Roaring Midnight
Chapter TWO
He shook his head. "I'm not with the fuzz, lass. That was my uncle yesterday, if you must know. It seems as if you might be as inquisitive as I am, so I suppose I can't be faulting you for that." His eyes met hers, and Macey felt her concerns ease. Possibly in part because of the lovely rhythm of his brogue and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. "I'm a newshawk for the Tribune, so naturally I have an interest in news in the city. Good news or tragic news," he added ruefully. "Like Jennie Fallon."
"I haven't been able to stop thinking about her," Macey confessed. That, along with three nights of dreams about vampires chasing her, had made her feel even more jumpy and nervous than when she heard machine guns in the distance.
"Can I get you something?" asked the bartender, approaching them for the first time.
Grady grimaced. "Sure and I wish you could. You don't have what I want."
"Welcome to the club." The bartender set a short, heavy glass on the counter.
"That's flat." Grady met the bartender's eyes. He gave a brief nod, then returned to looking around the room.
Macey slid off her stool. Obviously, their conversation was over.
But she hadn't taken one step when those ink-stained fingers reached out and landed on her bare arm. "So why did you say that yesterday?" Grady leaned toward her.
He came close enough that his shoulder bumped her bare one, and an intriguing, masculine scent came with him. She almost replied Said what? but caught herself in time. Edging away so she could look at him, she answered as honestly as she could. "I was reading a book about vampires, and they were on my mind. That's all. It just slipped out." She sat back on her stool, the fringe from her dress shifting and sliding into place.
"Do you believe they exist?" He watched her steadily.
"Of course not." But even as she said so, that little prickling at the back of her neck grew stronger. Discomfited, Macey twisted in her seat, looking over her shoulderZJ- at the jumble of people in the club.
Her breath caught when she spied the glimpse of someone in the shadows...the flash of a face that seemed familiar, that reminded her of someone...but then he was gone, slipping behind a decorative pillar and then into the crowd.
"What's wrong?" Grady craned his neck to look as well.
Macey turned back and tucked her curly, bobbed hair behind her ear. "I thought I saw someone I knew." Why was her heart thumping so hard? "I've got to stop reading that book."
"The book about vampires?"
She noticed he was holding that heavy, short glass in his hand. It was filled with an amber liquid, and as Macey watched in shock, Grady tilted his wrist and tipped the contents into his mouth with a practiced flick, then swallowed.
"But that's-that's-" Whiskey. He was drinking whiskey! She could even smell it. Macey exhaled in a big huff, for she dared not say the word for fear she'd be overheard.
"Apple juice?" He was looking at her with a bemused expression. "What's wrong, chickie? Cat got your tongue?" He placed the glass on the counter, and it disappeared just as quickly as it had been filled.
"What would your uncle say?" she managed to sputter.
His eyes lit with real humor for the first time, and he laughed. "You surely don't know much about how this city's run, do you, lass?" Then his good humor dissipated, and that sober expression returned. "You must be reading Dracula."
Macey lifted her nose. "Of course not. Excellent book, but much too obvious."
His lips twitched briefly. "The Vampyre by Polidori."
"No," Macey replied, even as he added, "But that's not precisely a book. Just a story. You distinctly said 'book.'"
"And so is Varney the Vampire," she said, surprised he was so familiar with vampire literature. "Which I am also not reading. Currently."
"Thank Jesus," he replied. "What a piece of drivel that was."
Privately, Macey didn't disagree-but as a librarian at heart, she felt it was inappropriate for her to publicly criticize any literature.
Instead, she looked over at the musicians and saw the Negro woman she'd noticed earlier was now standing at the microphone, singing to the accompaniment of the piano. The low croon of the saxophone mingled with her dusky voice, and everything seemed to slow and quiet. Even the lights dimmed.
"I suppose you're wanting to dance," Grady said. "That's not a bad idea, chickie. At least t shiver caught her by surprise.
She looked up but made no move to join him. He might be attractive as sin, and he might have the smoothest, most velvety voice and the thickest head of wavy cocoa hair, but the man was bordering on being a complete jerk.
"My name is not chickie or lass, and I don't have any desire to dance. With you. Thank you anyway, Grady." She stressed his name just enough to point out that she did, indeed, know it.
