by Rachel Caine
Nice? I almost dropped the laundry detergent on my toes, which wouldn’t have been as much of an owie as you might think, since my boots are steel-toed. “How’d you run into her?”
“She visited Myrnin.”
That was strange, because Amelie was really damn serious that nobody, but nobody, visited Myrnin; those of us who knew Claire’s boss at all had sworn under pain of actual, bloody death not to talk about him, ever, to anybody not in the know. Gloriana just strolling into the equivalent of a highly secure facility seemed . . . unlikely.
Except that I’d met her, too. Gloriana seemed like she could charm her way into Fort Knox, and the guards would stand in line to help her carry out the gold. “How’d they get along?” I asked.
“Oh, he was all suave,” Claire said, and nearly giggled. “He actually ran off and got dressed up for her. It was cute. Well, I can understand why. She’s pretty . . . pretty. They know each other, from olden times. Maybe he dated her once.”
“Maybe,” I said. Weirder things had happened. “So, you liked her?”
Claire turned her head and looked at me; she’d gotten her shoulder-length hair cut again, shorter, but it was messy from the wind outside. Still cute, though. Her big, brown eyes were way too smart for either of our good. “You didn’t?”
I hadn’t told her about Gloriana’s visit to the house. I wasn’t sure why; I usually come right out with my latest drama, but this had felt . . . more dire than usual. And really personal. Now I just shook my head and focused on adding detergent in the right amounts for the colored clothes. Although I was tempted to bleach the hell out of Michael’s stuff. “You ever have that happen where you meet someone and just—clash? We were like a gravel and cream sandwich.”
“That is the weirdest thing you’ve ever said. I suppose you were the cream?”
“Of course I was the cream. Sha.”
Trust Claire to not get distracted. “Something happened with her and Michael,” she said. Wow. Zero to correct in one-point-nothing second. “Right?”
“Do you really think I’m that shallow that—okay, yes. She came over here. I found the two of them together.”
Her eyes widened, and she slipped down off the dryer. “Seriously, together? Like—”
“No, not like. Tea in the parlor, or the vampy equivalent. You know. Sitting, talking.” I frowned. “But it was way too nice. And besides, here, he’s mine. You know?”
Claire nodded, not that it made the least bit of sense. She’s a good friend. “Did you talk to him about it?”
“Oh, sure. Nothing happened, yada yada. The usual. But my maydar went off like crazy.”
“Maydar?”
“As in, he may be thinking about superhot sex with her. Like radar, only not as sure.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “Did you ask?”
“Yes,” I said. “I asked.”
“And?”
“And he took me to bed.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” I frowned unhappily down at the clothes, slammed the lid, and turned on the washer. “Oh. Exactly.”
“Exactly what?”
That was Michael, standing at the top of the basement steps. Claire and I did the guilty dance. She dropped her book, and hurriedly picked it up. “Nothing,” I blurted. My cheeks felt warm, and I was glad I was in shadow until I remembered, duh, vampire eyes. “Girl talk.”
He nodded, looking at me with a little sadness in his gaze, I thought. “Just wanted to remind you that we’re out of milk again. And hot sauce.”
“Why are those two always out at the same time? Because those do not go together.”
“I suspect Shane. He’d put hot sauce in anything,” Michael said.
“Ugh,” Claire sighed. “So true.” Michael didn’t leave, and after a second, Claire cleared her throat, closed up her book, and said, “Yeah, I’ve got something to do. Upstairs. Away from here.”
He stepped aside to let her out, then closed the door behind her and settled down on the steps. I had wet whites to put in the dryer, so I busied myself with that, making extra sure that everything was untangled, that the dryer sheet was in, that the timer was just so.
Michael waited patiently for me to get the fidgeting done before he said, “If you don’t want to go to the party, just say so.”
“Of course I want to go. It’s a big swanky dress-up party. How often do I get to go to those, in Morganville? I mean, some of these vampires own their own tuxes, even.”
“Eve.” His voice was gentle, and very kind. “I mean it. If you don’t want to go, we won’t go.”
