by Tamsin Baker
Nic’s smooth, host demeanor hadn’t faltered, but the antsy behavior of the man in the tux suggested something urgent demanded his attention. I leaned back against the bar and sipped the remains of my cocktail. Already my head spun. Veronica sat not far away, draped over a blond man who nibbled against her neck. She’d lost the fur stole and her bronzed shoulders shimmered under the lamplight. As I watched like a voyeur, he stood and lifted her in an easy, flowing movement. He carried her to the far end of the room and they disappeared behind blood-red velvet drapes. She was eighteen, I reminded myself. An adult and able to make her own decisions. But did she have all the facts or the maturity?
Imogen told me that she feared the situation could spiral out of control. That she mostly trusted the Graviers, but she didn’t trust the vampires who started and settled in proliferating nests. I should have Googled the heck out of it after our coffee and chat. I guess I’d yet to process and accept the whole vampire thing.
“Ms. Thompson.” Someone tapped my arm.
I spun to face her. “Faith. What are you doing here? I got the impression—”
“That Cindy and I weren’t invited?”
“Well, yes.”
Faith folded her arms across her chest. “Veronica only thinks she knows everything.”
Like Imogen, perhaps.
Faith called Cindy over and the girls stood on either side of me.
“I love your dress. Did you rent your costume?” Cindy lightly touched the elaborate sequined hem of my dress.
“No, it’s mine. I got it at a vintage shop for a party in a speakeasy in San Francisco. How about you?”
“We rented our dresses from the costume shop in Portland.” Faith laughed and twirled in her layered dress. The movement set the fringes swirling. Her eyes shone, her long, fine, hair draped over her shoulders like a black, silk cape. It gave me pleasure to see her having fun.
I couldn’t help glancing back at the drapes. I hadn’t noticed Veronica or her consort reappearing.
“Looking for Veronica?” Faith followed my gaze.
“Well, yes. I know she’s over eighteen, but—”
“She’s not particularly mature.” Cindy giggled.
Faith leaned in, as if to whisper a secret. “And she makes bad decisions.”
“Especially about men.” Cindy hid her response behind her hand.
The bartender pushed another three cocktails towards us. “A Negroni for yourself ma’am, and Nogronis for the young ladies.”
“Say what?” Faith accepted the glass and gave it a small sniff.
“Non-alcoholic Negronis.” Sam flicked his tea towel over his shoulder. “Taste delicious so I’m told.”
“Not from your own experience?”
“Long time since I’ve been younger than twenty-one.” Sam winked at us.
“My goodness this is bitter.” Cindy wiped her mouth after taking a gulp of the cocktail.
“Maybe it’s not for gulping.” Faith took a smaller sip. “It is delicious, Sam.”
I’d love to sample a Nogroni one day, but not with so many questions in my head. Time to refocus on the curtain Veronica had disappeared behind. “What is behind the curtain?”
Faith and Cindy glanced at one another then back to the curtain. I sipped again while waiting for one of the girls to respond.
“It’s for people to be private,” Faith answered. Her cheeks flushed so red I could see it clearly in the dim light even though she lowered her gaze.
I pushed on, regardless of the girls’ growing discomfort. “Private to do what?” For sex or a drink of fresh warm blood, perhaps. Or both. Or something else. I started imaging the deprivations the girls could suffer at the hands of a hungry lustful vampire. And the boys, as well. Jake was most likely here for a female vamp, not one of his classmates he could hang out with any time.
Both girls shrugged, their stares fixed on the floor. Faith fidgeted with the fringe on her dress until sweat from her palm stuck the strands together.
“I’m not judging you, but this is important.” I touched her hand and she flinched away. But she lifted her face to look at me. “Have either of you been to a private room?”
Cindy took Faith’s hand. “It’s not what you are thinking. They pay fifty dollars a visit and it doesn’t hurt. In fact, it’s the best feeling you will ever have.” Her eyes lit up, but whether it was at a memory or in anticipation of what was to come was impossible to tell, and I’d pushed them enough.
