I wanted to kiss her.
It was a strong and desperate urge that moved through me, but I stomped down on it—hard. I wasn’t the type of person to fall for someone who offered me kindness. I was just confused by everything that had just happened and upended my life. Confusion was something I could easily subvert, easily overcome.
I was not going to kiss Tommie Sullivan when, hours before, Kane had held me in her arms.
Tommie watched my face impassively for a moment, and I thought she would say something…but then whatever had risen in her was gone as she straightened, as she stepped away. “Come back with me to the hotel,” she said gruffly, running a hand through her hair, which miraculously began to smooth itself down after the ride in the convertible. She held up a hand before I could protest. “You don’t have anyplace to go tonight—am I right?” she asked reasonably, her head to the side. I breathed out, my hands curling into fists. It was true, and she knew it, too. “You can talk to Gwen, get something sorted out, make plans—but you can’t do anything right now, and you need a place to go, and it’s no skin off my back to give you that. It’s the least I can do, really,” said Tommie, shoving her hands into her dress pants pockets as she shrugged easily, her shoulders curling forward.
“Why?” I breathed out, my breath exhaling into the world like smoke again as I stood my ground, as I held my purse’s strap tightly, stood straighter. “Why do you want to help me?” I asked when she turned a little, one brow raised on that perfect face.
“Because,” said Tommie softly, sighing, too. “You remind me of someone I used to know.”
It was raw, the way she said those words. There wasn’t a syllable of sarcasm. But there was a lot of pain.
Tommie straightened the edge of her dress shirt, shrugged her shoulders, the pain rolling away from her as quickly as it’d come.
I trotted around the side of the car, opening the Mustang’s heavy door as Tommie hopped in the other side, slamming her door shut and revving the engine with an impish grin on her face.
And we roared back up the hill, toward the Sullivan Hotel.
The gravel spun out from beneath the wheels as we rounded the curve in the road and Tommie all but rammed the car between the hedgerows to get into the parking lot. We skidded to a halt, gravel spraying out in all directions as Tommie cut the ignition and hopped out of the car without opening the door. She smoothly strolled around to the passenger side and opened my door with a low bow and a wide, wry grin.
“Welcome back,” she said dryly, straightening as I stood up, glancing back up at the Sullivan Hotel that loomed overhead, staring down at me impassively with its impressive red stone and never-ending array of windows. Behind us, a few more cars were pulling into the almost-full parking lot, too.
In all of the “excitement,” I’d forgotten that tonight marked the beginning of the Conference. I didn’t know that much about it yet, other than the fact that many of the world’s vampires gathered together in one place every year to discuss business, meet and socialize. Every year, a different spot in the world was chosen for the Conference.
And this year, that spot would be the Sullivan Hotel.
As I leaned against the side of the Mustang, the newly-arrived, expensive car had its doors opened, and a few people emerged. One black woman stood straight, tall and as regal as her much-too-pale male companion folded out of the passenger seat. The way these two held themselves, in the slightly old-fashioned dress (the woman wore a very cute retro-looking dress that was red with polka dots and an a-line skirt, and the man looked like he was headed to a costume party as a blonde Dracula), they appeared to me like I’d always imagined vampires would look.
Out of the other expensive car erupted two children who glanced about themselves with feral eyes—a very blonde boy and girl, probably eight years old, wearing jeans and t-shirts and no coats or shoes, even though it was very cold out. A woman rose out of the car after them, possibly their mother. She looked related, at least, with the same feral sheen to her eyes as she watched them running around in the parking lot. She wore jeans, too, and she barked at the kids to follow her.
Maybe it was their eyes or the way they looked at me as they ran past me—like they’d missed lunch, and I might make a very tasty snack—but I realized right away that the kids were probably not human.
“Vampire…children?” I managed, glancing sidelong at Tommie, who smiled widely, shoving her hands into her pockets as she rolled her shoulders back.
“Why not?” she asked me, cocking her head as she glanced after the kids. “Those two, though—they’re the stuff of nightmares. Timmy and Tammy. Stay away from them. They’re pretty bloodthirsty and…have gotten into a little bit of trouble because of it, at past Conferences.”
