Chapter 4: A Deadly Proposition

Veronica stepped out of her cab, forsaking the warmth of the vehicle for the cold night breeze. She still held the door in her hand, though. The cabbie leaned back around his seat.

 

“You sure you wanna get out here?” He could obviously sense that she was going through some decision.

 

Veronica nodded. She handed him the money he was due and shut the door. He disappeared down the street and around the corner. It was eerie, really – the whole street would seem nearly deserted, if not for the parked cars, glowing neon signs, and the few stragglers entering the large club on her right. The only noise was the faint honking of horns in some other part of the city, and the pulsing beat of the club’s music.

 

Well… It’s now or never, thought Veronica. And I’d rather it be never.

 

She released a long breath and stared at the club door. She had to do this. She couldn’t imagine the consequences if she ignored the request. And so, with heavy steps, Veronica made her way to the entrance. The building was built out of brick, and the black, bolted door had a large strange white symbol painted on it; as she looked at it harder, she remembered seeing it before; the familiar had it tattooed on the back of his neck. A large, muscled black man was checking cards at the door. Veronica began to take her I.D. out, but as he saw her face, he spoke.

 

“Hold it…” He gave her a once over, again lingering on her face. “Go on in. The boss is expecting you.”

 

Veronica frowned, but entered anyway as he held the door open for her. Her head swarmed instantly with the deafening throb of the music. Man, if it was loud outside those thick walls, it was even louder inside, blasting from who-knows-how-many speakers. It sounded to her like Goth rock, industrial-type music. Fitting, she mused. All the people there were dressed up in black and leather and spikes and chains, a lot like the Maktashe that had tried to kill her the previous night. Many of them stared at her as she passed them, in disgust or amusement. She wasn’t exactly dressed the part. Veronica wasn’t quite sure where she was supposed to meet this “boss”… But just then, the familiar from earlier that day approached her, seemingly out of nowhere. She grimaced, but was glad to at least see a familiar face. He gave her a witty grin.

 

“So how ya like the club scene? Pretty rockin’, huh?”

 

Veronica scoffed quietly. “Yeah… rockin’.” Mmm, that was sincere.

 

He immediately dropped the grin and lightly took hold of her arm. “You’ll meet the boss this way,” he said, switching to a more formal tone.

 

Veronica followed (or rather, was led) without any struggle. Perhaps that was her downfall… The familiar took her past the bar area, up a small flight of carpeted stairs, and through a fancy door painted red – the color of blood.

 

The room she entered was dark and sultry; the walls and ceiling were padded in red velvet; the cherry wood floor was covered in a large black rug. Other than two ornate mirrors on the left and right walls, the office was completely devoid of decoration. In the middle of the room was a polished black desk; and sitting behind it was a man whose cold blue eyes sent shivers down her spine. He had longish dark brown hair that was pulled back into a loose ponytail at the neck. Beneath his suit and collared shirt, with the top buttons left undone, one could see that he was definitely muscled. It seemed to Veronica that all the men in this place were. Two very pale women stayed on either side of him, dressed in identical tight-fitting black mini dresses and heels. Veronica immediately recognized one of them – Jesse, the vampyre girl who had tried to kill her the previous night. As their eyes connected, the vampyre grinned wide, like she had in the alley.

 

Nice to see you again, breather.

 

Veronica twitched as she heard the unfamiliar voice in her head. Was it her…? No time to think about that, though. “The boss” pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it, taking a drag. Jesse’s nose wrinkled ever so slightly. The man spoke.

 

“Please… Sit down.”

 

Veronica frowned. “But… there’s no place to –” A bodyguard that she hadn’t noticed in the room before came forward with a wooden chair and placed it before the desk.

 

“Sit,” the ‘boss’ repeated, smiling congenially.

 

Veronica noted his fangs, confirming the familiar’s words. Speaking of the little rat, where’d he go…? He seemed to have disappeared from her side. Putting it out of her mind, she took a deep breath and walked slowly to the chair, seating herself on its hard, unforgiving surface. Man, this is worse than a job interview.

 

“Allow me to introduce myself, Veronica.” His words flowed out of his mouth like water. “My name is Aronius Maccalo. I own this club. I also own…” Here he paused slightly to gesture with his cigar. “…the vicious beings that tried to attack you last night. Yes, I know of it. I must tell you now that I am deeply sorry that your well-being was put in jeopardy; this was nothing of my intentions, and I could not very well control them from here at my desk.”

 

Veronica listened, but felt uncomfortable looking at him; instead she studied the pattern of the wall padding, trying not to look at those cold eyes again. She felt in her gut that something was not right here – that he was lying. No man – or any other being, for that matter – that looks and speaks in such a hollow manner should be trusted. Nevertheless, listening to him somehow put her at ease; she could sense her hands beginning to unclench.

 

“Furthermore, I have been trying to think of a way to make this incident up to you,” Aronius continued. “You have been unceremoniously thrown into the fray of the vampiric community, and I’m sure this is quite stressful for someone so…” His eyes passed over her, down and then up. “…vulnerable.” Veronica subtly shuddered again. Aronius rose from his desk, a brightened expression of enlightenment on his face.

 

“But!” He held one hand into the air, as if he had just dawned upon a revelation. “What if you were made to be… invulnerable?” He turned his head to gaze at her. “What if you could be free from harm in this dark underworld, free from attack, or disease… or even death?”

 

Veronica’s eyes widened. She had a pretty good idea in her head where he was going with this. Her intuition said, No WAY! Are you crazy? But some other part of her was hearing all this, and it was making sense. Why spend the rest of your life fighting these monsters? Why not join them…? But… that didn’t sound like her voice…

 

“Veronica.” Aronius was standing directly in front of her now. His hand was outstretched to her where she sat. “Become one of us. Embrace this new world, and never fear the terrors of that night ever again.” Oddly enough, his voice didn’t sound cold anymore. It sounded warm and inviting… Friendly, even…

 

“NO!” Veronica stood up from her chair wincing, her hands pressed against her head. “I won’t! I can’t! I can’t be a vampyre! I’m human! I’m –” She stopped short as two very strong hands grasped her wrists.

 

“–Going to be one, whether you like it or not,” finished Aronius. His eyes were aflame now with a malice that she hadn’t seen before. Her body seemed to lock up, and she couldn’t move. “You see, my dear girl, you’re part of something now that’s larger than yourself. You need to wake up and realize it! You have something that I want, Veronica, and when Aronius Maccalo wants something, he gets it!”

 

Aronius forced her arms down against her sides, held her around her back, and lunged towards her neck, fangs bared.

 

Veronica felt an indescribable pain as the inch-long teeth dug deep into her jugular vein, immediately beginning to siphon off the blood that her heart gushed towards the spot. Her pulse felt as though it beat against her skull like a migraine. Her limbs tensed and contorted, but made no motion to escape, well under the control of the crafty leech. Her breath quickened – then shortened – then surged – and soon slowed to a nearly baseline pace. Veronica felt light headed… Her vision blurred… All became dark, and the last thing she saw was Jesse’s face hovering over Aronius’s shoulder… grinning.