by A
you before I let you actually sign.‖
Another small, amused curl of his lips. ―You still don‘t trust me.‖
I just shrugged and returned the smile. Hell, I barely trust myself.
I arrived at the offices of Pratt, Arons, Ziegler, Santos, and Cortez a few minutes after the Will
reading was supposed to start. Mostly it was due to traffic, but I also didn‘t want to have a
scene in front of the office staff when Vicki‘s parents saw me. Sadly, the receptionist
recognized me and smiled. I say ―sadly‖ because I‘ve spent a lot of time and a truckload of
money here lately because of my upcoming hearing.
―Morning, Tabitha. Where are they holding Vicki‘s Will reading?‖
―Good morning, Miss Graves.‖ Tabitha‘s voice was painfully polite. She didn‘t like me. It
was all over her body language. But I was a paying client, so she‘d play nice. ―We weren‘t
expecting you.‖ I knew I was on the list of attendees, but I‘d also been in the room when Dr.
Scott had called to tell Barney Arons I wouldn‘t be attending.
I didn‘t reply, just raised one brow. She nodded and picked up the phone, dialing three
numbers before moving her gaze to the desk in front of her. I‘ve noticed most receptionists do
that when they take a call, as though it creates an invisible wall between them and the person
standing at the desk. ―Yes, sir. Celia Graves is here?‖ She made it a question and I knew why.
Would Arons tell me to take a hike? He had every right.
I could hear the reply with my shiny new vampire ears. ―Tell her to come up, please. We
haven‘t started yet.‖
―Of course. Thank you.‖ She put down the receiver. ―They‘re in conference room B-nine.‖
She turned and pointed to the stairs. ―Next floor up, take a right at the top of the stairs, go all
the way to the end, turn left, and it‘s the third door on the left.‖
―Up, right, left, left. Got it. Thanks.‖
―Have a nice day.‖ She tried to make it sound sincere and failed. Whatever. I turned right, as
instructed, and started walking. I knew from previous visits that this entire floor was devoted
to conference rooms, which I thought was a really nifty idea and very smart planning. Cozy
little enclaves held just two or three people—I‘d often met Roberto in those (usually when his
office was too trashed to dig out a chair)—while other, massive rooms could seat forty or fifty
people around a single, unhexable table. All the tables were various shades of marble or slate,
which made me wonder aloud to Roberto once about the logistics of hauling the solid stone
slabs up. He‘d replied with a snort, ―Cranes, scaffolds, reinforcing floors, removing windows
. . . you don‘t want to know the headaches.‖ And he was probably right.
The reading was apparently in one of the big rooms, because it took a while to get to ―third
door on the left.‖ At least I had time to admire the stunning abstract paintings on the walls and
feel the soft cushion of high-dollar carpeting underfoot. It was utterly silent in the bright
hallway. Every room was soundproofed for confidentiality and I could feel the press of
avoidance spells that forced me not to stop at certain rooms—probably where other meetings
were taking place.
In the end, it wasn‘t hard to spot the proper room: It was the one with armed guards standing
on either side of the door. Both men were big and wore crisply starched brown uniforms that
looked almost like those of a state trooper. They were armed and each wore a holy item on a
silver chain around his neck. I wondered if they were here to keep the parties inside safe or to
keep the rest of the office safe from the parties inside.
They didn‘t seem surprised at my appearance, which meant someone had warned them to
expect the fangs. I was glad. I was already tired of the commotion my new teeth could bring
about.
One guard made me show him my driver‘s license, which made good sense. Then, after
checking my name off a list on his PDA, he opened the door, then carefully closed it behind
me. I paused just inside to scan the room and its occupants.
Barney Arons sat in the center of the room, on the far side of the table. The others faced
him, along with a large video screen that covered one window. They‘d turned their heads as I
entered.
―Hey, Celia. Great to see you!‖ David greeted me warmly, and he and Inez both smiled as I
slid into a chair. David and Inez ran the mansion Vicki had lived in when she wasn‘t at
Birchwoods. David kept the grounds in enviable condition and Inez did the same with the
interior . . . including the guesthouse I called home. I wasn‘t surprised to see them here. Vicki
had always said she‘d take care of them if anything happened.
I sat near the door in case Cassandra launched herself at me. She looked like she might. Her
beautiful face had moved from neutral and sad when I‘d first stepped inside to livid hatred.
―What are you doing here?‖
Vicki‘s father, the legendary actor Jason Cooper, nudged his wife with more force than was
probably necessary. He hissed, ―Let it go, Cass,‖ and gave her a look. She returned the look
with force and he raised his brows. ―I mean it. Drop it now. This isn‘t the time or the place.‖
Instead of relaxing, she pushed back her chair. I tensed. Sure, I could handle her, but I really
didn‘t want to hurt her. She was my best friend‘s mother. Vicki would be hurt beyond belief if
I harmed Cassandra. The worst part was that I hadn‘t done anything wrong. I‘d loved Vicki
like a sister. It made me sad how much Cassandra hated me. But she didn‘t turn my way.