“I can’t avoid her forever. It’s too small a town.”
He couldn’t argue with that, and didn’t try. “That doesn’t mean you have to go to her welcome party. And if you want, I’ll dress up and take you out somewhere nice.”
“Nice being a relative term around here,” I said, but secretly, the idea that he was willing to put on a suit and take me to the all-night diner made me smile. “Thanks, sweetie. But maybe I should just suck it up and go. What could happen?”
“Oh, plenty,” he said cheerfully enough. And he was right. The two of us had rarely been to a party that hadn’t ended in some kind of disaster, whether it was the senior prom, where Chuck (aptly named) Joris had vomited in the punch bowl, or the EEK fraternity party, which had ended in a vampire attack. And let’s not even mention Mr. Evil Vampire Bishop’s big welcome party, which had been a truckload of trouble.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, and glared at the clothes tumbling on high heat. “I’ll play nice as long as she does.”
I turned around. Michael had come down the stairs and crossed the distance between us, noiseless as the air, and I melted into his arms with a sense of real relief.
He kissed the top of my head. “That’s my lady.”
I really hoped he meant that.
• • •
I woke up the next day expecting—oh, I don’t know, doom, disaster, and apocalypse; weirder things had happened in this town. But things seemed normal enough, even after I left the house and headed off to the day job. The one not-so-great thing that happened was that when I got to Common Grounds, guess who was there.
Gloriana. Deep in conversation with about a half-dozen admirers. She’d picked one of the tables in the darker section of the room, far away from the blazing sunlight, and at first I thought all her new groupies were vamps, but no, some of them were definitely still rocking a pulse. A couple of them were college boys, complete with the ubiquitous backpacks. I was pretty sure one of them was Monica Morrell’s future ex-boyfriend, what’s-his-name, the football player. Oooh, the fur would fly if Monica dropped in and saw her current squeeze crushing on the New Girl.
I was kind of hoping for that, but no such luck. Gloriana hung out for hours, laughing and talking, ordering regular rounds of whatever.
When she finally left, I saw Oliver watching her with a troubled look on his face. “Boss?” I asked. “Something wrong?”
“No,” he said. “No, I don’t think so. Not yet, at any rate.”
No matter how much extra effort I put into customer service, he wouldn’t elaborate, and that bothered me because (a) Oliver was pretty free with his criticisms for the most part, and (b) it wasn’t like him to look worried. Ever.
No apocalypse had been declared by the end of my shift, though.
I supposed that qualified as a win.
• • •
Gloriana’s party was fabulous, from the raised-ink invitations on paper so soft and thick it felt like skin (but wasn’t, thankfully) to the uniformed vampire doormen on duty at the party building, to the china and crystal and candles on the round banquet tables inside. The vampires had turned out in force; I guess they didn’t get much chance to party like it was 1499, either. I was wearing a slinky black velvet dress, with a train that tr
ailed behind me like a fan. It was cut low in the back to show off the rose tattoo I had there, and although I didn’t have any really good jewelry, I’d bummed some pretty good costume stuff off people I knew. I looked fab.
Although in the company of vampires, I looked like . . . lunch. But if there was one thing I knew about Morganville, it was that your risk of being lunch was pretty much the same whether you were dressed like a movie star or dressed like a bag lady. Better to go out in style, if you had to go.
For all that, if Michael hadn’t been on my arm, the looks I got coming into the ballroom might have made me turn around and run.
Luckily, Michael stayed steady and whispered, “Easy. They’re not going to hurt us.” It was the us that did it—the fact that we were a unit, and he didn’t even try to think about it any other way. I took a deep breath, put on a brave smile, and raised my chin. That put my veins on display, but whatever.
Michael was wearing a nice black suit and a tie that wasn’t quite conventional, in this crowd, but he didn’t give a damn. Anyway, it was a music tie. They could munch ass if they didn’t approve.
