There was quite a crowd at this large adobe-styled house, with the parking area quite full of many expensive and exotic cars. The media swarm had apparently anticipated their arrival, but they were much more orderly and less shark-like now than they had been when they had left the hotel. No questions were shouted at them, no flashes were used. The press was respectfully quiet as Robert opened the door of the limousine and guided everyone out with a politely extended hand.
The warm night air was fresh with the scent of desert trees and a hint of chlorine, presumably from a nearby pool, and exotic birds chirped and warbled from nearby branches. They stood beneath a large awning over the front entryway of the immense house, obstructing Raina’s view of the night sky that was surely clear and glittering with stars in this part of town far enough away from the glare of the city lights and right at the foot of the small local mountains of the north side. Everyone gathered in an almost choreographed group behind the Grand Duchess, with Svetlana and Noriko dutifully positioning themselves at her right and left, Mary, Ian, Raina and Brenna behind them, and the rest spread out behind them, in turn. Standing before the entryway of the home was an equally arranged series of faces, some familiar and many not. Immediately, Raina recognized two major celebrities – one a musician, the other a politician – and one other local celebrity, one whose eyes met hers and immediately smiled. She barely managed not to frown, instead settling for that blank, neutral expression that Duvessa had advised her to assume.
The musician was one whose heavy metal days of major fame and glory were seated more in the Eighties than in anything recent, aside from his nationally syndicated evening classic rock radio show. He had never exactly been a handsome man, the years having not been kind to him, but he did at least look more presentable and somehow more polished than he had on the prior occasions that Raina had seen him on TV at local events.
“As honored as I am to see you again, your grace,” Allen Culver said quite politely, “are you sure it’s a good idea to be out in public right now? I mean, what with this Countess What’s-her-name still being in town, aren’t you worried about her popping up and starting a fight?”
“Allen, dear, I understand your concern,” Duvessa said with a smirk, patting his chest as if they were old friends – and, for all she knew, they very well could have been just that. “But I can assure you with absolute confidence that Countess Wilhelmina von Reichenbach has far more reason than I to fear a face-to-face meeting. Let her come. I will be more than happy to introduce her to her true destiny.”
Duvessa gently patted the hilt of the battle sword that she wore at her hip, an ornately decorated saber in a sheath wrapped in red cord with strands of gold interwoven, and an intricately carved golden hilt. It was different than the claymore sword she had previously used in the earlier ceremony. At a glance, Raina knew that this weapon was far lighter, shorter, more practical, and better suited for swift-paced combat. It was beautiful, yet there was no doubt in her mind that it was purely an instrument of killing. Indeed, Duvessa was ready for the Countess. Raina, gripping the hilt of her inherited katana anxiously, was equally ready to meet her attacker, if it ever came to that … although she was not nearly as confident of her own abilities as the Grand Duchess was of her own.
Allen, dark shock rocker extraordinaire, surprised her by daring to kneel and kiss Raina’s hand before expressing his sympathies to her as well … as if Raina might have any reason to mourn the deaths of Duvessa’s consorts. She had always liked Allen and had wondered if she might ever meet him by chance, being that he lived in the Scottsdale area, but she had never imagined that it would be under these bizarre circumstances. The encounter came and went with dizzying swiftness – there and done, just like that, no big deal.
The next two individuals to greet the Grand Duchess were, amazingly, two of Raina’s last phlebotomy clients – the filthy-rich Commoner and his used-up blonde trophy girlfriend. He looked past Duvessa after greeting her and met Raina’s eyes, immediately recognizing her and smiling. Raina only managed to force a smirk, given that she was still too preoccupied with stressing herself out over the presence of so many cameras, many of which were aimed at her. She wanted to get inside the house, lock herself in a room, and hide there for the duration of this event. She would not allow herself to be so weak, though. Duvessa needed her. The Grand Duchess was not a woman of frail emotions. It was amazing that she had held up as well as she had lately, considering the staggering degree of her losses. Duvessa had requested her presence and her support, so Raina had to be strong for her. She did, after all, owe the Grand Duchess her loyalty for a number of reasons, both political and personal.
