The Living Night (Book 1) by Conner Jack

Author:Conner, Jack [Conner, Jack]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blazing Books
Published: 2014-06-12T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Byron sipped on a long-necked Corona and smoked a Camel as he watched the show from the second floor balcony, far removed from the mosh pit. Cloire was prancing around on stage, snarling and growling into the microphone while the band and the back-up singers provided atmosphere. The style of the band hovered somewhere between death-metal, punk and goth.

Vistrot had created the band for Cloire several years ago when she'd shown an interest in singing, and Peyote Dawn played several times a month here at St. Lucifer's, which Vistrot owned. After a while, she'd begun to draw in decent crowds and eventually became something of a success. The room tonight was crowded, the empty space near the ceiling filled with a blue thunderhead of cigarette smoke.

Lights flashed, music swelled and Cloire began to sing. She didn't have what one would call a pretty voice, but it was raucous and edgy, with a wide range and surprisingly filled with emotion. As Byron listened, he could feel the hairs stick up on the back of his neck. Pride surged through him.

I do love her, damn it. No matter what she said herself, he was convinced that on some level she felt the same. They'd lived together for years, and though she slept around every now and then just to prove she could, she was basically faithful to him.

He glanced at Kiernevar beside him, scowling deeply, dressed to the nines in a tailored suit. Byron was the one to look after him, and after her initial repulsion, Cloire had not complained, which was further proof to the Australian that she cared for him.

"What do you think?" he asked.

Kiernevar had made a little mental progress toward sanity. Apparently being cared for, talked to and restrained frequently for misbehavior was having some effect. A psychiatrist had even prescribed a drug, which he was to take three times a day.

Kiernevar looked alertly at Byron, then back at Cloire, but said nothing, and the Australian didn’t press him.

Someone slid into the seat next to him: Loirot, smiling, in his typical Armani suit, which seemed incongruent amid the crowd, as did Kiernevar's. But with Kiernevar the suit was progress, while with Loirot it was simply irritating.

"So you decided to come?" Byron said.

Loirot shrugged. "How could I not? It's her release party, after all. I think even Jean-Pierre might show up."

"You talked to him?"

"Yeah, but—"

"How's he doing? He looked pretty bad last time I saw him."

"Not great, but better. He took losing Danielle for a second time pretty good, all things considered. That's not the big news."

"There's news?"

"Two things. First, Vistrot called Jean-Pierre and told him we're going back after the odd flock—they're in Vegas—and we leave tomorrow. Second, and more interesting—we're getting a new member to the team."

"You're kidding. Well, tell me about him."

"Her. Name's Sophia. They call her the Ice Queen. I don't know much about her, except she comes from L.A."

"Interesting. But why?"

"Who knows what goes on in Vistrot's head? Jean-Pierre said something about fresh blood, but he was vague.

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