In pop culture, vampires are always shown holding an elegant glass of red wine. I guess it's because it looks like blood or something. Anyway, to be honest, I find red wine disgusting — I'd much rather have an ice-cold beer.
I love beer — almost as much as I love Veronica's blood. I'd drink it at every meal, but she forbids it because she says she doesn't want me ending up with a beer belly at eighteen.
But whether it's wine, beer, or any other kind of alcohol, what really matters is who you drink it with. And that's why even beer doesn't go down as easily when I have to share it with him: John Hardley, one of New York's rising stars in organized crime. A man in his forties with slicked-back black hair and piercing ice-blue eyes — an old-school gangster look, or at least that's what he tries to project.
He moved to New York only a couple of years ago, yet he's already seized a huge chunk of the criminal underworld — helped, unsurprisingly, by the so-called "mysterious" deaths of nearly all his competitors. But his meteoric rise isn't just a matter of brains or charisma.
John Hardley is a demon.
Yeah — flesh and blood, a real demon. And I'm pretty sure the way he looks around me is just some human disguise shaped by whatever twisted demonic magic he uses. I have no idea what he actually looks like underneath. Sounds insane, right? I always thought I was the only one of my kind, but apparently this world is crawling with demons, vampires, and other creatures that seem like they stepped right out of a fantasy novel — all coming from a parallel world called Elyndra.
And as much as I hate John — just being near him gives me chills — everything I know about my species and the world I come from, I learned from him. Even though I still have no clue how I ended up here. For as long as I can remember, I lived in the orphanage where Veronica found me, and thank God she pulled me out of that place. Just a couple of years later, around age twelve, I started feeling that uncontrollable urge to drink blood, and things would've gotten messy fast if I'd still been trapped inside those old, moldy walls.
«Jace Lance, I hope you've had time to consider my offer since we last spoke,» he says, sipping a glass of red wine.
We're sitting on a couch inside one of his many clubs scattered across New York — this one in Queens. I'd bet anything that the way he sips that wine so pompously is just an act to look sophisticated. I mean, I doubt anyone actually enjoys that crap.
Yeah… his offer: joining his criminal organization. Ever since he showed up in this city, he's been recruiting every creature from Elyndra he can get his hands on, and by now there are dozens of them. I had no clue so many lived in New York alone.
It was a freezing winter night last year when one of his lackeys caught me drinking a homeless guy's blood after killing him, and ever since, he hasn't stopped pestering me to join his little army.
But seriously — why the hell would I throw away my luxurious, comfortable life with Veronica just to become his hitman? Only a desperate idiot would say yes to something like that.
«Same answer as last time — and the time before that,» I say firmly as I get up from the armchair, glancing around for the exit. «Come on, John — I've got nothing to gain by joining you. And besides, I'm way too young to get myself killed by some Monster Slayer.»
Yeah… the Monster Slayers. John told me about them too, though you don't need a genius to figure out what they are: humans gifted with sacred powers, trained since childhood to hunt and eliminate creatures like me and John — beings that aren't supposed to exist in this world.
I already put my neck on the line every night when I go out to feed, and I have zero intention of playing with fire more than I already do.
John doesn't even blink at my answer — he'd probably be more shocked if I accepted with a big smile.
Ah… I wonder if he'll ever give up and let me live the peaceful life of a normal American teenager…
«Since I made you come all the way out here, at least let me give you a ride home,» John offers as he sees me getting up from the couch — my reaction clearly telling him that, as far as I'm concerned, our little conversation is over.
Sure, I'm pretty far from the Midtown Manhattan penthouse I live in, but only an idiot would get into the car of a crime boss — especially when that crime boss is also a demon. Besides, the idea of taking a relaxing moonlit walk actually sounds pretty tempting right now, and on top of that, talking to John has made me… a bit hungry. If you know what I mean.And anyway, I'm in no rush to get home tonight — Veronica thinks I'm sleeping over at Elaine's, so I've got all the time in the world.
After I turn him down yet again, John just gives me one of those heavy, fatherly pats on the shoulder — like he's trying to encourage me. This man is getting a bit too friendly for my taste — he doesn't… like me, does he?Shit, I really hope not — gross!