car door, but he was in front of me before I could step out.
“You’re far from home. I need you to stay with me for a while.”
“Look, don’t take this personally or anything but … I’ve met plenty of vampires for one week, and I really have no desire to get to know another one.” I squeezed past him into the darkness, let my eyes adjust.
I couldn’t see much, only a narrow brick building with a single red door, wedged in between a few other old buildings. The door was arched, the blood-red paint tattered. I looked for windows but didn’t see any, glanced around for the building’s most convenient escape. A damp cobblestone street and a lone streetlight giving sparse light made my surroundings feel like a small European town. In the distance I could hear British accents, moving toward the other end of the street.
“Impossible,” I whispered, listened closely.
“Nope, you’re definitely in London.” Joel closed the car door. “Not in Kansas anymore, princess.”
I gawked at Joel in disbelief. Similar to Gavin and Gabe, he wore all black—combat boots and subtle brooding included. He reminded me of a gypsy, earthy and wise, as if his life had taken him to many interesting places. A vast display of art sprawled across his arms; his parted but unkempt brown hair just barely passed his shoulders. He was the first vampire I’d met who had a darker, golden complexion. My mind wrestled with the possibilities. Cherokee Indian, maybe some Greek, a little French, I couldn’t tell.
“You can’t be serious.” I squatted to sit on the side of the street, my head in my hands, in disbelief at how insane a turn my life had taken since I moved to Louisiana. Now I was hanging out with vampires on the streets of London. “We’re not even in the States? What about Gavin’s car?” I looked up at him. “Did we fly it across the Atlantic Ocean to get here?”
“Please. We fly, the cars don’t.” He walked over to me and took my hand, pulled me up from the curb. Odd, but it felt as if I’d known him for years. Could it be that I had more chemistry with my new vampire friends than I had with many human friends I’d made over the course of my lifetime?
“Gavin has a spare ride here. This is where we hang out, come on.”
I allowed him to lead me through the red door of the building.
“So spoiled,” I mumbled, annoyed as he towed me through a loud crowd. “This is where you two hang out? Why didn’t he ever tell me about this place?” I had to yell over the noise.
He turned around and looked at me. “Why didn’t he tell you? Really, Camille?”
“Oh. Right. Got it.” And I did. I guess it wasn’t ideal to volunteer information about your vampire haven to your mortal girlfriend. “Well, why are you bringing me here now? I thought you were being bribed to keep me away from your kind.”
“Those weren’t the instructions,” he hollered back. “I’m keeping you away from Andrew, in particular. And for the record, I’m not being bribed. Gavin’s a friend of mine.”
Awestruck, I followed him through the clouds of smoke, observed the hordes of monsters around me. Glasses in hand and fangs bared, some huddled around the small stage to watch the band play; others talked intimately on smooth, sultry-red-velvet couches that looked like they belonged in the eighteenth century. Black eyes followed me as I walked, made me feel as if I’d inadvertently rung the dinner bell.
“Here, have a seat.” He led me to a pub table in the back corner of the club. It was still noisy, but secluded enough to have a conversation without having to yell at one another.
I sat at the table with my arms folded, glanced warily around me. “I should be home.”
“No one is going to hurt you when you’re with me.”
“I’ve heard that one before.” I shot him a dirty look, kept my guard up.
He sighed, ordered us drinks. Growing tired of me already, I was sure. I could relate. I was tired of myself.
“All right. Enough of the sulking. I brought you here to explain things to you, I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“No, I don’t want—”
“What do you want?”
I looked at my beer, smelled it before I took a swig, just to make sure. “I want out of this nightmare I wound up in, that’s what I want. And I’m not sulking.”
“No. You’re just