"And you clearly have the advantage of me, then, don't you? Knowing my name and all, my profession too. Clever girl," he said, nodding. A little smile played about his mouth and there was a hint of crinkles at the corners of his eyes. "And I don't know a thing about you except that you read about vampires and believe they exist. Oh, and you wear shoes that are too tight and cause blisters. You're very literate but not so great at math, live in or near Hyde Park, and don't have a boyfriend."
She blinked. How did he know all that? "I don't believe in vampires." Macey slid off the stool. Despite her heels, that only put her eyes at about the level of his nose.
"Is that so?" His gaze scored over her again. "Then you'd best be taking my advice to stay out of dark alleys at night. It's hard to protect yourself from something you don't believe exists."
She started to slide past him, but he stepped to the side, half blocking her path. "Aren't you going to tell me your name?"
"Can't you find that out on your own? You figured out plenty of other things."
His smile returned. "I could, but it's easier to ask. And I'd like to think of you as someone other than 'chickie' later tonight...when I'm remembering those velvety brown eyes of yours." His voice had gone silky again, thick with the Irish.
"It's Macey." With a quick shift to the side, she went around him and walked away, trying not to imagine Grady lying in his bed thinking of her eyes. Trying not to imagine Grady in his bed at all, in fact.
But it wasn't an altogether awful thought, she admitted privately, wending her way toward the table she and Flora shared. He did have broad shoulders and probably a very fine chest attached to them. And his mouth, the way it tipped up at one side when he was debating vampire literature with her, and slightly fuller in the bottom lip, was a very tempting shape.
Macey was about halfway to her destination when the music stopped abruptly, and most of the lights went out. Someone gave a surprised little shriek, and a hush fell over the club as everyone stopped.
Then all at once, shadowy figures burst into the room and everything turned to chaos. "Raid!" someone shouted.
People were running, pushing, and screaming, and Macey felt someone brush past her. Another person shoved her, and someone else stepped on her foot as she started to make her way toward one of the exits. irritations blood
The club was lit with a dull brown illumination by the few lights that burned near the entrance. Everyone was shadowy and muted, and Macey, with her imagination running wild, even fancied she saw the faint glow of red in twin pairs. Like eyes.
It was the first police raid she'd ever experienced, and even though she'd done nothing wrong, her heart was slamming in her chest. That prickling chill washed over the back of her neck again, colder and stronger now, as if someone had left a door open to a winter's night. She felt almost nauseated by it, unsettled and upset.
There was an awful scream, suddenly choked off in a sort of gurgle that had the hair rising all over her body. Then a soft, ugly sound that seemed to fill her ears-kuh-kuh-kuh-like someone drinking.
She didn't want to know what was happening.
Her hands clammy and her insides upset and churning, she waited for the sounds of gunshots or the stt-stt-stt of machine gun fire. Why hadn't they brought Jimmy tonight?
"Flora!" she called, knowing it was in vain-there was too much going on, too many people shouting and shrieking. The last time she'd seen her friend, she'd been on the other side of the dance floor. "Flora!"
More screaming. More shouting. More awful, ugly gurgling, suctioning sounds. People pounding on the walls, or doors, on the floor...
She became aware of an odd smell, earthy and pungent-like...blood? Macey went cold and weak. Then someone else screamed long and shrilly, the cry ringing in her ears. She again saw twin flashes of red and watched as one of the shadowy figures seemed to fly across the room.
This was not a police raid. Or gangsters.
Icy fingers seemed to curl around her heart and lungs. She froze behind a pillar, her heart pounding. Red eyes. Superhuman speed. Blood.
Vampires?
No, no, impossible. Imposs-
Someone grabbed her arm, and Macey shrieked, jolting in surprise. She whirled, hopeful and yet terrified. But it wasn't Flora, and it wasn't Grady. In the dim light, she saw it was the elegant Negro woman who'd been watching the place.
"This way." The woman tugged at her arm. "Hurry. Hurry!"
Macey had no argument with that, and she stopped pulling and allowed the woman to direct her toward the back wall.
Her companion was tall and quick, and very agile, and Macey found herself stumbling as she rushed along with her. She crouched as low as she could, as if that might keep the...whatever they were from seeing her. Nor did she ask where they were going. She just followed.
