by Holly Hook
Get it together, Ember.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, slowly drawing closer to me and smiling. He has fangs. They're perfect and dangerous. “Shouldn't you go back to the swamps of Florida?”
I balk, breaking the spell, as an invisible fist slams into me. He listened to my speech. Shit, he's just here to put me in my place. “I don't live in a swamp.”
The guys behind him tense, but he holds up a hand and creeps closer, narrowing the distance between us. I stand there, unsure what to do, but I can't let the bullies shove me down. Not now. Not when my future is on the line.
A wicked gleam fills his gaze. I’m amusing.
A crackling fire burns higher and higher in me, and I dig my fingernails into my palms. But I can’t speak.
“I've seen Florida,” he says with a wicked sneer. “Messed up place. And I've seen ungrateful inbreds like you. You always complain. Can I have some more, please?” He raises his tone and does a cruel, but perfect impression of Oliver Twist.
And he grins.
The asshole just grins at my misfortune.
“What the hell is your problem?” I raise my voice, but the woman in the dining room keeps speaking over her microphone. No one else knows I’m out here. The volcano is erupting and I can't stop it. “I'm sorry I'm not entitled and always have a pillow under my ass like you. I bet you never worked a day in your life.”
The entitled guy snaps forward in a lightning motion, and a powerful hand seizes my wrist. I gasp as he pulls me close, nearly close enough to press against his chest. The world turns to navy blue, perfect skin, and godlike eyes. His face is inches from my own.
“What did you say?” He flashes all his teeth and leans close, eyeing my neck.
The volcano stills, and an icy waterfall takes its place. “You...you heard me.”
His smile widens, and he slowly lowers his lips to my neck. I shudder as his fangs graze my flesh, then retract again. “Go back to your mud hut if you know what's good for you,” he hisses in my ear.
My senses sharpen. I could kick him in the groin. I’m in position and that works on everyone. But another shudder races down my spine as a small, terrified voice screams in my head.
If you do that, you'll die.
Yes. The four goons are close. The air shifts with their presences.
Taking a breath, I force my tremors to still. He's messing with me. I will not give him the satisfaction, not when I'm so close to fixing this. Taking a breath, I steady my voice. “You know I don't live in a mud hut.”
He releases me so hard that I stagger back. His eyes narrow, full of pure hatred. “I don't want to see you or your little group here again after tonight.” The guy works his lips like he wants to say more, but then he must decide against it.He whirls and snaps his fingers at his entourage. “Come on. My table is on the balcony.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Thankfully, no one questions the fact that I must be pale once I return to the dinner. Zara's done drinking her blood and appetizers wait. Waiters walk around, collecting blood glasses while others handle baskets of warm bread sticks, fancy dips, and other staples. The speaker woman, a human lady well into middle age, now sits on a raised platform with a few other, middle-aged humans to dine. She takes a glass of wine from a server.
I’m shaking as I sit back at the Homes For Life table.
I shudder. And for the first time, I realize there is a balcony above us, shrouded in shadow. Several figures occupy small tables and chairs. And among them will be that nightmarish dream.
“This is so exciting,” Silvia says, digging into her breadsticks. “And this dip. It’s to die for. You need to eat because you’re pale.”
I grip my knee under the table, trying not to snap at her. This isn't Silvia's fault that some strange but gorgeous vampire guy just threatened me in the hall. Is he connected to Dream Developers? Shit, I can still feel the pressure of his grip on my left wrist. The sharp and threatening tickle of his fangs in that fold between my shoulder and my neck. I wore a blouse with a wide neck today. Why did I do that?
Stupid. The word plays in my head, in my dad’s angry voice to boot.
“Ember?” Emmy asks, leaning across the table at me. “Are you okay? Do you feel better?”
I’ve forgotten about the others at the table, who have been deep in conversation. “I feel fine,” I lie, not wanting to let that guy bully me into leaving. If I go home now, Dream Developers will win and take the only thing I have left. These other activists can eat, have fun, and tough it out. Why can't I?
