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However, when she tried to get him to tell her more, he dismissed her harshly and said he knew nothing. He scolded her for being a foolish child and told her the entire story was made up to placate new vampires while they got used to their new lives. No one else had ever spoken of it, and the whole legend remained shrouded in secrecy and possessed an air of danger.
When the ghostly visits first began, she did some research online but found little information, and any references to the bloodmate legend were few and far between. According to the tale, when a vampire found a bloodmate and performed a blood exchange, then both became daywalkers.
She rubbed at the tattoo on the back of her neck absently. Olivia shook her head at her foolishness.
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Even if there were truth to the whole legend, it was a moot point, since Douglas was long dead. However, dead or not, she kept her pledge of devotion. Maybe the young, innocent girl she used to be lingered inside, because as far as Olivia was concerned, being devoted to someone meant that you did not diddle with anyone else. Celibacy was a ridiculous notion for many humans, and positively insane for most vampires, at least the ones she encountered.
She sighed as she wiped the bar down and glanced at Maya with her flesh and blood plaything. Sympathy for the man tugged at what was left of her heart. He was kind enough to provide you with life-giving blood, so the least you can do is give him a memory that will make him smile.
Maya leaned in and licked his wound closed, leaving no evidence behind. She whispered to her prey, erasing all memory of their day together and replacing it with something palatable. He stood slowly and adjusted his crotch, while looking around the empty club somewhat bewildered. Her singsong tone made Olivia want to smack her, but she could not prevent the smile that played at her lips. Maya was right. She was a little cranky, but three centuries of no sex or intimacy would do that to anyone. She did not want Maya to know that she had been rattled by the situation, because she would never live it down.
Olivia glanced at the human who stood there looking confused and found herself feeling sorry for him. I think I should go. Come on, kitten.
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You big stud. Maya winked a long-lashed eye over her shoulder at Olivia, as they disappeared into the crisp winter night. Olivia shook her head and smiled in spite of how irritated she was.
Maya absolutely loved being a vamp—she genuinely loved it, and there was something refreshing in her enthusiasm. At first, Olivia had been disgusted and frightened, but Vincent had been a patient teacher, and eventually, she accepted it. Even when she served as a sentry for the Presidium, the vampire government, she did it out of duty, loyalty, and respect. She served her one hundred years as a soldier but retired as soon as her term was up and never looked back.
Olivia enjoyed the quiet life of a private citizen, even though she never expected that to include a coven of her own. She found her in the alley behind the club just before dawn, raped and beaten to within an inch of her life. The dirtbag who had done it dumped her there like garbage, and raw anger still flared at the memory.
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Olivia sensed it the moment he dropped her broken body next to the dumpster. It was the last time she killed a human.
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The memory both sickened and frightened her because when she drained that piece of shit dry—she loved every fucking minute. Olivia relished watching the fear in his eyes as she pinned him against the wall of his bedroom and savored his whimpering pleas for his life as he struggled uselessly. She took pure pleasure in feeling his heart slow, beat by beat, as the life faded from his eyes.
Olivia swallowed the bile that rose in her throat, disgusted with her basest instincts and the primal pleasure she took from eviscerating him. She was a monster. A killer. No different from the vicious, pathetic excuse for a man she killed. His blood memories would remain with her for eternity, and that was her penance. She walked the dance floor, taking note of the various humans writhing with one another amid the pulsating lights. She stuck out like a sore thumb, since she was the only one wearing a black Armani suit, not the leather or spikes of her faithful patrons.
Olivia waved at the regular customers peppered throughout the club and allowed herself a moment of pride. The Coven had become one of the most popular dance clubs for the Goth set in NYC, and she had worked her ass off to make it happen. She paced the floor more than usual tonight because she had been on edge ever since walking in on Maya. She could not afford any mistakes that would draw human attention or piss off the Presidium. Humans were easy enough to deal with, but she was less than pleased at the idea of vampire officials butting their noses into her life.
Tall, Dark, and Vampire (Dead in the City)
Although, the prevalent use of Botox among humans certainly helped explain her lack of facial wrinkles. Humans who loved to dress like vampires, or what they thought vampires looked like, flocked to this place every night as the sun went down. Except Sunday—she closed the joint on Sunday, since the place used to be a church. She figured it was the least she could do.
Olivia grinned and shook her head as she watched the humans wooing one another in their vampire garb. Ironically, most vampires did not dress like horror-movie rejects; many adopted the fashion of the era they lived in, but not all did. Vincent, for example, liked the Victorian era so much that sometimes he still adorned himself in a top hat and ascot, although she thought it looked ridiculous.
Vampires retained their individuality at least.
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