Shadows of Prejudice: Claudia Richelieu: The Chimera Agent Book 1

A night on the town turns disastrous.

Shadows of Prejudice – 

The evening sky wept fat, cold raindrops as Jordan Matthews trudged back to his apartment with his Chimera LARP costume clinging to his skin. The LARP gathering at Robin’s place had been a bust, only because her apartment was too small for their large group of friends to cram into one space together. They’d gone to the building’s roof space. About an hour into their gathering, it had started raining despite everyone’s weather apps saying the night was supposed to be clear until after midnight.

Although it had started as a slight drizzle, it had quickly turned into a relentless downpour. Now Jordan was left with a keen sense of disappointment and an excess of adrenaline. He’d been looking forward to this night for two months, ever since he and Robin concocted the plan together. He’d made his own costume, dammit! Okay, not made it, per se, but ordered it online from a small business owner for a price he cringed to recall.

Where the hell was he supposed to wear it again? Not that it mattered. The rain had ruined it. For someone who was usually agile and precise in his movements, Jordan had missed a curb away from Robin’s apartment building and tripped, landing headfirst in a puddle. The side seam of his LARP black leather pants had ripped. Great. What a night this was turning into.

It didn’t help that he’d left Robin’s slightly intoxicated. One too many Fireball shots before the real fun began. He should have known better than to let his buddy Spencer talk him into it.

“Next time!” Robin had called after him as he left her apartment. She looked disappointed too.

There wouldn’t be a next time. Not soon, anyway. Getting their whole friend group together was nearly impossible with them all being college students and adults. Twenty-three-year-old Jordan didn’t know when he would next have an available Saturday.

The only good thing about the rain was that it cooled him down. On the rooftop at Robin’s, he’d been near sweltering in his all-black Chimera costume. It included a perfectly fitted mask that revealed only glittering green eyes and a chiseled jawline. His costume had showed off his toned body well. It had been a series of very hot weeks here in North Carolina with no relief until dark clouds moved in across the sky an hour ago. Out of fucking nowhere, Jordan thought. He reached to tear off his mask when he noticed a bar across the street and the inviting sight of neon lights spilling through the windows, illuminating raindrops as they raced down the pane.

It was only 10:00 p.m., and he hated the thought of returning to his dismal apartment alone to sit in front of the TV eating leftover Chinese food and watching yet another episode of Suits. Sure, that was nice after a long day of classes and studying, but it was Saturday. Jordan Matthews always went out on Saturday. It was an easy thing to do when he had plenty of friends around town, all college peers and former coworkers. It helped that he had lived in this area for a while, even before attending the University of North Carolina.

Unfortunately, no one was available tonight. He’d asked around at Robin’s to see if anyone wanted to go elsewhere, but nearly everyone had an excuse. Only Brian had been available, but Jordan wasn’t interested in hearing all about the merits of horse racing for five hours. He quickly made up an excuse before dashing out of Robin’s apartment.

The neon sign across the street buzzed with the promise of warmth and camaraderie. The purple and pink lights blended with the curling words, The Three Monkeys. The y on Monkeys curved like a tail. It was one of Jordan’s favorite spots, especially since it was less than a block from his apartment. It meant he could go every weekend without worrying about a designated driver or ordering an Uber—just managing to walk home in a straight line.

An idea sparked in his mind. A drink or two could be fun. What if, for tonight, he shed his mundane existence and embraced the fantastical? He might not be a real Chimera operative, but his costume was pretty damn good, except for the seam tear. He could hide that and put on a show.

He’d always wondered what it would be like to walk into an establishment and have everyone turning their heads, wondering what one of the notorious enforcers within the vampire society of Haven was doing in this bar. The city enclosed by a great wall wasn’t far from here.

Truth was, a real Chimera would probably never step foot inside a place like The Three Monkeys. The drinks were cheap and tasted like pure sugar, and all the music playing was by one lesbian indie band or another. But hey, cheap drinks were still cheap drinks, and Jordan was a twenty-three-year-old college student currently racking up a hell of a lot of debt.

A playful grin tugged at his lips beneath the mask. A plan took form. All right, maybe this night wouldn’t be so bad after all. He imagined not that he was walking into a bar he’d been to nearly every weekend since starting college two years ago as Jordan Matthews, regular smegular human, but instead that he was a Chimera operative. One of the elite agents within the walls of Haven who handled a wide range of missions including combat, infiltration, law enforcement, and high-stakes black operations within and outside vampire cities. Or so he had read through a variety of online resources.

Robin had told him a lot too. She had a cousin who was Chimera. A third cousin she’d seen once at a family reunion when she was ten, but who cared? Jordan thought it was cool.

