The Rogue and The Brotherhood

Chapter 1

The moment in time was done- Saint wished she could say the same for herself. She was walking down a dark, deserted street, the time was approaching midnight, and frankly, she was lost.

Heading to Derry had seemed like a good idea when she'd high tailed it out of New York with a stolen sword. But this wasn't the same Derry she remembered from several decades before. When had she last hung out here? Was it sometime in the 1940s, maybe? The thirties, perhaps? The place had certainly grown since then. They'd even built an aerodynamic plant on the site of the Ford Motor Building she used too frequently during the daytime. It just hadn't occurred to her that what had been a nice quiet old city would change and grow with the times.

Walking into a small club named Lagoon, Saint sneered as the crowd tripped over itself to get out of her way. Fear and morbid, lusty curiosity wafted out of their pores. She breathed in the rank odor.

Cattle. All of them.

From behind her dark glasses, her eyes strained against the dim lights, and she ultimately had to shut her lids. Her vision was so bad from her eyes watering because it was so disgusting, that she thought that she would've been happy being blind. The noise of Rave music vibrated in her ears, but she sighed... Focusing on her hearing, she sorted through the beats of the music, isolating the shuffling of feet, the whisper of words, sounds of another glass hitting the floor. If she ran into something, she didn't care. Whether it was a chair, a table, a human, she'd just walk over the damn thing.

Every head in the joint turned when she made her way through the club.

She seemed to survey the dim club, leaving her face cast in the shadows. Women spared her a glance. Men strained to get a better look. Drunk men set their glass aside to stare at the new beauty. She walked slowly to the bar, the click of her heels marking the sultry shift of hips wrapped in a tight, black skirt. She had muscular legs up the kazoo and when she propped her elbows on the bar, her short leather jacket creaked.

Saint ordered a shot of tequila in a voice like rustling silk.

A mirror, dirty and cloudy from nicotine and musty sweat steam, ran the length of the wall and in its foggy reflection, far off males watched her slide folded bills across the beer- splattered wood to the bartender. She picked up her shot and tossed it back. The glass came away from her lips slowly, her tongue sliding across her lips. Abruptly, she turned the empty jigger rim down on the bar and ordered another. While the bartender poured, she took a step back, her hands braced as she stretched a bit. Several men lining the wood rail leaned back to inspect the shapely curve of her bottom and the black stockings seaming her incredible legs.

She didn't belong here. She stood out against the dingy club like a baby in the wrestling ring. What did she hope to accomplish in the Lagoon?

Granson, a petty dealer, moved close to her, his voice too low to carry as he slid into the stool beside hers. She tucked back-length dreads behind her ear, cocked her head to look to him and smiled. Something in the shadow smiled, and let its gaze discreetly follow her as she joined the man to the dance floor. The haze of smoke hovered around them like a filthy curtain. Granson bent, his oily hair spilling over his face as he whispered in her ear, his hand groping her spine like a lazy masseur. She stiffened and stopped, then she reared back and made a fist. Great. Another asshole to deal with.

Damn, Saint thought. She was really going to feed off this dude? No way! This one was dirty. She'd gladly kill this one to get him off her. As casually as she could, she unfurled her fist. Have to look human, Saint.. Have to look human

"Ah, no thanks, pal. I'm not in that kind of company" not yours at least. Granson smelled of pot, prostitute, B.O. and booze. But he looked even worse. Greasy... And she'd had enough of being pawed. Stepping from under his groping, she turned and walked back towards her seat at the bar.. He caught her wrist, yanking her into his arms. Her dreads spread over her face and he stroked it back. Yuk... Even his nails were dirty.

" Your out here showin' it off, slut, and I want some"

He pulled her flat against his bony body, arms tight around her, his hot, foul breath in her face and whispered what he really wanted to do to her.

Appalled, Saint asked, "Do you kiss your poor mother with that mouth?"

He scowled. "Don't be talkin' 'bout my mother"

Careful, Saint. Display human fear.. Human fear, a voice in her head warned, sounding too much like her mother, the royal mother of all vampire. "Look, what part of NO don't you understand so I can explain it?"