by Ella Summers
“I don’t see our target,” Logan said seriously, looking at Makani.
“Nor do I,” replied Makani, who wore a gold-and-black scale mask shaped like a dragon.
“They’ve obviously decided we’re too silly to focus on our mission,” Alex commented to Naomi.
“But we can have fun and work at the same time. That’s the beauty of multitasking,” Naomi replied.
Besides, after the two months they’d lived through, a little joy was a necessary shield to ward off the melancholy cloud looming over them all. On that night at Monster Lake, dozens of demons had escaped into San Francisco, using Naomi’s father’s body to carry them from hell to earth. Naomi and the other enforcers had spent every waking hour since then hunting them down.
To say this had been a drain on Naomi’s magic was the understatement of the century. It took a lot of magic to locate a demon, force it out of its human host, and send it on a one-way trip back to hell. Naomi was always tired, her magic continuously sapped. She felt like she’d been sprinting a marathon for two months.
But she couldn’t stop, and she couldn’t slow down. With every passing day, it grew harder to find the demons still at large. The most devious ones hid themselves well, but luckily—or perhaps unluckily—all demons had to take a host to remain here on earth. And they had to feed to stay alive. That left trails to follow. Two months later, thanks to the enforcers’ unwavering efforts, they were down to just four demons. But, boy, was expelling those final four demons proving to be a real pain in the ass.
They’d come to the masquerade ball to pay a visit to the self-proclaimed Dark Prince, owner of this estate and a vampire who’d been acting strangely recently. Whatever ‘strangely’ meant. The enforcers’ demon hunt was no secret to the supernaturals of San Francisco. Maybe someone was trying to make trouble for His Royal Darkness; after all, he had many enemies. Or maybe the vampire’s body really was playing host to a demon. That’s what they were here tonight to find out.
“We should interrogate the guests,” Logan said, his eyes panning across the crowd of masked supernaturals.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Naomi said. “Look over there. Check out the pair of vampires standing in front of the wall of Bellatrix Raven paintings, doing their utmost to look intellectual.”
Bellatrix Raven was the most famous magic painter in the world. Her paintings were variable, in constant flux. They changed with the lighting, the seasons, even the time of day. Each one also cost a considerable fortune—and the Dark Prince had six of them hanging in this ballroom. He was certainly trying to make an impression on the city’s magical elite.
“Oh, yes,” Alex said with mischievous delight. “Those two vampires want people to think they’re discussing the transient symbolism in Bellatrix Raven’s paintings, but they’re really just gossiping about everyone at the party.”
Logan’s brows lifted.
“Oh, yes, a big sword is not the only weapon at my disposal,” Alex said with a smirk. “I can wield a lot of big, fancy words too.”
Naomi linked her arm in Alex’s. “Let’s go see if those vampires have any big, fancy words for us.”
There were three kinds of vampires: common vampires, shapeshifting vampires, and demon-soul vampires. This pair was of the third category. Demon-soul vampires weren’t actually demons at all. They were people who had been turned into vampires, taking on some new powers. The soul inside of them, powering their magic, was actually a phantom—a bodiless, powerful magical soul from the spirit realm.
The link between the person and the phantom was not a possession, but rather a symbiotic relationship, a merging. The person gained magic, and the phantom gained a foothold into this realm. And both souls remained perfectly intact. Early humans, when confronted with a neighbor who’d suddenly gained new powers, had labeled these vampires demons. It was funny how far misinformation could spread. The name demon-soul vampire had persisted even to this day.
“We’ve been waiting hours for him to make an appearance!” exclaimed the vampire in the long scarlet gown as Naomi and Alex walked up to them.
“Who does he think he is?” growled the vampire in the tight black sheath dress.
“He thinks he’s royalty,” Naomi told them, rolling her eyes.
The two vampires turned toward her, their matching topaz eyes drilling into her for a moment. Then, suddenly, their mouths spread into wide grins and they giggled. The synchronized giggles desisted precisely three seconds later, as though they’d been timed. Naomi almost rolled her eyes again—and for real this time.