“Thank you for sharing that with me. One last thing—were you pressured in any way?”
They both shook their heads rapidly and I let out a breath. Thank goodness for that. I desperately did not want Nic to be the fiend Ben thought he was.
Perhaps I could get inside myself.
Nic might tell me if I asked. I glanced across the space, but couldn’t spot him anywhere. Imogen seemed concerned about random vampires in nests rather than the Graviers, but she made a point of mentioning these parties to me. Made a point of the girls in my class who attended. Maybe Jake attending didn’t worry her, if she knew.
The alcohol in the cocktails must have switched off my normally cautious nature. Instead of waiting for Nic to return, I found my curiosity too aroused to sit still. I excused myself from the girls, grabbed my clutch purse and crossed the floor to the drapes.
No one stopped me from crossing the room. I wove my way between couples on the dance floor until I reached the drapes. The soft velvet tickled the backs of my hands as I reached behind them to find an entryway to wherever Veronica had disappeared.
A commotion broke out behind me. Strong hands pulled me away from the drapes.
“Ms. Thompson.” Gaspard pushed me behind him.
A tall, dark-haired man strode through the dancing couples carrying an unconscious young woman in his arms. I didn’t recognize her, but she looked to be around senior year age.
“What happened? I know first aid and CPR.” I tried to push my way around Gaspard.
“We have it covered, ma’am.” He had the bored official monotone perfected and was broad enough to effectively block my attempt.
I ducked under his arm. Not fast enough to get past, but I didn’t miss the drops of blood on the floor, or the fact that they came from a rip in her neck.
Chapter Eight
Gaspard held the curtain to one side, another man—also in security, by the look of his broad shoulders and military posture—pushed a panel on the wall and a door slid open. I saw my chance and took it without a second thought. I ignored Gaspard’s shout and dived through the opening as the door slid shut behind me. It took a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim, reddish light. A long corridor stretched in front of me. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but it was as quiet as a morgue. There was no sight or sound of the man or the unconscious girl. I crept along the wall, and every so often I came to a locked, recessed door. I’d counted five doors when one knob turned in my hand.
I pushed the door open and closed it behind me, painfully slowly so as not to make a sound. A murmur of voices came from the other side of an ornate screen that separated a small entry area from the rest of the room. I tiptoed across the floor, carpeted, thank the heavens, reached the screen and peered around the side.
The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen in my life glanced at me. “You may as well come in, Louisa. It is Louisa, isn’t it?”
I nodded, though I couldn’t help lifting my brow. “And you are?”
She held out a dainty white hand. “Emilde Gravier.” She circled her arm to where the injured young women lay on a hospital bed, quite still while blood dripped into her arm via an intravenous transfusion. Damn they’d got the girl hooked up to a drip in record time.
“She’s okay?” I hated how tentative I sounded.
“She will be. She is sedated now, and will leave feeling better than before.” Emilde’s tone held a stronger accent than Nic, reeking of culture and entitlement. Her smile did not reach her eyes. In fa
ct, it barely touched her mouth.
I didn’t get to ask any more questions. A hand covered my mouth and I was lifted from the floor.
“You shouldn’t be back here, Ms. Thompson.” Gaspard’s voice.
“Please see her out, Gaspard.” Emilde turned her back to me.
I kicked at his shins with my heels but he barely slowed his stride. He easily managed the door one-handed and loped to the end of the corridor where we arrived at an elevator. He pushed the button with his elbow, the doors swished open, he carried me inside and the lift started moving up. Blinking and wriggling in the bright light, I scored a direct hit on his kneecap and he dropped his hand from my mouth.
“Put me down!” I yelled.
“Sweet Betsy.” He rubbed at his knee. “What did you do that for?”
“You kidnapped me.”
“I am removing you from a private area you had no right being in. That’s my job.”
“Where is the injured woman? I want to see her.”
“You saw her. She’s being looked after. It’s no concern of yours.”
The elevator stopped and Gaspard pointed a fat finger at me. “Go home, go to bed and read a book.”
