Vamps & the City

by Kerrelyn Sparks

  “So did the master come to his senses and cancel the wedding?” Princess Joanna asked.

  “Nay, milady,” Connor answered. “The ceremony is happening as we speak. At a private chapel in White Plains.”

  “I guess that’s why they’re not answering their phones.” Gregori unbuttoned his tuxedo jacket.

  “Oh, fiddlesticks.” Cora Lee had taken up the entire back seat with her hoop skirt. “Now we can’t move back into the master’s house.”

  Lady Pamela pressed a hand against her bosom. “This is quite beyond the pale. I tell you, that mortal chit is toying with us. She invites us to the ceremony, then sneaks off to get married elsewhere.”

  “She is evil,” Maria Consuela announced. “Roman will rue the day he married that Whelan wench.”

  “Enough.” Connor glowered at the ladies. “Shanna is no’ to blame for tonight’s problems. ’Tis her father who is wreaking havoc. All day long, he was calling Roman’s house, threatening the daytime guards and promising trouble if the wedding wasna cancelled.”

  “How did he find out about the wedding?” Gregori asked.

  “We doona know. Only those who were invited knew about it. Then this evening, Father Andrew called Roman and told him that Sean Whelan was threatening to attack any church in the city if they allowed demonic creatures inside.”

  “Wait a minute,” Darcy interrupted. “Are you saying Shanna’s father knows about vampires?”

  “Aye.” Connor sighed. “I suppose there’s no harm in telling ye. Sean Whelan is a CIA operative and head of a team called Stake-Out. Their sole purpose is to terminate all vampires.”

  Darcy gasped. “This is terrible.”

  “What is this CIA?” Princess Joanna asked.

  “I’ll explain later,” Gregori told her.

  Darcy lowered her gaze to her hands in her lap. So now there were two enemies—the Malcontents and a group of CIA agents called the Stake-Out team. Poor Shanna was marrying into a very dangerous world. No wonder Angus MacKay had offered to walk her down the aisle and play the part of her father. Her real father was a vampire slayer. What a terrible mess.

  Beside her, Gregori spoke, “I still don’t see how Sean Whelan found out about the wedding. Hardly anyone knew about it. Do you think the priest—”

  “Nay.” Connor shook his head. “Father Andrew has become good friends with Roman ever since he took Roman’s confession. He wouldna tell anyone.”

  Gregori rubbed his chin. “Well, someone leaked the news.”

  Darcy thought back. Had she unwittingly told someone? For the last two days, Corky Courrant had been hounding her for information about the wedding. Corky and her crew from Live with the Undead had been invited to the reception at Romatech, but Corky was dying to record footage of the actual ceremony. Darcy had refused to divulge any information, for she was certain Shanna and Roman would want to exchange their vows in private.

  And then she remembered. Good God, she’d mentioned the wedding to Adam Olaf Cartwright. She’d forgotten about that, or rather, she’d tried her best to forget about that whole encounter. She’d especially tried to shove the memory of his kiss from her mind. But it still sneaked into her thoughts. How could she possibly forget how warm and passionate he had been, how much she had desperately wanted his warmth, and how much she longed to see him again.

  So what if she’d mentioned the wedding to him? He didn’t know Shanna or Roman. He was a regular person who didn’t even know the vampire world existed.

  She shivered with a sudden chill. What if she was wrong?

  Chapter 7

  By the time they arrived at Romatech, the bride and groom were there and already married. This news caused most of the ex-harem to trudge wearily to two round tables in the far corner of the large room. There they sat and sulked, casting sullen glances at the bride. Shanna was across the room with her new husband, chatting happily with Gregori’s mother.

  With a sly grin, Gregori motioned toward them. “Let’s go congratulate Roman for taking five hundred years to find a bride.”

  “I’m sure he considers her worth the wait.” Darcy followed him with Maggie and Vanda.

  Gregori glanced at the ex-harem, skulking in their corner. “Life of the party, aren’t they? Do they still refuse to be on the reality show?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Darcy sighed. At least their number was dwindling. Two of the ex-harem had decided to move to Paris and become models. And then another had shocked them all by announcing that she was eloping with her secret lover. With Maggie and Vanda already involved in the show, Darcy needed every remaining woman to participate.

  But they all refused.

  Gregori greeted Radinka with a peck on the cheek. “Mom, you shouldn’t be on your feet. Go sit down.”

  “I’m fine.” Radinka adjusted her son’s tie. “Don’t worry.”

  Darcy gave Radinka a hug. “It’s so good to see you again.”

  “Our Darcy, a television director!” Radinka beamed at her. “I’m so proud of you.”

  Darcy felt the heat of a blush invade her cheeks. “Thank you for calling the casting agency for me.”

  “I was happy to help. I’ve always known you would be a blessing to us all. Have I not said so?” Radinka tapped a finger on her temple, which was her way of reminding everyone that she could predict the future, and was therefore, never wrong.

  “Yes,” Darcy murmured, her cheeks still warm. Honestly, her confinement had always seemed more like a nightmare than a blessing. She turned to the bride, who was wearing an elegant gown of white satin. A series of pleats accented her slim waist, while the veil hung halfway down her back. “Shanna, you look so beautiful. And so happy.”

  Shanna laughed and glanced at her new husband beside her. “I am happy. And thank you for the matching bathrobes. I loved seeing my new initials monogrammed on the pocket. That was so kind of you.”

  Darcy waved the compliment away. “My pleasure. And I wish you both the very—”

  “Fantastic!” Gregori’s loud exclamation drew everyone’s attention. He’d been deep in conversation with Roman, but now, he grabbed Darcy by the shoulders. “Guess what? Roman signed the lease on that rental property I told you about.”

