The Vampire's Heir

by Ellery St. James

  My phone buzzed.

  One of???

  I climbed into the dress and surveyed the full effect in the mirror. I looked like a princess from a dark fantasy.

  A quiet knock came at the door.

  “Miss Alexandria?” Khalil’s voice sounded muffled. “It’s nearly time.”

  I took one last look and then went to the door. Khalil had already gone when I opened it. I found him in the kitchen, leaning on the black granite countertop.

  “What do you think?” I asked, feeling nervous. “Will I blend in?”

  Khalil smiled. “Not at all. But in a good way.”

  The dress didn’t have any pockets, so I was holding the cellphone and my wallet in my hand. I wasn’t about to relinquish my lifeline. Khalil noticed.

  “I think I need a clutch purse or something,” I said.

  “We can stop and get one on the way,” he promised. “There’s a mall near here. But we’ll have to hurry.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  MY NEW SILVER clutch lay on the seat beside me with my phone and wallet stashed inside. Khalil drove without speaking. The day was turning to dusk outside the tinted windows.

  It was almost time.

  “Ready, Miss Alexandria?” Khalil asked, glancing at me in the rear-view mirror.

  “How long until we get there?” I asked.

  “About thirty seconds.”

  “Can… can you drive around for another five minutes first? Please?” I asked.

  He nodded and made a right turn at the next light. I leaned back against the seat and exhaled.

  The minutes ticked by as he drove, and I smoothed the skirt of my dress and tried to breathe.

  It was just a fancy party. That was all.

  “Miss Alexandra?” Khalil asked.

  “I’m ready now.”

  The car turned into a darkened tunnel, and my stomach flipped with fear.

  We emerged from the tunnel in a private round driveway. Khalil stopped the vehicle, and someone opened my door. I stepped out into the faintly chilly night air. I heard the sound of running water and smelled fresh pine.

  A low house stood before me at the top of a hill lined with a staircase of white stone. Fountains spilled down either side of the steps, lit by colored lights of purple and blue. A valet in a white suitcoat took the keys from Khalil, who offered me his arm.

  “Shall we?”

  I took a deep breath. “Okay.”

  Lights twinkled in the trees along the front of the house. The doors were bright red and huge. As we reached them, two doormen swung them open to let us in.

  I gaped in amazement.

  The house inside looked like a castle. A line of suits of armor stood at attention on either side of the entryway, where the plain exterior gave way to floors of polished marble, and walls of rough-hewn stone. Couches and chairs of embroidered gold fabric were scattered at intervals, and an actual tree was growing in the center of the foyer, twisting upward toward a glass ceiling that showed the black night sky. Twinkling lights glowed on the tree, changing colors every few seconds from electric blue to violent purple to poison green.

  Servers bustled everywhere carrying platters laden with food and drinks. The room swarmed with guests. Men in suits and women in ball gowns. I gazed around me, awed by the sights. To my left stood a dark-haired Caucasian woman with golden lips wearing a dress as clear as mist that draped around her tall, slender body. She looked like she was wearing some kind of diamond-encrusted underwear under the gown. Beside her stood a man in a cape. An actual cape! Beyond them, I saw an Asian woman dressed in what looked like a sculpture. Her white and gray structured garments swooped around her like bird’s wings, enfolding her body. Her eyelids glittered with bold makeup.

  Eyes followed me as I stepped inside. I leaned into Khalil a little, feeling scrutinized. I saw lips move. Apparently, my status as a newcomer was obvious to all who looked at me.

  We left the foyer with the tree in the middle of it and entered a room with more couches scattered around in arrangements that looked like they were made to encourage more intimate conversations. At one end of the room, a bar jutted from the wall, and a bartender stood behind it dressed in a tuxedo.

  “Could—could I have a drink?” I asked Khalil.

  He gave me a look. “Aren’t you underage?”

  “Just a soft drink or something,” I said. “I’m thirsty as hell.”

  My mother’s addiction—and occasional problems with the law as a result—was enough to scare me away from experimentation with anything. I’d never done more than sip a beer, and I didn’t plan to until I was old enough not to get in any trouble for it.

