"Nothing but abandoned buildings and a blood house." Ted handed the card to Mimi.
"No way." Mimi shuddered, reading the card. The Familiars' Club, it read, in fancy red lettering.
"It's the only logical place he could be. I'm sorry," Sam said.
"I didn't know him. I'm not . . . It's just . . ." Mimi sputtered. A blood house? Evan Howe? That nice-looking boy with the dimples? He was sixteen years old . . . He was so young. . .
"You wanted to know." Ted shrugged. "So that's where he is. But take it from us, you don't want to go there. Not worth it. This human kid's got nothing to do with whoever took Victoria. Familiars aren't made that way, you know that. And if you go out there you won't find anything but the same old story. Old as Rome."
TWENTY
The Blood House
Newark was across the river just a quick shot through the tunnel and lately enjoying something of a revitalized image, but as a rule, Mimi, like many
Manhattanites, avoided going to New Jersey unless it was to the airport (and thus on the way to somewhere else). Even then, she only went to Teterboro.
She had left the Venator station a few hours earlier and made no comment as the car drove past the charming waterfront neighborhoods and took them deeper and deeper into a gritty industrial section. She was just glad she wasn't alone that evening.
"Right here," Oliver told his driver. "You can drop us off in front." He had been silent during the forty-minute trip, and had not appeared too surprised when she told him where they were going to look for Evan.
After she'd left the Venators, Mimi had picked him up at the Repository, where he had been since yesterday afternoon, reviewing the video over and over again, searching for clues. She told him about the three images the brothers had found.
"The scribes will figure it out. Everything's in the Repository," Oliver assured her.
"I wish I had your confidence," she said. She also hoped visiting the blood house wouldn't be a waste of time, even though the Venators certainly thought so.
Mimi followed Oliver out of the car and looked around balefully. It was a neighborhood of abandoned warehouses and empty lots. The street was littered with broken bottles and used needles. There was a junkyard lined with barbed wire, and several aimless junkyard dogs, lean and mangy, prowled the street. She shuddered.
"Come on, I think it's over here," Oliver said, leading the way to the nearest building, where Mimi saw a steel door marked with a slash of red paint.
The door opened a crack. "Members only," a raspy voice growled.
Oliver nodded to Mimi, who said her line. "I'm a friend of the club. We need a room."
The door slammed then opened again. A tough-looking middle-aged woman chewing gum blocked their entrance. Mimi had heard of lowlife vampires--they usually lived off-Coven--but she had never met one before. "You'll have to pay the nightly rate, and if you want anything else off the menu, you'll have to keep an open tab."
Mimi handed over her credit card, and she and Oliver were allowed inside. They found themselves in a small lobby area, two armchairs sitting in a pool of red light. The house mistress looked them over. "Boy or girl?"
Mimi shrugged, unsure of what was being asked of them, so Oliver took the lead. "Er, girl, please."
They watched in morbid fascination as a group of Red Blood girls, their necks sporting fresh bites, blood dripping from their wounds, lined up in front of them. The girls looked dazed and drugged, used and drained. They wore low-cut dresses or flimsy nightgowns. Some of them were barely out of their teens.
Mimi knew all about blood houses, of course--she wasn't born yesterday, duh. They were places that familiars who had been abandoned went to experience the Sacred Kiss with any vampire. It was a disgusting practice, the Caerimonia was intimate and sacred, not to be squandered cheaply.
While the Sacred Kiss ensured that no other vampire could take a human that had already been marked, there was an ancient, dark magic that removed the poison. It was a dangerous process that weakened the human, but those who made it to the establishment didn't much care. It was the only place left for former familiars, as well as for Blue Bloods who didn't care about using humans in this way. Needless to say, it was completely against the Code, and highly illegal. The Venators made a practice of raiding them once in a while, but it was a low priority, what with everything else going on.
It smelled like blood and misery, like love squandered and spent. The faces of the familiars were hollow and empty, their eyes dead and glassy.
"You'll do," Mimi said, feeling sick in her stomach as she picked one of the youngest girls in the bunch.
"Second room to the right," the madam barked, pointing them to the banister.
They walked down the hallway. The rooms were barely rooms--mostly walls with curtains that shielded the couples inside. They found their assigned space and parked the girl on the bed, which was a mattress on the floor. "You'd think they'd at least spring for a futon from Ikea." Mimi curled her lip.
"Just stay here," Oliver told the girl, helping her lie down. "Sleep." He turned to Mimi. "They don't let them rest here."
Mimi nodded. She pointed down the opposite hallway. "You take those rooms, I'll do these."
"Right."
"Be careful," she told him.
"There's nothing to fear here; everyone's so gone, they won't even notice us," Oliver said grimly.
"You've been here before?" Mimi asked.
Oliver didn't answer. "Call me if you find him."
Mimi pulled back the first curtain to find a vampire feeding on two humans at once, the three of them splayed out on the bed in a languid embrace.
The vampire, a blond male, looked up from the pale white throat of the nearest human girl. "Join me?" he smiled. "She's lovely."
Mimi frowned and shut the curtain. In the next stall she found a Blue Blood girl lying asleep, curled up next to a human boy. He wasn't Evan, so she left them alone. She was about to open the next curtain--Let's find out what's behind door number three! she thought somewhat hysterically--when she heard
Oliver's fierce whisper carry over the sound of moaning and slurping. "He's here."
She ran to the far end of the other hallway. The curtain had been pulled back and Oliver was standing over the limp form of Evan Howe. The boy had been missing less than a week and already he was unrecognizable. Skeletal, with dirty hair, sunken cheeks, and no more dimples. No more Evan, really, Mimi thought. Not with those dead, unfocused eyes. Too many vampires sucking on a human's blood could result in a milder form of the schizophrenia that afflicted the Corrupted. Mimi remembered the dead gaze of the ram's head, and felt cold.
"He's alive," Oliver said. "Evan, get up."
The boy heaved himself to a sitting position. He leered at Mimi. "Well hello, gorgeous."
"Mimi Force." Mimi shook his hand. "Evan, we want to ask you a few questions about Victoria."
"Who?" He drooled.
"Victoria Taylor? Your . . . girlfriend?" Mimi prodded.
"Oh yeah. Vix. Haven't seen her. She left me." His eyes came alive, alert at the sound of her name.
"When was the last time you saw her?" Oliver asked gently, kneeling down to speak to the boy.
Evan slumped. "Dunno."
"You don't remember Jamie Kip's party? Last weekend?" asked Mimi.