“All right,” I agreed, hoping to get a better idea of the place, and maybe get another chance to ask more questions about The Bookstore Guy. I took another sip of my club soda and then set it down on a nearby table.
He offered me his arm, and as I reached out to take it, someone bumped into me lightly, knocking me into Khalil. I saw a male waiter in a tuxedo brush past us, and for one moment, our eyes connected and our hands touched before he disappeared into the crowd.
“Are you all right?” Khalil asked, steadying me.
“Yes.” I said, closing my hand into a fist to conceal the paper the young man had just pressed into my palm. I twisted, trying to catch another glimpse of him. He’d been a young man, maybe a few years older than me, with reddish brown hair and eyes like live coals.
Had he just given me his number?
Something about his expression made me think that wasn’t it.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I asked. “I need to, uh, powder my nose.”
Khalil escorted me through an echoing hallway of marble and glass, stopping outside a carved oak door that led to a bathroom with rose-painted walls and a painting the side of my bed hung on the wall above the Japanese toilet with a heated seat. I locked the door and fumbled to read the paper the waiter had pressed into my hand.
It had a single line scrawled in a thick hand.
YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MY STOMACH SANK like a stone as I stared at the words, and I began to tremble. What in the world did that mean? Was it a warning? Or some kind of rejection—a hateful message sent from someone who thought I didn’t belong? Someone who could sense the stink of poverty on me? Maybe the waiter had been delivering a message from some other guest.
Or maybe he was trying to tell me I was in terrible danger.
I needed to find him and ask him if I wanted to know for sure.
I flushed the paper down the toilet and went to the door. Khalil was waiting outside at a respectful distance.
Was he my guard, or my jailor? I felt safe with him, with his kind eyes and quiet voice and respectful manner, perhaps foolishly so. But I couldn’t tell him about the note. I wasn’t that stupid.
“Can we take a look around the gardens?” I asked. The waiter had headed that direction. Maybe I would see him.
“Certainly,” Khalil said, smiling at me. “They’re beautiful at night.”
I took his arm, and he led me back into the room we’d been in before, toward the double doors and the garden outside.
We stepped outside into the garden, which glowed with artful light installations that highlighted fountains and sculptures to stunning effect. Blue and violet floodlights illuminated a statue of a man holding an arrow aloft, with wings of white stone erupting from his bare shoulders. Another statue of a woman with an apple in her hand was bathed in golden light and surrounded by fountains.
“What’s that way?” I asked, nodding toward an arch of vines.
If I lost Khalil in the gardens, maybe I could find the waiter and ask him what he’d meant. I’d have to give him the slip somehow. Shadows and winding pathways could help with that.
I started toward the archway, and Khalil followed close behind me. We weren’t the only ones in the garden; I heard the hum of quiet voices here and there in the darkness. But the night gave the illusion of aloneness and privacy all the same.
Candles lined the path I’d chosen. I followed them past sculptures that looked like frozen flames and waves until it ended at a cascading waterfall lit with blue light.
“Beautiful,” I said, casting a sideways look at Khalil.
“Yes,” he said. He was scanning the perimeter of the area as if looking for signs of trouble. My stomach clenched again with fear.
Was this more than rich people paranoia? Was there something else going on at this party?
I drifted closer to the water as if to get a better look. When Khalil turned to check the path behind us, I melted into the shadows and slipped away through a break in the bushes. The darkness hid me well, and I hurried, panting, down another path toward the house.
Where might I find the waiter? The kitchens?
My blood pounded in my head. I was dizzy. What was I doing? This was absurd. Running away from Khalil… how was I going to explain myself to him?
I’d worry about that later.
I rounded a curve in the path and stopped short.
There, blocking my way, stood the Antoinette, the woman from before. Beside her was her male companion. They both turned and looked at me, and then they smiled wolfish, skin-crawling smiles.
“Hello, little sparrow,” she purred. “Flown away from your watchdog, have you?”