The next irritations bloodthing she knew, her guide had led her into a dark corner, and all at once the wall moved. Macey followed her into a dark room, suddenly nervous.
"Move it," said her guide, as if sensing her hesitation. "They can smell you."
Macey swallowed back the question that rose to her lips as the wall moved back into place behind them. The other woman knew where to go, despite the darkness. They rushed along until suddenly there was cool, clean, crisp night air as they erupted into a back alley lit by stars and a waning moon.
When Macey would have paused to drag in her breath, the tall, caramel-skinned woman refused to let her. "Come, it's not safe yet," she said in her throaty voice, propelling her through the alley.
"But what about the people still inside?" Macey turned to go back. She couldn't leave without Flora, and what about Grady? And Chelle and Dottie-
"They're either safe, or it's too late by now. They'll be out after you as soon as they realize you've escaped."
Macey shook her head, trying to understand the woman's confusing speech. Obviously, the two "theys" referred to two different sets of people, but what did the rest of it mean? "What do you mean, they'll be out after...me?" Her throat went dry and her stomach heaved. "What are you talking about?"
This gave the woman pause, and for the first time, she stopped and looked at Macey. "You don't know?"
"Know what?" she demanded.
"Lordy Moses," breathed her companion, shaking her head. "This is going to be worse than I thought. Come on, sister." She started tugging her again.
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's happening."
"For Christ's sake, Temple, just pick her up and carry her. She's only a bitty thing. Vioget's going to be bloody damned fit to be tied if he has to wait any longer." A voice from the shadows caused Macey's stomach to plummet, and she whirled.
"Chas. What are you doing here?" demanded the Negro woman, whose name was obviously Temple. She didn't sound very pleased.
A figure emerged from the darkness like a wraith. He was tall, wrapped in some enveloping dark coat with a hat and high collar that obstructed most of his face. All Macey saw was a flash in the moonlight of straight white teeth.
For a moment, she imagined they were fangs, and Macey smothered a shriek as she stepped back. Then, annoyed, she collected herself and shook away the absurd thought.
He chuckled, his laugh soft and low in the night. "Ah, I'm everywhere. You know that, Temple. Now get Macey out of here before they find her."
As if his warning had conjured them, suddenly the door through which she and Temple had emerged reopeneds going on?" sly.
"Run!" he hissed, and Macey didn't have the chance to argue as Temple grabcation/xhtml+x
"I haven't been able to stop thinking about her," Macey confessed. That, along with three nights of dreams about vampires chasing her, had made her feel even more jumpy and nervous than when she heard machine guns in the distance.
"Can I get you something?" asked the bartender, approaching them for the first time.
Grady grimaced. "Sure and I wish you could. You don't have what I want."
"Welcome to the club." The bartender set a short, heavy glass on the counter.
"That's flat." Grady met the bartender's eyes. He gave a brief nod, then returned to looking around the room.
Macey slid off her stool. Obviously, their conversation was over.
But she hadn't taken one step when those ink-stained fingers reached out and landed on her bare arm. "So why did you say that yesterday?" Grady leaned toward her.
He came close enough that his shoulder bumped her bare one, and an intriguing, masculine scent came with him. She almost replied Said what? but caught herself in time. Edging away so she could look at him, she answered as honestly as she could. "I was reading a book about vampires, and they were on my mind. That's all. It just slipped out." She sat back on her stool, the fringe from her dress shifting and sliding into place.
"Do you believe they exist?" He watched her steadily.
"Of course not." But even as she said so, that little prickling at the back of her neck grew stronger. Discomfited, Macey twisted in her seat, looking over her shoulderZJ- at the jumble of people in the club.
Her breath caught when she spied the glimpse of someone in the shadows...the flash of a face that seemed familiar, that reminded her of someone...but then he was gone, slipping behind a decorative pillar and then into the crowd.
"What's wrong?" Grady craned his neck to look as well.
Macey turned back and tucked her curly, bobbed hair behind her ear. "I thought I saw someone I knew." Why was her heart thumping so hard? "I've got to stop reading that book."
"The book about vampires?"
She noticed he was holding that heavy, short glass in his hand. It was filled with an amber liquid, and as Macey watched in shock, Grady tilted his wrist and tipped the contents into his mouth with a practiced flick, then swallowed.