The thing about vampires was that they were rarely seen outside the walls of Haven unless on human-vampire relations business or to pick up Runners. The latter were vampires who were attempting to escape life in Haven.

Jordan didn’t understand why anyone would want to do that. To live in Haven meant to live in a climate-controlled, comfortable, post-modern city where technology had made leaps and bounds past what human institutions were capable of here. Jordan knew this better than most, thanks to his desire to attain a master’s in nanomachines and biology.

Chimera, however, were the one type of Havenites often spotted outside their great city. Jordan wasn’t sure why, but he’d spotted them several times. As he glanced into The Three Monkeys at the crowd of unsuspecting patrons, he couldn’t resist the temptation to step into a Chimera’s boots for one night. Only an hour, he promised himself. Two drinks and he could go home. He started across the street, straightened his shoulders, and adjusted the intricate armor of his costume.

He strode toward the entrance, radiating confidence and a hint of danger. That’s what he was going for, anyway. He wouldn’t know if it was working until they had eyes on him.

He didn’t have to wait long. As the door swung open, the clamor of conversation hushed, replaced by a soft chorus of gasps and whispers. Someone had spotted him crossing the street.

A wave of exhilaration washed over Jordan. Did the real Chimera feel like this everywhere they went? Like they were personally transporting humans to a world where reality and fantasy intertwined?

Forget Robin’s party. This was the shit he wanted to do with his Saturday night. Jordan shoved down the thought that said, You might as well be a kid playing dress-up, and sauntered toward the bar, pretending to ignore the glances falling toward him.

Jordan managed to move with fluidity and grace as he navigated the maze of tables toward the bar where a group of girls on a bachelorette trip were seated. The costume was cumbersome thanks to the rain and the fact that Jordan wasn’t trained to wear armor like the real Chimera were. To them, this was probably nothing.

Would a Chimera order a beer? he wondered as he reached the bar. The bartender behind the slab of oak separating them was cleaning out a wine glass. Although he seemed daunted by Jordan’s approach, he didn’t back up or stammer.

“Evening, sir. What can I get you?”

Oh, what the hell. Jordan ordered his favorite beer.

The bartender didn’t act like this was strange or that a Chimera being in this bar was unusual. He popped the lid off a bottle of beer and slid it over along with a small square napkin and a bowl of pretzels.

Then Jordan noticed the several TVs and the Durham Bulls game playing. Bottom of the eighth inning and they were winning by two. Jordan made himself focus not on the game but his surroundings. A Chimera operative would not become distracted by baseball but would remain focused on the task at hand.

Should I pretend I’m on a mission? Looking for someone?

He sipped once before a delicate female hand dared to rest on his upper arm. The girl wouldn’t have done it if not for the several glasses of wine she’d already drank. Her beautiful blue eyes were hazy.

She used the other hand to tuck a lock of dyed blonde hair behind her ear and giggled. “You’re one of the vamp police, aren’t you? I’ve heard all of you are super-hot behind your masks. They’re kind of scary, your masks.”

Well, I’m glad my mask is on then. He got compliments from girls all the time regarding his good looks, but he wasn’t nearly as attractive as anyone who lived inside Haven. A Chimera wouldn’t be a fan of being touched, especially without invitation, but Jordan didn’t want to act like a dick. He gently took her hand, removed it from his arm, and set it on the bar instead. The girl didn’t seem to notice.

“My friend Bella is in the bathroom right now, but she’ll shit herself when she sees there’s a Chimera here! And sitting beside me, too!”

“What’s your name?” Jordan asked in a tone that may or may not have been deeper than his real voice.

“Kristy,” she answered in a sing-song voice. She didn’t ask for his name, thankfully. Jordan didn’t want to give his real name, and he hadn’t thought of a Chimera name yet. The girl pointed to a white sash with gold letters on it that read, “Wife of the Party.” “I’m the bride.”

Ah yes, bachelorette party.

“Congratulations,” Jordan said.

“Thank you,” she chirped.

“He’s a nice guy. Cute, too.”

But nothing like a Chimera, right? he wanted to ask. He refrained because, again, he didn’t want to sound like a dick. Jordan knew every girl fantasized about meeting one and doing…other things with one of the elite enforcers. Hell, he’d imagined it with some of the female Chimeras.

Kristy sidled closer but didn’t put her hand on him again. “You must have had sooo many adventures. What’s the coolest thing you’ve ever done?”

Jordan smiled beneath his mask. This was the fun part. He dove into a story he’d heard of a Chimera operative dismantling a ring of drug lords who’d operated outside of Haven several years ago, spinning details here and there to make it sound like he’d been involved. Not that it mattered. The girl was drunk enough that she wouldn’t remember. Jordan didn’t get far before they were joined by four more girls including the one Kristy had called Bella.