Instead, she moved to the far end of the room and sat down in the chair opposite me. Then she
proceeded to ignore me completely. She pulled a nail file from her purse and began shaping
her already perfect nails.
Sheesh, all that trouble, just so I‘d know she was ignoring me. I shook my head and leaned
back. So she was going to be dramatic instead of physical. Worked for me.
Alex was also there. She gave me a sad smile. Her eyes were red—she‘d been crying again.
Detective Heather Alexander had been Vicki‘s lover. They were as close as a honeymoon
couple and had one day hoped to marry. While we aren‘t close, Alex and I get along well
enough to get by.
It was disturbing to see the person next to Alex face-to-face. Sybil Jones was the woman
Cassandra had selected to be Vicki‘s double. Hired when Vicki was just a teenager, Sybil was
the public face of Victoria Cooper, the darling of the social set in Monte Carlo and the
Hamptons. Personally, I never thought Sybil looked all that much like Vicki. She had a
different facial shape—oval to Vicki‘s heart—and her nose wasn‘t the same at all. She‘d cut
her hair into the latest bob, which would have looked ridiculous on Vicki but dramatically
altered Sybil‘s overall appearance. I might not have been so uncomfortable with her if I hadn‘t
known that her very existence had been a source of never-ending hurt to Vicki—not just that
her parents wouldn‘t acknowledge who she really was but also that they were embarrassed by
her.
The press had finally gotten wind of the deception. Vicki had commented more than once
that she actually felt sorry for Sybil. Yes, she was given a life of privilege, wit
h jewelry, trips,
and fame. But now what? What did the future hold for a woman who had lived most of her life
as a lie? She‘d betrayed every relationship she might have made— had to, to keep the secret.
I‘d imagine it was like being a spy, a James Bond. Frankly, I couldn‘t do it. It would ruin me
emotionally.
She glanced at me blankly. We‘d met just once, so I wasn‘t surprised she didn‘t remember.
It had been . . . awkward. Like Alex, Sybil had been crying. For the loss of a woman she never
knew, or the end of her life of privilege?
We sat in silence for several minutes. Arons continued to make notes on a yellow legal pad.
After checking her watch for the fifth time, Cassandra finally spoke: ―Are we going to get on
with this? We only planned for this to take an hour. We have a flight at three and still have
other errands.‖
Arons looked up and blinked at her from behind thick horn-rimmed glasses. ―We‘re still
waiting for five interested parties. According to Ms. Cooper‘s written instructions, I‘m not to
read the Will until everyone is present.‖ He went back to writing notes, flipping pages in a
thick manila folder with the other hand.
―But we have a flight. ‖
The attorney sighed and put down his fat Waterman pen. He took off his glasses and began
to polish the lenses with a handkerchief. ―Ms. Meadows, I can‘t imagine what gave you the
impression this entire event would take only an hour. Your daughter had an extensive estate,
owing to both the inheritance from your parents and her own investment skill. Vicki crafted a
very creative and carefully thought out Will. She chose not only to have her wishes
memorialized in a standard legal document but also to create a video so there was no question
of her intent. Being a highly attuned clairvoyant, she set up a precise timetable for this event.
We have another‖—he glanced at a gold watch that I was betting was a Rolex—―eight and a
half minutes before we begin. Everyone should have arrived by then. If you wish to use the
time to good effect . . .‖ Arons carefully put his glasses back on and cocked his head just a bit.
He concluded, ―You might want to make a call and change your flight.‖
I stifled a smirk, but Alex laughed out loud and Cassandra‘s pale face reddened.
There was a knock on the door. The attorney looked up, glanced at his watch, nodded, and
wrote a checkmark on the top sheet of his pad. ―Yes?‖ he called out softly.
The door opened and it was my turn to be surprised and a little angry. John Creede walked
in the door and started visibly when he saw me.
I didn‘t mirror Cassandra‘s outburst from my arrival, but I did raise an eyebrow and he
could probably feel the anger that made my muscles clench. How dare he play me, pretend to
want . . . well, what? Honestly, I couldn‘t decide why I was angry, but I was. ―There wouldn‘t
have been much time for lunch, would there?‖
―Celia, I—‖
Arons interrupted whatever lame apology Creede had been about to offer. ―Thank you for
coming on such short notice, Mr. Creede. I was unaware of the change in your office
administration. Once I was informed you hadn‘t received our messages I obtained the number
for your cell phone from Mr. Cooper.‖
―Well, I didn‘t have anything else scheduled, so I was able to come right over.‖
John sat down right next to me with barely a glance at Jason and Cassandra; this gesture and
his stony facial expression told me that he wanted nothing to do with his former clients. I
couldn‘t bring myself to look up to see the reaction of the Coopers.
Barney Arons clucked his tongue in disapproval. ―The receptionist at your former firm
should have advised us you were no longer working with them.‖ He sighed. ―No harm done, I
suppose.‖
There was another knock on the door, another ―Yes?‖ from Arons.