There was a line of vampires to meet; some I already knew, and some I didn’t. I took my cue from Michael about how respectful to be, but not because I felt particularly humble; many of these old-school vamps took offense easily. When I got to Amelie and Oliver, I breathed a sigh of relief. They might take offense, but I knew what I could get away with.
I shook Amelie’s hand firmly. She was wearing white gloves, and I was pretty sure the diamonds around her wrists were real. The gown was ice blue and really beautiful, and probably made by some famous designer I’d never heard about. Oliver was in a tuxedo, with tails. Damn, he James Bonded up really well. He bent over my hand, just a little—more of a suggestion of a hand kiss than anything else.
And then there was Gloriana, in a deep, vivid red gown, laughing and flirting with a whole circle of male admirers, both vamp and human. I saw Richard Morrell, the mayor, right in there, while his sister, Monica, stood off to the side, looking very unhappy. She was used to being the belle of the ball, and she’d certainly dressed for it, but whatever she was wearing, it looked like a knockoff rag next to Gloriana’s dress, and she knew it. She also was alone, which was very unusual indeed. Even at a vampire party, she would have expected to draw some male attention, but there was a brand-new queen bee in town.
I felt Michael slowing as we passed Gloriana’s group, as if he was reluctant to miss the opportunity, but he kept going. We went to the punch table, which featured two kinds—with plasma and without. He poured mine first. When I looked over at him, his face looked paler than normal, and the pupils of his eyes had gone wide, even in the relatively bright light.
“What?” I asked him.
“Nothing.”
Shane squired Claire over to join us, already scanning the edible snacks with the eye of a kid who’d grown up snatching food where he could. He grabbed a plate and filled it until Claire slapped his hand. “You’re not starving,” she said. “Come on.”
“It’s been a long time since lunch,” Shane said. “So, yeah, I am, Slappy Girl. Do you want one of these or not?” He held up a carrot stick. When she nodded, he fed it to her. Awww. So cute. “All right, you are now a party to the overindulgence. Quiet.”
Claire, bless her, had somehow blackmailed Shane into donning a suit jacket, at least, although the pants looked suspiciously like dark jeans. At least he’d left the tuxedo T-shirt at home. The vamps wouldn’t have been amused. He was even wearing a tie, though it featured Bettie Page in a lot of provocative poses. I hoped Oliver hadn’t noticed.
“Did you see Gloriana?” Claire asked her boyfriend. Shane—big, scruffy Shane, who was cute in a totally different way from Michael, but really, just about as sweet—looked down at her and cocked one eyebrow.
“Am I alive?” he asked, and put his hand over his heart. “Yep, I noticed her. Oh, sorry, Mikey. No offense to the unalive.”
Michael would normally have flipped him off—best-friends love—but he just gave Shane a look. Not his normal look, either. “Watch yourself with her,” Michael said. “There’s something . . . not right about her.”
“Dude, she looks very right.” Shane lost his humor, and started to frown. “Are you okay?”
“I can feel . . .” Michael shut his eyes tightly. “I can feel her from here. It’s like a . . . call. A pull.”
His hand was tight on mine, so tight it was painful, and I gave a little squeak of pain. When his eyes opened, they were crimson, and his pupils had shrunk down to small pinpoints.
I turned and looked. Gloriana was standing up. The men crowding around her were backing off, making . . . an exit. She smiled at them and glided out, hardly seeming to touch the floor as she went.
She headed straight for us.
For Michael.
She was wearing red gloves, and her diamonds, just like Amelie’s, were real. Her smile was brighter than the glitter of the jewels. “Michael,” she said, and took his hands in hers. He dropped mine so fast it was as if he’d forgotten I was there, and leaned in. She air-kissed him on both cheeks. He didn’t pull back very far, and she didn’t let go of his hands. “So glad you came to my party. It wouldn’t have been a welcome without you, mon cher.” She did let go then, but only to reach up and touch his eyelids to close them. “You’re going too far. Control. You must learn control.”
He was shuddering very slightly, but when she stepped back, he opened his eyes, and the red was almost gone. Almost. “Thanks,” he said. His voice sounded rough in his throat. “Have you met my friends? You remember Eve. . . .”