  Khalil looked hesitant.

  “Stay here,” he instructed. “I’ll be right back.”

  I nodded and sank onto one of the couches nearest me. I was startled by how weightless I felt sitting on it. Like perching on a cloud. I pressed my hand into the material experimentally, wondering what was inside to give it that effect.

  I could feel the heat of stares on me from all around the room. They were almost like physical touches, those looks. Self-consciousness swept over me, and I lowered my head as I tried to control my blushing. Did everyone know that I didn’t belong here? Was there something about what I was wearing? Was I exuding some kind of energy that screamed, “I’m poor, and my mom’s an addict, and I don’t belong in this fancy place?”

  “Hello, little one,” a voice purred to my left.

  I looked up and saw the woman in the sheer dress with the diamond underwear. She smiled at me in a flash of perfectly white teeth, and something about that smile seemed…. hungry. No, not quite that. Like she wanted something I had, and she was trying to think how she could convince me to give it to her. That was the word that popped into my head, and it fit, but I didn’t know why. She couldn’t be jealous of my dress—hers was obviously the most impressive and daring garment in the room. And she looked ageless. I didn’t know what she might want that was mine.

  “Hello,” I said, feeling uncertain and hating it. I looked for Khalil, but a group had congregated around the bar, and I couldn’t see him.

  The man on her arm did not smile. He looked at me as if I were a dead fish that had somehow washed into the room. A dead fish that he wanted to eat, somehow.

  “You must be Victor’s new girl,” the woman continued.

  “I don’t know about that,” I said, feeling a flush creep across my face. What did that mean, Victor’s new girl? I desperately wanted to ask for more explanation, but I didn’t want to appear too ignorant. That seemed dangerous.

  “Oh, don’t be coy, dear,” the woman persisted. “I saw you with his watchdog.”

  “Khalil?” I asked.

  “Whatever his name is,” she said with a wave of her hand.

  I didn’t like her.

  “It’s Khalil,” I said.

  “And what is your name, little morsel?” the woman asked, leaning closer. “Tell me, and maybe we can give Khalil the slip and get to know each other.” Her eyes were large and they had a strange quality to them, almost a shimmer. They were dark eyes, brown kissed by black, but with threads of gold that seemed to shift and spark like embers in a fire…

  I wanted to speak, but the words died on my tongue. The world telescoped around me, and it was just her eyes, and mine held in place by some invisible bonds that I couldn’t seem to tear myself free from, or even summon the desire to struggle against—

  “Antoinette!” a voice said over my shoulder. A male voice, young and smooth and self-assured. Something about it was familiar. “Stay away from my date.”

  The woman drew back like a snake, her head whipping away from mine. “Yours?” she said, speaking to the person over my shoulder. “I thought—”

  “I know what you thought. Now go away.”

  I didn’t want to look away from the woman he’d called Antoinette. I didn’t feel safe without keeping my eyes on her.

  The speaker moved into view, and shock wash
ed over me.

  It was The Bookstore Guy.

  I felt cemented to the couch for one dizzying moment, but he wasn’t looking at me at all. He was staring at the woman, and his posture was almost animalistic, like a wolf standing over prey.

  I shivered.

  Antoinette straightened. “Don’t get cocky,” she hissed. “You don’t want to make me angry.”

  But The Bookstore Guy didn’t back down, and she slipped away with the man on her arm after giving him a last venomous glance.

  I stared at him. I wanted to say something, but all the words had frozen on my lips, along with all the questions I had about who he was and why he was here. What a bizarre coincidence. It felt like fate. And I didn’t believe in fate.

  I opened my mouth to say thank you, but instead, I blurted, “What are you doing here?”

  He leveled that impossibly blue gaze at me for a split second before he turned his head, looking around the room with a scowl. “Where is your bodyguard?”

  He seemed furious to see me. Was he mad that I was here? He knew who I was; at least, he knew I worked in a second-hand bookstore. Did he think I wasn’t suited to be at a party like this? Did he think—I felt a pang of horror—that I was stalking him?

