It had taken a couple of weeks for the space to be completely ready. Robin had used every remaining cent he had, thrown it all into this venture that he hoped would work. The Necropolis had served him well, had paid him well, but it was by and large a nightclub. It was advertised as a nightclub. Those in the know knew what they could find there, that there were Blood Dolls scattered throughout. But they had to hunt them down. They had to know who to look for. And a vampire blood doll wasn’t the norm.
Hood Blood Services was going to be marketed properly. Much like Lincoln’s Bitr app, it was catering to those who wanted to be bitten – and who needed something to bite. The Bitr opening party had been a success and Robin’s idea had spun off the back of it. It had taken him months to get anything off the ground – given his bad luck, **** kept falling through. Finally, however, it was here.
The club was underground and located down one of the city’s notorious side alleys. It was in the middle of the busiest part of town, but out of the way. A partly neon sign buzzed over the door, reaching out into the alley. Anyone who glanced down said alley would see it, and hopefully be drawn to the light like a moth to a flame. The logo was of a hood, beneath which a face could be hidden. Instead of a face were the bold letters, ‘HOOD’, the H and the D bigger than the two Os in the middle, spikes protruding from the first stem of the H and from the straight line of the D. They were supposed to mimic fangs.
Stairs were taken down into the club, red strip lights lighting the way. The club itself seemed small from the front but it was long; the left wall was lined with about a dozen private booths, all of which could be blocked from the public eye by thick velvet curtains. On the right, the wall was lined with cushioned chairs with small tables scattered across the length. A place to wait, to mingle, to seek out the human or the vampire one had an interest in. There was also a bar, of course – if there were going to be humans visiting the place they’d need something to drink, wouldn’t they?
The premise was that there were a few blood dolls on staff – vampire and human alike. But it was also a place for regular humans to visit if they fancied a taste of the night life they’d been missing out on for so long. It was a place for humans and vampires to meet.
Each booth was fitted with a small, inconspicuous camera, with someone manning the screens in the back office at all times. No one was going to die, not on Robin’s watch. This wasn’t a slaughterhouse for vampires – this was a place for vampires like him. Vampires who liked the taste of fresh human blood but who didn’t fancy taking it from those who were unwilling to give. It was a place for vampires who had no interest in killing their prey.
It was opening night. Advertisements had gone out across all social media platforms, flyers had gone up all over the city. Robin opened the doors himself, waiting with the security staff at the front while the line of customers trickled in.
Yes, he thought. This is going to work.
