The tall, thin man, dressed in full goth regalia, swept into the room and immediately got attention. He smiled at the people who looked at him as he pulled off his cape, handing it to the stunned checker. “Please be careful with this,” he said breathfully, seductively, and the girl stared at him for half a minute before she hung it up on the hanger, then handed him his ticket. He let his cold hand linger on the girl, making her blush. He studied her, saw the marks on her neck. “When do you get a break from here?”
“Good evening,” said a woman’s voice. The man turned to see a stunning woman in blue, her hair put up in braids, smiling a very welcoming smile at him. “Ah, Payette.”
“Anilia, my darling,” said the man happily, and kissed the air over both of her cheeks, continental style. He held her for a moment, staring at her eyes. “You look ravishingly beautiful tonight.”
“Why don’t you come with me?” she took his arm and guided him out of the foyer, down the hallway to the club proper.
“This place is as loud as ever, my dear. And you don’t have half as many dark corners as the old bar.”
“Things are different here now,” she said, just loud enough for him to hear; and he could hear quite well a whisper at a hundred yards. “The new owner was very upset with you the last time you were here.”
“Whyever for? Isn’t this supposed to be the Rack?”
“We have rules here now—“
“Hello,” came a deep baritone, from suddenly behind them. Payette whirled, faster than a man, and Anilia jumped. A bald man in a sleeveless leather jacket and a black t-shirt with the bar’s logo on it stood there, appearing as if out of nowhere.
“Payette,” said Anilia, recovering herself. “This is Bomber. He’s the new owner.”
“Bomber, eh?” Payette looked the bald one up and down. “Why do they call you that?”
He grinned. “Different reasons.”
Payette looked around at the milling people. “Is there someplace we can speak privately?”
The bald man nodded once, nodded to Anilia, and she stepped away. “Follow me—“
“I should like Anilia to come also.”
“Suit yourself,” Bomber replied, and led the man around the dance floor, under the DJ balcony, to the opposite side. Here was an archway that lead to a side room, and people were standing near the doorway, drinking. Two bouncers stood at the door, standing next to a pair of winged panthers, and nodded to the three as they went deeper into the club. Bomber kept the room open, but the sound of the club was not half as loud in here as it was out there. A person manned the bar inside, nodding to Bomber again, and Bomber took Payette and Anilia to a far corner, near stairs that led up to what was probably offices.
Anilia had her hand on Payette’s arm the entire time, and when they settled into a chair, Anilia moved to sit next to Bomber. “Eat first?” Bomber asked.
“That coat checker was an adorable one.”
“I’ll see if she’s free.” He spoke into his blue tooth, asking one of the bouncers to see if “Sher” wouldn’t mind coming to see him in the VIP room. Within minutes, the girl appeared in the VIP room, found them, and went right over to them.
“You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Actually, he did,” Bomber said, pointing to Payette.
Payette stood up and made a sweeping motion to the couch. “Please, my dear, sit down.”
She glanced at Bomber, who nodded once. She sat down on the couch, straightening out her shirt. Payette sat at her right, and gazed at her for a moment. She lifted her neck for him.
“You have them well trained,” said Payette quietly, before biting into her.
Bomber watched, not taking his eyes off the action, though he clenched both fists against his leg. Anilia touched his taut arm, dragging her fingernail along it, pressing lightly, then harder. Bomber felt the fangs had extended, and his tongue ran over their sharpness.
“Bruce,” said Anilia gently, and Bomber turned to her, eyes red with bloodlust. He was close to frenzy, and if he didn’t give in, he would tear Payette off the girl and beat him to a bloody pulp. Anilia lifted her head, and Bomber dove in, drinking deeply of her.
When the red haze cleared his mind, he was able to focus again, and he sat up. The girl lolled on the couch, unconscious. Anilia was coming down from her high, albeit slowly. Payette was sitting up, smiling at Bomber as he came back to the world. “Jealous?”
“They’re mine,” Bomber said. “I protect them.”
“Yes, and they’re a fine bouquet. I commend you on such a fine selection.”
“You didn’t have to make her unconscious.”
“Nonsense. I prefer the entire dinner in one sitting, not a buffet.”
“I prefer that you don’t do that.”
“So? You’ve lost your coat-check girl for the evening.” He lounged casually on the couch. “You don’t know how to run a place like this, do you? And where’s Randy?”
“He left. We think he was killed by the Sabbat.”
“Or taken in by them.”