“Don’t tell me—”
He picked up my purse from where it had fallen, slapped it into my stomach and nudged me outside. The gun clunked against my phone and the door closed silently behind me. Some vampire hunter I was. I hadn’t even thought to use the gun. And how was I supposed to tell which of Nic’s friends were undead? And which of them were rogue sleaze-ball leeches? No way I wanted to get close enough to see their eyes turn amber and fangs descend. I shivered in the cold air. A vintage flapper’s dress was no match for after dark in an Oregon autumn.
Thank the heavens I’d parked under good lighting. I tried to bring my breathing back under control as I paced to my car. Halfway across the parking lot I jolted to a stop. I needed to hang on to my vampire hunter card. I had questions for Nic Gravier, and I would get answers. I turned and stomped around the house to the front door instead. The lighting barely reached the path, but anger quelled any fear. A gorgeous calico cat crept around the perimeter. He gave me a head-bump and I petted his head. Cats and I had always made friends easily.
The hair on the back of my neck lifted before I made it to the steps. I spun and scanned the area as a prickling sensation covered my scalp. A tall blond man, his hands in his trouser pockets, pulled away from the wall. The cat let out a long hiss and scampered away. The man sauntered closer.
Too close.
His eyes glinted and flared a deep amber, almost blood red. “Aren’t you a pretty little thing.”
I took a step back.
His handsome face broke into a charismatic smile. “Are you afraid?”
“Yes.” I saw no reason to lie. In spite of the smile, this guy radiated a serious off vibe. “Who are you?”
“You don’t need to know my name.” He let out a brittle, forced laugh as he circled closer. “But what the hell. Seeing as you asked so nicely, I’m Adrian Broadman.”
“Louisa.” Maybe I could keep him talking until help arrived.
“Enjoy your fear, my sweet. I have fed. But I fancy desert.” He widened his smile and revealed sharp white fangs. Fangs that suggested conversation wasn’t his immediate priority.
My heartbeat thrashed in my ears. Ben had shown me how fast I could move, and I was impressed at the speed and skills I hadn’t known I had. But I knew there was no point in trying to outrun a vampire. Prey panicked and ran, and prey got eaten. So nope, no panicking happening here. No point in waiting for help to arrive, either.
I unclasped the clutch bag, slowly withdrew the pistol and flicked the safety off. “Do you get off on scaring pretty little things?”
“Fear is as delicious as lust, don’t you think?” Adrian watched me with an amused grin. “You will need a steady hand to damage my head enough to stop me.”
A steady hand and some target practice. He didn’t know this was my first time face to face with a renegade vamp rather than a target. I forced myself to breathe deep, slow breaths. Ben had taught me to take advantage of my increased sensitivity to monitor every change in the situation and to watch for tells. Adrian adjusted his posture a fraction, a sure tell. He came at me but I’d already leveled my gun at his chest and pulled the trigger. The recoil only set me back a step, but the sound left my ears ringing.
He staggered back, clutching his shoulder. Blood seeped through his fingers. “That hurts.” He let out a slow groan. “Damn it, woman, where did you get pure silver bullets for your toy weapon?”
Good question, as I’d no idea where to buy more. The only thought that screamed in my head was whether to try and kill him, or run to the house as fast as I could. I needed more than a few vampire hunter lessons, I needed the confidence to take a head shot too. Ben said that all except very old vampires died with a silver bullet in the heart or brain.
Adrian leaned forward, hands on his knees, more clumsily human than elegantly vampirish in that moment. He wiped his forehead, as if trying to collect himself. I couldn’t feel anything for him. He was still a vampire who intended to drink my blood by force, no matter how human he looked.
“Stay back or I’ll shoot again.” Still aiming the gun at his chest, I edged toward the front door. My voice sounded so steady I barely recognized myself.
Adrian stood, and this time he was on me so fast I had no time to use the gun. He twisted my arm, and I screamed as bone crunched in my wrist and my purse and the gun clattered to the walkway.
