by Hughes, Mary
“Of course you weren’t and didn’t.” Amusement won out and Liese smiled. “But some day you will. Someday, Rocky, you’ll be fully yourself, and I, for one, look forward to it.”
Tellingly, Dragan’s first words outside the Steel house were, “You must be careful what you say to whom, Raquel. You’re standing between some very dangerous people.” He took my elbow and steered me down the sidewalk. His red speeding-ticket-on-wheels was parked at the end of the block. “Nosferatu’s reach is far longer than you realize.”
He’d overheard me telling Liese what Triana had said. And he wasn’t pumping me for more, only warning me. In a flash of insight, I realized he knew about the megavamp too.
But when I was seated in Dragan’s car and he accelerated away I stopped worrying about megavamps to enjoy the sensation of my lips being peeled away from my clenched teeth. I managed, “Where are we going?”
“The church. I want to see if I can determine what caused Kevin’s attack. Then I am taking you to dinner.”
A nightmare of dozens of almost imperceptibly different knives and forks and spoons marched along my nerves, each with its own name and use like cheese fork and dessert spoon, none of which I knew. “I changed my mind about dinner.”
“Nonsense. There are fairly presentable restaurants attached to all the hotels I frequent. They know me and keep a table in reserve for me—along with a suite of their best rooms.” He caressed me with a heavy-lidded, just-out-of-bed stare.
If it hadn’t been for the rush of air cooling me like an industrial fan, it would’ve been spontaneous human combustion for me, starting in my Bermuda triangle.
But then we were at Old Red and I put the thought of Dragan’s suite of best rooms out of my mind. I mean, we were headed into a church. Naughty thoughts were sure to get me smited.
I started toward my usual entrance, the front door, but Dragan took my hand and led me around the side of the building. “Stay with me,” he murmured as he led me to a small door near the large stained glass window that marked the side of the sanctuary. “I’m not sure what we’ll find.”
“Won’t the church be locked?”
“That isn’t a problem.” He kept my hand in one of his as he turned to the door. A few seconds later there was a click and he pulled the door open and led me into a tiny entryway.
I thought picking a lock took two hands and several minutes. “How did you—?”
“Shh.” He hissed it, his back going stiff. His head swiveled, weirdly fluid, toward the inner sanctuary door; his eyebrows were slashed in anger, his nostrils fully distended.
The elegant beast had a more savage side.
Hand tight on mine, he led me to the inner door and nudged it open.
I followed his glare into the chancel.
Camille peeked under the altar, her black hair shimmering in waves to brush the floor. She wore a thin coat of red paint masquerading as a dress. It was backless, exposing the supple length of her spine. Virtually skirt-less as well; the material was so thin, the spotlight illuminating the chancel shone through, clearly delineating her legs.
My hand in Dragan’s got sweaty. He’d called me gorgeous, but Camille was truly stunning. Now he’d see how wrong he was about me. Now the lady’s man would drop me and pursue her.
Sure enough, Dragan growled.
But to my shock, it wasn’t sexy it at all. It was furious. “Camille.”
She spun straight. Squeaked, “What…?” Her body relaxed. “Oh, it’s you.” Her voice relaxed too, into a deep-throated purr. “Hello, Dragan darling.”
He wasn’t having any. Hand gripping mine, he stalked to the altar, dragging me with him. I opened my mouth to squawk that we musicians didn’t go into the sanctuary, not since the trombonist incident, but he didn’t seem open to argument right then and I shut it. He said, “Was it you, Camille? Did you send a young man into cardiac arrest here at dusk?”
“Maybe.” She smiled pertly. “After all, to make whole legions of males keel over, I only have to breathe.”
“This isn’t a joke.” Dragan seized her jaw one-handed, squeezing the smile from her face. “That young man is under my protection.”
“It wasn’t me,” she said, only it was like “ih wanoo mmeh” because her lips were squished like a puffer fish. Standing right next to her I sucked in her perfume, so sweet it was like breathing raw sugar. I stifled a cough.
“Then you can live.” He let her go. “What are you doing here after I warned you off yesterday?”
