Pretty When She Dies (Pretty When She Dies #1)(38)

It seemed to be a slow night with only a few people out. Glancing to her left, as she walked toward the bar, she saw a few people dancing very slowly to Siouxsie and the Banshees. One tiny black girl with black braids seemed especially captivated by the music and it made Amaliya feel a pang of jealousy. She wished she could just dance the night away and not give a damn about what was going on in her life.

But she had other things to do. She had to find out what was going on with her one way or the other.

Then she saw him. A man with long flowing red-blond hair and a reddish goatee leaning against the bar. He was wearing a red frock coat and black leather pants tucked into boots with pointy toes. His black poet shirt was dripping with lace and he even wore a jaunty hat that looked like something the Three Musketeers would have worn.

His long nails were painted black and he had red tinted glasses on.

Walking up to the bar, she took the stool next to him and sat waiting for him to talk to her. She was not the prettiest girl in the world, but she could get attention when she wanted it.

Crossing her legs, she flashed a length of muscled leg and her tattoo of hearts and roses wrapped around her ankle. The man in the old-fashioned garb was deep in conversation with a guy with a simply stunning blue mohawk. Pouting slightly, she reached for the guy's pack of cigarettes and lighter.

“May I?”

He became aware of her and swung around. “Oh, my lady, of course.

Allow me.” He quickly handed her a black clove cigarette and lit it with flourish. “I did not mean to be so rude.”

She smiled at him coyly and took a deep drag on the cigarette. It tasted better than she expected. “Thank you.”

The bartender appeared. “So, what will you have?”

“A glass of red wine and whatever the lady wants,” the man answered.

Amaliya now realized he was younger than she originally thought.

Maybe mid-twenties. He was dripping in jewelry, including what looked like a garnet encrusted ankh.

“I'll have a shot of vodka,” she answered.

The bartender nodded and spun away to quickly get their drinks.

“I'm Lord Carfax, my dear lady,” he said with great flourish, and swept his hat off his head to bow to her.

“I'm Liya,” she answered him, and wondered what his real name was.

“Charmed to meet you.” He took her hand and kissed it.

Amused, Amaliya tried to figure out if his hand was cool because he was nervous or if he was a vampire.

“Nice to meet you Carfax,” she answered with a sly smile.

Behind her more people came in and the music switched to Sisters of Mercy.

“It must be an oldies night, huh? Eighties or something?”



“Oh, it is the retro-goth night.” Lord Carfax quickly paid for their drinks as they arrived.

“Ah, I don't know much about Goth. Sorry.”

“You're not Goth?” Lord Carfax looked a little shocked. “But your clothes! Your hair!”

“I'm pretty much a rocker chick. I usually hang with the metalheads,”

she confided.

“I see.” He looked a little disappointed, but tapped the edge of his wine glass against her shot glass anyway. “Well, at least you came here and I was able to meet you and enjoy your beauty.”

Giving him a bemused look, she downed her vodka and enjoyed the burn all the way down.

“Thanks. I just felt like getting out and meeting people,” she said to him after a beat.

“Oh, I am so glad you did. You are by far the most lovely woman in the club. Delectable.” He grinned and licked a fang.

She blinked slowly. She wasn't sure if they were real or not. If they were fake, they were a masterpiece of craftsmanship. “Nice teeth.”

“The better to bite you.” Lord Carfax chuckled and sipped more of his wine.

“So you fancy yourself a vampire?”

“My lady, I am a vampire,” he responded and pretended to take a little bite out of her neck.

She could hear his teeth chink together, then he drew away smiling.

“Ah, I see.”

“I do enjoy an occasional bite,” he confided. “And you do look tasty.”

Arching an eyebrow, she looked at his clothing, then back into his face. She could see now that he was wearing base and a bit of powder.



“So...if you're a vampire, why are you dressed like you are? Wouldn't you want to blend in so you could get your prey?”

“Oh, no, dear lady, I want to embrace the time period from which I came. And by coming to this club, I can. Besides, I am a seducer, not a monster. I am a hunter of lovely throats and delicate limbs.”

She lifted her other eyebrow and motioned for another shot. “I see.

So, vampires like to hang out in old fashioned clothes in Goth bars and pick up women for blood?”

“I'm sure your blood must be the most divine elixir,” Lord Carfax purred leaning toward her.

A short laugh next to her drew Amaliya's gaze to a man next to her.

He wasn't any taller than her, five foot seven possibly, and he had short brownish hair that was a little on the messy side. Dressed in black jeans and a dress shirt that wasn't tucked in, he looked obscenely normal compared to Lord Carfax. He was drinking what smelled like Jack Daniels and his keen hazel eyes regarded her with bemusement.