100% Freshie Chapter 10 --PG-13

[librarian_7]

Disclaimer: The characters from Moonlight are copyrighted by CBS, and no infringement is intended.

Special note: This work takes place in the world of Moonlight, but your favorite vamps are not the main focus. Sorry about that; try to enjoy the story anyway. You might be surprised.

100% Freshie

Chapter 10



Danni put a hand up to her woozy, aching head, fingertips to her temple, and pulled it down to rub across her face. It was very dark, and she was a little unclear where exactly she was. She pulled up her knees, dropping her head forward to cradle on them. Too much blood loss. Too much. Her other hand came up involuntarily to her throat, and her fingers caught in the roughness of the ragged twin punctures in her neck. She felt the damaged skin, the dampness of continued sluggish bleeding, and cursed, wincing. At the sudden movement she realized her arm hurt as well, and pushing at the sleeve of her jacket, she found the fabric sodden with blood from fresh wounds in her wrist. She had to be in a back hallway at Valis; she just wished she could remember how she got there.

“Bastard,” she said softly to herself. “Well, kiddo, you wanted to get bit in the worst way, and I guess that’s what you got.” In the darkness and the faintness that had come over her, she hadn’t noticed the vampire who had silently appeared, and stood gazing down at her with strangely kind eyes.

“Are you all right?” he asked gently. His soft baritone was pitched in a way that somehow seemed to inspire trust and invite confidences.

Danni peered up. The man—the vamp—was tall, slender, and from what she could tell, dressed in black, a long dark coat brushing his jeans at the knees. It was too dark to tell much else.

“I think I’m okay.”

He extended a pale hand. “At least let me help you up. You look like you’ve been through the wringer."

“Thanks,” Danni said. She reached up to grasp the stranger’s hand, but at the touch of his chill skin, the events of the whole fabulous evening came flooding back, and she jerked her hand away as though from a burning cold. The memories weren’t so easy to pull away from.


The club had been crowded. It was always crowded. The more affluent vamps loved to bring their entourages of favored freshies out for an evening of dancing and drinking. It served several purposes. It made the freshies happy—gave them a chance to dress up, to show off that they were with an important sponsor, to socialize with other people who understood their lifestyle. And for the vamps, it proved, among other things, a chance to demonstrate their prestige, judged by the quality of their entourage.

For those lower on the vampire social scale, it was still a chance to network, to relax, and most importantly to sample the abundant free range freshie blood on offer.

The unattached freshies, too, had agendas, whether looking to meet the vamp who was looking to attach a new freshie, or just out for a casual bite. Even the wannabe first-timers had their place here. Some vamps swore that new blood was always the sweetest.

Danni got a drink—orange juice. They always gave you orange juice at the Red Cross if you donated blood, so she figured it had to be good for less formal blood donations as well. And she’d learned long before that it was best to keep a clear head if you were dealing with unknown vamps. It didn’t necessarily help, but it was sure better for the experience not to have the knife edge of sensation dulled with liquor. After all, wasn’t that the point? Anyway, Danni sipped her orange juice and wondered idly which category of club freshie she fell into.

Here she was, living in an apartment which Emma had eventually confessed was owned by Will. It wasn’t just rent free, either. She’d never seen a utility bill, or cable, or phone, or ISP. Even the neighborhood grocer had a line of credit established. And she had a platinum card he’d sent the morning after he first bit her, with a note that it was for clothes and shoes and such. She and Hunter were being kept, quite nicely. The only thing missing at this point was Will, and even if he’d been around, there was still that little quirk of his. Of not wanting exclusive access.

So maybe she wasn’t attached, maybe she didn’t belong with Will. To Will. On the other hand, Danni wasn’t sure she was ready to walk away entirely, to attach herself to another vamp—even if she had an offer. She told herself, among other things, she couldn’t walk away from Hunter. Who would take care of Hunter, who would understand?

Okay, that was bull, and Danni knew it. If she wanted to leave—for another vampire, or for another city—all she had to do was call a number already programmed into her phone. A number designated “Problems.” And everything would be taken care of. Everything.

But if she didn’t want another attachment, that meant she was only here for the bite. That didn’t sound so wonderful, either. It sounded pretty slutty, in fact. So maybe she should tell herself she was looking for the next great vampire love of her life. Maybe she could fool herself.

She found a place to perch and survey the room, looking for likely vamps. If she’d had the education to express it that way, she’d have said that the predator/prey dynamic was a bit more complex than the average watering hole. Too many gazelles here were hoping for a lion.

Out of sheer habit, Danni scanned the tables where the important vamps held court. She somehow had the idea that one night she’d come in, look over, and find Will smiling and beckoning to her. She scoffed to herself. Once again, no Will.

She’d have been almost as happy to see Josef Kostan. Even if he wasn’t in the mood to pay her any particular attention, he was always courteous to a fault to her, always invited her to sit down at his table, always remembered her drink was orange juice. He laughed, snarkily, at what he called her abstemiousness, but he remembered the orange juice. And he’d made a point of introducing her to several very—suitable—vamps. She suspected that was more to mollify his ever-present, and ever-vigilant—favored freshies, than from any deep concern for her well-being. For such petite women, Danni found Allara and Faction terrifying, and if they and Lucky thawed at all, these days, it was only when they saw Josef making sure to seat her at the outer edge of his table.