Suddenly he was behind me, holding my arms behind me, his chest pressed into my back and he squeezed me in a vise-like grip in front of him. His cold lips touched my collarbone. Breathing was hard. I kicked back and connected with soft tissue. Adrian grunted but didn’t move or loosen his grip.
“I had planned on just a small drink. But you have to pay for shooting me.”
I kicked back again. He laughed and scrunched my broken wrist even harder.
Pain shot throughout my arm and I couldn’t help whimpering.
“I’m doing you a favor. Time to learn your place.” Adrian grazed his cold lips across the hollow in my neck, the touch horrifyingly intimate. “Delicious.” He groaned and licked at my skin. “Fresh dhampir blood in such an appealing package. I’ve hit the jackpot tonight.”
My fear ratcheted up a notch. No one told me vampires found my blood irresistible.
I struggled ineffectively. Somehow, I found my voice. “What are you talking about?”
He made a sound halfway between a laugh and a growl. “We both know it. You can’t deny your blood.”
Adrian grazed his teeth, sharp as dagger points, across my neck and I kicked like a wild thing.
“We could have made this pleasant.” He twisted my head to the side and down to expose more of my neck. “Remember, you have chosen this way.” Twin blades grazed and scratched before plunging through my skin. A trail of blood dripped down the front of my dress. It hurt like a bitch and I came close to fainting. But the real agony came when he moved his lips around the wounds and he started sucking out my blood.
After a couple of deep pulls that sent agony spiraling to my toes, Adrian groaned like a gastronome at a degustation dinner. He loosened his grip around my torso. Adrenalin spurred me to fight for my life. I freed my uninjured hand and jabbed fingers into both his eyes. With a roar, he pulled back, I elbowed him in the gut and dove for the gun. He jumped me in a flash, but I twisted and slammed my good fist into the silver-encrusted wound in his shoulder. My hand slipped on the gun barrel, but we were so close I couldn’t miss. The recoil rammed the small gun into my chest as the bullet shot out through the vampire’s back. I was going to have one hell of a bruise on my sternum.
He struggled to his elbows, but couldn’t hold himself up and dropped his weight back on to me. I tried to wriggle out from under him but he grabbed my hair and held me in place. Shouts, screams and footsteps neared. I had to get away befor
e another vampire charged to help his colleague. As I wrenched myself away, the strands of hair wrapped around the vampire’s hand yanked from my head. I kneed and kicked, hoping to catch the man in the groin. If I could get him off me, I’d kick him again and again until his balls turned black and blue.
Suddenly the weight of the vampire lifted.
It took me a few seconds to reconcile the images in my head with the one in front of me. Nic held Adrian Broadman, his hands tight around Adrian’s throat. He shook him so hard his feet swung around in wild circles. Nic shouted something into the vampire’s face, grabbed his head and wrenched it from his body.
“Thanks for that.”
Emilde’s voice. I’d know her cool tones anywhere. She kneeled beside me, pulled a dainty handkerchief from a hidden pocket in her long skirt and wiped spots of blood from her face.
Nic squatted on the opposite side. “Could have been worse. At least our kind has little blood.”
“Speaking of which, she’s lost too much.” Emilde tugged my dress away from the wound and tutted. “I’ll get the door.”
She sped to the front of the house. I struggled to sit, but waves of dizziness blighted every attempt.
“Easy.” Nic lifted me gently into his arms.
At any other time, I would have welcomed the contact. But his cool, clammy skin reminded me too much of the man who’d attacked me. I wriggled and pain burned. I whimpered like a silly damsel in distress and hated myself for it.
“The pain will ease soon, I promise.” Nic carried me through the front foyer, up a wide staircase and onto the second-floor landing.
Emilde stood just outside a wide-open door. Nic rushed past her and lowered me to a sheet spread across the floor. I must have blacked out for a few moments, because when I came to, he cradled my head on his knees as he brushed hair from my eyes and lips. He dragged his thumbnail across his wrist and held it to my mouth.
