Working Class Vegas Vamp is a free urban fantasy serial, usually publishing on Tuesdays. It is unedited and subject to change. If published later, it may differ significantly, and will probably include additional material. Typos and English errors are likely; feel free to leave a comment or write me at am {AT} amscottwrites.com (revised as a standard email address. Pesky bots!) Available for a limited time only!

Haven’t started yet? Chapter 1: https://www.amscottwrites.com/2024/10/29/working-class-vegas-vamp-chapter-1/ ‎

 

Chapter 7

 

“Thanks for the smooth ride. Hope you find a better employer and a better alpha soon.” I hitched my tote bag to my shoulder and got out, walking to the only door I saw—a shiny chrome elevator. The alpha werewolf stayed right behind me—I had no doubt he’d herd me into that shiny box trap if I ran. Or maybe just drag me by my ankle.

If I’d seen an exit, I would have tried even with Beowulf on my heels. I slowed, and he nudged the middle of my back. I spun. “Hey, don’t rush me to Mordor, okay?”

He snorted, but backed off an inch. “Gee, thanks.” As I got closer, the door opened. I dragged my feet, but eventually entered, and the door shut. After a stomach lightening trip up, the door opened again on a semi-circular foyer. The floors were black marble shot with red veins, the walls dark-stained wood, and the ceiling festooned with security cameras. Two big men in dark suits held small machine guns, the straps resting across broad shoulders.

The bearded man on the right pulled a phone from his pocket and tapped. A section of the wood wall slid away, revealing a gorgeous reception area that practically screamed spoiled billionaire with dark tastes. More black and red marble flooring, leather and chrome furniture, beautiful hand-knotted Persian rugs, and a sheet of glass overlooking the Vegas Strip. I was sure that light-proof shutters closed automatically before sunrise. The clean-shaven man on the left said, “Please make yourself comfortable, Ms. Flammen. Someone will be with you shortly.”

I tried to smile, but I’m pretty sure it was a grimace. I trudged forward and the wall slid shut, trapping me inside. Alone—the werewolf stayed outside. I’d miss him, except he was Theoden’s lackey. The impression of modern luxury with a grim edge continued. Black and white abstract paintings decorated the solid walls, a bar of dark wood and black leather stretched fifteen feet long, and priceless antiques rested on the occasional tables scattered throughout the seating areas. Everything was clean; almost sterile, without any hint of habitation or presence. A shiny showplace, not a home.

I could test the doors, but there was no need to bother. I couldn’t see them, but I was sure there were cameras and more security. Since Theoden would undoubtedly make me wait, I’d get wasted. I walked behind the bar and opened the refrigerator—as I suspected, it was packed with excellent blood wine. Taking the first bottle, I popped the cork and drank deeply, while strolling to the window.

Neon glared from extravagant edifices, competing for the title of most outrageous, while at the bottom of the glittering monuments to money, tourists gawked and rushed to empty their pockets. On the gritty concrete behind the flashy Strip, workers scurried to fulfill visitor’s dreams and fill banks with cash.

Every casino owner wanted more and more, and none more than Klaus Theoden. Not happy with simple money, he was out for blood. And mastering every being in his domain.

“Charlene.” Theoden whispered in my ear.

I spun and threw the bottle at him. I’d thought I was alone!

He jumped to the side, and the glass shattered on the floor, spraying shards and blood red liquid across the shiny black marble. The wine almost blended in; black marble was a wise choice on Theoden’s part.

His brows raised. “I knew you’d be unhappy, but I didn’t think you’d physically attack me.”

“I didn’t hear you come in.” I rolled my eyes and tried to control my jackhammering heartbeat. “That’s what you get for startling me. And abducting me.” I glared. “You deserve far worse.”

His shoulders rose a tiny bit and his right eyebrow quirked higher. “Perhaps.” Unbuttoning his designer suit jacket—black as his heart—he sat on a couch, sprawling across two seats. “Come, join me.” The very picture of a king secure on his throne, all he needed was a crown on his brow and slave girls at his feet.

