I wasn’t entirely certain if I planned to run toward Reese, or away from him.
“Hey, Cami? I think you need to come see this,” Reese called from the front gallery.
I only made it a few feet into the showroom before I froze. I’d been right. Bats, blindly beating their tiny wings against the windows. Hundreds and hundreds of bats.
“Damn,” I breathed.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Reese said. We both stared at the windows, transfixed by the sight.
“Reese? Whatever you do, don’t think about turning into a wolf.”
“Hadn’t planned on it.” His voice was wry.
“Think you can get rid of them?” I asked.
“I don’t know. But I’m certainly going to try.” He closed his eyes for a moment. The bats slowly stopped beating their wings, and began clutching the tops of the windows and hanging upside down.
“They’re not gone,” I said.
“I know that. Hush. I’m trying to concentrate.”
I had to work pretty hard not to keep narrating. But I bit my tongue—figuratively this time, as it was still a bit sore from the piercing it had gotten earlier. And after a few moments of silence, the bats slowly began drifting away from the window, back, I presumed, to their normal little batty lives.
“They’re gone,” I finally whispered.
Reese opened his eyes. “Okay,” he said. “That was weird.”
“Thank you, Mr. Understatement.”
“You know what?” Reese said. “I think that’s about all the experimentation I’m up for tonight.” His voice sounded strained. He went back to his office and sat down on a sofa. I followed him.
“So.” I let the word stretch out as I folded myself into the chair across from him. “What are we going to do?”
“To be honest, sugar, I didn’t know these kinds of things existed. I didn’t think it was possible for a vampire to call bats. Or for a human to Claim a vampire.”
“Well, clearly you were wrong.” I shook my head and sighed. “Isn’t there some sort of, I don’t know, vampire divorce for these kinds of things?”
“Is it really all that bad?” Reese said. “I mean, look at how you dealt with Dahlia. That kind of strength might come in handy in a fight.”
“Reese, I don’t marry vampires. I kill them.”
And have sex with one of them, apparently, but I’m not going to bring that up right now.
“We’re not married,” he said.
“No? If being tied together for the rest of our lives—well, my life, anyway—isn’t exactly like the worst marriage ever, then I don’t know what is.”
He closed his eyes again. “I don’t know, Cami. I don’t have any answers right now.”
My shoulders slumped. I had really been hoping that Reese would have something slick to say. I’d held on to the hope during the whole drive back to his place, even as I knew deep in my heart that this was all new to him too.
“So what now?” I asked softly. “Do we simply move ahead? Does this Claiming business change anything?”
“I think maybe it changes everything,” Reese said.
“This is different from your other Claimings?” I tried to stay calm and reasonable, even managing to keep my tone even, but sheer terror was clawing its way up my throat.
“It is.” Opening his eyes, he stared at me intently. “But I don’t think you need to be afraid of it.”
“You just called a whole colony of bats to your front window by thinking about it. I’m all kinds of afraid.”
“I mean about Halloween. Does this change our strategy?”
“Oh. That. Not really. Not unless you think of some way to use this.”
I didn’t say it aloud, but I knew that I would be doing my best to avoid thinking of this whole Claiming thing at all.
I took a deep breath. “Okay, then. Day after tomorrow is the Halloween ball. You’ll come pick me up?”
He nodded.
“Good. I’m going home now.”
“I’ll take you,” Reese said.
“No, thanks.” I pulled out my cell phone. “I think I’ll call a cab tonight.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I’ll see you on Halloween, okay?” I needed the time until then to get ready—and maybe come to terms with the fact that I was connected, perhaps permanently, to a vampire.
Reese nodded. “Okay. Good night, Cami.”
“Good night, Reese.” We both stood there awkwardly for a moment, but then I unlocked the front door and left.
I could still feel him watching me as I got into the cab.
As the car pulled away from the curb, I watched a solitary bat swooping back and forth across the gallery display window.
Chapter 23
I woke the next morning thinking of the question of how we were going to use our newfound power to our advantage—just exactly as I had said I wouldn’t.
I considered possible answers to that question all day long.
A phone conference with Iverson and Captain James solidified our strategy, including the SWAT team’s role.
Plans in place, I shopped for my perfect ball gown. I was discovering that it really wasn’t that easy to describe to salespeople what I was looking for. “A dress with a nice big skirt to hide my gun, some shoes to hide stakes in, and a good spot for a really sharp knife” doesn’t inspire trust, somehow.
I did finally find it, though. I love Dallas—you can find everything here if you’re willing to look long enough. In a tiny bridal boutique, I found a stunning dress. It had a full, blood-red skirt, perfect for hiding small weapons, and a tight black bodice with simple straps.
“Do you do alterations?” I asked the flamboyantly gay man who had been helping me. “And can you get them done by tomorrow afternoon?”
“Of course, darling, for the right price. What do you want done?”
Hmm. How to put this?
“I need some…loops added. To hold things.”
He nodded. “Of course. You bring everything in and we’ll take care of it for you.”
“Actually, I’ve got some right here.” I dug around in my purse and found two stakes of different length. “I want a loop for this one inside here,” I said, slipping the stake under the skirt. The salesman’s eyes widened, but he nodded.
