Sorry, been a while, I know, but I haven't been in the writing mood. Hopefully things'll get back on track now though.

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Chapter Three

"Have I mentioned that I really don't like this idea?"

"At least eight times." I hissed at James. "Now shut it."

I already felt out of place in my tweed mini dress, black leggings and ankle boots that I had worn to the office today – I did not need a whining James making us stand out any more. At least my slightly-shorter-than-shoulder-length hair was being reasonably well behaved. The waves were still waves and not uncontrollable frizz-curls anyhow. That provided little comfort when I was standing next to a man who looked like an elephant had decided he was a comfy looking chair. We had managed to wash the blood out of his hair and get him changed into clean clothes, but there wasn't much we could do about the bruising on his face. I had even tried putting some concealer over the stains, but in the end had just settled for pulling his hair forward so that it covered most of his face in what I hoped people would think was just another trendy haircut.

The group of barely-legal girls in front of us moved forwards as they were let through the shiny blue door and into the building. I tugged my coat in the cold and smiled at the large man now staring down at us.

Only he wasn't a man in the usual sense of the word. He was vampire.

"ID?" he asked simply, his voice even gruffer than I'd expected it to be.

"Oh, sure." I mumbled cheerily, digging into my handbag and pulling my driver's license from one of the little compartments. I hadn't been asked for ID when going into a club for at least four years, but then again, I had never been to one of these clubs before. They were probably stricter than the usual places, just to make sure they didn't attract unwanted attention from the authorities. I held my license out to the man who took it without changing his expression. He nodded swiftly before handing it back to me. He then turned to James. I swear I saw his eyes narrow a fraction of an inch.

"ID?" he repeated. There was the slightest hint of suspicion in his voice now and I knew my haircut idea was fooling no one. James just passed over his ID in silence. The vamp inspected it a little more carefully than he had done mine. I bit my bottom lip in apprehension, hoping to all manner of gods that he put down James' appearance to a resent accident and not a murderous psycho gang of vampire-haters. But it was less than a second later when he passed the license back and stepped aside, letting us through to the door of BiteLife, one of the more famous vampire clubs in Brighton.

"Thanks." I told him kindly, dragging James by the arm towards the door. I was more than a little bit agitated by talking to the vampire and secretly wanted to just run away and hide. If that was what I got like talking to the bouncer, I couldn't wait to see what I'd become when we got inside the club and were surrounded by the things.

I opened the door and yanked James inside.

The first thing that hit me was the sheer noise of the place. The heavy bass line of the modern dance rock sent tremors through the floor, reaching out through my boots and legs and setting up shop at the base of my spine. On top of that the heavy chatter from the patrons meant it was nearly impossible to hear my own breathing. Having a conversation here would be pretty darn difficult.

I looked at James before nodding to the bar on the far right of the room. He understood and we started making our way through the clusters of people standing and sitting at tables that lined the room. I'd heard from a curious friend that it would be easy to tell who was who. The vampires would be dressed like any other club-going person, while the humans usually had that tacky 1980s horror film thing going on. But I was finding it a lot more difficult than that. As far as I could see there were no tacky horror movie stars in the club at all. Everyone looked like entirely normal members of the Brighton community. That either meant the whole room was full of vampires – a thought I tried my best to avoid – or this was a slightly classier place than where my friend had visited. In fact, I was struggling to find a single difference between this and my usual weekend hangouts. If anything, the décor here was slightly more upbeat and light. Maybe there was a reason why this was one of the most popular vamp clubs. Not any old fake could get in here.

I found a space at the bar and stood patiently until the lanky blonde barmaid wandered over.

"What can I get you?" she said in a clear voice. I was surprised that she didn't have to yell over the raging din to be heard.

"Gin and coke," I told her, "and lemonade for him."

I nodded at James. I was definitely not letting him drink tonight; it would be enough of a task getting him not to act like an idiot sober, let alone drunk. James was staring around the place, a little too warily for my liking. It just didn't look natural. I elbowed him in the side as the blonde placed our drinks on the countertop in front of us. I handed her a note and she had our change next to the drinks almost instantly.

I sipped at the glass and glanced around the room, trying to get a better feel of the place.

"What now, Sherlock?" James hissed into my ear. He obviously was not enjoying our night out. I sighed and turned back to the bar, indicating to the barmaid that there was something else. She finished serving another customer then walked back over.