Tonight, though, her luck was out. Josef’s permanently reserved table was vacant, and she didn’t know any of the other big guns, except by name. She’d have to try her fortunes on the dance floor.

There was no point in waiting to be asked to dance at a freshie club. Wallflowers didn’t get plucked. So she downed her remaining orange juice, slung her tiny evening bag across her chest, and hit the dance floor. She thought she was developing a pretty good look of being totally lost in the music, while remaining as alert as possible to her surroundings.

So she danced, and kept an eye out for approaching vamps. It had taken her hours to work her way into the club; it only took about three songs for her to meet Javier.

Javier was pretty interesting, she had to admit. He had the whole dark, Latin lover vamp charm thing stone cold perfect, even if, as he ruefully admitted, he was a relatively young vamp, only 25 years undead. She thought she’d gotten good at sizing them up, the ones who played by the rules and had no bad intentions beyond a dance or two, a quick bite, and a freshie one pint low. Even these low level vamps were usually very concerned to show a freshie the best time they could, since they could not rely on the enticements of wealth that the older, more established vampires were usually able to command. In fact, Danni had found that with the exception of Josef, she preferred the younger vamps to the old ones. They tried harder, and they were just more fun.

And the rules at Club Valis, just as at Pulse!, were pretty clear. Neither place wanted to be sweeping out drained freshies with the morning trash. The general agreement was, it was bad for business. It was a foolhardy freshie who left a bar with a strange vamp, but even in the darker corners, the clubs were supposed to be relatively safe.

Problem was, Javier had intoxicated her with kisses, romanced her with caresses, and before she knew what he was about, he had deftly maneuvered her away from the main club area and into this secluded hallway. “So much more private, for what I have in mind for you,” he said. And that would’ve been okay, even so, but another vamp appeared out of the shadows. One who looked hungry, ugly.

Danni panicked, tried to free herself from Javier’s embrace. “I can’t—I can’t feed two of you,” she said.

Javier grinned and his friend drew nearer. “Of course you can, querida,” he said with an odd, excited, laugh, just before he struck.

It hurt. It had never hurt like that before. And when she struggled, it hurt worse. She beat her hands uselessly against his unyielding back. Then she felt her arm grasped, pulled free of him, and the second vamp fastened painfully on her wrist. She thought she was dead. There were bright lights flaring around the edges of her vision, and then the blackness rolled over her, and there was nothing.


She snatched her hand away from the solitary vampire in front of her, and shrank back against the wall. She heard the faint hiss of his indrawn breath. To have them smell you like that, it was as bad as being naked before them. You had no secrets left.

The vampire hesitated, knowing his best course would be to walk away, and notify one of the security people that an over-drained, abused, but still-alive freshie had been discarded in one of the back corridors. Then he sighed and folded his long legs to slide down the wall to the floor, sitting next to her, close, but not close enough to frighten her any further.

“So,” he said, “you want to tell me about it?”

Danni wasn’t feeling well, but she hadn’t gone completely brain dead. “Depends,” she said. “Who are you?”

“I’m a P.I. My name is Mick St. John.”

“And you’re a vampire,” Danni said flatly.

Mick shrugged. “And I’m a vampire.” He reflected that it was getting easier for him to say that, lately.

Danni rubbed her temples again, trying to process her situation. “Mick St. John. A vampire P.I. And—no offense—but you give a rat’s ass about me, exactly why?”

Mick was starting to like this girl. “Maybe I’ve got a hero complex.” He paused. “Maybe I was raised not to walk by a woman in trouble.”

It was Danni’s turn to pause and look at him, cracking a little bit of a smile. “If you’re so old-fashioned,” she said, “you wouldn’t happen to have a handkerchief on you, would you?”

Mick dug into the inner breast pocket of his long coat and pulled out a deep maroon silk pocket square. He found the dark colors more useful, since he was all too often needing them for wiping up blood. He handed it to her without comment. Knowing he could see her far better in the dimness than she could see him, he studied her as she blotted the slowly seeping wounds at her wrist and neck. He found himself drawn to her, impressed by her gallant calm strength. Having read what had happened from the odors that clouded around her, he knew nine girls out of ten, even—or perhaps especially—experienced freshies, would have run screaming at the appearance of another strange vampire. On the other hand, it might simply be a calmness born of despair and the endorphins from her injuries. He knew too well that sometimes courage and hopelessness were damn near indistinguishable.

“What’s your name?” he asked suddenly. “Now that you know mine.”

“Huh.” She acknowledged the logic, at least. “People around here call me Danger.”

Mick blinked. He’d heard Josef mention a freshie he liked named Danger—Josef had a tendency to bite and tell, at least when it came to more casual encounters—but Mick had gotten the impression that Danger, if this was indeed the same girl, ran in a bit higher social plane than what he could smell of the two vamps who had misused her.