Somehow, having my name follow the word “friends” didn’t make me feel any better at all. I didn’t say anything. Neither did Gloriana, who just nodded very slightly. I couldn’t tell what she felt about me, if she felt anything at all.
“And this is Claire—”
“Yes, we’ve met,” Gloriana said. Her voice was warm and very sweet. “How is dear Myrnin? I thought he would be here tonight.”
“He doesn’t do parties, mostly,” Claire said. She seemed kind of charmed by Gloriana’s make-nice attitude, which was surprising; Claire was usually more levelheaded than that. “Well, neither do I, really. Oh, this is Shane, by the way. My boyfriend.”
“Charming,” Gloriana said, and extended her hand to him, knuckles up. Shane, who looked just about as overcome as every other guy in the room, took it and shook vigorously. Gloriana looked, just for a moment, taken aback; then she smiled, again. “Very direct, I see.”
“I’m not subtle,” Shane agreed. “You’re very pretty.”
Claire dug her elbow into his side. He didn’t seem to notice. Gloriana’s smile grew wider. “Yes,” she said. “I’m afraid I am. It’s a bit of a curse, sometimes.” She turned back to Michael, who was still treating me like a nonperson, and held out her fingers. “Perhaps you’ll save me from this sea of admirers,” she said, “and escort me to the dance floor.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it, because without a glance at me, Michael walked her past me, out to the open area of the ballroom, and the musicians struck up some kind of a waltz. And that wasn’t Michael. It just . . . wasn’t.
She was doing this to him.
As I looked around, I saw it on the faces of the guys who’d been hovering around her earlier—a kind of lost longing, as if she were the only girl in the world. I even saw it on the faces of guys I would have sworn knew better, like Richard Morrell.
It was creepy, to the power of actively sinister.
Claire put her arm around me. “Hey,” she said softly. “Are you okay?”
I was, surprisingly. “That bitch is going down,” I said. “She is not taking my boyfriend for a party favor.”
“Chill—she’s just dancing with him,” Shane said. He was watching Gloriana with that same eerie, distracted concen
tration, and now Claire noticed it, too, with appropriate levels of alarm.
“No, she’s not,” Claire said, and smacked his arm. “Hey!”
“Oh, sorry,” Shane said, and then looked around. “Right. Michael, not a party favor—how exactly are we going to accomplish that? Because she’s wearing him like a paper hat right now.”
I marched right over to the receiving line, grabbed Oliver’s hand, and said, “Dance with me.”
He gave me a long, odd look, exchanged a glance with Amelie, who seemed amused, and finally said, “If you insist.”
“I do,” I said. “Come on.”
In my high heels, I was almost a match for Oliver in height. The last thing I wanted to be doing was clutching his undead body and twirling around on the dance floor, but I needed to keep Gloriana in sight, and I needed information. Oliver was a two-in-one.
And surprisingly, my vampire boss could dance. Like, reality-show-winning dancing. He whirled me around like an expert, and all I needed to do was pay attention and relax. That was a lot more fun than it should have been.
“Now,” he said, about a minute or so into the ballroom display, “what exactly do you want from me?”
“Gloriana,” I said, a little breathlessly. “I need to know what her deal is. Now.”
Oliver glanced over at Gloriana, who was clinging to my boyfriend like red moss on a tree. Michael looked dazed. She looked delighted. “Ah,” he said. “Gloriana doesn’t like to be alone. I think she’s decided that Michael is her newest accessory.”
“He didn’t want to go,” I said. “She did something to him. I saw it. Some kind of—vampire superpower.”
“Glamour,” he said. “Most vampires have it, to some extent, though we rarely bother to use it. Gloriana is one of the few that has it in strength, and can use it on her own kind.”
“Not cool.”
“Not illegal,” he corrected. “She’ll tire of him soon enough, in a year or two. My advice is to let her have him, rather than risk becoming her enemy. He’ll come back to you. Perhaps a bit worse for wear, but—”
