Guilty Pleasures   ::   Гамильтон Лорел

We went up three broad steps, and there was a vampire standing in front of the propped-open door. He had a black crew cut and small, pale eyes. His massive shoulders threatened to rip the tight black t-shirt he wore. Wasn't pumping iron redundant after you died?

Even standing on the threshold I could hear the busy hum of voices, laughter, music. That rich, murmurous sound of many people in a small space, determined to have a good time.

The vampire stood beside the door, very still. There was still a movement to him, an aliveness, for lack of a better term. He couldn't have been dead more than twenty years, if that. In the dark he looked almost human, even to me. He had fed already tonight. His skin was flushed and healthy. He looked damn near rosy-cheeked. A meal of fresh blood will do that to you.

Monica squeezed his arm. “Ooo, feel that muscle.”

He grinned, flashing fangs. Catherine gasped. He grinned wider.

“Buzz here is an old friend, aren't you, Buzz?”

Buzz the vampire? Surely not.

But he nodded. “Go on in, Monica. Your table is waiting.”

Table? What kind of clout did Monica have? Guilty Pleasures was one of the hottest clubs in the District, and they did not take reservations.

There was a large sign on the door. “No crosses, crucifixes, or other holy items allowed inside.” I read the sign and walked past it I had no intention of getting rid of my cross.

A rich, melodious voice floated around us. “Anita, how good of you to come.”

The voice belonged to Jean-Claude, club owner and master vampire. He looked like a vampire was supposed to look. Softly curling hair tangled with the high white lace of an antique shirt.

Lace spilled over pale, long-fingered hands. The shirt hung open, giving a glimpse of lean bare chest framed by more frothy lace. Most men couldn't have worn a shirt like that. The vampire made it seem utterly masculine.

“You two know each other?” Monica sounded surprised.

“Oh, yes,” Jean-Claude said. “Ms. Blake and I have met before.”

“I've been helping the police work cases on the Riverfront.”

“She is their vampire expert.” He made the last word soft and warm and vaguely obscene.

Monica giggled. Catherine was staring at Jean-Claude, eyes wide and innocent. I touched her arm, and she jerked as if waking from a dream. I didn't bother to whisper because I knew he would have heard me anyway. “Important safety tip-never look a vampire in the eye.”

She nodded. The first hint of fear showed in her face.

“I would never harm such a lovely young woman.