“Don’t you—I mean, aren’t you attached to Will Spence?” Mick asked, curious to hear what she’d say.

She looked at him and raised her eyebrows. “And how would you know that?”

He quirked one corner of his mouth into what he hoped was a charming smile. “It’s a small community.”

“Then I’d assume you knew Will hasn’t been around for a while.” Danni blinked a few times, and shivered. She was, she suspected, going a little shocky, and all she really wanted at this point was to get in a cab headed for home.

Her unexpected friend, if he was that, nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d heard that. Kind of left you out in the wind, didn’t he?” Mick didn’t wait for an answer; her increased heart rate already indicated her distress. “Well, then, Danger, why don’t you fill me in on the details? How’d this happen to you?”

She shrugged. “Your nose already told you more details than I can probably remember.” Danni paused. “At least, that’s how they explained it in the Freshie Orientation Seminar.” She pressed the handkerchief again to the wounds in her neck, and hissed a little at the pain.

Mick huffed out a short laugh, a bit distracted by the fresh wave of bloodscent.

“Look,” Danni said, “I appreciate your concern—and the handkerchief—but really, I just need to get out front and get a cab.”

“You should report those guys. Have them blacklisted from the clubs. At the least.”

Danni shook her head, wincing again. “I’d rather not get anyone pissed off at me. Since I don’t have a protector.”

Mick nodded. He probably should walk this girl through the club, see her into a cab, and forget her. And he had come here, he reminded himself, been in this back hallway, for a reason. So he was a little surprised when what came out of his mouth was, “Danger, why don’t you let me take you home tonight?”

Danger turned a face to him gone suddenly very pale. He could feel a wave of fear rolling off her. “I can’t feed you. You know I can’t feed you.”

Mick put a hand out to her impulsively. “No—no—that’s not—I meant—why don’t you let me drive you—to your home.” He’d intended to reassure her, but he could see she was far from relaxing.

“Thanks, but—never leave a club alone with a strange vamp.” Danni did manage a smile of sorts, to show she understood now.

“Freshie 101 again?” He smiled back. “You know, we may have a couple of mutual friends.”

“So?”

“If someone you trust vouches for me, is that good enough?” He waited while she pondered that. Her shakes were getting worse, and whether she agreed or not, he was going to get her out of this dank hallway. It would be easier for both of them, though, if she wasn’t trying to fight him.

“Who do you know that I know?”

“Josef Kostan, for one.” Mick paused. “You’re friends with his exclusives, aren’t you?”

Danni nodded. “Friends” was stretching it a little, maybe.

“Call one of them. Ask her about me.”

Danni looked at her phone. It was past 3:30 in the morning; she’d been passed out from the blood loss longer than she’d realized. She looked Mick in the eye. “If you’re willing to let me bother Lucky—and maybe Josef—at this hour of the night—you must be pretty sure of yourself, and them. I guess that’s good enough for me.”

Neither of them spoke much on the ride to Danni’s place. He’d found a blanket in the trunk of his Mercedes convertible to let her wrap herself in against the chill night air, and she seemed to hunker down within it, and within her thoughts, once she gave him the address.

Mick really wanted to ask her questions, a lot of questions, about Will’s disappearance and her current situation, but he knew she’d been pushed as far as she needed to be for one night.

His instincts as well as his manners insisted that he accompany her to her door, and she was so stumblingly tired she was grateful for the gentlemanly support of his strong arm. He felt her unsteadiness, and was outraged again at the treatment she’d received. He was thinking that once he got her safely home, he’d be returning to Club Valis, seeing if there weren’t a couple of arrogant vamps he needed to talk to.

After she unlocked the door, she turned to him. “Mr. St. John—“

“Mick.”

“Mick, then—thank you. I—just—thank you.,” Danni said. She knew she wasn’t making much sense.

He shook his head. “I didn’t do anything, really.” Reaching in an inner coat pocket, he pulled out a business card. “Danger, I know you’re fading a little here, but this is important. Take my card. Tomorrow, put that number in your phone, and if you ever have any problems, you call me. Any time. You understand?”

She nodded. “Mick?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe one of these days, when I’m up to it, I can—I can pay you back. For your kindness.” She moved her uninjured wrist in that familiar freshie gesture, making an offer of blood in the future.

She didn’t know him well enough to realize his smile was slightly strained. She didn’t hear his hard swallow. He wasn’t unkind enough to reject her offer outright, however. “One of these days,” he agreed vaguely.

“And Mick? I don’t know if it matters to you, but—my name is Danni.”

Mick nodded, smiling more genuinely. “Danni,” he said. “I like that. Thank you.”

[francis]

Danni has reached the bottom, getting kind of raped by two vamps who don’t care for her wellbeing, but Mick comes in a knight in shining armor like always. I didn’t think he would frequent the clubs, but here he is. The timeline is pre-Beth, isn’t it? Mick admitting he has a hero-complex, that gave me a chuckle. And Danni might have a friend now.
You explore the freshie subculture so well, bringing in all the different motivations they could have. I love how you mix danger and excitement to a fascinating picture.