I watched the savage children scamper up the few steps, through the blood-red columns and into the Sullivan Hotel itself, the massive doors opening and shutting behind them as Tommie cleared her throat, standing a little straighter as she glanced up at the dark shadows along the edge of the horizon, a big cloudbank that looked dark and gray and threatening as it started to drift closer to us, beginning to block out the bright blue sky.
“It’s going to storm soon,” she remarked mildly. But a shiver ran through me, nonetheless. Her words seemed like a particularly poignant omen. Not only of what was to come here, but of my life, in general.
I didn’t know yet how right she was.
Another car pulled in—the parking lot was starting to get busier and busier, what with the Conference beginning tonight. This one was a smaller European car, all bold lines with a bright lime-green exterior. The woman who stepped out of it had heels that would probably have killed a normal mortal woman on the gravel ground, and a bright pink skirt so short that I couldn’t help but stare at her legs. Long, wavy blonde hair reached down to the middle of her back, and she glanced over the tops of her sunglasses in our direction before taking the glasses off, a wide grin making her full, red lips curl up very prettily at the corners.
“Tommie!” she called, and her voice was so warm, her expression so bright and kind, that I couldn’t help but like her almost immediately. She trotted across the rest of the parking lot toward us as Tommie returned her grin, stepping forward to embrace her tightly. Tommie squeezed so forcefully that she almost picked the stranger up off the ground.
“Francesca, how long has it been?” asked Tommie, one of the first looks of real pleasure I’d ever seen on her face deepening as she stepped back and held the laughing woman at arm’s length. Tommie looked genuinely glad to be in this stranger’s company.
“Oh, about fifty years, give or take?” the blonde laughed, raising one brow imperiously as she shoved her sunglasses into the little teal clutch dangling at her wrist. She smoothed the lapel of her bright blue jacket, turning to look at me with another warm smile. She was more beautiful than a model, but she was so down to earth, too, as she held out a perfectly manicured hand to me—nails colored the same teal as her clutch. “I’m Francesca Muldoon, but everyone close to me calls me Frank,” she winked impishly and glanced at Tommie with one brow raised. “Are you a…friend…of Tommie’s?”
The way she said “friend” could really have implied only one thing. I turned bright red and shook my head—a little too quickly, as Tommie frowned and cleared her throat.
“No… Rose was hired on as an employee of the Sullivan Hotel,” said Tommie smoothly. “She’s just a friend.”
“It’s hard for you to have women as ‘just’ friends, Tommie. If I recall correctly,” said Frank, drawing herself up to her full height, which her desperately tall heels only emphasized.
“Well, it’s been a long time,” said Tommie, and they weren’t sharp, those words. They were almost sad and small. “Anyway,” said Tommie with a shrug, her smile returning as she took Frank’s elbow with sure fingers. “We have a lot of catching up to do, don’t we?”
“It’ll be like old times. I’m really glad I came to this Conference after missi
ng so many of the others. I’ve missed you,” said Frank with a warm smile. “And it’ll be nice to get to know you, Rose,” said Frank, as she turned to wink at me.
I began to smile, too.
And that’s when another car pulled into the parking lot.
Cars kept coming. It wasn’t unusual that one chose that heartbeat to pull in. But there was something about it. My skin shivered as the shiny black thing—a sports car of some kind with all sorts of chrome—pulled into a spot right next to Tommie’s Mustang.
The ignition shut off, the car door swung open as if shoved, and impressively tall high heels and curving feet came out first.
And Mags rose up and out of the car.
She didn’t take off her sunglasses, but I could tell instantly the expression of loathing that passed over her face as she stared at me. Really, what had I ever done to her to make her hate me so much? Hate me enough, in fact, to try to drink me dry? Mags said not a word as she shut the car door with her hip, making the close-fitting dress wiggle impressively as she shimmied over the ground to stand next to Tommie. Ignoring Francesca and me entirely, Mags put her arms around Tommie’s neck.
