“Who is it?” DJ rose up in the booth, craning his head around in an effort to see who had entered the restaurant. He wasn’t having any success.
“No one we know,” Victor assured him. On the outside of the booth, he merely had to lean to the side to see the tall, thin young man standing by the restaurant entrance.
The boy was glowering at the crowd now eyeing him as curiously as they’d eyed Victor and DJ moments ago. He couldn’t have been more than twenty by Victor’s guess and was dressed in the Goth fashion with baggy black pants, a billowing black shirt, and studs around his neck and wrists. His hair was long and pure black, obviously dyed. He was also unnaturally pale.
Makeup, Victor thought, noting the black lips and piercings everywhere.
“Is he one of us?” DJ asked as he gave up trying to see and sank back in the booth.
“A wannabe,” Victor grunted. Dismissing the youth Brunswick was talking to, he settled back in his own seat. “A Goth costume, makeup and a bad attitude.”
“Not surprised,” DJ murmured. When Victor raised an eyebrow, he added, “Well, none of our kind is likely to answer a newspaper ad for singles.”
“Hmm,” Victor murmured noncommittally. It was his opinion that one never knew what others might do. He’d seen stranger things in his life.
“If she really is one of us, she’ll spot him for a wannabe right away,” DJ said with unconcern. “Of course, she—”
Victor glanced at DJ curiously when the man cut himself off abruptly. Spotting the startled look on his face, he asked, “What is it?”
“I think that iguana just moved,” DJ said with a frown.
Following his gaze, Victor peered at the bright green statue of the family of iguanas. Closer now, he could see that it was actually two adult iguanas with two smaller ones riding on their backs. All of them were stiff and still and Victor shook his head at the other man’s moment of whimsy. “Don’t be ridiculous, it’s a statue.”
“No, I’m sure I saw—”
“You can sit here with these two men.”
Victor glanced up to see that Brunswick apparently hadn’t picked up on the fact the boy wasn’t for real and had ushered him to the booth.
“Vlad, this is Victor Argeneau and DJ Benoit,” the officer introduced as the younger man slid into the booth. “Gentlemen, this is Vladimir Drake.”
“Vladimir Drake?” DJ echoed with a wince, and Victor knew exactly what he was thinking. Being a wannabe was bad enough, but some things just showed poor taste.
“Yeah, you got a problem with that?” the kid asked defensively, then challenged, “Besides, what kind of name is DJ for a vampire?”
“It’s short for Dieudonne Jules,” DJ said mildly. “It’s usually easier for people to use DJ.”
“Dieudonne? As in ‘God-given’?” Vlad sneered, obviously knowledgeable of some French, but then this was Canada. “And Benoit is short for Benedictine, isn’t it? That means blessed.” His mouth twisted. “A vampire with the names ‘given by God’ and ‘blessed’? Yeah right.”
DJ glanced to Victor and commented, “I’d think he was a name aficionado and smarter than he looks, but I read his mind.”
Victor smiled faintly. He too had read the boy’s mind and discovered that while Vlad knew the translation for Dieudonne from years of French in school, and his real name was Benedict. He had looked it up years ago and found the meaning as well as read the diminutives, including Benoit. He’d made everyone call him that for weeks afterward until some other trend had caught his eye.
“Yeah, sure you’ve read my mind,” Vlad said with obvious disbelief. “I bet you two aren’t even real vampires.”
Victor ignored the challenge, his eyes sliding to Brunswick who still stood to the side of the booth, watching this interaction with interest.
“You show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” DJ said mildly.
“Show my what?” Vlad asked with a laugh. “You want to see my dick? You’re not vampires, you’re gay!”
Victor reached out to place a hand on DJ’s arm as he sensed him stiffening, and then turned slowly to face the boy. He stared at him long and hard until the boy began to squirm on the opposite bench seat, then Victor opened his mouth and let his teeth slide out. He let them stay there briefly, long and sharp and pearly white, then slowly retracted them and closed his mouth.
“Holy shit!” Vlad gasped. He’d gone pale beneath the makeup and was now trembling in his seat. Apparently, for all his posturing, he hadn’t been at all prepared to meet a real vampire this night. By Victor’s estimation, the boy was seconds away from relieving himself right there in his pants.
“Run along home, little boy,” he growled, losing patience. “This is the big league and you’re missing more than the balls needed to play here.”
Vlad hesitated for barely a heartbeat, then scrambled out of the booth and hurried toward the exit at nothing short of a run. Victor leaned out to watch him. The minute the wannabe reached the door, he slipped into his thoughts and made him pause while he wiped his mind, replacing his true memories with more mundane ones of a disappointing meeting with an overweight, old wannabe named Elvi.