkle in her green eyes. "Of course I do." Then she reached for his arm. "Let's go, you can tell me who I'm supposed to be on the way."
Victoria was a little surprised to see Sands had hired a limo and driver for the night. "Good evening," the chauffer said, holding an umbrella over them as they dashed from the front door of her building to where it sat double-parked in the freezing sleet, it's door ajar.
"What's this?" she question, as she ducked her head and entered the vehicle. The mood lighting was on and the roof twinkled in turquoise and purple stars. Sands slid in beside her, a mischievous smile across his lips. Her eyes were drawn to those beautiful lips.
The driver walked around and soon the limo was merging into traffic. That was the thing about New York, she mused, the city was never quiet.
The window was up between the chauffer and them, she noticed.
"I thought we might enjoy it," Sands finally replied to her, jerking his head to refer to the limousine. "We don't have to worry about no place to park. In the last century, we would have hired a carriage, wouldn't we?"
She couldn't help but notice the mascara on him again. It emphasized how long and thick his lashes were, and she smiled. "You look different, almost dangerous," she told him.
"I am dangerous," he told her in a low, growling voice. He leaned toward her, nipping at her neck, sending a shiver down her spine.
"I know you are," she responded as she tilted her head and leaned into his nibble.
They arrived at The Darkness a several minutes later. Victoria straightened her straps and pouted at Sands. "Is my lipstick all right?"
He licked his own lips. "Tastes good to me." He grinned at her, raising his brows mischievously.
Once again, the chauffer acted as their protector from the weather, holding a large umbrella over them as they walked toward the club's door. The anteroom within was crowded with people. At the far end stood a very tall, muscular man. He stood before a velvet rope, keeping them from entering the club, a clipboard in one hand.
As if sensing them, he looked up as Victoria and Sands entered, and immediately moved to unlatch the velvet rope's hook and hold it so the two of them could pass into the club beyond.
They walked down a very dark hallway, stopping only to give to give their coats to the cloakroom attendant. They continued on to a door, which Sands pushed open. A vast wall of loud, thumping sound flooded over them. Victoria held her hands up to her sensitive hears, but Sands pulled one down and put something soft into it. She squinted down and saw earplugs. With a laugh, she fitted them in.
"They're the kind they use to filter out loud sounds, but allow you to hear the voice," he informed her, smiling at her. "Sorry, I remembered to bring them, but once I saw you, all thoughts of them vanished until now." He shrugged.
"I'm glad you remembered." She looked into the club. It was swarming with people dressed similar to them, illuminated by very dim ultra-modern lighting, and decorated with couches, chairs, and a long bar. One end of the long narrow rectangular room was a video screen where an old horror film played, drowned out by the loud music.
"Why do they dress like this?" Victoria asked Sands, her mouth up against his ear.
"They're pretending to be vampires," he explained.
"What?"
"I guess you never read Ann Rice." He looked into the room, taking her hand. "Come on, we'll mingle. You'll get the gist of it."
"I don't..." But he had drawn her further into the crowd and she could no longer continue her line of questioning.
Victoria looked around the room at the strange array of humans. Their myriad thoughts came flooding in on her and she suddenly stopped in her tracks, causing Sands to turn and look at her. She held her hand to her head.
"What's wrong?" Sands bent over so he could look up into her face. "Are you in pain?" There was real concern in his voice.
She slowly shook her head. "No, too many thoughts, too many emotions." She dropped her hand and looked into his chocolaty eyes. "I'm okay now, I just became overwhelmed for a moment. I've blocked them all out now." She smiled to let him know she was fine. "Lead on."
"Are you?" he asked, still studying her.
"Yes." She smiled, squeezing his hand.
He took her at her word and led her past the bar to a door. This one was watched over by yet another over-sized man, who saw them coming and opened it for them. "What's this, then?" she asked Sands. "Are you a regular here or something?"
"Something, yes," he said mysteriously.
She couldn't help but notice that the large man inclined his head to them as they passed through into what appeared to be a private side of the club. This was much smaller, much more quiet. There were only a few darkened tables and a stage on one end, a small bar along one side.
