Whiteout (Aurora Sky: Vampire Hunter, Vol. 5) by Nikki Jefford

Author:Nikki Jefford [Jefford, Nikki]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-10-27T00:00:00+00:00

14

Chillers

Dante turned the radio on. I hardly noticed him singing along, as I was too buried in thought, plotting Melcher’s demise.

A little while later Dante stopped singing. “Here we are,” he said.

I jumped. I’d been so deep in the zone, I hadn’t noticed the drive across town.

Outside the windshield, I saw an ugly concrete building at the end of a parking lot.

“It looks like a warehouse.”

Dante pulled into a spot near the entrance. “It’s a lot nicer inside,” he said.

I held back a snort. “I’m sure it’s the epitome of refinement. How do we bag ourselves a vamp?” I wondered aloud. “We just go in and hang out until the right candidate approaches us?”

My heart picked up speed. Socializing. Now there was something to get nervous about. Striking up conversations with strangers.

Rather than answer, Dante got out of the truck. Eager beaver. I slid out, cold air prickling my arms and legs when I left the warmth of the cab.

Dante stepped in front of me and brushed the blue hair over my shoulder, out of the way. He scrutinized my neck. “Keep your hair back so the vamps see you’ve been bitten. We need to show them you’re aware of their existence. That you’re open to their advances.”

I touched the spot on my neck that Arlo had bitten and grimaced.

As we walked across the parking lot, I wrapped my arms around my chest. I shivered with each step, the cold piercing my legs. It seeped into every tiny hole in the lace stockings.

Big neon blue letters spelled out CHILLERS over the entrance to the club. A large dude dressed in black shined a flashlight over our faces and said, “Ten dollars.” Once Dante forked over the cash, he nodded for us to enter without asking for IDs. It was so quick I didn’t have time to stress.

“Okay, we’re in,” Dante whispered by my ear. “Time to split up.”

Before I could respond, he disappeared into the crowd. The place was so packed, people were milling around the entrance in tight clusters.

Well, I wasn’t standing around the open door with the cold air wafting in.

From outside, the club had looked like one big warehouse. Inside, it was broken up into rooms. A wall separated the space into two smaller rooms beyond the entrance. I joined the flow of body traffic moving along the left side. It was like a slow current taking me past a long counter lined with stools on one side and booths on the other.

Young clubgoers drank from cans of Coke, Fanta, and Mountain Dew. Clothing was extremely casual—mostly jeans on both men and women. Some of the women dressed it up with snazzy halter tops, but many more wore T-shirts. As I passed a brunette wearing a black-and-white MEOW tee, she emptied a mini bottle of vodka into her glass of soda.

Gotta love the youth of America. We didn’t need a number to tell us when we could drink.

People were dancing in an area where the room opened up ahead.

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