"But that's-that's-" Whiskey. He was drinking whiskey! She could even smell it. Macey exhaled in a big huff, for she dared not say the word for fear she'd be overheard.
"Apple juice?" He was looking at her with a bemused expression. "What's wrong, chickie? Cat got your tongue?" He placed the glass on the counter, and it disappeared just as quickly as it had been filled.
"What would your uncle say?" she managed to sputter.
His eyes lit with real humor for the first time, and he laughed. "You surely don't know much about how this city's run, do you, lass?" Then his good humor dissipated, and that sober expression returned. "You must be reading Dracula."
Macey lifted her nose. "Of course not. Excellent book, but much too obvious."
His lips twitched briefly. "The Vampyre by Polidori."
"No," Macey replied, even as he added, "But that's not precisely a book. Just a story. You distinctly said 'book.'"
"And so is Varney the Vampire," she said, surprised he was so familiar with vampire literature. "Which I am also not reading. Currently."
"Thank Jesus," he replied. "What a piece of drivel that was."
Privately, Macey didn't disagree-but as a librarian at heart, she felt it was inappropriate for her to publicly criticize any literature.
Instead, she looked over at the musicians and saw the Negro woman she'd noticed earlier was now standing at the microphone, singing to the accompaniment of the piano. The low croon of the saxophone mingled with her dusky voice, and everything seemed to slow and quiet. Even the lights dimmed.
"I suppose you're wanting to dance," Grady said. "That's not a bad idea, chickie. At least t shiver caught her by surprise.
She looked up but made no move to join him. He might be attractive as sin, and he might have the smoothest, most velvety voice and the thickest head of wavy cocoa hair, but the man was bordering on being a complete jerk.
"My name is not chickie or lass, and I don't have any desire to dance. With you. Thank you anyway, Grady." She stressed his name just enough to point out that she did, indeed, know it.
"And you clearly have the advantage of me, then, don't you? Knowing my name and all, my profession too. Clever girl," he said, nodding. A little smile played about his mouth and there was a hint of crinkles at the corners of his eyes. "And I don't know a thing about you except that you read about vampires and believe they exist. Oh, and you wear shoes that are too tight and cause blisters. You're very literate but not so great at math, live in or near Hyde Park, and don't have a boyfriend."
She blinked. How did he know all that? "I don't believe in vampires." Macey slid off the stool. Despite her heels, that only put her eyes at about the level of his nose.
"Is that so?" His gaze scored over her again. "Then you'd best be taking my advice to stay out of dark alleys at night. It's hard to protect yourself from something you don't believe exists."
She started to slide past him, but he stepped to the side, half blocking her path. "Aren't you going to tell me your name?"
"Can't you find that out on your own? You figured out plenty of other things."
His smile returned. "I could, but it's easier to ask. And I'd like to think of you as someone other than 'chickie' later tonight...when I'm remembering those velvety brown eyes of yours." His voice had gone silky again, thick with the Irish.
"It's Macey." With a quick shift to the side, she went around him and walked away, trying not to imagine Grady lying in his bed thinking of her eyes. Trying not to imagine Grady in his bed at all, in fact.
But it wasn't an altogether awful thought, she admitted privately, wending her way toward the table she and Flora shared. He did have broad shoulders and probably a very fine chest attached to them. And his mouth, the way it tipped up at one side when he was debating vampire literature with her, and slightly fuller in the bottom lip, was a very tempting shape.
Macey was about halfway to her destination when the music stopped abruptly, and most of the lights went out. Someone gave a surprised little shriek, and a hush fell over the club as everyone stopped.
Then all at once, shadowy figures burst into the room and everything turned to chaos. "Raid!" someone shouted.
People were running, pushing, and screaming, and Macey felt someone brush past her. Another person shoved her, and someone else stepped on her foot as she started to make her way toward one of the exits. irritations blood
The club was lit with a dull brown illumination by the few lights that burned near the entrance. Everyone was shadowy and muted, and Macey, with her imagination running wild, even fancied she saw the faint glow of red in twin pairs. Like eyes.
It was the first police raid she'd ever experienced, and even though she'd done nothing wrong, her heart was slamming in her chest. That prickling chill washed over the back of her neck again, colder and stronger now, as if someone had left a door open to a winter's night. She felt almost nauseated by it, unsettled and upset.
