Inferno

by Bianca D'Arc

  They neared the door, and she got her first look inside. Vaulted ceilings capped off a truly magnificent structure that still held all the trappings of a house of worship. The Stations of the Cross graced the walls, and the stained glass windows depicted various scenes in the lives of famous saints. The pews were mostly gone. The only wooden benches left were along the sides and back of the room and had been polished until they shone with a high luster. At the front, there were luxurious tables set up with cushy chairs. In front of that, on the raised area where the altar would have been, there was a full orchestra seating arrangement with a few musicians already seated, tuning their instruments.

  Behind the tables was a large open area with polished marble floors that gleamed in the gently flickering light of chandeliers that had candles in them, floating overhead at intervals. Servants in livery stood here and there around the walls, ready to assist with whatever the revelers might want. Wine flowed in fountains on several tables, but only a token display of finger food graced one table near the back.

  “It’s magnificent,” she breathed as they stood in the center of the great arched doorway. The herald announced them and many heads turned. Megan felt conspicuous and very, very mortal all of a sudden.

  “Be brave little wolf,” Dante murmured just within her range of her hearing. “I’m a newcomer. It’s only natural they’re curious. Especially when I bring such a lovely mortal companion into their midst. Trust me, you’ll come to no harm tonight. Not if I have anything to say about it. On that you have my word of honor.”

  He squeezed her arm reassuringly and she felt better, though she would have been loathe to admit it. Dante was a job to her. That’s all he should be, but things were getting very complicated very fast, and he was too appealing for her peace of mind.

  They walked into the room and Dante snagged two glasses of wine, giving one to Megan. She took a bracing sip, noting there were no other refreshments being offered. Why would there be? The majority of guests didn’t eat or drink anything except wine and blood. Megan would pass on the latter, though her inner wolf had never turned up her nose at the blood she shed while hunting.

  Megan looked around the room, impressed by the opulence they’d managed to reproduce in what had once been a more utilitarian building. The arched ceilings lent their imposing height to the grandeur of the place and long silken wall hangings, priceless tapestries and other objets d’art turned the former place of worship into a distinctive hall for gatherings and amusement.

  The orchestra began to play, and a few couples danced in the large area set aside for it. More joined in, and they performed dances from another era she’d never seen outside Jane Austen films. The dancers performed perfectly in formations that were too complex for her to follow. The scene fascinated and enchanted her.

  “So what do you think?” Dante murmured in her ear.

  “It’s beautiful. Thank you for inviting me here tonight. This is something I never thought to see.”

  “It is kind of interesting, I suppose, in a vintage sort of way.”

  “Oh, come on. This may be old hat to you, but this is like something out of a dream for me. Every girl grows up dreaming about going to a ball like Cinderella.” She fingered his bow tie with a challenging smile. “This is my chance, and your ennui isn’t going to ruin it for me.”

  Dante laughed, and she felt it down to her bones. He was so sexy when he smiled. Her heart did a little flutter before she could stop it.

  “All right, Cinderella. Tonight’s your night. I’ll try not to ruin it for you.” He took the half-finished glass of wine out of her hands and placed it on the tray of a passing waiter, then grasped her hand. “Would you do me the honor of sharing this dance with me, princess?”

  Oh, she wanted to, but the set that was just ending was some old dance pattern she didn’t know. She looked with longing to the dance floor and didn’t notice Dante swooping in to whisper in her ear until his hot breath blew past her sensitive whorls.

  “The next dance is a waltz. You know the steps to that, I’m sure. Don’t worry. I’m an excellent lead, or so I’ve been told.”

  “I bet.”

  He tugged on her hand and led her toward the floor, reeling her in to stand opposite him at just the perfect distance. She looked into his eyes, mesmerized by the way he looked at her. The music started and the strains of her favorite waltz—the Blue Danube—wafted to the heights of the vaulted ceiling.

  Then Dante began to move. He was a wonderful dancer. Built like a warrior, he nevertheless danced like a prince, guiding her around the room among the swirling dancers, her skirt billowing behind her. Megan noted the attention they drew as they whirled across the dance floor but paid it no mind. This moment was too perfect to ruin with worries about what other people thought.

  Dante drew her closer in his arms as the waltz progressed, closing the distance between them in a way that would have been considered scandalous a century past. She finally understood why. The feel of his thick muscles rubbing against her body whenever they touched sent her pulse spiraling nearly out of control. Her steps matched his perfectly. Her panting breath came in time with his. They were one for that short space in time, a matched set, moving together with one purpose.

  And then the music ended.

  Megan was left staring into Dante’s eyes, her thoughts whirling, her senses in an uproar. Dante returned her attention until his elbow was jostled by a couple positioning themselves on the floor for the next dance.

  He bowed to her in a courtly way, taking her hand and leading her from the floor. When they reached a spot along the wall where a champagne fountain flowed, he paused to collect two glasses of the sparkling wine, handing her one.

  “Thank you for the dance, princess. You are without doubt the most graceful partner I have ever claimed.”