“The Dark Prince.” The Scarlet Vampire’s tone was as condescending as her face was gleeful, the trademark of a hardcore gossip. “How preposterous.”
“They know big words too,” Naomi muttered to Alex.
“What was that?” the Black Sheath Vampire asked as Alex shook with contained laughter.
“The Dark Prince is a big and lofty title,” Naomi said.
“Especially for a common vampire,” the Scarlet Vampire said with all-due revulsion.
In the vampire world, the common vampires were the lowest class. They were strong, fast, and quick to anger. And they were nearly indestructible. Shapeshifting vampires and demon-soul vampires, who considered their ‘common’ brethren completely expendable, used them as foot soldiers.
“We hear the Dark Prince has been acting very strangely lately,” Naomi said to the two vampires. “Even more strangely than before, that is.”
“Oh, yes. He’s totally possessed by a demon,” the Black Sheath Vampire said, practically bursting with excitement. It seemed she couldn’t defame the Dark Prince fast enough. “He has these magic tattoos all over his body.”
“Magic tattoos?” Naomi asked.
“He paid a fairy to make them. He claims the tattoos give his mind serenity and clarity, allowing him to keep his common instincts at bay,” said the Scarlet Vampire
“That’s totally impossible, of course,” the Black Sheath Vampire said with a dismissive flick of her hand. The gold bracelets around her wrist jingled in agreement.
But Naomi wasn’t so sure. Makani had dragon tattoos that focused his magic. So why couldn’t a vampire use magic tattoos to focus his mind?
“He has this new tattoo, a bleeding heart with a pair of crisscrossing swords through it,” continued the Black Sheath Vampire.
Yuck.
“That tattoo pulses funny.” The Scarlet Vampire leaned in closer to Naomi and whispered, “Do you know what I think? I think it’s not a tattoo at all. It’s a demon mark.”
The Black Sheath Vampire clutched her friend’s arm. “Oh, look. They’re bringing in the dessert fountain. Let’s get to it before there’s a long line.”
Then the two gossiping vampires hurried off, their topaz eyes glowing in excitement.
“What do you think?” Alex asked Naomi as they walked back to where they’d left the guys.
“I think those vampires are jealous of the Dark Prince, a common vampire who has dared to rise above his station.”
“Our homework mentioned that he’s learned to defy the blood rage that defines his brethren, the other common vampires,” said Alex.
Their ‘homework’ was the document Tony, the mage leading the enforcers, provided for them before they headed out on a mission. Packed full of background information, it usually ran somewhere between fifteen and twenty pages. They were all supposed to read it.
“You did the homework?” Naomi asked, a smirk curling her lips. “I thought you were allergic to research.”
“I totally am,” Alex confirmed. “Logan read it and gave me a summary. He said the Dark Prince is a fascinating case. Unlike all the other common vampires, he managed to keep his mind clear after his body’s violent transformation.”
“He is supposed to be very clever,” Naomi said. “After becoming a vampire, he started a magical architecture and construction company. It’s the one that designed and made the Diamond Tower for the Magic Counci
l.”
The Diamond Tower, the city’s tallest building, used magical patterns and materials to draw in any of the residual magic in the area. The building then stored the collected magic for later use. The tower had only been open for two months, but it was already a huge success.
“He is San Francisco’s new rising star—and the vampire elite all hate him for it,” said Naomi. “The idea that a common vampire could rise so high doesn’t fit into their world view. It is a threat to their self-proclaimed superiority.”
“And the Dark Prince’s newest tattoo?” Alex asked. “The bleeding heart with a pair of crisscrossing swords?”
“It’s not a demon mark. You only find those on the dead bodies of people a demon has killed,” said Naomi.
“It could be a power-boosting tattoo. Like on the host body of the demon we fought last month.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps this is merely something as mundane as vampire politics.”
