Blood and Hexes (After Darkness Falls #4) - May Sage Page 0,9

red feline-shaped sign read “The Lion’s Claw.”

Diana was fairly certain she’d heard about this place before. There weren’t too many bars, pubs, and restaurants catering to her kind outside of cities. When someone mentioned one, she stored it in her memory. Technically, Diana could remember every single thing she’d heard or seen in her life, but she would have to concentrate for that, and she rarely did. After a certain age, vampires had to learn to compartmentalize useless information to avoid going mad. Drinking joints, however, were one of the things she didn’t shove into the back of her mind.

She’d already passed Newcastle, which meant that she was some four or five hours away from Oldcrest. She could use a drink before getting home. Particularly after her snack back in London.

Vampires her age didn’t need to drink much, but she’d been starving herself of real human blood for decades Tonight’s indulgence had awakened a wicked thirst inside her. Her fangs weren’t retreating, her eyes were bright, and her senses were scanning for heartbeats, breaths, the scent of flesh.

She didn’t think entering Oldcrest in her current state was wise. Not with hundreds of mortals going to school at the Institute, right under Night Hill.

Diana hadn’t felt one way or another when she’d learned that the old witch’s home had been turned into a school. Right now? It was fairly inconvenient.

Noting the handful of cars in the almost empty lot, she entered the bar. At the door, she stilled, taking in her surroundings.

There were seven vampires, none of whom even registered as a minor threat to her, surrounding another one. Diana sensed that the colossal redheaded man bearing various marks on his skin was considerably more powerful than those who were attacking him. But he was also drugged. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, smelling the clear, sickly-sweet odor of bloodbane.

The hulking, addled vamp backed up against the wall, holding his hands in front of him in a defensive stance. He was preparing to fight, but given the fact that he was struggling to stand, he’d lose.

Diana sighed. It wasn’t her problem. For all she knew, he might have attacked them, killed someone they loved.

She headed to the bar.

All the vampires turned to her, some baring their fangs, others dismissing her and returning to their affairs.

She supposed she couldn’t entirely ignore them. “My, my. And to think that I just came for a little drink, and maybe a game of pool. I wasn’t expecting a show.”

The bartender snarled. “The bar’s closed, little lady.”

Her eyes slid to him, fixing him with a steady stare. Little? There was nothing little about her, dammit. So maybe at five foot five, she wasn’t quite an Amazon, but what she lacked in inches, she made up for in raw ferocity when the occasion demanded it.

Diana had a tendency to naturally downplay the extent of her strength, concealing it in order to live a normal-ish life. Humans or vampires, if those around her suspected just how powerful she was, they wouldn’t see her as a friend, as someone they could have fun with. And besides, she truly did like to be underestimated by enemies. Right now, she was on edge, annoyed, and worried after her chat with Juniper and her altercation with the trio of idiots. Power oozed out of her, and she wasn’t making an effort to keep it in.

“But I’m thirsty,” she said with a pout. “And I’ve come a long way. I will drink.” There was no question. That was an order that the bartender would have obeyed if he’d been wise.

The bartender wasn’t wise.

“I said, the bar is closed.”

She shrugged, and walked forward. “I don’t like to repeat myself. Are you going to serve me, or should we do it the hard way?”

The bartender stepped forward. Two of the vampires surrounding the guy they’d attacked joined him.

“I see. The hard way, then.”

She couldn’t help feeling sorry for these idiots.

Diana moved at a leisurely pace; her breathing wasn’t even getting any faster. Resorting to her favorite trick, she leaped in the air, her long legs wrapping around the bartender’s neck, and she flipped him down to the nasty wooden pub floor, cracking his spine with her thighs, before jumping back to a crouch. Then she smiled up at the two who’d approached. They seemed to hesitate.

“He isn’t dead.” Vampires could recover from a cracked neck. So long as she didn’t cut off his head, drown him, burn him, or rip out his heart, he’d wake