"What's this?" she asked, still clutching his hand.
"This is for us and friends. Not the public." He turned and went towards two couples sitting at a table. "Hello, Chris, Stacey, Angie, Jo. How are you this evening?"
They all smiled, and Sands introduced her by her first name. These four were thralls, she was sure of it. She wondered why he was so friendly with them and why they all knew him.
"S.J.," someone called from behind them.
They turned and a waiter stood there, a drink on a tray held out for Sands. "What will the lady have?" he asked, and his question was politically correct, in that it was directed towards both of them.
Victoria surveyed the scene with an eye of caution. This was all very strange.
"What would you like, darling?" Sands asked her.
She knew Sands would not lead her into danger. "I'll have whatever he's having," she said with a smile, all the while keeping her guard up.
"Oh, I don't think you want this," he told her. "It's a bad habit I picked up from Abberline. Would you like a mint julep or something?"
"What I'd like is a bourbon on the rocks with a twist of lime." Victoria looked at him questioningly and took his glass from his hand. Raising it to her lips she tasted a little bit of the odd colored liquid inside. Her nose wrinkled and she returned his glass. "Ah, Absinth. I'll stick to bourbon."
The waiter nodded and moved away. Sands turned back to the foursome. "I hope you enjoy the group tonight," he told them with a little wave. "The set should start about one."
"We heard they are great," Jo smiled.
Sands lead Victoria off to a table marked with a 'reserved' sign. She noticed some of the other darkened tables had couples.
"Alright, what's going on?" she questioned playfully. Sands motioned for her to slide into the booth.
"What do you mean, what's going on?" he asked innocently.
She looked at him skeptically. "You know: The door. The man with the velvet rope. The guy at the bar." She motioned around the room. "Those four. I mean I know you're charming and all, but come on."
He began to grin. "Well, you see, I sort of own this club."
Victoria's mouth dropped open a bit, as she blinked her eyes. "You own this place?" She looked around a little in awe. "You own a place where people pretend to be vampires." The humor struck her at that moment and she couldn't help but laugh.
Sands laughed with her. "You get it." He nodded. "Yeah, you see, I learned about these sort of clubs where people come and pretend to be vampires and I thought, what a great way for us to feed, and to have fun, and to hang out in peace." He gestured around. "We have it all here."
"How many of our kind know about your place?"
He shrugged. "All of our clan knows. I imagine those who read that rag they publish out of there know, too. But no unfriendlies would venture here."
"That's good." Her eyes raked the room. "And them?" she questioned nodding to the group they first encountered. "Friends of your?"
"Those are thralls of some of the Danner clan. We're allies, you know. Lots of our more friendly clan members or their thralls hang out here." He leaned forwards, putting his elbows on the table and holding his drink with both hands. "See, the visitors come in three flavors: Vampires, Thralls, and Mundanes. The Mundanes come in three flavors: Toursits, Regulars who pretend to be vampires but think they're mythical, and Regulars who know we're real and are vying to become thralls themselves."
"Well I think I prefer the regulars who think we're mythical." She leaned closer to him. "The others are too dangerous."
"Ah, but those who know we're real can't tell one of us from a human. The real danger is from the thralls who are not well controlled. They want to drink our blood so they can become one of us, but we must never give it to them. Those who control them should be the ones who turn them. Bloody hell!" He sat straight up, his eyes narrowing, the corners of his lips pulling down.
"What is it?" Victoria looked around and saw a couple enter.
"It's Ron Agellon. I hate the bastard," Sands seethed. "He double crossed me once, stupid bloody idiot."
"Why would Ron Agellon come here?" She glanced casually to see the couple who entered the room. "Especially if he knows this place is yours?" Victoria returned her gaze to Sands and whispered. "Trouble always seems to follow the two of us when we're together."
Sands' eyes closed for a moment. When he opened them, he was looking into her eyes. "He's not trouble, Sugarbutt. He's a jerk. I could handle him with both my eyes plucked out. In fact I have." He flashed a very quick wicked grin. "He probably heard I was out of the country and thought it was safe to visit here. I could send him a drink. He'd think it was poison. That might be fun."