  Megan felt a flush rising to her cheeks even though she suspected his words were more teasing than truth. She declined to answer, sipping her champagne and looking around at the other people in the room. The abundance of diamonds, rubies, sapphires and emeralds was astounding, not to mention the ladies’ beautiful gowns and the men’s hand tailored suits. This was the haute ton reborn. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say it had never died. Not for these people.

  One woman stood out among the crowd. She wore a stunning silk dress with a slight Japanese air to its lines. Her eyes tilted exotically, displaying bone structure that indicated she was the result of the mixture of more than one race. She was exquisite. From her upswept silky black hair to the diamonds dripping around her throat, she was every inch the lady and Megan found it difficult to look away. She was fascinating.

  “Who is she?” The woman drew attention simply by breathing. She was fair skinned despite her clearly Asian traits.

  “She is the Mistress of this region, Virginia Dean.”

  “And the great hulking brute behind her?” Megan couldn’t help noticing the incredibly handsome man who stood protectively behind her.

  “That would be her father, Sir Heathclif Dean.”

  “They don’t look much alike,” she mused aloud.

  “Heath adopted her in Japan over a century ago. Virginia is the daughter of a Geisha and an English sea captain. As you can imagine, half-blood children didn’t do well in those days. Virginia lived a hard life until she met Heath. He told me she tried to pick his pocket. He caught her, of course. She was just a child at the time and he took her in, raising her as his own.”

  “She wasn’t born a bloodletter then?”

  “No,” Dante admitted. “That came later. Tragedy visited young Virginia and in a moment of heartbreak, Heath turned her. So he is her maker as well as her adoptive father. Together, they are a formidable pair.”

  “They’d have to be to rule over all the vampires in New York.”

  Even as she watched the handsome couple, the woman’s gaze moved around the room, finally coming to rest on Megan. An elegant hand rose, fingers beckoning.

  “It
seems we are summoned.” Dante took Megan’s arm and led her across the space separating them. “She apparently wants to meet you, Cinderella.”

  Megan found her lips lifting in a tense smile at his small joke even as she approached the striking woman and her father. Though to be honest, Heathclif Dean didn’t look old enough to have fathered an adult child. The man was as handsome as sin and utterly devastating in that same way Dante was, only more refined. Where Dante was a warrior through and through, Heathclif looked every inch the gentleman. A gentleman who knew how to fight and use his brawny body to advantage no doubt but still a gentleman.

  Dante had rough edges that showed at the oddest moments. He was more real, if Megan had to define it, but she couldn’t say exactly how. It was just a feeling he gave her. And it was very attractive.

  When they stood in front of the couple, Dante made the introductions. Megan felt like a butterfly that had just been stuck on a pin under a magnifying glass as the Mistress looked her over with assessing eyes.

  “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Megan. It’s not often our kinds mix socially, which is something I regret. It wasn’t always that way.” She spoke with refined candor, her tone welcoming and polite. Megan wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but relief filled her at the Mistress’s friendly overture.

  “I was honored to be invited, Mistress.” Megan hoped she was sufficiently polite yet projected a confident stance. It wouldn’t do to be seen as weak in a room full of predators. Especially not by the leader of the pack.

  “Dante, I have some news we should discuss in private, which is impossible given our current circumstances.” Heathclif Dean spoke to Dante, though he eyed them both. “Come to the house tomorrow night. You are welcome too, Megan.”

  She nodded politely, unsure what she was agreeing to. She was intrigued by the couple, but she was also very wary of them. It paid to be cautious when dealing with bloodletters and these were two of the most powerful in the New York area. Considering the sheer numbers of rich and powerful vampires in the metro area, that was saying something.

  Dante and Heathclif began talking of things Megan had no knowledge of—people they both knew and reminiscences of the past. She tried to listen, but much of it went over her head. She became uncomfortably aware of the Mistress’s regard. The other woman was looking her up and down as if deciding what to make of her. Megan didn’t enjoy the once over. She’d been getting the same look—only more pronounced—since she entered the hall.

  “Are you a student of the martial arts, Megan?” the Mistress asked seemingly out of the blue.

  Caught off guard, Megan nodded. “I believe most weres find the study of martial arts both soothing and useful. The discipline helps us focus our inner beast, and the skills are always useful whether in the hunt or in self-defense.”

  “And when you are in the dojo, what color graces your waist?” the Mistress asked with a coy smile.

  Megan squirmed a bit, not used to giving out personal information of any kind. “Black.”

  The Mistress grinned widely, her exotic eyes lighting with excitement. “Which discipline do you prefer?”

  “Kung fu, actually.”

  She laughed. “I should have known. Animal forms would be second nature to one of your kind.”

  “I’ve studied jiu-jitsu as well, and a little iado.”

  “Sword study is a noble discipline, Megan. I’d welcome a chance to spar with you sometime. Perhaps tomorrow while my father is talking business with Dante, we can spend a few minutes in the dojo.”

  “I’d like that.”

  She wasn’t sure what she’d just agreed to but hoped the Mistress meant her invitation at face value. This was a woman Megan would be a fool to anger.

  After that little aside, the men included the women in their conversation again, talking about the excellent musicians the Deans had managed to hire for this party. To her surprise, they talked about other performers, from rock stars to opera companies, that had either played at or been booked to play at future vampire get-togethers. It seemed these immortals liked to party.

