In popular culture, vampires are usually shown holding an elegant glass of red wine. It's probably because it looks like blood or whatever. Anyway, honestly, I find red wine disgusting — I'd much rather have an ice-cold beer.
But whether it's wine, beer, or any other kind of alcohol, what really matters is who you're drinking with. And that's why even beer doesn't go down as smoothly when I'm stuck sharing it with him: John Hardley, one of New York's fast-rising figures in organized crime. A man in his forties with slicked-back black hair and piercing ice-blue eyes — giving him an old-school gangster vibe.
He moved to New York just a couple of years ago, yet he's already taken over a huge part of the criminal underworld — no surprise there, helped by the so-called "mysterious" deaths of nearly all his competitors. But his meteoric rise isn't only about brains or charisma.
John Hardley is a demon.
Yeah, a real demon. And I'm almost certain the way he looks is just some human disguise created by his demonic magic.
Sounds crazy, right? This world is crawling with demons, vampires, and other creatures that look like they came straight out of a fantasy novel — all coming from a world called Elyndra.
As much as I hate John — just being near him gives me chills — I learned everything I know about my species and the world I come from from him.
Even though I still don't know how I ended up here. As far back as I can remember, I lived in the orphanage where Veronica found me.
Just a couple of years later, around age twelve, I started feeling that uncontrollable urge to drink blood, and things would've turned ugly if I'd still been trapped inside that moldy building.
«Jace Lance, I hope you've had time to consider my offer since we last spoke,» he says, sipping a glass of red wine.
We're sitting on a couch inside one of his many clubs spread across New York — this one in Queens.
I'd bet money that the way he sips that wine so pompously is just an act to seem sophisticated.
Yeah… his offer: joining his criminal organization.
Ever since he showed up in this city, he's been recruiting every creature from Elyndra he can get his hands on, and by now there are dozens of them. I didn't realize so many of them lived in New York alone.
It was a freezing winter night last year when one of his lackeys caught me drinking a homeless guy's blood after killing him, and ever since, he hasn't stopped pestering me to join his little army.
But seriously — why the hell would I give up my luxurious, comfortable life with Veronica just to become his hitman? Only a desperate idiot would agree to something like that.
«Same answer as last time — and the time before that,» I reply firmly. «Come on, John — I've got nothing to gain by joining you. And besides, I'm way too young to get myself killed by some Monster Slayer.»
Yeah… the Monster Slayers: humans gifted with sacred powers, trained since childhood to hunt and eliminate creatures like me and John — beings that aren't supposed to exist in this world.
I already risk my neck every night when I go out to feed, and I have zero intention of playing with fire more than I already do.
John doesn't even blink at my answer — he'd probably be more shocked if I accepted with a big smile.
«Since I made you come all the way out here, at least let me give you a ride home,» John offers as he sees me getting up from the couch.
Sure, I'm pretty far from the Midtown Manhattan penthouse I live in, but only an idiot would get into the car of a crime boss — especially when that crime boss is also a demon.
Besides, the idea of taking a relaxing moonlit walk actually sounds pretty tempting right now, and on top of that, talking to John has left me a little hungry. If you know what I mean.
And anyway, I'm in no hurry at all tonight — Veronica thinks I'm sleeping over at Naomi's, so I've got plenty of time.
After I turn him down yet again, John just gives me one of those heavy, fatherly pats on the shoulder — like he's trying to encourage me.
This man is getting a bit too friendly for my liking — he doesn't like me, right?
Shit, I really hope not — gross!