“No problem,” he said.
“And I want spots for these here, here, and here.” I flipped the stakes from spot to spot, demonstrating which ones I thought might fit inside the folds of the dress. “Whatever will look most natural.”
“Of course. We can have the dress by closing.”
Wow, that was easy. Of course, it should have been easy for what I paid for the dress. The least they could do was alter it a little. And not ask any questions.
I left the two stakes with the salesman so their seamstress could size the loops, and went hunting for shoes next. I carried with me a tiny swatch of the dress’s fabric cut from an inside seam. I finally found a matching sandal much like the one Reese had bought for me: medium heel, with a satin ankle wrap I could use to strap more stakes to my ankle. Nothing like a flirty shoe with a hidden stake to make a girl feel like a princess. I also found a matching satin wrap and sequin-encrusted purse. I was ready for my big night.
If only it were that easy to prepare myself mentally.
Chapter 24
Halloween morning dawned bright and cool. I woke at sunrise, too wired to sleep any longer, despite the fact that I’d had a difficult time sleeping all night.
My dress and accessories hung from my closet door—my apartment looked like a high school girl’s room right before prom. The dress was fitted with all the stakes it could hold—a surprising number. The seamstress at the dress shop had done an amazing job of hiding stakes everywhere the dress folded or bunched, including several in the hem. If I hadn’t known better, I would have said she’d sewn weapons into dresses before.
At any rate, I’d gotten her card after I’d seen the amaz
ing work she did. If I survived the night, I would be requesting her services again.
The purse and the wrap hung in plastic beside the dress.
If I concentrated, I could still tell where—and how—he was, more or less.
To the south, not awake.
I tried not to concentrate on it, because it creeped me out.
I looked out my window, enjoying the feel of the late-fall sun on my face. That’s when I noticed the package on the outside sill, wrapped in dark red paper. A light coat of dew had settled on it, darkening the bow and making it droop. An envelope was taped to the box. I opened the window and carefully removed the card, trying not to disturb the box. I’d hate to get blown up by a bomb.
The envelope had a card inside, dark red to match the wrapping paper. Inside the card, it read: Did I mention this is a masquerade? See you at ten. —R
Reese must have left it while I was sleeping.
Did that mean that he could tell when I was sleeping, just as I could tell when he was?
I pulled the gift into my room and opened it. Inside was a mask, reminiscent of the Mardi Gras masks I’d seen on visits to New Orleans, designed to fit over the eyes and the bridge of the nose. All across the mask swirled delicate whorls of dark red lace.
It matched my dress perfectly.
Of course.
It occurred to me that in order to know what color my dress was, Reese must have been spying on me, but I pushed the thought away. It was quickly followed by the realization that he might have been spying on me through my own eyes, seeing the dress through me, as I had seen the crowds in the blood house through him.
That thought wasn’t as easily banished as the first.
Under the mask sat two hair clips, painted to match the mask. And connected to each clip was a small wooden stake, designed, when the clip was attached, to be hidden in the wearer’s hair.
I smiled and set the mask and clips gently down on the dresser.
I spent most of the day getting ready for the ball as if it were a regular party. I got a manicure and pedicure at the tiny salon around the corner. Then I went to Rosie two shops down to get my hair put up. She’d been recommended by one of the SMU sorority girls who lived in my building—I’d asked when we’d been in the laundry room the day before. I assumed anyone who wore T-shirts emblazoned with ZTA would know where to get a good up-do.
So by 9:45 that night, I was ready. I looked good too. Much better than any woman set on killing a bunch of vampires has any right to. The fitted top of the dress pulled in my waist like a corset, pushing my breasts up and making me look much curvier than I actually was. The pinprick marks from Reese’s teeth were almost gone, leaving only a hint of a dark shadow—no one would notice the marks unless he or she were looking for them.
Of course, at a vampire party, people might be looking.
The neck and shoulder wounds were more obvious, but if I arranged my wrap correctly, they, too, were hidden.
My sequined purse held a tiny, pearl-handled derringer Garrett had given me as a gift one Christmas. It was loaded with two rounds of the new anti-vamp ammo.
I had an audio device shoved deep into my ear. Every so often, Tech One or Tech Two would say something—or Iverson would check in with some inane comment.
They didn’t know what had transpired between Reese and me. And since I didn’t exactly know, either, I wanted to keep it that way. I was thankful for the veneer of normalcy they lent this insane plan.
If they knew I had some crazy vampire-Claiming mojo, they might back out.
I stood by my door, waiting impatiently. At precisely ten o’clock, Reese knocked on the door.
“We’re on,” I said quietly.
“Ten-four,” Iverson replied. “Everyone is in place, Cinderella. You’ll have until midnight at the ball, unless you give the signal earlier. Don’t leave any shoes behind.”
“Very funny.” Still, it was good to know the SWAT team was in place, waiting for our signal.
I opened the door, wrap in hand. Reese stood outside, his face mostly covered by a black silk mask, his hair brushed back so that it barely touched his collar.
Even with his face covered, he looked unbelievably good in a tuxedo.