There was an awful scream, suddenly choked off in a sort of gurgle that had the hair rising all over her body. Then a soft, ugly sound that seemed to fill her ears-kuh-kuh-kuh-like someone drinking.
She didn't want to know what was happening.
Her hands clammy and her insides upset and churning, she waited for the sounds of gunshots or the stt-stt-stt of machine gun fire. Why hadn't they brought Jimmy tonight?
"Flora!" she called, knowing it was in vain-there was too much going on, too many people shouting and shrieking. The last time she'd seen her friend, she'd been on the other side of the dance floor. "Flora!"
More screaming. More shouting. More awful, ugly gurgling, suctioning sounds. People pounding on the walls, or doors, on the floor...
She became aware of an odd smell, earthy and pungent-like...blood? Macey went cold and weak. Then someone else screamed long and shrilly, the cry ringing in her ears. She again saw twin flashes of red and watched as one of the shadowy figures seemed to fly across the room.
This was not a police raid. Or gangsters.
Icy fingers seemed to curl around her heart and lungs. She froze behind a pillar, her heart pounding. Red eyes. Superhuman speed. Blood.
Vampires?
No, no, impossible. Imposs-
Someone grabbed her arm, and Macey shrieked, jolting in surprise. She whirled, hopeful and yet terrified. But it wasn't Flora, and it wasn't Grady. In the dim light, she saw it was the elegant Negro woman who'd been watching the place.
"This way." The woman tugged at her arm. "Hurry. Hurry!"
Macey had no argument with that, and she stopped pulling and allowed the woman to direct her toward the back wall.
Her companion was tall and quick, and very agile, and Macey found herself stumbling as she rushed along with her. She crouched as low as she could, as if that might keep the...whatever they were from seeing her. Nor did she ask where they were going. She just followed.
The next irritations bloodthing she knew, her guide had led her into a dark corner, and all at once the wall moved. Macey followed her into a dark room, suddenly nervous.
"Move it," said her guide, as if sensing her hesitation. "They can smell you."
Macey swallowed back the question that rose to her lips as the wall moved back into place behind them. The other woman knew where to go, despite the darkness. They rushed along until suddenly there was cool, clean, crisp night air as they erupted into a back alley lit by stars and a waning moon.
When Macey would have paused to drag in her breath, the tall, caramel-skinned woman refused to let her. "Come, it's not safe yet," she said in her throaty voice, propelling her through the alley.
"But what about the people still inside?" Macey turned to go back. She couldn't leave without Flora, and what about Grady? And Chelle and Dottie-
"They're either safe, or it's too late by now. They'll be out after you as soon as they realize you've escaped."
Macey shook her head, trying to understand the woman's confusing speech. Obviously, the two "theys" referred to two different sets of people, but what did the rest of it mean? "What do you mean, they'll be out after...me?" Her throat went dry and her stomach heaved. "What are you talking about?"
This gave the woman pause, and for the first time, she stopped and looked at Macey. "You don't know?"
"Know what?" she demanded.
"Lordy Moses," breathed her companion, shaking her head. "This is going to be worse than I thought. Come on, sister." She started tugging her again.
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's happening."
"For Christ's sake, Temple, just pick her up and carry her. She's only a bitty thing. Vioget's going to be bloody damned fit to be tied if he has to wait any longer." A voice from the shadows caused Macey's stomach to plummet, and she whirled.
"Chas. What are you doing here?" demanded the Negro woman, whose name was obviously Temple. She didn't sound very pleased.
A figure emerged from the darkness like a wraith. He was tall, wrapped in some enveloping dark coat with a hat and high collar that obstructed most of his face. All Macey saw was a flash in the moonlight of straight white teeth.
For a moment, she imagined they were fangs, and Macey smothered a shriek as she stepped back. Then, annoyed, she collected herself and shook away the absurd thought.
He chuckled, his laugh soft and low in the night. "Ah, I'm everywhere. You know that, Temple. Now get Macey out of here before they find her."
As if his warning had conjured them, suddenly the door through which she and Temple had emerged reopeneds going on?" sly.
"Run!" he hissed, and Macey didn't have the chance to argue as Temple grabcation/xhtml+x