And Mags curled her fingers with their bright red tips into Tommie’s hair, something only a lover would dare, and drew Tommie forward for a hard, harsh kiss.
Francesca glanced down at her purse, her mouth in a thin, hard line, as I felt the heat rise into my cheeks. Mags backed away from Tommie after a long moment, her perfect lipstick smudged onto the side of Tommie’s mouth. Tommie’s eyes were like stones as she glanced at Mags, as she carefully took a handkerchief out of her dress pants pocket and wiped at the smudged lipstick on her pale skin.
“Aren’t you back a little early?” is what Tommie said to Mags then, tiredly.
Mags had been sent away from the Sullivan Hotel for a week in “punishment”—because of the fact that she tried to kill me. A fact that I was acutely aware of as Mags turned to me, glanced at me, both brows lifted up imperiously over her sunglasses, before she turned back to Tommie, shaking her head.
“I’ve done my time,” she said, snarling over that last word. “And for what? I heard she’s leaving, after all.” Mags glanced at me as if I was a stain on one of her very impressive dresses. “Tommie, baby, we have a lot to catch up on,” she said, her voice practically purring as she threaded her arm, snake-like through Tommie’s. “Let’s go somewhere…” she said, stepping forward so that the front of her body was pressed tightly against Tommie’s, her round, full breasts shoved forcefully against Tommie’s almost-flat chest. “Let’s go somewhere where we can be alone,” she breathed.
“I’ll see you later, Tommie,” said Francesca, her words soft as she took a step backward.
“No,” said Tommie resolutely, taking a step backward, too—moving away from Mags. “We have a lot of catching up to do, Frank…and we have things to discuss, Rose. Mags, I can’t talk right now,” she murmured, her voice dropping soft and low as she glanced at the sultry woman with something akin to regret.
If Mags was offended at Tommie’s dismissal, she didn’t show it. Her head moved dangerously to the side, like a bird of prey getting ready to size up a kill, and then she straightened, her mouth forming a slow, sensuous smile. “Maybe later,” she murmured, her bright pink tongue licking her lips languorously before she turned on her heel, her hips moving hypnotically beneath the skirt of her dress, causing all of our eyes to watch her until she’d gone up the few steps and onto the front veranda of the Sullivan Hotel, and then through the front door, disappearing from view.
“Well, Mags certainly hasn’t changed much,” Frank remarked wryly, shaking her head and clicking her clutch shut as she rolled her eyes a little.
“You’d be surprised,” Tommie muttered, glancing sidelong at me. “She tried to drain Rose.”
“Like I said,” Frank muttered, thumbing the pack of cigarettes she’d dredged out of her clutch. She shook out one and held it easily, unlit between her first two fingers.
Far out over the sea, a flicker of lightning touched down into the water, so distant that it looked like static electricity. It was followed by a very distant roll of thunder.
“Let’s get inside,” Tommie remarked, gesturing forward. She hopped back into her car for a moment, starting the engine and making the convertible’s top roll up. The first big, fat drops of rain splattered against her windshield as Frank and I trotted toward the front door of the Sullivan Hotel, Tommie on our heels.
We got underneath the veranda’s roof as the sky opened up.
“Perfect weather for a Conference,” Frank murmured happily as we watched the rain pounding against the gravel parking lot. There were a few more headlights pulling into the lot, and a few more guests running for cover and the front door. The rain was so cold, and as I stared out at the parking lot, at the men and women with umbrellas or coats over their heads, moving past us and through the door, which kept opening and shutting, making the laughter and voices inside muted or loud as it opened and closed, I realized that I would probably still have been on the road to town with the heavens pouring rain upon me if Tommie hadn’t come and brought me back here. I probably would have caught my death of cold. At the very least, I would have been freezing and alone and miserable.
I chanced a sidelong glance at Tommie, who had her arms folded, her legs hip-width apart, and her nose up as she stared out at the rainstorm. If she had similar thoughts to mine—that maybe she really was my lady knight in shining armor—she didn’t voice them, or make any expressions to suggest as much.