And if I leave now, it's night. I'll be alone and I don’t want to drag Silvia from the first great meal she’s had in forever. And if I tell the truth, what will that crazy guy do? Will he hurt Silvia, Steve, and Maisy? Will Zara tell us we’re ungrateful and send us away?
I shift in my chair. “It's been a long day, is all.”
Dinner will have to go on.
“I understand,” Emmy says with a nod.
Zara dabs her lip with her cloth napkin, and it comes off with a tiny red stain. “Yes. I imagine all of you had an endless day and will need some rest before tomorrow night.”
I can barely keep track of the conversation. Dinner finally ends after a course of salmon and exotic vegetables, and Zara gives Emmy a friendly hug as they part. Silvia and I go ahead once Emmy summons a cab for us, and we find ourselves in a flow of other activists who head outside to catch their rides. People all sound excited, but no conversation floats out to me.
Silvia is dead silent until we get into the back of the cab, driven by a middle-aged guy probably just trying to make the rent. Only when she closes the door and we get going does she speak. “I didn't enjoy seeing Zara drink blood, either. Usually the vampires are good enough not to do it in front of us.”
“It was a power move,” I say before I think. I really need to stop doing that, but my emotions storm through me, shaking me to the core. “They wanted to remind us of our place.”
Silvia has nothing to say to that. Call me cynical, but Dream Developers has taught me to be that way and the CEO isn't even a vampire, but one of the few humans who climbed the ranks by acting like them.
“Maybe they wanted to see how we'd tolerate seeing it,” Silvia says. “Or warn us beforehand.”
I don't ask her to elaborate. I'm too caught up in my own rough sea. Telling her about the hot nightmare will have to wait until we're in our shared room. I'll vent, complete our two missions tomorrow, and then head home with a job hopefully well done. Dream Developers won't hire any more lobbyists to put Florida law in their favor if they don't have the cash.
Shit, I should have paid attention to the conversations at dinner to see our chances at that. Thanks, creep.
Once we're up in our room, I spill the truth about what happened on my bathroom break.
Silvia kicks off her shoes, and freezes on her bed, eyes widening. “That guy what?”
“I wanted to knee him in the balls, but he had what I guess are guards,” I say. “Something told me that wouldn't have gone well.”
“Were they human guards?” Silvia pulls her skirt down.
“At least two were. Who was that guy?” I rub my eyes as a headache blooms above them. Lovely.
“Maybe Dream Developers sent him,” Silvia says. “That's why he wanted you to leave. I should have gone with you in solidarity.”
I take off my gold necklace. “Don't beat yourself up.” My brother Mike would have said the same thing. I check my phone to see a missed call from him and a text asking how it's all going. I've ignored him all day and retracted into my world. I text back that I'll talk when I wake up tomorrow. If I call him now, I'll break down and Silvia will think I'm a baby.
Aw, does the baby need a binky?
Shut up, Dad.
I shake my head. “I won't,” I promise Sylvia, forcing myself to take a long breath. “We shouldn't see that guy again. I bet he doesn't know where we're going tomorrow. He only showed up at the dinner because
he overheard Zara telling us about it.” Yes. That has to be true.
“There you go,” Silvia says. “We'll be fine.”
* * * * *
I oversleep the next day, which is fine because we don't have to do anything until that next evening. When I wake, the bright light coming through the window tells me it's afternoon, and Silvia is already up and gone. I'm shocked the cleaners haven't come in to do the hotel room yet.
I get up and change out of my PJ's, really just a funny T-shirt and jeans, but I've got a thumping headache above my eyes and those muscles on the back of my neck are stiff as hell. A tension headache. I can't imagine why I have that.
But I'm hungry, so I meet Silvia and the other Homes For Life folks down in the dining room. Everyone's wiped out, and even Emmy has bags under her eyes. She looks at me and tells me to rest up before we go out, so I head back upstairs, lay on my bed, and call my brother.
“Hey, Ember,” he says, upbeat. “How are things going in the nation's capital?”