“Long time, no see,” the vampire greeted her as she shook his hand.
“Hello,” she replied simply.
“So,” he began with raised eyebrows, “I guess this means you’re out of the phlebotomy business…?”
“Not really,” she replied with a shrug. “I’ll probably still keep doing blood draws … except now I’ll be drinking what I draw.”
The Commoner laughed heartily at that as Duvessa urged her onward with a gentle tug at her shoulder. The four main dignitaries then, in turn, greeted Raina with handshakes and kind words. Their words of condolence meant little to her, for the departed was someone whom Raina had not even known in person for a full hour. Brenna was greeted politely with little more than brief nods and hellos, apparently deemed less worthy of the royal treatment than Raina or Duvessa. This did not seem to bother Brenna, at least as far as Raina could see or otherwise sense, but it did irritate Raina slightly that her friend was even being regarded by others outside of her bloodline as a lesser person. It appeared that the social caste system of vampires apparently extended beyond the High Court, after all.
They were ushered into the foyer as a group, with the Senator leading the way into what was presumably his home. The foyer opened up into a dining area to the left, a large kitchen area to the right, and then an immensely huge and high-ceilinged den. The far wall of the den was almost entirely glass and faced northward, away from the sun, giving a strikingly beautiful and exclusive view of that part of the desert mountainside. Largely visible, as well, was the immense Olympic-sized swimming pool and patio that dominated the back yard. A rocky artificial waterfall fed into the shallow end of the pool, its gurgle completely inaudible within the large home. A diving board extended out above the deep end, over a miniature sea that was illuminated from below by several red lights, giving it a rather ominous, spooky sort of appearance.
“Toss a few big chunks of dry ice in the water, add a couple of strobe lights, and throw a few fake cobwebs around, and that pool would look pretty friggin’ sweet,” Brenna commented softly to Raina. It was the first attempt at idle conversation she had made thus far. She seemed to be almost as nervous as Raina, though she could not sense exactly why.
“Seems kind of tacky, given the occasion,” she replied in a near-whisper. “The red light makes the water look like blood.”
“Probably not a coincidence,” Brenna said with a nod.
There was a scattering of many well-dressed strangers spread throughout the house and out on the patio, a crowd of anywhere from thirty to fifty people, most of whom were holding drinks. Almost as one, their soft-spoken conversations stopped abruptly as their attention turned to the House of Fallamhain as they entered.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Senator Daniels announced, “please welcome our most distinguished guests of honor, the head of the International Vampiric Council, the beautiful and wise Grand Duchess Duvessa Fallamhain, and her lovely heiress, Duchess Raina Fallamhain.”
The many guests rewarded the Senator’s words with a very soft applause of golf-clapping. Everyone seemed to be making a deliberate effort to be quiet, as though they feared that being noisy would somehow awaken some unseen beast that would ruin the party. The Grand Duchess gave an elegant, royal wave in response. It was that strange twisting of the wrist with a loosely-cupped hand that R
aina had always seen being used by beauty queens and such, a gesture that looked like someone screwing in an imaginary light bulb. She again forced a polite smirk, nodded at a few random faces here and there, and then looked to Duvessa, who stood with her back to her for the moment. Duvessa was soaking up the attention, which was fine by Raina. She certainly didn’t want any of it.
The Senator turned to the Grand Duchess with a smile as a man in a dark suit approached them from the right. The man, a tall, dark, and handsome sort of fellow with a large nose and very Mediterranean features was accompanied by two attractive blondes in sexy black cocktail dresses adorned in sequins. Raina did not recognize the man at all, and yet as soon as he approached, she suddenly felt a twist of unmistakable fear within her belly. She was already on edge, being so close to the center of attention amongst so many of these strangers, but the reaction she had to seeing this man completely surprised her. He was not ugly, but actually rather handsome, and there was nothing specifically about his appearance that should have given Raina any reason to fear him, but something about him absolutely terrified her.