"Yes?" she asked in a tone that made me realise she must think I was going to complain about the drinks.

"I'm actually looking for Gwen," I said, hoping that the random old-fashioned name I'd picked on the way here would turn out trumps, "if she's here tonight, that is?"

She raised an eyebrow at me and I tried to keep the lie from showing in my eyes. If there had ever been something I was outstanding at, it was lying. It was a shame I got stage fright in front of a crowd, otherwise I could have been an actress. After a few seconds the barmaid looked over to a nearby corner of the room and pointed at one of the tables there.

"There. She turned up about ten minutes ago."

I mentally thanked my lucky stars and looked to the table she was pointing at. There were only two people occupying it, despite the fact that it could have easily held at least three times that number. One was an attractive black man who I doubted was Gwen. The only thing I could see of the other was the startling red hair.

I nodded and thanked the barmaid before taking James' hand and snaking my way through the tables towards the redhead in the corner. James brought our journey to a sudden halt a few meters away from my quarry. He gave me an odd look.

"What are you doing?" he said as quietly as he could in my ear and still be heard.

"Scouting for information that apparently we can't ask your supplier for." I replied just as quietly. His expression told me he was even more unhappy about this than he had been with the general idea of going to a vamp club. I patted his arm reassuringly. "Just leave the talking to me and we'll be fine."

"I bloody hope so." He murmured more to himself than me.

I stepped forward and around the table until I was standing between the redhead and the black man. Now that I could see her face I marvelled at it. The striking red clashed brilliantly with her pure white skin and was mirrored in her blood red lips. Her eyes were dark, almost black, and the perfect almond shape that I tried to replicate with my eyeliner. It was so striking I couldn't bring myself to call her beautiful, and yet it undoubtedly was. She stopped talking and turned to face me.

"Yes?" she said in a flowing European accent. I swallowed and brought my thoughts together. James fidgeted at my side.

"Gwen?" Her nod was just as elegant as her face. "I'm-"

She sighed and stirred the straw poking out from her bottle of TruBlood. She was obviously disappointed.

"Unless you've got something interesting to say, I really don't care."

I was taken aback slightly by her bluntness and just stood there for a moment, trying to think of anything to say. Gwen turned back to her drinking partner and started up a conversation in a language I thought might be French. James' hand slipped into mine and I felt him gently trying to urge me away from them. I shook my head. This had to be done. I pulled out the chair next to Gwen and sat. Her attention focused on me once more, surprise flickering in her dark eyes.

"I'm Theresa Jackson. Sorry to disturb you but I don't really know what else to do right now." I told her plainly. She seemed to mull this over for a second before glancing at the man opposite her. He swiftly stood and made his way towards the bar.

"What is it, Theresa Jackson, that you want, then?" Gwen asked me, her eyes glittering with curiosity. I opened my mouth to speak but couldn't think of the right words to say. Now that I was here it felt just so wrong to lie, to act out my part in the play I had constructed. I sighed.

"Look, I'm gonna tell you the truth," I started sincerely, "I just asked the barmaid for some random old-fashioned name cause I needed to speak to someone who knew this place, and obviously if the barmaid knows who you are then you do. It just happened to be your name that I chose."

Gwen took a sip of her drink, the fascinating crimson visible through the clear straw. "And why did you wish to speak to someone who was familiar with BiteLife, Theresa Jackson?"

"Call me Rae." The nickname was instinct and out of my mouth before I even knew it. "I just… I need to know about this place – who comes here, who runs it, etc – and don't really have anyone to ask. I'm just interested, that's all."

"You're mighty curious, Rae, for someone who's just interested. Not everyone would sum up the courage to ask an unknown vampire these questions, or perhaps you really are that dumb."

James' hand tightened on my shoulder. Even through my dress I could feel the slight shivers.

"Ok, I'm not interested," I gave up all pretences, "I'm desperate."

Gwen twiddled the straw again as she peered off thoughtfully. What did she think? To her did I seem like some form of giant retard just asking for a bite? Or did she get it? My misery.

"It seems to me," she started slowly, as if she was distracted by something else which was far more important, "that you need to speak to Henry."

"Who's Henry?" James piped up nervously.

Gwen focused her gaze upon me again and a smile crept across her face. I did not like that smile.

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