Jordan had forgotten that girls went to the bathroom in flocks, especially in places like this. “Oooo!” Bella squealed. “A Chimera! It’s your lucky night, Kristy!”

Kristy swatted her friend’s arm. “Oh, shut up! I’m asking him for stories.” The girls crowded around him, wanting to hear about the drug cartel. Or maybe they merely wanted to hear the rich baritone of his voice that echoed the ancient power of his Chimera lineage. Or so Jordan liked to think.

Drinks flowed freely around them. Jordan was on his third beer when he finally got through the story, having been peppered with questions and asked to repeat parts some of the girls couldn’t hear. By this point, the patrons outside of the bachelorette party had also begun listening in rapt interest. Some looked on with disgust. Not everybody liked that vampires existed or that one was roaming inside a human establishment.

Whatever. Jordan didn’t care. He’d never had more fun in his life.

Laughter mingled around him with hushed whispers, creating an electric atmosphere that crackled with anticipation. He half considered taking one of the girls home with him, but that would be a mistake. Once his costume was off and they saw his dingy apartment that was most certainly not within the walls of Haven, it would blow his act.

Bella was leaning on him now, her dark hair spilling down his shoulder. Jordan noticed a few less pleasant-looking patrons toward the back of the bar. The group of burly men sat around a round table, trading muttered sentences and stealing glances at the bar where the bachelorette group surrounded Jordan. Finally, one of the men stood with enough force and speed that he nearly knocked his chair over. He barreled across the room, his face flushed with alcohol and ill intent.

Uh-oh, overplayed my hand.

He might have been a Chimera fan. Someone who spent his evenings on message boards and forums discussing life inside Haven and playing D&D-style games but as different levels of the vampire hierarchy. Not everyone was like Jordan Matthews. Some people, namely the group of men heading toward him now, were known as speciesists. They hated vampires and Chimeras especially.

“Hey, you, blood eater. I think it’s time you pack up and head home,” one of the men slurred, his voice dripping with venom.

“Blood eater” was one of many slurs used for the Chimeras. Jordan had forgotten he wasn’t a Chimera but a guy pretending to be one in a costume. Pretty convincing costume, I see.

Jordan wasn’t willing to back down. A Chimera wouldn’t, and neither would he. “I’m good right where I am, boys, but you are welcome to leave.”

The girls cast worried glances at one another, and Bella suggested they get an Uber. “We were going to the cocktail bar down the street anyway. Right, Kristy?”

Kristy was slumped on the bar, falling asleep.

Jordan would have thought it amusing if not for the hard, red faces of the men surrounding them. The girls filtered out of the bar, tugging their bride-to-be with them, leaving Jordan and the bartender to face the small, tough crowd.

“Now, now, boys. Let’s not get into it. Not inside anyway,” the bartender warned. Outside, the rain continued drilling the pavement. A few cars passed, sending small waves onto the sidewalk. Jordan wished he could go home, but the thought of walking in the rain made him dismal.

“Get out of here, motherfucker,” another man growled.

“Go back to hell. I mean Haven,” another said. The men chuckled.

“Nice,” Jordan returned dryly. “That was real original.”

“Don’t get smart with me,” the first man snarled.

Jordan stood, planning to push past them and leave. They weren’t worth his time. He never got past the first man. The first blow came as a surprise, a swift punch that landed squarely on Jordan’s jaw. The impact sent him reeling against the bar stool he’d been sitting on a second ago. The punch set his Chimera mask askew.

Jordan stumbled forward, trying to regain his balance, but another figure lunged at him. Before he knew it, they were on the ground. Fists and feet flew. Bodies collided in a blur of violence. Shouting rose around them. Concerned patrons, people who were enjoying seeing a fight, and Jordan here and there.

Someone ripped off his mask and threw it. Blood dribbled down his nose. Glass broke. A table was overturned. Jorden felt pain flaring in too many places. The bartender yelled, “I’m calling the police!”

Chimeras were supposed to be vampire police. He was supposed to be handling this a lot better. Jordan wasn’t a trained vampire. He was some random guy stupid enough to walk into a bar wearing this costume. Worst. Night. Ever.

The world narrowed to a tunnel of pain. The cheering and jeering of his attackers and onlookers faded into a distant roar. Jordan clung to consciousness as long as he could, but his vision blurred, and everything hurt.

I should have gone home.

A final, brutal kick to his ribs sent him spiraling into oblivion.

It turns out being a hero is more than just a fancy costume. Find out what happens next to Jordan on October 15th when Shadows of Prejudice: Claudia Richelieu: The Chimera Agent Book 1 is released. Until then head over to Amazon and pre-order it today!