“Your grace, I’d like to introduce you to the man hosting this event in honor of your consorts,” Senator Daniels said, “Mister Dante Giovanni.”
Raina felt Brenna’s hand abruptly take hold of hers and squeeze it tightly, bringing her to turn and look. The reaction, as it turned out, had not been hers at all. Clearly, Brenna recognized Mr. Giovanni. The emotion in her eyes was one she had never seen before, a barely restrained look of utter terror.
“No fucking way,” Brenna murmured, trying not to gape at him as he shook hands with the Grand Duchess.
“What’s wrong?”
Brenna did not answer. Her entire body stiffened as Mr. Giovanni finished his greeting and Duvessa stepped aside so that he could face Raina, approaching her directly while his two bits of blonde arm candy stayed behind. His eyes glanced twice in Brenna’s direction, even as he moved to greet Raina.
“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, your grace,” Mr. Giovanni said as he extended his hand to Raina, subtly flashing the fangs of a Commoner as he spoke. His English was good, but the genuine Italian accent was unmistakable. “You are even more beautiful in person than I could have ever imagined.”
“Thank you,” she responded softly, accepting his hand.
“You have my sincerest condolences for the loss of your Maker. He was a very good man, and he will be missed.” Releasing her hand, he then turned directly toward Brenna. “I am sorry, m’lady, have we already met?”
Brenna visibly swallowed back her fear as she did an expert job of trying to appear calm and indifferent. “Maybe. I’ve got kind of a generic goth-girl look. There’s hundreds of other girls just like me in this town.” Strangely, she actually smiled. “A face like mine is easy to forget.”
“No. Not at all,” he disagreed. They stared at one another for just a second, his smile faltering a bit as something unspoken passed between them, and he finally broke their gaze by taking a step back and snapping his fingers softly at the two trophy blondes.
He curled a finger to summon them and they immediately obeyed, their dress shoes clacking upon the black marble tile floor and their barely contained and surgically enhanced breasts bouncing perkily with their advance. They may as well have been twins, given their matching outfits and hairstyles, but their facial features were very different. They looked vapid and dim-witted to Raina, not because they were blonde but because of the vacant, glassy-eyed expressions upon their faces in spite of their perky smiles, like a pair of deer caught in the glare of an oncoming automobile’s headlights. They were not vampires, but their pupils were totally blown. Given the slight swaying that one of them exhibited, Raina figured that they were probably high on something. Neither of these human poodles could have been older than twenty-five, perhaps not even twenty-one.
Turning back to Duvessa for a moment and then sweeping his glance back to Raina and Brenna, Mr. Giovanni asked, “This is Amber and Alexis, two of the most talented girls of any club in the Valley.”
“Oh really?” Duvessa chimed in, looking them both up and down. “What sort of talents do they have?”
“Amber is one of my most popular dancers,” he explained, “and Alexis is both a dancer and an actress.”
“Oh, an actress? How interesting.” she responded with raised eyebrows. Raina could sense the insincerity of her enthusiasm. Looking to Alexis, she asked, “On film or television?”
“On the Internet, mostly,” she replied, almost shyly twirling her fingers in her hair and swiveling back and forth upon her heel, “but I’ve done a few DVD videos, too.”
Duvessa’s smile all but vanished as she suddenly understood. “Oh. I see. Well … good for you, dear. And you, too, Amber. I wish you both the best of luck with that.”
“Thank you,” they both replied in unison with a sickeningly Lolita-like, little-girl tone.
Mr. Giovanni stepped between the two blondes, placing his arms about them both in a sort of hug, and asked Duvessa, “Would you like something to drink, your grace?” He deliberately aimed his eyes at Amber and then Alexis, making a not-so-subtle hint.
“Maybe later, dear,” she said. “Perhaps the Duchess would like something…?”
Mr. Giovanni’s dark brown eyes turned to her only momentarily, quickly looking past her to where Brenna stood nearby, still clutching her hand. Brenna’s nervous grip upon Raina’s hand tightened so hard that Raina felt herself wincing with pain.
