The Vampire's Doll (The Heiress and the Vampire Book 1)

by Jaclyn Dolamore

  “That’s one way to make a bargain,” Darem said. “But it’s no way to forge a relationship. This is the last time I sell anything to you.” She tried to slam the top door shut, but Dennis caught it with his hand.

  “Does that mean you’ll do the deal?” he asked.

  “No!”

  “Please,” Parsons said. “It’s a fair deal. I can’t imagine the diversion spell costs that much. The others are trinkets. These bracelets belonged to my late mother.”

  “Cost’s going up all the time,” the woman muttered, but she held up a finger to wait and shut the door.

  A moment later, she held out a small cloth sack containing a short wooden wand and one glass orb spell—that would be the crying smoke. “No forgetting spells,” she said. “I’m out of ‘em.”

  Yeah, right, Parsons thought, but she had been the one to mess up the deal anyway. Threatening the black market potion dealer, yes, that had been sloppy.

  The other bracelet disappeared behind the door. Parsons looked at her bare wrists. Mama never was much for jewelry anyway, she told herself.

  Chapter Sixteen

  It is too dangerous to stay, no matter how much you love Papa and Els.

  Parsons kept telling herself that, but it wasn’t easy to write the letters she would leave to them. Els, she thought, would understand. Deep down, maybe Els even expected this outcome.

  Papa, on the other hand…he would miss her terribly and perhaps blame himself. She had to write his letter carefully.

  But he wanted a loyalty band. Sure, he questioned whether she should have one at her young age, but he had never said anything to indicate that he was unsure about his own loyalties.

  The fact was, Papa had never protected her against the rougher parts of life. He wasn’t malicious, but he was passive and oblivious to the darker side of people’s souls. As long as he kept his head bowed over a machine in the basement, he never had to think about whether men had lascivious designs on his daughter or whether Calban might not have their best interests at heart.

  Dennis was the one who had immediately grasped her situation and protected her. He was the presence she had been craving all her life… In more ways than one.

  Certainly, that was part of her guilt. Half of this was out of genuine concern for her safety here. The other half was…just wanting more nights like the last one.

  They had taken a circuitous route around the city to get back to Bright Hill and come back well past midnight. Papa was understanding, having already heard about the riots from Calban. The Peacock General apparently checked in on his way home to see if Parsons had gotten home safely, and when she straggled in, Papa immediately sent a servant up the hill to reassure him.

  Calban wants to make sure his vampire is safe, she thought, wondering if Irik had ever gotten home. Maybe she had also taken the opportunity to run away.

  They had left the Cadillac behind, and one of the guards brought it back with two broken windows. A sobering reminder of the past night’s events.

  She didn’t waste time in preparing for their departure. She barely got any sleep before hastily sneaking off with Dennis to shop for American-style clothing. The district that had been mobbed last night was still a mess, according to the paper, but shops were popping up all over the city. People said you could walk around a block and there would be a new store by the time you came back to where you’d begun. She knew she couldn’t show up in a dress from 1905, and certainly not her everyday clothing.

  She thought she could just choose some pretty dresses, but Dennis quickly became the drab voice of reason. “If we don’t want to attract attention, you wouldn’t wear anything too fancy. You’re better off with some simple skirts and blouses. But you need to start with underwear,” he said.

  “What does that matter? It’s underneath.”

  “Everyone would notice if you’re not wearing a corset and petticoat. And the clothes need to fit properly over the undergarments.”

  “Are you sure you know what you’re talking about? It’s been a while since you were home.”

  “Some things never change.”

  They had to venture a few stores down to a shop that sold everything from corsets to the latest frilly lingerie, styled after Paris fashions. This was not the street where she usually went shopping, so no one recognized her. The shopkeepers, once again, obviously assumed she belonged to Dennis.

  This is why I must leave, Parsons thought.