  Or perhaps the Deans hosted such events in order to keep an eye on their people. Dante had spoken of tonight’s invitation as a summons. Maybe the Deans liked to dress up their public audiences in the form of parties. It made sense. People were less inclined to start trouble at a festive event and more likely to attend, even if they understood there was an ulterior motive.

  Sort of like a business conference. You went for the food and freebies and tried not to mind the sales pitches that happened along the way. Very clever indeed of the vampires to use that old stratagem. Then again, they might’ve been the ones to come up with it in the first place.

  “Shall we dance?” Sir Heathclif’s cultured tones shook her out of her internal musings.

  He offered his hand to Megan and it was nearly impossible to say no to the command in his powerful voice. Still, something made her look over at Dante. She wasn’t seeking his permission exactly. It was more like a quick check on whether he thought it would be safe for her to go off with this strange man. After all, Dante knew more about these people than she did. The very idea that she would instinctively trust her safety to Dante’s judgment was something to ponder at another time.

  “I’ve never waltzed before tonight, Mr. Dean,” she said, hoping to find some reason to decline. The hard expression on Dante’s face and his narrowed eyes made her want to say no, though the independent lone wolf inside her balked at any restriction.

  “Please, call me Heath. I saw you dancing beautifully with d’Angleterre. All that native agility and grace makes you a natural for dancing, my dear. Please, allow me the honor of partnering you.”

  Once again he held out his hand, and she had no choice but to accept. Heathclif Dean hadn’t become one of the most powerful vampires in the country overnight. He’d had centuries to hone his commanding ways and at a mere thirty years old, were or not, Megan was no match for the power of his will.

  She put her hand in his and was quickly whisked off to the dance floor. The revelers parted almost magically, making way for the important man in their midst and staring at Megan with assessing eyes that made her uncomfortable. She never liked being the center of attention.

  All that was forgotten as Heath led her into the whirl of an energetic yet genteel waltz. He was a master not only of men, but of the dance, leading her with subtle movements that positioned her exactly where he wanted her to go. All she had to do was follow and allow herself to be caught up in the swirl of skirts, the swish of silk and the loveliness of the music reverberating gently over the walls of the large hall.

  She lost track of time and space, mesmerized by the dance and the compelling man. He looked deeply into her eyes, and she felt the pressure of his magic against her natural were resistance. He couldn’t influence her, but the dance was dreamy enough, the fact that he was trying to use his power on her didn’t alarm her as it should.

  The waltz music drew to a crescendo, and Heath dipped her low over his bent knee. He moved closer. She was in no position to move, much less evade him. Her body was positioned in such a way that she had absolutely no leverage and no hope of escaping the kiss she thought he meant to deliver.

  Such a public display would be embarrassing, but she would live through it. She braced herself, and when he dipped even lower she realized he was aiming not for her lips, but for her jugular.

  She could see the gleam of his fangs as they descended. He struck fast, the fear only momentary before his bite seduced her senses. Vampire mojo was not to be discounted at close range, she learned, even for a werewolf. The bite propelled her into a hazy state of mind where she didn’t fight, only succumbed to the Master vampire.

  Shocked whispers erupted all around them on the dance floor as Heath abruptly let her go with a final lick and raised her to her feet. She was dizzy. His big hand steadied her as he guided her from the dance floor, toward their small group.

  Megan was in a da
ze. A kind of shocking sexual hunger had been aroused in her body but left unfulfilled. She’d never been bitten by a vampire before and was unprepared for the way it made her feel. Being unsteady on her feet was not something she was used to. Weres in general had excellent balance. Her balance, of course, was shot to hell by Heath’s disturbing influence.

  He brought her directly to a seething Dante. The man was so angry he practically bristled. She saw the fury in his eyes even before he opened his mouth to speak.

  Heath preempted him. “Come with me, d’Angleterre. We have much to discuss.”

  Heath turned away abruptly, his hand still firmly grasping hers as he led them toward the door. He stopped only once, to tell his daughter he was leaving and that she should continue to enjoy herself at the party.

  Thwarted in his fury, Dante followed. Megan caught a glimpse of his heavy stride as he came down the steps behind her and their host. She was ushered into a long black limousine and guided to the seat behind the driver, facing Heath and Dante. Both men looked angry, but Dante won the award for sheer ferocity.

  The car began to move and Dante turned on the man who was, for all intents and purposes, Master of this region, though his daughter carried the actual title.

  “You should not have done that.” Each word was bitten out between Dante’s clenched teeth.

  Heath sank back against the plush cushions. “Oddly enough, I agree with you. She is poisoned.”

  “What?” Megan had no idea what Heath was talking about and was wary of the anger she saw in their expressions.

  “Damn.” Dante’s anger continued but was redirected.

  “Why don’t you seem surprised?” Heath asked him suspiciously.

  “We thought it might be something like that. We weren’t sure. Otherwise we’d have done something to prevent this. I’ve been keeping an eye on her while resisting the temptation of her blood, just in case. It seems our suspicions were valid.”