“They're going,” I say. “How are things out in Texas?” Is he already getting an accent? Either way, I'm glad he escaped when shit hit the fan back home. Mike's starting his own construction business out there at just twenty-five. I'm happy for him, but I hate that he and my parents can't agree on anything.
“I got my first major client,” Mike tells me. “But I know you were nervous about going out there. Tell me, how was your first day playing politician?”
“Do not call me that.” I swing my fist into the air.
He laughs. “Okay, fair enough. I know you hate politics. Not that I can blame you, after Mom and Dad disowned me,” Mike says. “It's sad, and I don't blame you for not telling them you're a Club.”
“And I don’t fault you for leaving,” I say. My parents are die hard Heart Party people, and Mike turned to the “dark side,” AKA the Spade Party. But who can blame him for wanting humans and vampires to have equal opportunities? Sure, he's making it thanks to taking a risky ass loan, and he's one of the few, but he's making it. Mike would be flipping burgers had he stayed home.
“I wanted to stay,” Mike says. “I wish I could have. Now you're dealing with them alone.”
“Well, they were calling you a eugenicist,” I grumble.
“Ember, you'll be out soon. I know you kicked ass yesterday.”
How can I worry him? I tell Mike about the highlights of Phase One, and he whistles at my outburst.
“Wow, Ember. I wish I had your balls.”
“I don't have balls?”
“Yours are in spirit,” Mike tells me. “You never know. Something could get done. And I know Mom and Dad think the Spade Party favors big companies. Sometimes they do, but you can't have equality when people are homeless.”
If only it were that simple. “Thanks, Mike,” I say, trying to blink away my headache. “Love you.”
“Love you too, sis. I’ll get you out here to visit soon.”
I end the call, feeling less sick, so I relax and close my eyes. Before I know it, there's a knock on the hotel room door that jars me out of sleep.
My headache is gone, but the light coming through the partially closed curtains is yellow.
“Ember?” Emmy asks from the hallway. “Silvia never saw you come down, so we thought you might have passed out again.”
“Great,” I shout, rising. It’s closing in on seven, and we're due to reach Dream's actual lender then. Lateness will look great and waiting until it gets really dark raises the chances of running into more hostiles. “I'm getting up.” I've got to change my clothes. The shirt I’m wearing will not work in this town.
“Silvia went ahead,” Emmy tells me. “A ride will arrive for you in fifteen minutes. Be at the front of the hotel.”
Huh? Why did she leave without me? Ugh, am I really that late? I eye the clock, and it's six twenty-eight. Well, I have fifteen minutes, so I comb my hair, apply eyeliner, and pull on my clothes, in that stupid order. By the time I exit the hotel room, everyone's gone from the lobby. Seriously. I'm later than everyone else. Why did Emmy and Silvia let me sleep that long?
Trying not to look dumb in my torture device shoes and my black skirt, I rush outside. Once in the evening sun, I wait for a cab to stop by. Sheesh, Emmy could have told me what type of vehicle to expect. I lean against a streetlight as a few scooters and a slow procession of traffic goes by. I sigh as my palms tingle with nerves. I must have only fifteen minutes to steel myself to face down yet another semi-powerful vampire, the CEO of Proud Housing.
I watch as a black limo with dark windows slowly drifts up the street, but I'm shocked when it stops in front of the hotel, just a few feet from me. I back off, ready to part for whoever is getting out or getting in, but I'm not ready for both back doors to open and for two big, human men in suits to get out.
And I'm even less ready for them to circle behind me, putting me between them and the open back door.
“Huh?” I ask. “Am I in the way?”
“No,” one man says, his voice reverberating on my neck. “Get inside, and quickly.”
Then my eyes adjust and I can see the cream interior of the limo, the back seats facing each other, and then the stunning, brunette vampire woman seated inside.
“Ember Vonk,” Zara says with a smile. “Lateness will not help your case.”
CHAPTER SIX
What the actual hell?
I look back at the two human guys, probably Zara's daytime guards. We're not supposed to see her again. “Is this a kidnapping?”