She rubbed her jaw. “I heard rumors. There’s a new player in town, and I don’t like it.”
He considered her shrewdly. “Unbelievable. You’re telling the truth. Why this church?”
“I heard the new guy was here and came to check it out.”
Dragan’s eyes narrowed. “Here? Why?”
“Who knows?” But she was frowning past him at me. “Hey. Don’t I know you?”
Dragan palmed me behind him. “She’s of no concern to you.”
“Really, darling?” Camille purred it, and I could tell from that exact shading she thought she’d found a weakness in his armor. “She is pretty, if you like that overblown, obvious sort of beauty.”
“Said the bosom-heaving oracle from 300,” I muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Dragan said. “Did you find anything to substantiate your rumor?”
“That.” She pointed to a crushed pattern in the aisle runner the size and shape of a small boat. “Size eighteen.”
The pattern resolved abruptly into a shoe tread. I gasped.
“Bigger than I expected.” Dragan’s tone was all suave urbanity but his grip tightened on me until I thought my fingers would crack. “Does he have any weaknesses?”
“How should I know? I just got here, darling. I was out of town all August spying on…I mean assessing the movements of a potential ally in Minneapolis. Then last month I was negotiating a joint effort with the New York cadre when I heard the rumors. I’m Nosferatu’s second. If anyone should be first, it’s me. I only came back to town to consolidate my position.”
“How do you expect to be first if you can’t beat him?”
“He’s male.” She smiled and touched her nose. “I know at least one weakness.”
Dragan hustled me out of there and wouldn’t let me speak until we were back in the car. Even then his jaw was clamped, his canines jutting from between his lips, his fingers white on the steering wheel.
But there were so many questions I wanted to ask. How did he know Nosferatu’s crony, Camille? How much did he know about the scary strong vampire? I settled for, “Where are we going?”
“The LeLuxe Hotel.”
I croaked like a startled frog. “But, well…shouldn’t you take me home first?”
“Raquel. Don’t be so alarmed. You look like a frightened mouse, albeit a mouse with deliciously pink cheeks. LeLuxe boasts an excellent kitchen. We will have dinner in the privacy of my rooms and discuss music. It will all be very pleasant and unthreatening.” He pulled into the car port of a skyscraper hotel. A young man hustled out. Dragan tossed him the keys.
“Pleasant. Unthreatening.” I smiled, felt my lips wobble with pleased, unthreatened nerves. “Sure.”
Dragan took my sweaty hand and escorted me pleasantly and unthreateningly into the lobby.
Where Julian and Nixie were laying in wait for us.
“Rocky! Such a surprise meeting you here.” Nixie grabbed me by the arm, pried me from Dragan’s grip and steered me past a startled host into the dining room. “Let’s have dinner.”
“Madam, wait!” the host called.
Okay, I don’t know rich-people scripts, but that host didn’t sound happy. I planted my feet and hissed at Nixie, “What are you doing?”
She announced to the world, “Julian and I decided on a whim to go out for dinner.” She dropped her voice and said through the side of her mouth, “We heard Zajicek’s putting the moves on you.” Raising her voice again she said, “We
picked this restaurant totally at random.” Aside, she said, “We’re here to protect you.”
Since, if they hadn’t hijacked us in the lobby, I might have floated after Dragan like a love-sick cow up to his suite and into any room he’d have me, I thought maybe protection was a good idea. “Thanks.”
Behind me, Dragan gave an audible long-suffering sigh. “Steel put a tracking device on my car, didn’t he? Why do you people do this to me? I don’t interfere in your lives, do I?”
“Actually, you do.” Julian tapped the irate host on the shoulder. “Table for four.”
“Allow me.” Dragan passed the man a couple of folded bills. “That table, by the fireplace.”
“I’m sorry, Maestro, that table is reserved”—he unfolded the bills and caught sight of Ben Franklin’s smile—“for you. This way, please.” He led us toward the fireplace.
Nixie muscled me along in the host’s wake. “That was an impressive bill pass. Too bad Zajicek’s such a schmuck.”
“I still don’t get why you guys mistrust him so much.”
