Fangtasia
Chapter 9: Fangtasia
Night had fallen by the time Harry arrived in Shreveport. He stood outside Fangtasia, the infamous vampire bar, and took a deep breath. The neon red sign cast an eerie glow over the line of humans eagerly waiting to get inside, some hoping for a taste of danger, others for something even darker.
Harry adjusted his leather jacket, his wand tucked securely into an enchanted holster at his wrist. His instincts screamed at him to turn around, but he ignored them. He had walked into worse situations before.
A burly vampire bouncer at the entrance eyed him with curiosity before stepping aside without a word. Clearly, Eric had told them to let him in.
Inside, the club pulsed with low music and red lighting. Vampires lounged on black leather couches, sipping from glasses that Harry *really* hoped were filled with synthetic blood. Others had human companions draped over them, eyes glazed from glamour or euphoria.
Harry walked past the bar, where a petite woman with fangs flashed him a smile, before heading toward the raised platform at the back of the room. Eric Northman sat on his throne-like chair, watching him with the kind of amusement that made Harry’s skin itch.
Pam was beside him, dressed in another immaculately tailored outfit, and she smirked as Harry approached.
“Well, well,” Eric drawled, his icy blue eyes gleaming. “You actually came.”
Harry shrugged. “You gave me little choice.”
Eric chuckled. “True. But aren’t you the least bit curious why?”
Harry leaned against the edge of the table. “Let me guess. You’ve never met a wizard quite like me, and now you want to know more. Maybe test me. Maybe see if I’m a threat or a potential ally.” He tilted his head. “How am I doing so far?”
Eric’s smile widened. “Impressive.”
Harry sighed. “Look, I don’t do vampire politics. I like my quiet life. I run my farm, I take care of my own, and I don’t get involved.”
Pam scoffed. “That’s adorable. You think you have a choice.”
Harry’s fingers twitched toward his wand. “I always have a choice.”
Eric leaned forward, his expression turning serious. “You’re already involved, Harry Potter. The night you killed that rogue werewolf, you set things in motion. People are talking about you—supernaturals who normally keep to their own business.”
Harry frowned. “So what? Let them talk.”
Eric exchanged a glance with Pam before looking back at Harry. “There are factions in the supernatural world that don’t like unknown variables. Some will want to control you. Others will want you dead.”
Harry exhaled slowly. “And you? What do *you* want?”
Eric smiled again, this time with a predatory edge. “To see what you’re truly capable of.”
The challenge in his voice was unmistakable.
Harry straightened, eyes narrowing. “If you try to push me, you won’t like what happens.”
Pam chuckled. “Oh, I think we’ll *love* it.”
Harry clenched his jaw, already regretting coming here. This was going to get messy.