They look at each other, and the first man lifts an eyebrow, almost like he’s shocked.
“Get inside,” Zara demands, shielding her face from the evening light.
“Yes. We don't have time,” the other man says, nudging me with his linebacker chest. “Now.”
I push back against the guy as my heart thuds. They're taking me somewhere. I can't let them. My gaze darts around the sidewalk, but no one is around except for a guy on a scooter way down the curb, and he's probably beyond shouting distance. Ugh, why has the traffic cleared?
“You can't just nab people like this,” I shout as pulse-pounding panic seizes me. My voice rises several octaves. “It's illegal. It's kidnapping!”
“Quick,” the first man says, and one of them seizes my arms and twists them behind me. I thrash and kick, but my dress shoes make me stumble over the curb. “Inside!”
“We've wasted enough time,” Zara snaps as my legs bend over the cream seats. I’m inside. There isn’t shit I can do. A scream of frustration rises and sticks in my throat.
I’m going to die.
I'm sliding over the back seat, the one opposite Zara. The other man runs around the limo and gets in on the other side of me. I've got zero chance of fighting back now. Unless I vomit. But my stomach is empty and surrenders nothing but a nasty taste.
“Sit down, please,” Zara says as the back doors close, shutting out the natural sunlight. A dome light comes on above us as I find myself in the middle seat, right between Zara's goons and facing her. The one guy releases my arms, and I wrench them back in front of me. At least I've got that. I also straighten, taking my shoes off the seat. I'm in.
And now they’re taking me away. “So, you didn’t like my speech yesterday.”
The men settle, and the one on my right just smiles at me. What the hell? It's me, the two guys, Zara, and a driver in an official-looking suit, gloves, and hat on the other side of a glass barrier. He doesn't look back at us, but pulls away from the curb.
And all the doors click as they lock.
Assessment: I'm definitely going to die.
My ears ring as I face Zara and the doors, but I've got a snowball's chance in hell of getting out. Sure, vampires weaken during the day, but these two big guys don't.
“Or did I do something else to offend you?” I ask, hating how high my voice sounds. Mouse is not the impression I need to give here. An apology, maybe? I could tell them I'm getting on a plane and crawling away with
my tail between my knees. I can't fight Dream Developers if I die, can I?
Zara lowers her hand from her face now that the sun isn’t getting in. She blinks and trains her red eyes on me. “You were to be waiting nearly half an hour ago.”
“Huh?” I ask, gripping the seat. Waiting? The ringing in my head dulls. As I study her for intent, she turns the corner of her mouth up into a sly grin. The hint of a single fang caresses the crimson of her lips. “I didn't know we had an appointment?”
The limo stops at a traffic light and waits. And pieces click together.
Was this something Homes For Life planned and just forgot to tell me?
Zara lets her mouth fall open a bit. “Oh. You didn't? I thought you had.” She picks at a long fingernail and appears to think. “I suppose that makes sense. Becky Wallace was speaking so loudly that I thought you would have heard about the selection process at the Young Activists' dinner last night, even though you had to take a bathroom break. They should have broadcast her over all the building speakers.”
I blink.
“I missed something?” Well, that was thanks to Zara's decision to consume a literal biohazard at a table with food. At least she's not doing that now. That could be a bad thing if she's planning to get her next meal from somewhere else. “The process?” I squirm on the seat.
“The selection process,” Zara says, as if I should know what that means. “That's part of constructing our Housing Advisory Panel.”
Now it's my turn to blink. “Housing Advisory Panel?”
“I believe this young woman is clueless,” the man on the left says.
“I didn't hear it,” I admit. “Well, I did, but it went in one ear and out the other. I had a long day, so I guess fatigue set in.” Plus, that nightmare hottie had a lot to do with that.
“Understandable,” Zara says, flashing her fangs. I want to crawl under the seat because Emmy isn't here to calm her down and make her act somewhat like a human being. “I expected Emmy to review this with you today at the hotel. She told me she did.”