I leaned against the window. “I’m good here.” I certainly wasn’t sitting at his feet, next to him, or within arm’s reach. I might not be able to fight him off, but I wasn’t going to put myself in harm’s way, either. Not that it mattered. Trapped here, he was fast enough and powerful enough to kill me at any time. I had nothing to lose.

“Suit yourself.” He stared at me for a good thirty seconds. I didn’t look away, living with the discomfort of staring a predator down. I controlled my reactions, and he’d better not forget I was a predator, too.

“Do you know why I brought you here?” One corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly.

I held back a snort. “Because like a three-year-old, you can’t understand the word ‘no’?”

He crossed his ankle over his knee, displaying a red sole. “I understand, but I choose not to obey the commands of a baby vamp who ought to know her place.”

I didn’t bother to hold back this time, and snorted loudly. “I didn’t give you any commands except the one to leave me alone. I’m never going to be your lackey, slave or plaything.” I leaned forward. “My body might be stuck here, but you don’t own me. And you won’t.” I’d rather die for good. He ought to know that by now.

“We’ll see.” He waved his hand like he was shooing a fly. Not that an insect would dare appear inside the monument to cash he inhabited. “I didn’t bring you here to prove a point. I don’t need to prove I rule Vegas.”

I didn’t bother to hold back the eye roll, either. “I think there’s a few men out there who’d disagree with that assessment.” They were all the same kind of man, though. Ruthless, ambitious, and rich.

“If I wanted to rule all of Vegas, I would.” He brushed non-existent lint from his jacket sleeve. “But that would be more trouble than it’s worth. Besides, I believe that competition is good for everyone, including me.” His lip curled slightly. “But when I play, I win. Always.”

I yawned, not hiding my disdain for his villainous monologue. Eventually he might get to the point. Or I’d pass out with the sunrise. I hoped for the first, but accepted the second was more likely. Theo had enough years as a vampire to hold off the effects of the sun to some extent.

“There’s a threat coming.” He leaned forward, trying to demonstrate his sincerity. Which was as fake as the rest of his pretty package.

“A threat to you, to me, or an existential threat?” I quirked a brow. “Because if it’s existential, I believe the answer is forty-two.”

“What?” His brows almost met.

I wanted to laugh, but kept my expression serious. ”Forty-two.” I said it very slowly, like he was a child. When he continued to gaze at me, clearly confused, I repeated my words. “Forty-two. That’s always the answer to life, the universe and everything. Why don’t you know that?” Too bad none of his guards were here. I’m sure someone would be snickering by now. But, that might be fatal, so it was just as well.

“You are misinformed. Forty-two is definitely not the answer to this particular existential threat to all supernaturals.” His jacket vibrated and he whipped out a phone, swiping and holding it to his ear almost faster than I could see. “What.”

With that kind of speed, he could separate my head from my body before I even realized he’d moved. I pushed my fear aside. All it would do is make him enjoy the moment more, and I was determined he’d get as little pleasure from my captivity as possible.

“Put it on the screen in here.” Theoden crossed to the end of the room, leaving a breeze in his wake.

I stayed where I was, but turned my head. A view of the exclusive shops on the first floors of the building appeared, the name of a trendy jewelry designer flashing on one side. Clearly shot from the ceiling, the edges had the warping of a fish-eye security camera. Well-dressed patrons mixed with tourists in shorts and t-shirts in the wide mall, a few of each filtering past the security guard at the door.

A man in a suit and a girl in a short, tight, shiny red dress passed the guard. The girl did something to the guard—probably shocked him with a taser—and he fell to the floor. Lights flashed, and a metal grate fell from the top of the doorway, but the man held up one arm and stopped it. He had to be a gargoyle; no other supernatural could hold against that kind of pressure.

Before the security gate hit the man’s hand, a mob of people wearing black hoodies, sweatpants, gloves and masks sprinted through the door, smashing glass cases and scooping jewelry into bags. In less than thirty seconds, they left, and the gargoyle let the security gate fall as the girl in the dress rolled the guard out of the way with one high-heeled foot. Then they ran, following the mob.

