Chapter 8

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Hi!

Time for another chapter. I really like the tone and mood in this one, and I hope you do too! Please let me know what you think, oh and I posted the last awesome cover made by Broukee Taylor with this chapter. Please tell me if you'd like one of the posted covers as new book cover for either book 1 or book 2! :D

Lara

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Chapter 8

When I came home I expected the familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee hitting my senses. What I found was stale air, my nose not blessed with any kind of scent at all. I walked into the empty kitchen. No Laura. No Ryan. I walked into the kitchen, checking my cellphone. Three missed calls from a number I had learned to memorize. It was Alexander's. Shrugging I made my way to the counter. I had no intention of finding out why the head vamp had called. I had made it abundantly clear what I wanted or didn't want to be for him. Play fetch dog for the head vamp? I didn't think so.

I was still munching on my dinner – a sandwich, for a change, right, – when I finally heard the noise of the door key turning in the lock. Instantly the siblings' loud voices carried through the flat. My half hour of blessed absence of noise was over.

"Anna? Are you home?!" Laura yelled.

"Yeah. Kitchen," I mumbled, my mouth still half-full.

"Lucky you! You wanna know why?" She appeared in the doorway, entering the kitchen in her usual graceful way. It would have put any accomplished contortionist to shame. Not waiting for an answer of mine she continued, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "I passed my exam! We'll go out and celebrate, just the three of us! We just bought some beer for warming up. What do you say?"

This was exactly what I needed. "I'm in."

Laura smiled and flopped down on a chair beside me while Ryan handed us the beer cans.

"Thanks, Clark," I muttered, smirking.

"Shut up," he said. "It was a present, okay? Haven't even watched fucking Superman once in my whole lifetime. Like I'd ever watch that comic dreck. A man in blue tights? The biggest bull I've ever heard!"

He was trying to stare us down with his catty green eyes ... and very unsuccessfully so. The truth was, with his height and muscle Ryan could probably stare down most of New York's smalltime criminals. Who was going to believe me that he was a superman-boxers-wearing infant?

"Sure Ryan," Laura and I said in unison.

After two rounds of beer we called a cab and ended up in the Red Heat, one of the mixed bars in the Crimson District – one quite close to Joe's Pub, I may add. Not my first choice, but I figured that Laura and Ryan felt more comfortable in a shape shifter-friendly surrounding. I didn't say it out loud, though. I didn't want to cut the precarious topic. Not this night. This night, just this one night, it was gonna be alcohol and the three of us. Nothing in between.

When we arrived at the Red Heat it was quite crowded, people snaking through the bar in constant motion. We waded into the crowd, surrounded by people of all races – mostly magical folk and shape shifters, if my senses were not deceiving me. The whole bar was decorated with different shades of the color red, as if a container of blood had been smeared on its whole surface. Heavy red velvet drapes adorned the walls while faint spot lights were glued to the walls, tainting the whole room in dark red glimmer.

After an obligatory detour to the bar to order drinks, we moved further into the tangled mess of limbs. That was when we came upon some familiar faces. Kevin and Mark, two friends of Laura and mine happened to be lurking in one of the less busy corners of the bar. While Laura and Ryan had ordered wheat beer, I had gone for my favorite drink: tequila flavored beer. Now that I actually could drink without being in danger of spilling half of it, I took my first sip. I let my eyes wander over the whole bar once more, spotting some billiard tables in the back.

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