“Because he’s constantly in the public eye.”
“Well, duh. He’s a conductor. His job is to translate the music between the composer, the orchestra and the audience. Audience, public eye? One third of his job is to be seen.”
“Maestro. Ladies. Sir.” The host stopped at our table. “I hope this is satisfactory. Your server will be right with you.” He nodded and left.
Our table was so far beyond “satisfactory” it approached royal. A rich red tablecloth was set with four red semi-square plates on white silk place mats. Crystal goblets fountained with red napkins folded as fleurs-de-lis. Heavy silver flatware with red porcelain handles matching the plates completed a look that said nosebleed upper class.
I smiled and nodded but secretly I was counting forks. Damn, five of the suckers.
“Not all conductors are so flamboyant,” Julian said.
“He means Zajicek is batshit in-your-face popular,” Nixie supplied, dragging my eye away from the scary beauty of the table.
“Most big name conductors are,” I countered as I tried to figure out where to sit. “And he’s among the biggest.”
“In more ways than one.” Dragan pulled out a chair for me, a definite smile in his voice.
“Aaaand we’re back to heavy innuendo.” I positioned myself.
“Why, Raquel. It’s simple truth. You can sit now.”
I stoked my courage and lowered my bottom, expecting an abrupt introduction of butt to floor. But he slid the chair into position so smoothly it felt like we were dancing.
While he was according me the old fashioned courtesy, Julian and Nixie snared the chairs on either side of me.
Dragan gave them each a disgusted look. “Oh, really. Is this necessary? I won’t corrupt her in the middle of LeLuxe’s dining room.”
“Says Mr. Biggie McBiggest Pants.” Nixie snatched up her prettily folded napkin and snapped it out.
While I appreciated the rescue, this was getting ridiculous. I was an adult. Having dinner with Dragan Zajicek was on my bucket list. Heck, along with those incredible kisses last night and the brief flare of more in the elevator, it was my bucket list. I stoked my boldness and turned to Nixie. “Please. May Dragan sit there?”
“Whoa. Dragan, not Maestro Zajicek?” She frowned at me. “Hey. Where did your spectacles go?”
“Um, I dropped them?” My face heated yet again. So much for my surge of bravery. Chopped off by embarrassment over fifteen-dollar eyeglasses. I’d have to remember to pick up my spare pair.
“You sure? He’s just going to throw more of those double, triple and quadruple entendres at you.” But she picked up her napkin and moved into the chair next to her hubby, who stood and pulled it out for her before Dragan could.
A young man dashed in and filled the water glasses as Dragan deposited himself gracefully in the chair she’d vacated.
“I don’t understand your reticence.” Dragan’s tone took on that gently puzzled lilt. “Enjoying adult things, understanding adult things—it is part of being an adult.”
“Reticence?” Nixie snorted. “You talk like Julian. Must be a v-guy…a guy thing.” She glanced at me. “I wouldn’t call stupid innuendo ‘adult’. Is all the sly wink-wink nudge-nudge adult? Is wacka-chew-wacka adult? I’ve seen porn movies. They’re more cardboard and cartoonish than Saturday morning TV. Well, except for Super-Mega-Rangers.”
I cleared my throat. “Guys—”
Dragan said, “Most people prefer a little mystery and delicacy.”
“Hey, guys—”
“Most people,” Nixie said pointedly, “prefer to cover up the reality that sex is a lot of fluids and really strange expressions.”
“Guys, really—”
“There’s nothing wrong with being playful about an act that is part of living, and a pleasant part at that.”
I slapped the table. “Listen up!”
They all looked at me.
My cheeks heated. But hell, I was getting used to their being perpetually hot around Dragan. “The wine steward is here.”
A man stood nearby in a gray morning suit and white gloves. He held a long booklet in red leather the exact color of the tablecloth and plates, decorated with a gold tassel and marked “Wine List”, which is how I knew who he was.
As he held the list out, Dragan said, “Ah, excellent.” He turned to the man without a hint of embarrassment. “Do you have any Chateau Margaux?”
“Of course, sir.” The steward beamed. “And may I say sir has an excellent palate.”