Tommie was very beautiful in that eerie half-light of the thunderstorm, with her proud face pointed up at the heavens and her unreadable expression, as if her mind were a million miles away. But Tommie turned then, catching the door as another vampire woman strode through it, and she held the door for both Francesca and me as we entered the Sullivan Hotel together.
Since it was starting to get dark, all of the ornate, art-deco wall lamps were on inside, their brass fixtures shining warmly in the low light. To combat the creeping darkness in the wide hallway, all of the art lamps above the paintings in the main hall of the hotel were turned on. The sumptuous blood-red and black marble floor tiles were wet in spots from the rain that dripped from the guests, as the vampires removed their coats and began to mill about in—what I realized—was a beginning reception of sorts.
Old oaken tables had been set up along the wall, beneath the paintings, and on top of the antique lace tablecloths, there were many pretty wine stems and liquor glasses lined up—as well as many, many, many multicolored bottles of booze.
It almost looked like a normal, fancy reception. Save for one thing:
There was not a bite to eat.
I mean, it was a meeting of vampires: The fact that that there was no food really wasn’t that surprising. I was surprised a little, though, that they drank liquor.
I glanced at the front desk, at my coworker—or, rather, I supposed…my ex-coworker—Clare, perched on a stool behind the desk. She didn’t exactly look afraid, but there was something odd about her body language, her hands folded, knuckles white, on her lap, her blue tartan skirt tucked tightly beneath her, as if she was cold, as she stared at the vampires milling in front of her with wide eyes.
I wondered if the main course wasn’t visible because it wasn’t something you could put on a table.
I wondered if it was, rather, someone.
It was a chilling thought, a thought I’d been trying to ignore, considering the fact that vampires from all over the world were congregating before my very eyes. Vampires who, by their very nature, craved human blood. The only thing that made me feel a little safe was the fact that Kane, and the other Sullivans, had mentioned that they ignored the more bloodthirsty aspects of vampirism as a group.
However, the same could not necessarily be said for the rest of the vampires here, and I had a feeling that the Sullivans were likely a rarity among vampires.
I mean…it was the
thing vampires were known for, wasn’t it? Drinking blood?
At this point, I hadn’t learned that much about vampires. I knew that they lived a long time and were incredibly strong and magnetic. I knew that they craved human blood but could live without it if they chose to do so. I knew that they probably didn’t sleep in coffins but that sunlight burned them badly over time. I knew little else.
But as I stared at this group of beautiful creatures milling about, drinking champagne out of thin, expensive glasses with blood-red lips and laughing with lovely voices in the hallway as the rain poured down outside, I knew that, as a human being, I’d willingly walked into a proverbial lions’ den.
Mags, chuckling with a tall, red-headed man in a dark suit over flutes of champagne, turned to glance over her shoulder at me just then.
Her wicked, terrifying smile included sharp, glittering fangs.
If she was trying to frighten me…she’d done a pretty good job of it. But I was more stubborn than that. Right now, I didn’t have anyplace to go. And if I’d learned anything about Kane, it was this:
We were safe in the Sullivan Hotel. No matter who stayed here.
Mags had attacked me in the water, down on the beach. And even then, somehow, impossibly, Kane had saved my life. Somehow, she’d known I was in distress. I wasn’t certain of the rules and restraints of the vampires’ Conference, but I was almost certain that Kane had put something in place to protect the humans in her care.
As if my thoughts themselves had summoned her, there she was then, across the room.
Her long, white blonde hair was swept back from her face and fell like a cascade of satin over her shoulders, and she wore a shirt in the most appropriate shade of red for a vampire. It had a surprisingly plunging neckline, and her bare skin above her breasts was covered in dripping black gems fashioned in an elaborate, decadent necklace. There was a tall black collar on her black jacket, and if my eyes weren’t mistaken in the dim lighting, she also wore leather pants that seemed to have been made perfectly for her body, like a second skin, and a pair of tight-fitting leather boots with thick black heels.
Trusting Eternity (The Sullivan Vampires, Volume 2 Page 2