The cameras switched, following. At the front of the shopping mall, bars had dropped down securing the doors, but the mob left through a shattered window, the gargoyle and the girl somehow disappearing in the group. Outside the mall, the mob scattered, some climbing into vehicles immediately, while others kept running. They’d probably get picked up farther down the block. A flash of red on the back of a motorcycle might be the girl, but the gargoyle had disappeared.

The video played again, but I watched Theoden’s jaw flex and the hand not holding his phone clench tight. “Figure out who they are and find them. Now.” He listened, his anger clearly increasing. “That’s what I pay managers for. Fine. I’ll be down shortly. Increase security in the casino, but don’t shut anything down. Not yet.” He slid his phone into his jacket pocket, and rolled his shoulders. Then he turned to face me. “Our discussion will have to wait.” He strode out and the wolf alpha entered.

I ignored the wolf and crossed to where Theo had stood, watching the smash and grab. I’d seen video of this kind of attack before, but it was gutsy to steal from the king vamp. Were they all supernaturals, or just the two out front? From the speed of the attack, I thought the people were all some sort of supernatural, but not all gargoyles, because they weren’t known for speed.

The well-planned attack was expertly executed, but surely Theoden’s people would find enough evidence to discover who at least one or two of the perpetrators were. I truly doubted they’d be wandering Theo’s penthouse lounge with me after they were caught. Theo clearly thought this might be a distraction for a larger heist in the casino, but perhaps I could take advantage, too.

I strolled towards the bar, looking for a lighter and a propellant of some sort. Wolves weren’t fans of burned snouts. Hair spray would be ideal, but unlikely. If all else failed, high-proof alcohol and a rag made a Molotov cocktail. Before I reached the bar, a high-pitched noise made my shoulders rise and the wolf, lying on Theo’s couch, ducked his head between his paws, trying to cover his ears.

Glass tinkled, a warm wind blew the delicate drapes across the windows, and a man wearing skin tight black stepped inside. The security shutters I’d speculate about slammed down, but the man held up one hand, stopping the shutter over his head, like the gargoyle downstairs. Muscles bunched in his arm and chest, but he didn’t waver. His other arm came up, firing a weapon into the werewolf on the couch. The muffled thwapping noise indicated it was an air-powered weapon, but whether it was a drug dart or a lethal impact round didn’t matter; I had to get out, now, even though it meant leaving my bag behind.

I ran past the man holding the shutter, his face striped black and white. I didn’t know if the colors were paint or natural, nor did I care. Stopping at the glass railing of the balcony. I turned, searching for ropes or ladders, but there was nothing. The man got to the balcony somehow; he had to have a way out. A high-pitched whistle, and the dark edges of the balcony shifted.

Dark gray, low-to-the-ground shapes jostled, then streamed into the luxury lounge. Huge claws skittered against the dark marble tiles, white striped faces glancing at me, then focusing on the doorway. Badgers—a lot of them.

I didn’t know much about werebadgers, other than to avoid them at all costs. Vicious and stubborn, they never stopped.

“Hey, you know where the switch for the shutters is?” The man in the doorway turned to face me.

“No. This is my first time in this room. Hopefully my last.” If I knew where security was, I might be able to get out on my own.

“Not a fan of the Vamp Chief?” His eyes narrowed.

I met his gaze straight on. ”No. I’m not one of Theo’s and never will be.” I left out that he’d turned me, but that didn’t matter to anyone but vamps.

“Find me something to hold this, and I’ll help you.” He put his other arm up, both of them trembling.

I didn’t want to get trapped on the balcony or inside, but all I saw was flimsy furniture. Then I spotted the answer—iron torch holders. I ran to the stand at the corner and yanked, the iron rods heavy in my hands. I pulled them close and half-dragged the awkward load to the door, standing them next to the man in a row.

“Thanks, darling.” The man lowered his arms.

I held my breath, but the rods didn’t collapse. “How are you getting out of here?”

A white grin flashed. “With you. Let’s go.”

He took my hand, dragging me to the railing. “Hope you’re ready for this.” He picked me up, bride-style, then held me out over open air, and dropped me.

 

***To be continued***

Working Class Vegas Vamp Copyright © 2024 by AM Scott. All Rights Reserved.

Cover by Achlys Book Cover Designs