Page 29 of Inked & Bloodbound
“N-no, sir,” he stammers.
“Do you take pleasure in having your Primus settle your trite disputes?”
“No.”
“Then get out of my office and get cleaned up. You’re banned from Nocturne until further notice. That goes for you too, Angel. You know better than to waste my time with this foolishness. Fight if you must, get it out of your system, but if I find you fucking with my business and my money, I will have your fangs torn from your gums with silver pliers and stuffed down your throats.”
Nocturne is Lazaro’s greatest triumph—a club where vampires bring humans to enact every bloodthirsty fantasy they have without interruption. A playground where sadism and vicious ingenuity blend together in the shadows.
Lazaro waves his hands to dismiss them, so I take that as my cue to leave, but he stops me in my tracks. “No. Not you. You stay.”
Cyrus shoots me a poisonous glance as he passes, and I can feel the rage radiating from Angel as he seethes behind him. I return a quiet smile, amused that they both tried to tattle to Daddy and it didn’t work out.
“Send in Julian,” Lazaro calls toward the doorway, and a few moments later, a wiry, stone-faced man in an all-black suit enters the room and takes his place behind Lazaro, settling in like a loyal dog ready for command.
Julian is the boss’ right-hand man. A malignant creature with an omnipresence that’s palpable—a man of few words, but the eyes and ears of the organization. Rumor has it Julian was a CIA or FBI agent prior to turning, and unlike all the other vampire folk tales, I believe it.
“Cassini, let me ask you something,” he says, drumming his fingers on the table. “You’ve been here for almost a year now, living amongst the Sixth Clan, and we have treated you well, have we not?”
“You have,” I agree, unsure where this line of questioning is going but bracing myself for what comes next.
“And yet, something bothers me. You have not proved your loyalty.”
I shift in the chair. “Have I not? I’m grateful for your hospitality. I thought that was obvious. I’m a top earner at the parlor and am never short with my tributes. In fact, I often kick up a little extra. I keep a low profile and make no trouble?—”
“A model employee indeed,” he interrupts. “But there are those in the nest who question your authenticity. Many wonder if perhaps you’re not quite as committed to our family as you claim to be.”
“I’ve given you no reason to doubt?—”
“Reason is nothing to me. It’s the grand gestures that matter.” He pushes the pads of his fingers together in a steeple as he speaks. “Why have you not taken the Sangretà?”
My blood chills in my veins. I had been expecting this to comeeventually but naively assumed I could keep a low-enough profile that I could avoid it.
“Cassini, I understand the weight of the commitment, which is why we give up to a year for a new inductee to integrate before making a decision…but the clock is ticking. Your time is almost up, and soon you must choose. The paths are simple: choose brotherhood and loyalty, or choose ostracization and be hunted like a dog in the street.”
Julian makes sure to remind me of the stakes by adjusting the edges of his jacket so he flashes me his weapon of choice. A miniature crossbow, about the size of a large handgun, concealed in a custom leather holster. It’s already loaded with a silver-tipped wooden bolt, and I’m sure there are plenty more like it.
Julian is the only vampire permitted to carry a crossbow. It’s the only weapon of its kind in the nest—Lazaro’s special privilege reserved for his most trusted enforcer. He’s also paranoid that one of his own will end him.
I ignore it and decide to appeal to Lazaro’s rational side. Try to buy myself some extra time to deal with the Beau Fontaine-shaped problem.
I push back gently, using my most reasonable voice. “When I first arrived, you told me that taking the vow is not mandatory, only encouraged.”
“Things change. We evolve. We must. That is our nature.”
“Is there anything I can say to convince you?”
“There is not,” he says with unshakable finality. He leans in and softens his voice. “I am not a monster, Cassini. I will give you seven full days and nights. You may get your affairs in order and flee, or stay and prepare for the binding ritual.” His eyes never leave me as he leans back. “I don’t believe what I’m asking for is unreasonable. If you intend to stay here, all I ask is that you take a blood vow and swear yourself to me and the Sixth Clan. I see great potential in you, Cassini. All I ask is that you’re mine.”
He says it like it’s a modest request, as if taking the Sangretà is no big deal. As if pledging your blood and your soul to someone is assimple as signing a lease or a twelve-month gym membership. Except in this world, that means allowing him to have a perverse kind of control over my will, and the punishment for breaking the contract is severe.
“What about my job?” I ask, weighing my words carefully.
“Perhaps it’s better for you to have a break from the mundane. See a glimpse of the life I can offer.”
My brows furrow. “I don’t understand.”
“I have decided that you will not work in the parlor for the next week…just to avoid confusing matters. In the coming days, Julian will have a job for you. Call it a test. A trial of sorts.” He pauses for a moment, and his eyes narrow as he scrutinizes me. “Do not squander this opportunity, Cassini. I will not offer another.”