It was the first time Miranda O’Malley had been to the Black Goddess in almost a year. But it was just like she remembered it. Same beat up black walls. Same bundled barbed wire over the mirror behind the bar. Same crowd.
Newly turned vampires with bright, hungry eyes, nervous tourists, and the inevitable throng of donors.
The donors were mostly female. Vulnerable, desperate women with scarred up necks and short black skirts. Just like her.
Miranda had taken a table in her sister Violet’s section. On a narrow table just a few feet away, an over-sized statue of Kali glared blindly into the crowd.
Kali was painted in bright carnival colors, the paint strange and shiny in the light of a dozen flickering candles. A necklace of bleached baby monkey skulls hung around her neck. At her feet was a brass bowl filled with fruit and money.
Like most vampire clubs, the Black Goddess made everyone check their wards at the door. Which meant that Miranda had to work to shut out the energy. But even with her own invisible barriers firmly in place, she could sense it. The dark, sweet pulse of the vampire life-force. Promising things only a vampire could give.
Violet, on the other hand, didn’t have to shut out anything. She couldn’t feel the energy unless the vampire wanted her to.
It had taken a while for Violet to wait on her. But eventually she’d had to come over and take Miranda’s order and returned with a double shot of absinthe.
“That’s not how you’re supposed to drink it,” Violet said, setting it down in front of her.
“I’ve been told.” Miranda looked up into her sister’s pale face and forced a smile. “Can we talk?”
Violet stuffed the little notebook she used for her orders into her back pocket. But she didn’t sit down. She just kept standing at the edge of the table, like a wild animal poised to run. “It’s kind of busy.”
“You haven’t been home much. I thought we could catch up.”
Violet lifted her chin the way she did when she wasn’t going to budge and narrowed her eyes. Purple like their mother’s and hard as amethyst. “I’m seeing someone.”
“Is he a vampire?”
“Does that matter?”
“Yes, Violet. It does.”
The purple eyes flashed. “As if you’re any better. You’ve had your eye on Tony G. ever since you came in.”
“I don’t even know who that is,” Miranda said, even though she was pretty sure she did.
Violet flipped back her long brown hair and made a quick, graceful over-the-shoulder gesture. “At the end of the bar. By Kali.”
She was right, of course. Miranda had noticed the vampire, and he had noticed her back.
Violet had watched the same scene play out too many times to miss it.
Miranda allowed herself another glance at the vampire. Tony G. was young and trendy, and his eyes were like tiny sparklers in the relative darkness of the bar. "I’m not here for that,” Miranda said, as if saying it actually meant something.
“Right.” Violet had on a white filmy blouse with long gauzy sleeves. She picked at the edge of one sleeve, then looked up. “Daniel’s back in town. I guess you know that already?”
“I heard,” Miranda said. “He came by the Sanctuary last night. But I wasn’t working.”
“But you’ll meet up, eventually.”
Violet hated Daniel. Once they got on that topic, there would be no getting off it. “I didn’t come here to talk about Daniel either, Vi.”
Violet started to say something, then made the over-the-shoulder gesture again. “His name is Tony G.” Her eyes were lighter now. More blue than purple. “He’s okay, as far as I know.”
Miranda hadn’t been with another vampire since Daniel. But as soon as she found out he was back, she’d started to think about it. Being with Daniel again was out of the question, and going back to the person she’d been when they were together was out of the question, too.
But it felt inevitable somehow that she would revisit it.
And why shouldn’t she?
Violet had found her own vampire, even though Miranda had warned her over and over again. There was no point in trying to set a good example. No point in trying and failing and failing again.
“Tell him I’d like to talk to him.”
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Read Excerpt 2: Aftermath of an Attack
Excerpted from Trancing Miranda
©2024 Barbara Graver Wilder
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