“He’s right behind me,” I lied, taking a step back.
Antoinette’s eyes tracked my movement in a way that felt wrong. As if she were an animal and not a human. I felt a shiver of unease crawl through me. Everything about her sent alarm bells ringing in my head. She had something off about her, and it wasn’t just that creepy smile she was flashing at me.
“Excuse me,” I said. “I’ve got to be going.”
“Don’t go,” she said. “Not yet. We have barely spoken to one another.”
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m looking for someone. I don’t have time to stop.”
“You’re not like Victor’s last girl,” Antoinette said, tipping her head to the side.
Victor’s last girl? I went still at this new information.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
She smiled wider. “For one thing, the other one never asked questions like that. She was a docile thing. You have some fire, I think. I like that. But it will probably prove troublesome for Victor.”
I shifted. “Why is that?”
“Oh, you know Victor,” she said with a wave of her hand.
I didn’t.
“But I had a score to settle with the last one,” Antoinette said then. “She is gone, and you will have to do, dearie.”
With that, she seized my hand and opened her mouth in a snarl.
Her face transformed into something my mind refused to comprehend. Eyes flashed with a strange glow. Lips curled back. Teeth sharpened.
One thought screamed in my mind.
Vampire.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I LET OUT a scream as I sprang back, trying to wrench free. “Shit!”
Antoinette laughed. Two wickedly-sharp fangs glinted in the moonlight as she threw back her head.
Vampire? She was a vampire. I’d grown up watching Buffy. I’d seen Dracula.
This wasn’t possible. Vampires were in TV shows and movies. This had to have been some expensive costume, a trick. A joke of the wealthy party-goer played on the hapless poor girl. Maybe it was some weird cosplay, some perverted kink? Right?
My mind couldn’t understand how, though. How had she done that? How had she changed her appearance so quickly? One minute she’d looked normal, and the next…
She was a vampire.
No. It wasn’t possible.
I tried to break free again.
“Hold still, little morsel,” she whispered.
“Like hell I will,” I hissed back, and then I heard someone shout, “Stop!”
Khalil was beside me, planting a hand on Antoinette’s chest and shoving her back with astonishing strength. She staggered, catching herself in a crouch and hissing like a cat hissing at a dog.
I felt a deep, raw fear, and I was shaking, but I was mad too. Mad that she’d tried to hurt me. Mad that I hadn’t grabbed a stick and beat her back myself. Still, the fear was the most dominant emotion. I shot a terrified glance at Khalil, expecting him to be as alarmed and confused as I was, but he only looked grim. He had something in his hand. A gun? No, not a gun. A gleaming, polished spike.
Disbelief slammed into me. What was going on?
Khalil definitely wasn’t joking. And he didn’t look surprised, either.
I started to shake.
&n
bsp; This couldn’t be real.
“We are all guests here,” Khalil said to Antoinette. “You are not permitted to hunt. If you attack her, there will be retribution.” His voice was firm and flat. “Not to mention what my master will do to you.”
“Only if it is outside the bounds of decorum will I be punished,” Antoinette snarled at him. “She came to me.”
“Even you aren’t stupid enough to think that the Forum will fall for that,” Khalil said scornfully. “This is no consensual encounter.”
Antoinette straightened and closed her mouth, hiding those horrifying fangs. She smiled a tight-lipped smile at me that promised pain and cruelty.
“Fine,” she said. “I apologize. It was a mistake—I thought the girl wanted it.”
We all knew she was lying. I pressed against Khalil, still shaking.
“Come,” he said to me, and we backed away from Antoinette and her male companion.
Khalil rushed me back to the house, where there was light and warmth and the tinkle of glasses clinking in hands. My head swam, and my throat was dry as desert sand. I stared at the guests as Khalil hurried me past them. Were they all playing this twisted game too? Would they try to attack me? One face stood out among the others: Dmitri, his expression twisted with some private fury, his cheeks pale as marble except for two flushed spots. His hands, rigid at his sides, were clenched into fists. I wondered what had him so angry. Was it me?