“Trying to knock an upstart vampire down a few pegs?”
“Yeah.”
“We’ll need to speak to the Dark Prince to find out,” said Alex.
“And to do that, we need to find him.” Naomi scanned the crowd. “Those gossiping vampires were right about one thing: it isn’t good form to keep your party guests waiting. Do you see a vampire that matches the Dark Prince’s description?”
“No.” Alex’s gaze darted from one end of the ballroom to the other, from down on the lower level, to up on the raised platform at the top of the mirrored pair of arched staircases. “Though everyone is wearing a mask.”
Makani stood at the top of the stairs, a vantage point from which he could see the entire ballroom. His body filled out his tuxedo nicely—and his aura filled up a room even more. Logan was not standing with him.
“Where’s your honey?” Naomi asked Alex.
Alex took a small plate of finger food from a passing waiter. “Probably scouting.” She licked the dip off her fingers, looking completely unconcerned. Logan must have often disappeared unannounced.
They walked past the dessert fountain the gossiping vampires had referred to. It was a blood fountain. Each of the three tiers was completely filled with blood. A thermometer bobbing inside the top tier proudly advertised that the blood was body temperature. A huge bowl of bite-sized fruit wedges was set neatly between the blood fountain on the right and the chocolate fountain on the left, so that you could choose where you wanted to dip it. The party planner had really thought this through.
“Do you think that is real human blood?” Naomi asked Alex, glancing at the blood fountain.
Alex grabbed a gold goblet. She dipped it into the fountain, then took a sip. “Pig’s blood,” she declared, making a face. “There are strict regulations regarding serving human blood. Besides, it would make the vampires frisky.”
“It’s not very high-brow for the guests to eat one another,” said Naomi as they ascended the gold stairs toward Makani.
“Exactly.”
“I’ve found the vampire we’re seeking.”
Naomi jumped in alarm. She turned around to find Logan standing there.
“You do that on purpose,” she told him, frowning.
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Naomi,” he replied, his face an expressionless mask—at least what she could see of it past his black-and-white costume mask.
Stealth might as well have been Logan’s middle name. When Makani entered a room, everyone stopped and stared. When Logan entered a room, they didn’t even notice. The assassin was nearly as tall as Makani, but he blended into his surroundings, an essential skill in his line of work. He was like a chameleon. Tonight he wore a classic black and white tuxedo, just like ninety percent of the other men here. He’d even adapted the way he walked to move like them.
“He is standing on the balcony,” Logan said.
Naomi followed his gaze to the balcony off to the side of the ballroom, where a man in a white suit stood beside a woman in a black dress. Where he was tall and wide, she was short and waifish. Where his hair was as dark as the abyss, hers was as pale as a white rose.
“I’ll talk to him,” Naomi said.
“His bodyguards aren’t allowing anyone through.” Logan indicated the two huge men in black suits standing to either side of the closed glass door that led to the balcony. “And there are guards on the grounds below the balcony.”
“We could sneak past them,” Alex said to him.
He gave his shoulders a slight shrug. That either meant it would be easy, or there was no way in hell it would work. Naomi was usually pretty good at reading people, but she didn’t speak assassin.
“They’ll let me through,” Naomi said.
Logan lifted a single brow. Naomi translated that clearly enough. He was skeptical that she could convince the guards to stand down.
“Naomi has special powers,” Alex told Logan. “She could coax a mother dragon off her egg.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Naomi said. “But I think I can convince those guards to let me through.”
Makani caught her hand as she began to turn away. She met his dark gold eyes.
“Be careful,” was all he said before he released her hand.
She favored him with her most charming smile. “Am I not always careful?”
Makani’s jaw stiffened. “Do you really want me to answer that?”
“Everything will work out just fine,” she assured him. After all, optimism was a powerful weapon.
With that decided, Naomi walked toward the balcony, her heels clicking against the wood floors. Above her, the fluffy white clouds in the magic painting moved across a pale blue sky. Chandeliers hung down like enormous flowers, blossoming with crystals and candles. Magic flames flickered on the lit candles. The painting’s cool breeze tickled Naomi’s skin.
