Bloody

Chapter One: The Guy Who Killed the Mayor's Brother

I want to be in bed, but instead I'm at a party. I'm not much of a partier, but I'd promised Felix I'd be there. And only idiots with a death wish break promises to Felix.

Vampires don't take being lied to very well.

I could give you the whole song and dance about how I struggled to accept that vampires are real, but it would be bullshit. When you're descended from witches, it's just closeminded to think that you're the only preternatural being out there. And I like to think I'm pretty accepting.

So. Vampires. They're real. They walk among us. Blah, blah, blah.

I will say that Felix was the first vampire I ever actually met. I'm lucky that it was him, to be honest. Felix is the most powerful vampire in the city. Not the oldest, but the most powerful. It's an important distinction.

"Regan!"

No, no one at the party is drunk enough to start seeing dead U.S. presidents. Or characters from King Lear. That's my name. Regan. No "a", but people pronounce it as "Reagan" often enough for my dead-president crack to be relevant. It's pronounced "reh-gan". Not very feminine, I know. When people ask how I got it, I usually just tell them my parents didn't like me very much.

I turn to see Monica Luis waving me down with her free hand. The other is curled around the neck of a champagne bottle. I grin, and make my way toward her.

Monica is Felix's secretary. That thought alone makes me laugh like crazy sometimes. A secretary seems like such a normal employee to have. Normal and vampiric don't tend to overlap very much, in the general court of public opinion. No one else seems to get the joke, though. So I gave up trying to get other people to see the humour of it.

"What's up?" Monica wants to know. She shoulders open the door to the patio before turning to me and waiting for my answer. I'm considering the question as the door falls closed.

"My life is perfectly boring," I tell her honestly. She scoffs.

"I have a hard time believing that."

Although it's a bit cool outside, we sit down in the white wicker furniture tucked against the West side of the house. She uncorks the bottle and pours us each a glass. She looks into my eyes before she hands me mine.

"Seriously. What's going on in your life? There has to be something new."

"I'm considering getting a dog," I offer. She rolls her eyes and holds up her glass.

"A toast to your future social life—may it improve exponentially."

I roll my own eyes, but I clink my glass against hers before taking a sip. It's good, the champagne—fruity undertones, and not too dry. Monica seems to agree, since she takes another sip right after her first.

"I work in an office," I point out. The unspoken elaboration is that nothing interesting could possibly happen to me in an office job.

"I work in an office too, sweetheart."

"Please. You work for Felix. There's nothing boring about that."

She raises an eyebrow. I raise one back.

She caves first.

"Fine.  I'll give you that one. But at least the guys you come across at work aren't completely and totally off-limits."

It's my turn to scoff. "That's because no one I work with wants to kill me. Well," I take another sip. "That I know of."  Most of the people who come into Felix's are of the undead persuasion.