Khalil led me down the hall of glass and marble again, this time opening a new door to reveal a room of dark, paneled wood and wall to wall bookshelves. A library. He settled me in a massive leather chair and told me to stay there, and then he vanished, shutting the door behind him.
I twisted, looking toward the windows that showed a glimpse into the night. My mind imagined a pale, fanged face lunging at the glass, and I flinched and pressed against the back of the chair. Khalil had been holding a stake of some kind. I cast my gaze around the room frantically, looking for a stake.
Beside the fireplace, I spotted a metal poker. I snatched it up and clutched it to my chest. I didn’t know if I needed a wooden stake. Khalil’s hadn’t looked wooden.
Just thinking that made me feel insane. Here I was, wondering if I needed a wooden stake to kill a vampire.
What was happening?
The door opened again, and Khalil reappeared, carrying a blanket, followed by Victor, who held a glass of water. Their faces were dark with concern. Victor’s gaze dropped to the poker in my hands.
“Well, she’s no shrinking violet, is she?” he said with a note of satisfaction. He looked into my face.
“Alexandria,” he said kindly. “You’ve had a terrible shock. Sit down, my dear.”
“What’s going on?” I asked with a shake of my head.
“Well, you’ve had a fright. Drink this, and we’ll talk.” He handed me the glass of water, and I remembered how thirsty I was. I gulped it down. The water had a bitter aftertaste that coated my tongue.
“Sit,” Victor said again, still kindly.
I didn’t sit so much as my legs folded, and I plopped down in the chair, still hanging on to the poker. I wasn’t about to relinquish it.
“Keep it,” Victor said, nodding at my weapon. “If it makes you feel more secure. I want you to feel safe, my child.”
“What’s going on?” I asked again. “Why did she look like that?”
“You’re frightened,” Victor observed. “Take a few deep breaths.”
I inhaled once, twice, three times, and Khalil draped the blanket across my lap. My fear seemed to lessen, to my surprise. I frowned. I should be more terrified, but my body was already relaxing. My thoughts slowed from the frantic circles they’d been racing in. Still, one question stood out strong.
“What’s going on?”
“I didn’t mean for you to see that,” Victor said. “I didn’t want your introduction to this life to be so horrific, my dear. It’s not all so ghastly. I don’t want you to be unduly traumatized. There are some darker bits my life, and they need to be introduced slowly, when one is ready for them.”
His voice was soothing, almost hypnotic.
“I feel calmer,” I announced.
He nodded. “I gave you something in your drink. It will help you relax a little. You’re perfectly safe now. No one will dare harm you, my dear. I don’t want you to be afraid. You’re under my protection, even though you are not yet my heir. Antoinette was behaving very foolishly, and I will see that she is reprimanded. But you should not have run away from Khalil. Why did you do that?”
Why had I slipped away? I was already forgetting. My thoughts felt like fat seals sunning themselves on a beach. I was feeling warm, almost cozy. I struggled to remember why I was supposed to be alarmed. Oh yes, the vampires. And the young man who’d given me the note. I’d been trying to find him. But I shouldn’t tell Victor that…
“I wanted to see the gardens,” I said.
Victor gave me a benevolent smile. “Well, in the future, my girl, stay close to Khalil, and we’ll avoid these kinds of incidents.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. I felt like apologizing because he seemed unhappy, and my brain was feeling extra warm and relaxed and safe, and I wanted everyone else to feel warm and safe too.
“That’s all right, Alexandria,” Victor said with a fatherly smile. “Why don’t you rest here for a little while longer, and then I’ll have Khalil take you home.”
“Home,” I said, feeling dreamy. “Home to the apartment?”
“Home to your mother,” Victor said.
I frowned. I couldn’t remember why I was here, but I didn’t want to be there. But I didn’t want to be here either, right? Why didn’t I want to be here? It was beautiful and warm and sparkly here. There were handsome men and frightening women… wait, why were the women frightening? And why was I holding a fire iron?