I pushed that thought aside too. I was getting awfully good at pushing aside thoughts.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”
“It’s nice to see you too,” he said.
I sighed. “Sorry. I’m a little on edge.” And I didn’t really want to look him in the eye, given our last encounter and the wire in my ear.
“You look lovely.” He placed his fingertips gently under my chin and tipped my face up toward him. “The dress suits you.”
I pulled my face away from his hand.
“The mask is a lovely gift. It matches my dress perfectly. Thank you,” I said, gesturing toward my ear.
Reese nodded and clasped his hands behind his back. “I see.”
He had a limousine waiting downstairs for us. The driver didn’t look like a vampire, so I assumed Reese had hired him through a regular service. In the back seat, Reese handed me a glass of Champagne.
“Thanks,” I said, “but I don’t plan to drink tonight.”
“I guessed as much. Sparkling grape juice for you,” he said.
We rode along in silence for a while. When Reese finally spoke, his voice was soft. “I met with Mendoza earlier tonight. He gave me the rundown on my induction into the Sanguinary.”
My breath caught in my throat. “Did he actually say that?”
“Yes. They’re planning to introduce me publicly as the new Dallas admin. Then later tonight, there is supposed to be a smaller, private ceremony.” His gaze bored into mine, his voice growing increasingly intense. “There will be Sanguinary members from all over the country there tonight, Cami. We won’t just take down the Dallas Sanguinary. We’ll cripple the entire organization.”
I nodded. “Good.”
Feigning a calm I didn’t feel, I sipped my drink until we pulled up in front of the Adolphus Hotel downtown, its red brick looming over us. As I climbed out of the limo, I tilted my head back to look at the baroque facade, and could barely make out the gargoyles leering down at us.
The building itself was red brick part of the way up, then white stone for the final several stories. The detailed window arches reminded me of an older, more graceful time. A red carpet had been rolled from the entry to the street. There weren’t any cameras flashing, but a group of gawkers had gathered to gape at the beautiful people arriving in limos and stepping into the building.
I wanted to tell the tourists to run away, that these were not really people—they were the creepy, undead Sanguinary who would enslave humans and use them as pets and meals.
But more than I wanted to warn them, I didn’t want to get kicked out before the party started.
So, instead, I moved under the black awning, took Reese’s arm, and strolled into the building, ignoring the tourists and their gawking.
I’m the one walking into a room full of blood-sucking fiends. The tourists are probably safer.
I had to admit, though, that it was a beautiful setting for a room full of blood-sucking fiends.
We slowly followed the line of people from the lobby, wending our way up the sweeping staircase toward the main ballroom.
Looking ahead, I realized why we were all moving so slowly. There was some sort of receiving line at the top of the stairs.
Unlike the guests, none of the vampires in the reception line were masked. Mendoza was first, of course, followed by Boyd—without his wan human, I noticed—and two other vampires I had never met. One of them was a woman, tall and beautiful in a typically vampy-gorgeous way.
The other was a small man with a dark, old-fashioned mustache that curled up at the ends. In his formal wear, he looked like a villain out of an old melodrama—like he should have a top hat and cane, and be busy tying beautiful young women to railroad tracks. Even if he hadn’t been in the receiv
ing line, I probably would have marked him as a vampire based on looks alone.
They all murmured polite greetings. I smiled and tried to ignore the press of their dead, cold flesh against my hand.
Mendoza brushed a kiss across the back of my hand and said, “It’s good to see you here.”
I managed not to shudder.
By 10:45, we were through the receiving line and inside the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers glittered, almost obscuring the gorgeous trompe l’oeil celestial paintings. At the far end of the room, a dais stood in front of long, burgundy velvet drapes. Music drifted across the room from the small orchestra playing near the dance floor. The ballroom was easily three or four times as big as the blood house, but it was every bit as crowded—which explained why Mendoza hadn’t wanted to hold his party in the blood house itself.
There were probably several hundred vampires here.
I’m a dead woman.
Therefore, I was determined to enjoy myself for at least part of this party.
Not that I wouldn’t enjoy the killing-vampires part. I would.
But first I was going enjoy my lovely new party dress for the short span of the rest of its—and probably my—life.
“So,” said Reese, “where shall we start?”
“Actually,” I said, “I’d like to start with a dance. This is the first real ball I’ve ever been to, and I’d hate for the killing to start before I got to dance.”
Reese shook his head and began laughing. “You never cease to surprise me, Cami Davis.” Taking my hand, he led me to the dance floor, spinning me into his arms.
We danced several sets—my favorite, though, was the waltz. Reese was an expert dancer, sweeping me lightly across the dance floor. And for the space of those three or four dances, I was able to pretend, for a short while, that this was a normal party, a regular date. That I was a normal woman out with a normal man, and we were having a normal evening.
I don’t know how long I would have gone on pretending if Iverson’s voice hadn’t finally sounded in my ear.
“Okay, Cinderella, we’ve got you on video. Repeat: Video is up and running. We’re waiting for the rest of the attendees to arrive.”
Sanguinary (Night Shift Book 1) Page 14