When the door opened this time, my jaw dropped. A dozen emotions swam through my
stomach as my gran stepped in, wearing her best Sunday dress and clutching the little golden
purse Vicki had given her one Christmas. Her smile when she saw me lit up the room and she
raced over to embrace me in a hug. ―Oh, sweetheart. I‘m so glad you made it. I‘ve missed
you.‖
I returned the hug with gusto. I‘d missed her, too.
Dr. Scott walked through the door at Gran‘s heels. He took in the occupants with a glance
and then his gaze fell on me. His voice was a threatening rumble. ―Celia, I am beyond angry
with you. I believe I made it clear that you were not to come to this meeting.‖ He took a single
step toward me and Creede stood in a flash, blocking his path. Power began to bleed off them
both, filling the room with enough energy that even the protection spell couldn‘t completely
dampen it. John held his hands in classic mage mode, hip level, fingers spread and cupped—
ready to throw a fireball if needed. The doctor‘s brow had furrowed and he‘d adjusted his
stance so all his weight was on the balls of his feet. I wasn‘t sure what the classic position of a
psi-warrior was just before battle, but I was pretty sure I was seeing it.
While I didn‘t think the doctor would hurt me, I didn‘t really like the look in his eye. All the
little stresses were piling up on him, straining his composure to the breaking point.
Gran likewise turned, putting herself squarely in front of me. But I don‘t need a bodyguard,
much less two. I am a bodyguard. I stepped out from around Gran and said, ―Guys, let‘s all
calm down, okay? Doctor, I didn‘t trick you. But as long as I was out for the day I decided I
should be here. I may be a patient at your facility, but I make my own decisions. You are not
my treating doctor and Dr. Hubbard never saw any problem with my attending. Yes, I‘m under
court order for treatment but—‖
All of a sudden, I started to feel shaky and realized breakfast was wearing off quickly. I was
staring at the doctor‘s neck and the fast-pulsing vein just under the skin. . . . I could feel the
drool pooling in my mouth. It wasn‘t just the good doctor who needed to calm down. I hissed.
Everybody stepped away from me as the world slipped into hyperfocus. My hands rose,
glowing green fingers curled into claws. Calf muscles twinged as I sank into a crouch, the
better to spring at and land on my prey.
Crap. No, not now! Not with Gran in the room!
A cold wind abruptly blew my hair back, probably slapping it against John‘s face. The
temperature in the room dropped hard and fast and my breath began to come out as steam.
Writing appeared on the frost-covered glass over an ocean scene. Knock it off!
I heard the furnace kick on and warm air began to flow up around my feet and down on the
top of my head. The cold had pushed away the hunger and I could think again. Before it could
return, I retreated from the situation. I slid my chair away from the table, into the farthest
corner of the room, and curled up in the chair, legs against my chest as I struggled to get
control of my breathing and my predator‘s response. The others sat down as well but scooted
just a bit farther from me. Even Gran watched me with a new nervousness that I didn‘t like.
But she‘d only seen the vampire peek out once and never like this, so I could hardly blame her.
I cou
ld only hope it didn‘t affect our relationship.
―Thank you, Vicki.‖ Arons‘s voice was calm but leaked a bit of nervousness that said that
this might not have been on the schedule. After taking a deep breath, letting it out slow, and
then wiping the fog that had appeared on his glasses, he picked up the phone receiver. ―Becky?
The confrontation phase is concluded. Please bring in our next guest and the refreshment for
Ms. Graves.‖
Wow. So Vicki had foreseen even this? Damn, she was good. But who was the next guest? I
didn‘t even expect half the people already here.
The door at the far end of the room opened and a slightly disheveled brunette woman
stepped in the door. I‘d seen her around the office before, so I presumed she was Becky. She
held open the door and waved someone inside, then brought me a large thermal mug filled
with what smelled like French onion soup.
The young man she‘d ushered in had skin that was pale, and freckles stood out in sharp
relief under a shock of carrot orange hair. Mr. Arons stood and held out his hand across the
table. ―Mr. Murphy? Barney Arons. We spoke on the phone last month. Thank you for coming.
I hope you had a comfortable trip. Is your hotel satisfactory?‖
I‘d never seen him before in my life and apparently nobody else in the room had, either.
Jason and Cassandra were exchanging confused glances, as were Alex and Sybil.
―Yessir. I‘ve never flown in a private jet before and Molly and the girls are loving the hotel
room. But you really didn‘t have to put us up in a suite. A regular room would have been just
fine.‖ He had a light southern drawl but with a sophisticated edge. I couldn‘t quite place the
location.
―Not at all. Ms. Cooper was very clear in her wishes for your stay here. You were to have
the best of everything, with no expenses spared. So, please . . . enjoy it.‖ He waved toward a
seat between Cassandra and Jason. ―If you‘d have a seat? We‘re ready to start.‖
Mr. Murphy stopped in his tracks, jaw dropping when he actually got a look at the people he
would be sitting next to. I watched him swallow hard and pull himself together enough that he
wouldn‘t act starstruck and embarrass himself in front of everyone.
Arons had said five new people. So, Creede, Gran, Dr. Scott, and Mr. Murphy. Was Vicki