  The annoyance I felt at him being angry at me over perceived stalking bolstered me.

  “Who says I have a bodyguard?” I countered, reflexively responding to his anger with defiance.

  “There’s no way your master let you in here without one, I guarantee it.” His tone was angry.

  Master? Some of my dizziness at seeing him again faded, replaced with alarm.

  “I don’t have a master,” I said sharply, rankled by his words, but my chest had already begun to flood with fear. What was this? Some kind of sex party? Some kind of kinky slavery thing? Did he think I was dating Victor in some weird sugar daddy scenario? “Gross,” I added, in case he didn’t know where I stood on the matter.

  I grabbed for my clutch and fumbled with the zipper. I needed to make sure Brandy knew exactly where I was. My hand closed over the phone.

  “Miss Alexandria.” I heard Khalil’s voice and turned with a gasp of relief to see him fighting his way through a crush of guests toward us, a drink in his hand.

  “Oh,” my rescuer said, as if the sight of Khalil told him something he hadn’t been expecting. His eyebrows drew together, and his lips pressed together. “You’re with Victor?”

  “How do you know Victor?” I breathed.

  But he only looked at me, his gaze searing into mine, making my stomach flip from the intensity. He didn’t reply, because Khalil had reached us.

  I felt like I was free falling from a mountain. My heart beat loud in my ears. I had a thousand questions, and my damn body was still quivering like I’d put my hand on an electric fence.

  “You left her alone,” the young man said accusingly to Khalil, his voice like cold steel as he removed his eyes from me, letting me breathe again. He spoke like someone who was used to giving orders and having them obeyed.

  Khalil matched his stare with one of his own. “I was delayed by a drunken guest. My profuse apologies, Miss Alexandria.” He handed me a glass filled with club soda.

  “I was fine,” I said in a shaky voice, taking the drink and swallowing a big gulp of it.

  “She was not fine,” The Bookstore Guy contradicted me. “Antoinette and her latest pet tried to scoop her up. I sent them away.”

  Khalil stiffened at the name Antoinette. “My thanks for your assistance, Dmitri. I would not think they would be so bold.”

  Dmitri.

  I studied the young man, absorbing his name like it was the answer to every question I’d ever had.

  “Nor would I, but things have been different since the Bard’s death,” Dmitri said.

  “Yes,” Khalil agreed.

  They spoke as if they’d known each other a long time, but as if their relationship was measured, almost faintly antagonistic.

  Dmitri indicated me with a flick of his hand, as if I were an afterthought, but his fingers trembled. Why did they tremble? He wouldn’t look at me now, I realized. He was carefully avoiding making eye contact. As if he were pretending that he barely noticed me.

  Somehow, I knew he was pretending. I knew he was lying when he was acting like I didn’t matter. The certainty of my understanding went down to my bones.

  “I didn’t realize she was…” He paused. “Normally they wear white dresses,” Dmitri continued. “That’s how Victor likes it. That pure look.”

  They? Normally? What did he mean?

  “I chose my own dress, thanks,” I said.

  Dmitri cut another glance in my direction while still not meeting my eyes.

  “Mr. Branaugh—” Khalil began in defense of his employer, speaking to Dmitri.

  “Did someone say my name?”

  We turned. There stood the man himself, dressed in a tuxedo and holding a glass of red wine. He was smiling politely, but his eyes were hard as they rested on Dmitri.

  Dmitri, I noticed, stiffened. “Victor,” he said in greeting. A muscle in his jaw clenched.

  “Dmitri,” Victor answered.

  The air shivered with unexplained tension. I rubbed my arm, uncomfortable, and Victor’s gaze fell on me.

  “Alexandria,” he said frostily. “Your dress.”

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” I said, ignoring his tone and smoothing my hands down the bodice.

  Victor’s eyebrows drew together sharply. “I gave you explicit instructions on what to choose.”

  “You did,” I said brightly, pretending I wasn’t frightened at his tone. “But I liked this one better. And I’m your guest for the evening, aren’t I? Not a slave.”