I glanced down and was distracted by the sparkle on my dress. The gemstones were mesmerizing. I set the fire iron on the floor and traced my fingertips across the jewels on my dress, and I heard Victor say to Khalil, “She’ll be fine now. No memories to disturb her.”
Memories of what?
A goofy smile worked its way across my mouth as Victor and Khalil left the room, and I heard the door click shut. I burrowed deeper into the chair and pulled the blanket around me. In the back of my mind, something whispered that I was forgetting something, but it was only a murmur, as faint as an already-forgotten bad dream.
Sleep tugged at my eyelids, but just as I was closing them, the fireplace opened like a door, and a figure stepped out.
I blinked and sat up. I wasn’t frightened—calm was still flooding my veins—but I was confused.
It was the waiter. The one who’d handed me the paper.
“I was looking for you,” I said.
He crossed the room without answering me and put his ear to the door. After a moment, he seemed satisfied, and he crossed the room again, this time to my chair. He crouched beside it and pressed a hand to my forehead.
“What is your name?” he asked urgently.
“Alex,” I said, studying him. He had a handsome face, an angry face. “What’s your name?”
He shook his head. “No names. But you can call me Trace.”
“Like the Spanish for three?”
He laughed softly. “Like without a trace.” His eyes scoured my face. “What do you remember from tonight, Alex?”
It seemed like an odd question to be asked by someone who’d just stepped through a fireplace by some magic, but I answered anyway. “I remember I was looking for you. But I don’t remember why.”
“Anything else?”
I scrunched up my forehead. “I went into the gardens with Khalil. I got away from him somehow. Then… hmm. I can’t remember that part. Is that weird?”
“It’s not weird, considering that they gave you Lethe,” he said somberly.
“Lethe? Like the river of forgetfulness in Greek mythology?”
Trace la
ughed again, a startled laugh. “Yes, exactly like that. You haven’t forgotten everything, I see. Some people don’t even know their own names afterward.”
“Should I be scared?” I asked. It seemed like I ought to be, but I wasn’t. My whole body felt relaxed and calm.
“Fear is a great paralyzer,” Trace said. “You should be wary, and perhaps concerned, but never paralyzed.”
He produced a bag from his pocket and shook the contents into his palm. A white pill with a silver stamp on it.
“Do you want to remember, Alex?”
“I feel like I should say yes,” I said. “That seems the smart thing to do, anyway. I don’t want to, emotionally, but I feel like… yes.”
“Good choice.” He handed me the pill. “Swallow this.”
I took it and put it on my tongue. I’d always had that superhuman ability to swallow pills without water.
“It’s going to make you feel a little sick to your stomach,” Trace warned.
He wasn’t kidding. I leaned back against the chair and exhaled as the nausea hit me like a bag of bricks.
“Sorry,” Trace said. “I’d open a window, but… I’m already not supposed to be here. I don’t want anyone to overhear us.”
“You’re different somehow,” I said. I wasn’t sure exactly how to articulate what I meant, so I waved a hand vaguely. “Your face. Your eyes? I don’t know.”
“It’s because I’m human, and practically everyone else around here is a vampire,” Trace said.
A jolt shot through me, accompanied by a memory of fangs and glowing eyes. I pressed a hand to my mouth, feeling like I was about to puke.
“Vampire,” I managed after a pause, when the wave of sickening sensation had passed.
Trace nodded.
“Is this a TV prank show?” I asked hopefully.
Trace’s face softened with sympathy. “No. It isn’t.”
I opened my mouth again, and he rushed on to say, “You probably have a lot of questions, but there isn’t much time for that right now. Here’s what you need to know. Victor and nearly everyone else here are vampires. They’re part of an organization called the Syndicate. It’s very old, very powerful, and everyone in it has a lot of money and influence. They have people in positions of power in governments and thousands of industries. They even rule whole countries, in some places in the world.”
The Vampire's Heir Page 5
