Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

Phil

A fter stalking around the city for most of the night, I slide over the stone in Independence Square to expose the entrance to Philadelphia's biggest vampire club. A club is the last place I want to be. I don't want to be around anyone. But the sun's due to rise, and I need to go somewhere.

At Freetown, I could sleep in Ana's bed, surrounded by the lingering scent of her and the memories of the many places and ways we made love. But if I'm right, if the demon is inside my mind, I can't risk exposing our community. At least we've given Maria and Pierre indefinite paid vacation until our lives are more settled again.

I grunt at the bouncer, and then enter the elevator that will take me down to the club.

I don't feel as bad exposing the vampires in this club to the demon. I doubt the demon has much interest in a vampire club.

Only one thing interests me.

Grabbing my head, I squeeze my temples. Maybe if I press hard enough, I can squish the demon right out of my skull.

The elevator doors open, and loud music pulses through my body, so loud my internal organs vibrate. Great. The blaring music might dull the demon.

When I enter the club, two tall females step toward me, but then their expressions fill with alarm. Realizing I'm the cause, I drop my hands from my head and the blood rushes out of my reddened face. I'll have to try harder than that to squish out the demon. Probably crush my skull.

For now, I'll try whiskey.

Ahead of me, the crowd parts, and I stomp through the club toward one of the bars. The music remains mercifully loud in this area, and as much as I hate whatever is thumping out of the speakers, I'm glad that it's taking up a lot of space in my head.

"Scotch," I call out to a bartender, who's wearing low-riding, leather pants and no shirt. Their exposed skin is coated in glitter and their face is heavily painted with equally loud and decidedly feminine make up.

The bartender serves someone a cocktail, and then sashays toward me. "What's your pleasure," they ask. "See anything you like?" Stepping back, they cup their genitals. "You can have anything you like."

I grunt. Even if I weren't head over heels in love with Ana, this vampire's gender-neutral aesthetic is very much not my thing. Nothing against it. Just not for me.

"Any scotch will do," I tell them. "Give me the whole bottle."

"My, my." The bartender scrapes their teeth over their lower lip. "Sounds like your appetite is on scale with the rest of you. And by that, I mean huge ." Their eyes widen with continued interest, and so I turn away, not wanting to be rude, but also not wanting to give any encouragement to their blatant flirting.

"For you, sugar…" The bartender turns toward the shelves of high-end liquor, tracing their finger back and forth through the air as they study the rows of bottles. "I think something special is in order." They pull a bottle off the shelf and set it on the bar before me.

"Holy shit." It's a 52-year-old Macallan. The bottle's got to be worth tens of thousands. I shake my head. "Too rich for my blood. I just need to get drunk."

"It's on me, sugar." They wink. "And you can be on me too, anytime you like."

She's not here . Look elsewhere.

The demon's voice pierces my mind, and I slam the heels of my hands against my temples. The demon's voice is quieter in this loud club, but it's still fucking present.

"Hey there." The bartender reaches up to take hold of my forearm. "Whatever's going on with you, sugar." They lick their lips. "I can make it all go away."

Releasing my arm from their hold, I pick up the bottle and reach down behind the bar to grab a glass. "This will do."

The bartender startles, but then runs their hand over their hip as if trying to cover their frightened reaction when I lunged to grab the glass.

"Need ice?" they ask. "Water?"

I shake my head. "Put this on my tab." I take a few steps away, then spin back, tapping the bottle against my chest. "Phil."

"Oh, sugar, I know who you are." They lean against the bar, trying to fuck me with their eyes.

Shaking my head, I turn away, moving further into the club. Again, the crowd parts for me, and I'm glad that my intimidating size and visible anger are keeping the other patrons at bay. Talk is not what I came here for, and my brief interaction with the bartender was a million times more than the quantity of conversation I want tonight. I'm certainly not here to dance, either, or to feed or to fuck, and that sums up the things vampires come here to do.

Entering the next area of the club, I spot an empty sofa near the side of the room and head toward it. Red lights shine down from above, and one of the staff is cleaning the leather, likely ridding it of whatever bodily fluids the last occupants left behind.

The staff person, a baby vampire dressed in a tight t-shirt and even tighter jeans, turns toward me as he finishes. Sucking in a sharp breath, he falls back onto the sofa, but bounces up just as quickly.

"All yours, sir." He gestures to the newly cleaned furniture as he steps to the side. "Please, let me know if I can get you anything."

Nodding, I grunt. Getting out of my face is what I want him to do but verbalizing that seems rude.

Dropping to the cushions, I set the bottle and glass on the marble side table. When did I get so concerned about the feelings of strangers? The feelings of anyone , really? I don't even give a shit about my own feelings.

I shake my head. I know exactly when I started giving a shit. Everything's changed since I met her.