As the man left, Julian said dryly, “I hope sir also has an excellent wallet to pay for the excellent wine?”
“Naturally.” An expression played on Dragan’s lips, not the disdain I’d expect for someone who was, after all, his antagonist. It was almost…amusement. “You’d have an easier time of it if your household contained a wider range of incomes, like Steel’s.”
“How?” Julian glared. “Chicago has a bigger employment pool than Meiers Corners.”
“Of course. But had you considered actively recruiting commuters or people who do high-demand work from their homes? Professors teaching courses online, website designers and such would appreciate the lower cost of living in your small, neat town which, may I point out, is still only minutes from world-class everything.”
“Actually…no, I hadn’t.” For a moment Julian lost the antagonism, tapping one square finger against his lips; he was a smart guy and could set aside his feelings when he needed to, though I knew they weren’t gone.
“Oh, come on,” Nixie said. “You’re not taking advice from Show-off Zajicek, are you?”
“It would free us up to travel more. With the band.”
“Well…that would be handy. With all the invites we got to play around the Great Lakes.”
Nixie’s bar band, Guns and Polkas, had developed something of a cult following after their big Summerfest debut that July.
The wine steward returned and poured us all glasses of near-black liquid. A sip filled my mouth with elegance and passion. After a bottle of that, the conversation and dinner turned more pleasant.
Julian cleared his throat. “So exactly why are you in town, Zajicek?”
“Hugo Banger is an old friend.” The music he put on the word “old” made me remember his slip, that he’d known Hugo all Hugo’s life. I wondered how old Dragan really was. “He had an unfortunate medical incident and asked if I could take his orchestra while he recuperated. I was happy to help.”
“And that’s all?” Nixie picked up her steak knife like it was a Marine’s K-Bar, jabbed it into a roll, and sawed it open, glaring at Dragan the whole time. “’Cause the music in your voice says that’s not all.”
“As the matter of fact, it’s not.” Dragan smiled. “I heard Nosferatu has an opening for first lieutenant in his organization and is looking at a particular replacement. As a broker in information, I’m curious to find out more.”
Julian flicked eyes to me and back to Dragan. “Watch what you say. Someone might be immune to normal suggestion.”
I’d worked out that all vampires could do what Mr. HypnoElias could, to a lesser extent. But some humans like Nixie and Liese were less vulnerable to suggestion. If I was like them… Well, that would explain why they had to get me on the phone with Elias every time they wanted something weird bleached out.
But it gave Dragan pause. I could see it by the way his hands stilled elegantly dealing with his own roll. The way his black eyes rested on me for a moment with speculation.
After dinner Dragan invited me up for coffee—to “discuss” CSUCS—but Julian and Nixie insisted loudly on driving me home instead, so loudly that heads turned and the host, waiter and busboy marched in our direction.
“You don’t have to go with them, Raquel.” Dragan took my hand in his. “I’d love to discuss the orchestra with you. I’m sure I’d enjoy your…insights.”
His emphasis made “insights” rhyme with “sex”. I wasn’t ready to deal with that, so I went with the Emersons. There was always Thursday to be alone with him.
But at the next CSUCS rehearsal Thursday night, Doreen was mysteriously absent.
Nixie sat in her place.
Chapter Seven
I looked around the orchestra in surprise. Besides Nixie, Julian was in the cello section and Luke was playing viola. Of all that, only Luke made sense. We were always short violas.
“How did you get in here without auditioning?” I asked her.
She stuck her reed in her mouth and shrugged. “Doreen remembered she has a thing the day of the concert. She needed a sub fast and I was free.”
“Uh huh. And who is Julian subbing for?”
“He wanted to spend time with me. Adult time without the baby.”
I slanted a glare at her over the rims of my spare glasses. “And Luke?”
“Is at loose ends waiting for his brother and sister-in-law to have their twins.” Her brightly innocent smile was whole netloads of fishy. “Why are you questioning him? You can always use a spare viola.”
“Just seems odd. First Dragan shows up, then you get all in his face, now you show up. How did you get him to agree to it, by the way? It’s his orchestra.”