  That word—slave—cut through the air like a knife.

  Dmitri’s head turned, and he looked at me as if seeing me for the first time. Some undefined emotion flitted across his features. Then, he smiled a sideways smile that made my stomach curl, but not in a bad way.

  Victor seemed equally taken aback. “Of course not,” he agreed coldly, although he attempted a reassuring smile. “You are my guest, yes.” He looked me over again. “It is unexpected,” he said. “Different than… well. Different. But I like it, my dear.”

  I didn’t believe him for a second.

  Dmitri’s mouth moved in an almost imperceptible smirk.

  “I saw your father,” Victor said to Dmitri. “He appeared to be looking for you. He was displeased about something. I’m sure you know what it is.”

  Dmitri’s mouth pressed in a line.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” he said. He bowed to me. “It was lovely to meet you, Alexandria.”

  He turned on his heel and strode away, leaving me staring after him curiously.

  “Who is he, exactly?” I asked Victor.

  “The son of, ah, a rival family,” Victor said. “Business matters, mostly. We’re all rivals here, a bit.” He waved a hand as if to indicate the room full of people.

  “What kind of business?” I felt emboldened from his reaction to my dress. And I needed to have answers. He couldn’t fault me for asking, not based upon the offer he’d made me. Still, I felt like I wasn’t supposed to ask. I felt like I was supposed to be swept up in some glittering fairy tale story that I didn’t question.

  Victor laughed as if I’d said something silly. “My dear, everything you can imagine. Banking. Shipping. Manufacturing. Everyone is ludicrously wealthy.”

  “And what about you?” I asked. “What is your business?”

  Victor’s laugh faded. He tipped his head, thoughtful. “I am an investor, mostly,” he said. “I made a fortunate investment a long time ago, and it has paid off handsomely.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “If my day is any indication, it must have.”

  “And how did you find the restaurant? L’atmosfera is an excellent place to dine, I’m told.”

  “Haven’t you eaten there?” I was surprised.

  “No,” he said, smiling as if
I’d told a joke. “I have not.”

  Again, I had the sense that another invisible conversation was taking place, one I couldn’t understand. Frustration well inside me. I didn’t like feeling like a child who wasn’t getting the innuendos of a discussion between adults. I also didn’t like demanding, like a child, to have them explained to me.

  I looked at Khalil to see if he would provide any information. He was studying the floor with a polite, detached expression.

  “And the apartment?” Victor asked. “Is it to your liking?”

  “It’s huge,” I said. “Very fancy.”

  “It will be yours,” he said. “If you say yes.”

  If you say yes.

  A shiver fluttered through me. Why did that feel so ominous?

  Victor spotted someone across the room. I turned and saw a man with a moon-bright smile and dark hair and skin.

  “I’ll be back, my dear,” Victor muttered, and strode toward him.

  Khalil said, “Forgive me again for allowing you to feel threatened. It was remiss of me.”

  “Do they dislike each other?” I asked, watching Victor walk away before turning and trying to catch a glimpse of The Bookstore Guy, who now had a name. Dmitri. It sounded European, and something about it, paired with his face, made me think of old dusty books and wrought iron balconies.

  What were the odds that I’d see him here?

  Had Dmitri known who I was? Had he sought me out knowing I was going to be approached by Victor? Curious, maybe, about the girl who might be adopted into Victor’s family and wealth?

  No, that seemed too… too spy movie-esque. Surely it was a coincidence.

  Right?

  I didn’t know what to think about it.

  Khalil considered his words. “They have a point of contention between them. A tragedy that happened years ago. Dmitri—” He paused. “Dmitri is impetuous.”

  Impetuous. What a word to sum up that dazzling creature. I wondered what else he was. I wanted to pump Khalil for information, but I didn’t want to draw attention to my silly crush.

  “And Victor?”

  “Mr. Branaugh is a stubborn man,” he said in the kind of tone one uses to signal that a topic is now closed. “Now. Would you like to see the gardens? They are beautiful.”