I pull the cork from the bottle and fill the glass. My plan was to guzzle however many bottles of scotch it might take to quiet this demon, but I should take my time tasting this one. At least at first. I probably should have asked for some water to help open its flavors.

Raising the glass to my nose. I inhale the smoky, sweet scent. Okay, this whiskey does not need a drop of water to be perfect.

Taking a mouthful, I let it sit for a moment before swallowing. Fucking awesome. I wish Ana could taste it. Fuck.

Closing my eyes, I down the rest of the glass in one gulp, and then slump back as the alcohol flows through my bloodstream, carried from there to penetrate every cell in my body. Not wanting to lose the feeling, I open my eyes to pour another glass, quickly downing it too. Then, I sit back to let my muscles loosen from the tightly wound state they've been in since…since…

It's been ages since I've felt anything even close to relaxed. The last time… Fuck. The last time I felt relaxed was after Ana and I fucked for hours and hours and hours on end.

Find her. Fuck her again.

The voice penetrates my few seconds of peace. But this time I'm not certain whether the voice was the demon's or my own. In this regard, we want the same thing.

Skipping the middleman, I drop the empty glass onto the table, pick up the bottle and take a long drink. Resting the bottle on my thigh, I close my eyes again, enjoying the moment of bliss, even though I know it won't last.

Vampires metabolize everything quickly—including alcohol—so to survive this night, I'm going to need a bottle at my lips at all times. If this is my life going forward, I suppose I'm glad to have started it with such a fine intoxicant.

Without opening my eyes, I raise the bottle to take another long drink. I'm going to need a second bottle, and a third, but I'll go to a different bartender so that poor soul won't think I've come back to see them.

"Phil." A voice drifts into my mind. For a split second I think the demon's voice has changed to a female's and is using my name.

Opening my eyes, I blink a few times before my eyes and brain coordinate enough to remember the approaching woman.

"Julia, right?" I say. It's Crusher's contact at DEFTA. The one who met with us at that Irish pub, before Diederik showed up.

"Can I sit?" she asks.

I nod, and then take another long drink of the whiskey, settling the bottle back down on my thigh.

My manners kick in. "Want some?"

She shakes her head.

Good, because I really don't want to share.

Julia bends one leg up onto the sofa as she turns toward me. "Clearly the rumors of your death have been grossly exaggerated." She grins. "I'm glad to see that."

I shrug, then add, "Thanks." I raise the bottle between us, like a toast, then drain all but the last couple of inches

"Doesn't look like you're very happy to be alive," she says.

"It's…it's complicated."

Empathy wafts off her—I recognize such things in others now—but then her eyes change. She wants to talk about something.

"What can I do for you?" I ask.

"I'm not sure." She runs her fingers through her hair. "Things at DEFTA." She shakes her head. "Let's just say it's chaos at DEFTA right now."

"In what way?" I set the bottle down on the table next to me, wishing I had another one.

"Diederik's gone. Vanished. Presumed dead. But before that he…Diederik went insane. Well, more insane than normal." She shakes her head. "When we got rid of Octavia, we all thought the days of mind control were behind us at DEFTA. But Diederik, it's almost like he turned the security team into some kind of zombie army…" She turns away.

"I know."

Her head snaps back toward me.

"Crusher and I…" Grief floods me, wondering if I'll ever see my brothers again. "Crusher and I met Diederik's zombie army." I'm glad I wasn't the only one to notice that Diederik had preternatural control over at least a dozen DEFTA security team members.

She leans toward me. "What happened? Do you know how Diederik was controlling the others?"

"No, but I'd fucking like to."

"Do you know where Diederik is now?"

I shake my head. I'd be willing to place a bet that his body is hanging on a hook somewhere, but don't want to get into it with Julia.

She tucks her hair behind her ear and leans forward. "The DEFTA board called in Zuben. Do you know him?"

I shake my head, but the name sounds familiar.

"Zuben resigned his position at DEFTA a few months ago, but he's kind of a brainiac, and he seems to think that Diederik was possessed by a demon ."

Now I remember why I know the name. Blade talked to Zuben when he was doing demon research. And Zuben's mate is Ana's friend. She's named Fire or something. No, it's Ember.

"Could I talk to this Zuben guy?" I ask her.

Julia nods, a grin spreading across her worried face. "Actually, I came over to ask if you'd meet with him."

I down the last of the scotch.

"We can go now, if you're willing," she says. "There's a way into DEFTA from here without going outside."

A glimmer of hope rises inside me. If Zuben knows about demons, maybe he'll know how to get this fucker out of my head. I shouldn't let my hope grow too high, but for the first time since the demon took me, I feel like it's possible that I might be able to see Ana again. Some day.