Date: Saturday, January 21st, 2012
It’s roughly 2:30 in the morning when Detective ROWAN MONTAGUE is woken up from a brutal nightmare by her phone’s incessant ring. Blearily, she listens while her SPECTRE partner, HAYLEY MATTHEWS, tells her to get to the Lower East Side ASAP. Another vampire has turned up dead, and it’s the 5th horrific murder this month. Rowan throws her clothes on and rushes out the door, but not before running into her playboy brother, Chris, who’s lounging on the couch with a beer, seemingly without a care in the world. After a curt, but definitely familiar exchange, Rowan jumps in her car and heads downtown.
Pulling up outside an alley a few blocks north of Delancey St. (behind tonight’s location of the floating supernatural nightclub called Club Zero), Rowan is met by Hayley. Handing her a cup of coffee, Hayley warns Rowan that this scene is particularly gruesome. The victim has been drained of blood, disemboweled, and nailed to the wall behind the club with jagged pieces of rebar, in an obvious mockery of the crucifixion. The victim? Nikki Raith, one of Christian Raith’s young daughters…
Earlier that evening…
CHRISTIAN RAITH asks MALCOLM to chaperone his two youngest daughters for a night out on the town. Tensions are extremely high due to the recent spate of vampire murders, and Christian doesn’t want to take any chances.Malcolm calls his limo and takes Jeanette and Nikki in their skimpiest club-wear down to the Lower East Side, calling ARTHUR on the way to meet him there, you know, for extra assurance…
Club Zero is packed with young and the beautiful, the moral and the Other. It’s the slickest of the slick place to party if you’re in the know, or if you know someone who is. Malcolm finds Arthur by one of the bars while the girls start to party. It’s White Court Heaven—it should be, since the Raiths have a stake in the club itself.
While Jeanette and Niki begin to party, Malcolm notices a disturbingly drunk young woman being lead out of the club by a Bro-y Hunk and his Lanky Friend—Something feels off—Malcolm leaves Arthur to watch the girls and stealthily follows the sketchy situation outside. Once outside, breath steaming in the cold January air, Malcolm catches a glimpse of motion across the street down a narrow alleyway between a shuttered coffee shop and a French bistro. Quickly and completely silently, Malcolm sprints across the street and down the alley.
Back in the club, Arthur is keeping an eye on the Raith twins, when an overpowering sense of supernatural wrongness sickens Arthur to his stomach. Falling off of his stool, he stumbles to the bathroom, but it’s getting increasingly sickening to look anywhere or feel anything. Alexei’s last thought before he blacks out is about keeping his word—protecting the girls.
Outside in the alleyway across the street, Malcolm finds himself walking in on a rapidly escalating situation involving the two would-be rapists and the terrified young woman rapidly backing away from them. But instead of two bro-tastic humans slowly advancing down the alleyway, Malcolm finds two huge black wolves ready to pounce! Still unseen in the shadows, Malcolm can feel the sexual heat pouring off of the werewolves, and right before they can pounce on their prey Malcolm dives in between and begins to incite their sexual drive just as he begins to feed off of it—completely feed off it—until the two werewolves are dead and their naked and lifeless human corpses are all that remains. Malcolm, eyes shining bright silver, turns to check on the girl who is cowering in terror and pressed up against the grimy alley wall. Wordlessly, she takes one look at Malcolm and the dead men behind him, and feints out of shock.
Looking around, Malcolm quickly takes stock of the situation and calls Astoria Cleaners to take care of the mess. After about 10 minutes they arrive (hey, they were in the area!), and Malcolm picks up the young woman (her Indiana State driver’s license says her name is AMANDA CARTER) and with nowhere else to take her, texts Arthur that he’ll be back in under half-an-hour, and brings her back to his apartment in Midtown.
Back at the Club, Arthur comes to in a bathroom stall. Confused he wanders out into the club, where all the lights are on—bright. Really bright. Outside, Malcolm pulls up in his motorcycle. The street is filled with flashing lights and police cars and a few drunken patrons are standing in the frigid January air talking to uniformed NYPD officers. Concerned, Malcolm dashes inside the club and finds a disoriented Arthur. Neither knows what’s going on, but they can’t find either of the girls, and that’s definitely not a good thing. Spotting a higher police presence by the back stairway out of the club, Malcolm and Arthur push their way through the crowd and up the stairs where they’re blocked by the police. “It’s alright Tom. Let them through,” says a voice from out in the alleyway behind the club. “This concerns them.” Malcolm and Arthur exit into the harsh orange glow of the sodium-vapor lights in the alleyway and come face to face with Hayley. “It’s Nikki,” she says. “And it’s bad.” Malcolm looks past Hayley and takes in the scene—Nikki dead and mounted to the brick wall, and Jeanette, tears on her face, sitting on a bench staring out in apparent shock.