As she neared the archway that opened into the balcony, the two guards drew together like a curtain, barring her way.
“Someone let in the Black Plague and Slayer,” she declared, naming Alex’s and Logan’s professional nicknames.
“Escort them out of here immediately,” Naomi told the bigger vampire bodyguard. The guy’s arms were at least twice as thick as her neck. His skin was a highway system of big, bulging veins. He looked like he cracked walnuts with his biceps.
Walnut Cracker blinked. Evidently, his mind wasn’t as fast as his draw.
“Get them out of here,” Naomi said sternly, tapping her foot against the floor. “Last week, they were spotted at the Museum of Ancient Magic Gala—shortly before a fight broke out. And the previous week, it was the Magic Lights by the Bay Festival. Last month, it was the Mages’ Marathon. They bring violence wherever they go. Remove them from the premises before they strike here.”
Walnut Cracker’s eyes darted uncertainly from Naomi, over to Alex and Logan.
“I will hold you personally responsible for any damage they cause,” she snapped at the vampire.
He trotted off toward the stairs, and Naomi turned her attention to the second bodyguard, a man with short black hair. His body told her he worked out regularly, but not nearly as much as his companion. Supernaturals walked, talked, and even breathed differently depending on what powers they possessed. There was something about the way the bodyguard stood there that said ‘mage’. He was probably a telekinetic but maybe an elemental.
“How many guests have tried to approach the Prince tonight?” she asked him.
“Who are you supposed to be?” The mage’s dark eyes regarded her with suspicion.
Naomi considered lying and telling him that she was the Dark Prince’s personal assistant, but the mage seemed too shrewd to be fooled by that. It didn’t matter. She’d lured the other guard away, which was enough for her plan to work—assuming she had pegged this guy’s powers correctly. If he was a fairy, this whole thing would backfire horribly.
“I’m Naomi,” she said with a bright smile—and blasted Fairy Dust in his face.
The
bodyguard’s eyes rolled back and he crumpled unconscious to the floor. Ha! She was right. The guard was a mage. A fairy was too resistant to Dust to go down like that.
Naomi stepped over his sleeping body and followed the narrow hallway to the balcony. As she stepped onto it, the man and the woman stopped talking and looked at her.
“I’d best be going,” said the fair-haired woman, kissing the man’s cheek. “Do give me a call tomorrow, darling.”
Then she slipped past Naomi without acknowledging her presence, her eyes sliding right over her like she wasn’t even there. She glided gracefully down the hallway like a silk ribbon in the wind.
Mesmerized, the man watched her go. When she was out of sight, his eyes shifted to Naomi.
“I told my guards that I was not to be disturbed,” the Dark Prince told her gruffly.
“Your guards are busy. And this is your party. Your guests require your attention. Why don’t you go greet them?”
“They don’t wish to see me. They’ve come only because that’s what the magical elite do when they receive an invitation from one of their social peers,” he said with disgust.
“Why did you invite them if you didn’t want to see them?”
Perhaps to lure them in and feast on them? That would be the way of the demons.
A humorless laugh escaped the Dark Prince’s lips. “Why indeed? I really don’t know. I can’t stand the lot of them.”
If a demon was hiding inside of him, it was playing the part marvelously.
“Sometimes, I consider just leaving everything behind,” he said.
“No, you don’t. You’re too arrogant to hand the market back to your competition. You want to stick it to them, to show them that their superiority is only an illusion.”
This time, his laugh was genuine. “How can you know me so well? We haven’t met before, have we?”
“No. I’m just really good at reading people. A skill I believe we share.”
He met her eyes, trying to read her story inside their depths. “Who are you?”
“Naomi Garland.”
“The Spirit Warrior.”
“So, you’ve heard of me.”
“Everyone has heard of you. You’re supposed to be the one who will save this city.”