  Although it probably didn’t help that they could hardly keep their hands off of each other. The dressing room was huge, and they slipped in together so she could check to see if the smallest corset would fit her. She was already so small; it was pointless to wear one in her opinion, but Dennis said corsets weren’t necessarily about shrinking the waist, for everyday wear they just gave clothing the proper shape.

  “Believe me,” he said, lacing her up. “I’m not going to enjoy covering you up in this many layers.” He stood behind her in the mirror, wrapping a hand around her slim waist. “But right now…”

  She pressed against his back and looked up at him eagerly. After all, she wasn’t about to invite him to her bedroom as long as her father and the servants were in the house, and if they didn’t repeat last night soon, she might burst. The shopkeeper already thought she was a concubine so they might as well. His hand dropped between her legs, fingers reaching beneath her chemise. She watched in the mirror as his knuckles strained against the white cotton garment, stroking her inside. The other hand gathered up her hair, twisting it around his fingers to bare her neck.

  Then he frowned.

  She glanced up, meeting the eyes of his reflection. “What’s wrong?”

  “If we do find these other vampires, they’re going to wonder why you don’t smell like flesh and blood.”

  “We’ll tell them we found a spell somewhere,” she said impatiently. “They’ll have to believe it, won’t they? They’re already vampires. They can’t say magic isn’t real.”

  “You certainly don’t look like a hometown girl,” he said. “Your hairstyle is different…and you’re so dark.”

  “Dark?” Parsons was confused before she considered that the women in the magazines were very fair, like Dennis himself. They looked more like Miralem.

  “Prejudices are different in America,” he said. “Skin color matters more. We’ll see how you look with the spell, but we can probably say you’re Italian.”

  “Do I have to use a different name?” She hadn’t thought much about how she would have to change to live in America. “When we went to Paris I had to say I was named Polly Bisbee. But I was supposed to let Mama and Papa do the talking.”

  “Polly Bisbee?” He laughed. “I think you are more of a Paolina Bianchi. But then, we could say you changed your name to fit in as an American. Especially once you married a Faraday. You’re not a Polly in any case, I’d say. I could see you as a…Bernadette. There’s a good Catholic name for you.”

  “Now I’m Catholic, too?”

  “Ostensibly. You have to be something, if anyone asks. But don’t worry.” He kissed the tip of her ear. “We’ll be together. Everything else can be managed.”

  “I hope so,” she said, nerves creeping back in.

  “I’ll protect you, no matter what.”

  Yes. That was all she really wanted.

  Chapter Seventeen

  She thought they would have to wait until the next courtship dance to have access to the palace, but luck—of sorts—was on their side. Calban had a grand announcement to make on behalf of the Wodrenarune. These announcements happened any time there was an important decree to be given, and it happened just two days after the mob at the theater. Papa was always invited to them, as the chief engineer, and an invitation was generally extended to her as well. This time, it was all three of them.

  As far as Papa knew, Dennis had agreed to marry her, and they would soon move into their new house. At dinner, he seemed content to discuss wedding plans. Any concerns he migh
t have had about Dennis were buried away, although she knew deep down that he didn’t really like Dennis. It was hard to pinpoint Papa’s dislikes, because he was so mild-mannered. But she could just tell.

  They only had a few hours between the invitation to Calban’s announcement and the time they had to be at the palace. She thought she would have weeks to accept the idea of saying goodbye.

  Maybe it was better this way.

  She let Francoise help her into her new, American-style clothing, even the corset and petticoat.

  “Why do you need this?” Francoise asked, almost laughing at the corset.

  “Oh…Mr. Faraday likes it,” Parsons said, trying to explain, although she immediately regretted it. Saying that she was wearing something just because Dennis liked it, that did make it sound like he owned her. But it won’t matter, in America. They don’t have any kind of slavery anymore. It sounded so lovely. A world without slavery or people who could pry into your mind like the Miralem.

  “You look older,” Francoise commented.