Bomber narrowed his eyes. “What do you know?”
“Know?” He smirked at Bomber. “Why, I’ve only been in this city for a month. All I know is that the prince is different, and this is an Elysium in Steel Canyon, and that you provide young co-eds for those who want to have a relaxing evening, just like it’s always been for hundreds of years.”
“Hundreds?”
“Indeed. This was a simple tavern years ago which started in Wales, and then the world changed and it got bigger. It changed with the times, but The Rack was always there, a mysterious place for those of the underground to go.”
“Randy always ran it?”
“Not always. Usually a Toreador, once a Malkavian. But it always existed.”
Bomber looked uncomfortable for a moment.
“You are newly turned. Why not pass this over to me?”
Bomber could feel the compulsion easily. He raised his head defiantly and bared his teeth – his fangs. “Never.”
Payette gave a microscopic blink that Bomber caught. “If you’ve come here for that,” Bomber said, “you are going against the wrong person.”
Payette inclined his head. “My apologies. I thought this would be too difficult for a neophyte to handle.”
“Neophyte?” Bomber got up, fangs still bared. The bloodlust hadn’t been sated with Anilia’s feeding, he realized. The moment he got up, two bouncers started walking toward them.
“I thought you would need—“
“Stop thinkin’.”
Payette bit his lip. The two men flanked near the two couches. One glanced at the girl, the other was watching Bomber for direction. Bomber clenched and unclenched his fists, while Payette tried to look more and more submissive.
“I’m no fuckin’ neophyte.”
“Of course not—“
“Shuddup. You come in here, an’ this is my place, with my fuckin’ rules, got it?”
“Yes, rules.”
“First rule is don’ make ‘em unconscious. Second rule is don’ take ‘em if they don’ wanna go. You did that to one o’ mine an’ she din’t like it. Third rule is you eat in here, anywhere in here, not out there. Fourth rule is no fightin’.”
“An awful lot of rules for—“
Bomber moved so fast that for one second he was gone, and the next second he was holding Payette up by the throat.
“My place, my rules, take it up with the Prince if you got problems.” He brought Payette down to his level. “You ain’t even Camarilla.”
Payette dug his nails into Bomber’s arm, causing wound and some blood to leak out. Both bouncer’s nostrils flared at the smell of the blood. Someone whispered something into the Bluetooth. Bomber let him go; he fell onto the couch. When he did, Bomber swiped his bleeding arm against Payette’s lips. Payette closed his lips tightly.
“I’ll break your fuckin’ jaw if you don’t open your mouth,” Bomber said.
Payette went to wipe his face, but Bomber held his arm down. “Open.”
Payette did. Bomber scooped some of his blood with his finger and scraped it on Payette’s bottom teeth, then snatched his hand away. “Close.”
Payette closed his eyes, closed his mouth. Bomber let him go, and started to the bar. The bartender reached for a rag. A couple of the Bitten had come into the room, and Bomber nodded to them. “I’m all right.”
One of the male Bitten broke off and ran to Bomber, then dropped to his knees, taking Bomber’s arm. He had no shame, licking at the oozing blood on Bomber’s arm. Payette was now sitting up, watching, mystified.
Bomber merely looked down, letting the young man finish licking the blood, willing the wounds closed. Bomber gently put a hand on the side of the young man’s face. “Eddie? Enough.”
Eddie shuddered and hugged Bomber’s legs. Bomber smiled, patted him like he would a good dog, and said, “Go on out, I’m fine.”
Eddie and the other Bitten nodded, though the other Bitten girl slapped Eddie hard on the shoulder as they walked out. The two bouncers were agitated. “What about him?” one asked, looking at Payette, who still had his eyes closed.
“Get him out of here.”
The two bouncers started toward him, but Payette raised a hand. “Hold, gentlemen, I’ll get up on my own.” He opened his eyes and focused on Bomber. “You are no neophyte.”
“No. No, I’m not.”
“Forgive me, then.”
“You’re forgiven. You’re welcome here anytime, just check in with us first so we can get you a proper…’bouquet’.”
“Indeed, I will,” he said, getting up. He nodded to the two bouncers. “Gentlemen. An escort, please.”
Bomber waved a hand and the two men fell into step. “Come back after you’re done, and bring Erica,” he said to them, as they walked out. Payette turned around for a moment.
“Would you be a willing bouquet, Bomber?”
Bomber only smiled. “We’ll see.”