“Um … got anything with alcohol?” Raina asked awkwardly.
“Only the best! Anything that you’d like. I have everything.”
She would have requested a rum and cola, but considering her last experience with it, as well as the other experience that accompanied that, she was certain that the very scent of it might make her physically ill. Besides, given the highbrow company surrounding her, she wanted to at least attempt to appear somewhat sophisticated.
“Amaretto?” she suggested with a shrug.
“Disarrono on the rocks,” Mr. Giovanni told Amber, taking his arm off her shoulders and gently patting her behind.
Raina glanced to Brenna, asking, “How about you?” Brenna simply raised an eyebrow at her, apparently baffled by the fact that she was even asking. Quickly, Raina turned away and added, “Could you make that two, please?”
“A double?”
“No, I mean … well, yeah, that too, but … y’know,” she hinted, pointing to herself and Brenna. “One each?”
“Ah, yes. Two doubles, please,” he told Amber before sending her off.
Out of the corner of her eye, Raina noticed the direction of Duvessa’s stare. She was not exactly glaring at Brenna, but she was certainly fixated upon the sight of her for some reason at that moment. Apparently, she sensed Brenna’s fear, as well. Only when Mr. Giovanni began to strike up a conversation with her did she turn her attention away, whereupon their words both surprisingly broke into fluent Italian. Brenna backed away two slow, small steps and tugged for Raina to come with her.
“We need to talk,” she whispered into one of Raina’s pointy ears.
She gestured with just her eyes. “About … him?”
Brenna nodded with wide eyes. Quickly thinking of an excuse, Raina waited for a lull in the foreign words between the Grand Duchess and Mr. Giovanni before saying, “Would you excuse us for just a moment?”
Duvessa blinked at her for a second with surprise. Instead of asking what was wrong, she smiled and nodded as she immediately resumed her conversation. Mr. Giovanni’s attention focused squarely upon Brenna as they passed, and Duvessa elegantly regained his attention by laying a hand upon his shoulder as she spoke. All too well, Raina knew that the Grand Duchess’s touch was not something that could ever be ignored.
Brenna seemed to know exactly where they were going. As luck would have it, someone was just exiting the bathroom as they approached. The man recognized Raina and said hello, attempting to start a convers
ation as she sidestepped past him. Politely, she excused herself from him in just a few seconds and followed Brenna into the large, elegantly decorated bathroom. Brenna locked the door after her anxiously, as though she thought someone might be following them.
“Holy fucking bat shit on a Slip n’ Slide,” Brenna groaned, piling her hair atop her head in a panicky gesture, “this is beyond insane. He should be fucking dead by now. He should’ve at least left town, but he didn’t. Jesus, he’s still alive, and he’s still here in the Valley…”
“What the hell’s going on? Who is that guy?” Raina demanded, taking her by the shoulders to try to meet her gaze.
Brenna’s eyes were suddenly misty with tears. “I thought he was dead, Raina. I really did. I thought someone would’ve killed him by now, or that he would’ve at least been smart enough to leave town.”
“Yeah, you mentioned that, but who the hell is he? How do you know him?” she persisted. Brenna’s eyes were focused on nothing, her mind seeming to be completely wrapped in memories. Raina gave her a gentle shake. “Brenna! Relax, okay? Talk to me. What’s the deal?”
“I heard he got caught. I heard they were gonna put him down,” she said, perhaps more to herself than to Raina. “I dunno, maybe he had a lawyer get him bailed out, maybe he got out and left town for awhile, but…”
“Hey! C’mon! Please … will you just settle down and tell me what this is all about?” Raina pleaded, gently lifting Brenna’s gaze with a finger under her chin. “You’re starting to kinda freak me out a little…”
“It’s him, Raina. It’s him.”
“Him, who?”
“He’s a big-money producer of adult films and he owns half the clubs in the fucking Valley,” she finally said.
“So what? We just met Allen Culver and a United States Senator a minute ago, for crying out loud! Why is this other guy such a big deal?”
The Darkest Colors Page 44