  Parsons shifted left and right, staring at herself in the mirror, trying to comprehend that soon an illusion spell would hide her real self. The dress already gave her a different aspect. It was very plain, a dark red blouse and dark gray wool skirt. A jacket and a snappy feathered hat completed the ensemble. Two more blouses were stuffed into her small traveling bag. If anyone asked why she was carrying a bag, she was going to say she had some books to return to Els. She had sewn two large pockets into the skirt of her dress to carry the potions and wands, along with some more pieces of Mama’s jewelry.

  She sent Francoise away and put a letter for Papa in Bluette’s arms, then put the doll on the bed and covered her with the teddy bear. When she was gone, Papa would find the letters there easily enough. She didn’t cry until she had to say goodbye to Royale, Antoinette and Alexandra. She quickly wrote one more note leaving them in the care of Francoise and Eugenie. Eugenie liked the rat and Francoise liked Alexandra and Antoinette, and maybe the pets would ease their own loneliness as they had for Parsons.

  The last order of business was to sneak into Papa’s bedroom and steal all the American money he kept for his travels.

  She crept down the hall to his bedroom, ears perked for the servants. Papa himself was downstairs talking to Dennis about fates-knew-what. It took her a moment of rummaging to find the drawer. She found several hundred dollars in American bills and a wand with an embedded crystal. What was this wand for? It had some power, indicated by the crystal. It hummed in her hand when she picked it up.

  Forgive me, Papa. She took the wand too.

  “Parsons, my gosh, you look just like an Earthly girl,” Papa said when she came downstairs. “What’s this all about?”

  “Well, I realized the other day while wearing Mama’s old dress that my clothes are a little immature,” she said honestly.

  “I see.” He squeezed her shoulders. “Growing up all at once on me, are you?”

  She struggled not to start crying again as they walked to the palace. It was no use trying to drive, with all the people swarming the gates to hear the speech.

  They were allowed in the guarded side entrance to watch the speech at a favorable vantage point beneath the balcony where the Wodrenarune always appeared. The summer sun was beating down, so Dennis had to stay inside the palace and Parsons hung back with him, peering out the windows occasionally to look over the crowds, already plotting when and how to get to the portal room. After these speeches, the doors were always opened to the elite guests, so everyone could have a fine meal and drinks and toast the latest decrees.

  I’ll have to suffer through a little of it to avoid suspicion, she thought. People will want to congratulate me on the engagement, and I’ll smile and nod…

  Calban’s new state orchestra, still slightly discombobulated, was trying their best to play a piece Parsons recognized mid-way through as the 1812 Overture. Dennis obviously recognized it too but by this time he no longer commented on such things. He just shot her a look that said, Of course.

  The doors to the balcony opened and Calban strode out, dressed down in a blousy linen shirt, short-sleeved blue tunic, and worker’s cap. He was joined by several other men Parsons didn’t recognize, and there was a collective exhalation of disappointment that the Wodrenarune himself was not making an appearance.

  “My people,” Calban said, lifting a hand. “Thank you for coming in such haste. I have been in deep discussion with our leader, but he asked me to speak to you in my own words, because I am the one who took it upon myself to arrange the premiere of the motion picture a few days ago. I realize I made a mistake in judgment. I have been discovering so many exciting things in Earth, and I want to share them with this world, but I didn’t think how this would look, this premiere by invitation to my own wealthy friends, while those of you in the factories are working so hard and not reaping the benefits to your soul.

  “The Promise of a New World is for all of you. It is meant to make kings from peasants, not to simply be locked behind gilded doors. And so, this was not the right way for me to introduce it to you.

  “Moreover, I am made aware that factory work—for all of its benefits—is a hard and repetitive toil, and we promised that you would have comforts to balance this. As we flirt with the notion of a world war, naturally we’ve been hesitant to do anything to scale back production, but Lord Jherin says we must.” He glanced behind him. “I have spoken to the heads of Nalim Ima National Steel, the Productive Mill Works Company, and others here, and they have all agreed. The work week must be capped for all workers at ten hours a day and the week’s end must encompass two full days off for all factory workers. This will go into effect immediately, even as we discuss a more comprehensive set of laws for worker protections.”

  The factory heads were smiling and slowly clapping while the greatest part of the audience, the common people filling the square, let up a roar of cheering.

  Parsons hardly noticed. What happened in the factories had no bearing on her life anyway, but it was useful that the speech was met with such excitement. The more excited people were, the less they would notice if she snuck down to the portal room.

  After some additional speeches, the guests were urged back through the doors into the palace interior for a reception. Since this was a daytime party during a hot summer day, the palace doors were thrown open. Calban’s official party planner was setting up girls sculpted from ice, who towered over trays of fruit. Everyone was drinking from crystal bowls of fruity beverages and fanning themselves with paper fans. A band was playing airs in the garden, and some people were dancing. Parsons was thankful she didn’t get hot. A few men had sweated enough to soak the back of their jackets.

  Parsons whispered the plan to Dennis. “We’ll wait until people are starting to get drunk.”

  Until then, she didn’t know what to do. Occasionally someone came over with a brief congratulations, or welcomed Dennis to Nalim Ima. One of Parsons’ school friends came in with her newborn baby and Parsons dutifully complimented the sleeping, diaper-clad lump of flesh.

  “Did she just say her baby is named Victrola? Like the phonograph?” Dennis asked. “Lord.”

  “I can’t say anything,” Parsons said. “I’m named after an inventor and his ship…”

  In such a moment, this felt like a relatively harmless place. Normal. The only normal she knew. Wealth and food in abundance, an air of breezy arrogance. The businessmen were grumbling a bit about this new limited work week, when Calban wasn’t around. There was a constant sense of, Life has never been this good.

  “Parsons!” Els came running over.

  Parsons was both relieved and distraught. She had almost been hoping, in some way, that Els wouldn’t make it. That she wouldn’t have to say goodbye.

  Of course, she must say goodbye. She owed Els honesty.

  Els threw her arms around Parsons and Dennis both. “I just heard you’re engaged! Why didn’t you send me a message?” She pinc
hed Parsons’ arm. “Are you still upset about our argument?”

  “No—no. I’ve been…preoccupied.” Parsons was on the verge of tears instantly. Stop it, stop it, stop it. How embarrassing.

  “Oh.” Els glanced warily at Dennis, then pulled Parsons aside. “Let me steal her a minute…”

  “Be my guest. I’m going to dream about who I’d drink from first out of this lot.”

  Parsons was slightly mortified but Els laughed.

  Parsons was the one who took the lead, dragging Els away from the party to one of the side halls, although it didn’t feel private enough for all the things she needed to say. She handed Els the letter she had written to explain without a word.

  Els looked stunned even before she opened it. She immediately grasped that a letter meant something very serious. She opened it, her eyes darting over the words.

  “Don’t read it too fast,” Parsons said, her voice coming out a little strangled. “The whole plan is there.”

  “America?” Els said, in the barest whisper. “But what if you…what if you break?”

  “I don’t know,” Parsons said. “It would be safer to stay here…” Her voice faltered entirely.

  “This place isn’t safe for him,” Els said, glancing sideways, as if Dennis was there. She took a deep breath, clutching a hand to her sash. “And you thought you’d lose me.”

  “I don’t want to leave.” Parsons struggled through another wave of tears. “But—I want other things—that I can never have here. When I’m with Dennis, I don’t feel so…” She trailed off. She didn’t have to explain to Els how she struggled to feel like a real girl, to be accepted in this world. “And I want to see America. I always have. It would have been my life’s dream to study there, if that hadn’t been snuffed out when I was a kid. I think deep down, that’s why I lost my ambitions. But why shouldn’t I be able to go? That’s what illusion spells are for. If they’re good enough to make Fanarlem look alive, why aren’t they good enough to make me look human?”