  “For the Vamp restaurant?”

  “No, the penthouse. For the reality show.”

  Darcy gasped. “The huge one at Raleigh Place? With the swimming pool and hot tub on the roof?”

  “Yep.” Gregori grinned. “It covers two floors, plus a third floor for the servants.”

  “It’s perfect!” Darcy turned to Roman. “Oh, thank you!”

  “I’m glad to help.” Roman’s smile faded as he leaned toward Gregori. “I want some concessions from DVN for this—free advertising of my Fusion Cuisine and the new restaurant.”

  “No problem,” Gregori assured him. “I’ll get right on it.”

  Darcy turned to Maggie and Vanda. “Did you hear that? We have the penthouse!”

  Maggie squealed and gave her a hug. “I knew it would work out. Everything really does happen just the way it should.”

  Vanda grinned. “This is going to be so cool!”

  After thanking Roman again, Darcy and her friends joined the other ex-harem ladies.

  “Did you hear the good news?” Maggie sat next to Princess Joanna.

  “Prithee, what good tidings could you possibly bring?” The princess sipped some Bubbly Blood from a champagne flute. “Is the master having the marriage annulled?”

  “No.” Vanda plunked down in an empty chair. “Roman signed a lease for a giant penthouse. And since I’m going to be on the reality show, I’ll be living there. I’ll have a bedroom all to myself. And my own bathroom. And a hot tub.”

  “Land sakes,” Cora Lee whispered. She slanted a hopeful glance toward Princess Joanna. “That sure does sound nice.”

  “We are not humiliating ourselves on television for the peasants,” the princess announced. “Besides, with three of the harem leaving, we will soon have
more room at Gregori’s house.”

  “Exactly,” Lady Pamela Smythe-Worthing agreed. She looked down her nose at Darcy. “I assume you and Maggie will be joining Vanda at that ridiculous penthouse?”

  “Probably so.” Darcy took the last empty seat at the table.

  “Then, there will only be four of us left at Gregori’s.” Princess Joanna smiled smugly. “We will be quite comfortable.”

  Darcy heaved a weary sigh. These women were so mule-headed. She was going to be in big trouble with Sly if she didn’t deliver the ex-harem. Her dreary thoughts were interrupted by the sound of music. A band had started to play.

  “Isn’t that the same band that played at the Gala Opening Ball?” Maggie asked.

  “Yes. The High Voltage Vamps.” Vanda fluffed up her purple hair. “The drummer is kinda cute, don’t you think?”

  “Hmm.” Maggie looked him over. “Not as cute as Don Orlando.”

  And not nearly as cute as Adam Olaf Cartwright. Darcy silently moaned. That man kept invading her thoughts. She scanned the room, checking out the other guests. There were several handsome men at the reception—Jean-Luc Echarpe, Angus MacKay. Even Gregori was cute in a big brother sort of way. But they’re not Adam.

  Sheesh, she was starting to compare all men, live or dead, to Adam Cartwright. And even worse, none of these men did compare. How could they? They were cold creatures of the night. Adam was Apollo, the sun god. He radiated warmth and passion. He was alive.

  He was forbidden.

  She had suffered too much from being dragged into the vampire world. She refused to do that to another. As much as she wished happiness for Roman and Shanna, she could not foresee such a relationship working. With a sigh, she watched Roman escort his bride onto the dance floor. He took her into his arms, and they gazed at each other with so much love, it was painful to see. Darcy turned away, feeling guilty for the spurt of envy that had snaked into her heart.

  A waiter came by their table to refill their glasses with Bubbly Blood, Roman’s fusion drink of synthetic blood and champagne. Another waiter circled the table, placing a bowl of food in front of each of them.

  Darcy grimaced at the lumpy, dark red mixture in her bowl. “What is this stuff?”

  “Oh, Gregori told me about this.” Maggie picked up a spoon and poked at the sticky goop in her bowl. “He did the first taste test on it for Roman.”

  Lady Pamela arched a brow. “Are you suggesting we eat this strange concoction?”

  “Yes.” Maggie lifted a spoonful to look at it. “Roman invented it just for the reception. It’s called Red Velvet Pudding—a mixture of synthetic blood and white wedding cake.”

  “How disgusting.” Princess Joanna shoved her bowl toward the center of the table.

  For once, Darcy actually agreed with the bossy old medieval Vamp. With a twinge of nausea, she moved her bowl to the side.

  Maggie set down her spoon and watched the bride and groom waltz across the dance floor. “They seem very happy.”

  Shanna’s laughter rang out as she accidentally trampled on Roman’s foot.

  Lady Pamela sniffed. “Obviously, she’s never had the benefits of a proper dance instructor.”

  “Si.” Maria Consuela nodded, her conical hat bobbing. “You can dress her in a lovely gown, but it does not change the truth. She is naught but a lowly serf.”

  Roman paused in the middle of a sweeping turn to dip his wife to the side and plant a lingering kiss on her mouth.

  Maggie sighed dreamily. “That’s so romantic. That’s exactly the sort of thing Don Orlando would do.”

  Vanda snorted. “From what I’ve heard, Don Orlando prefers to waltz in a horizontal position.”

  Maggie huffed. “Those rumors are false. Don Orlando is waiting for the right woman. Me.”

  Darcy exchanged a look with Vanda. They both hoped Maggie wasn’t going to get her heart broken.

  “Oh, look, other people are starting to dance.” Cora Lee patted her mouth with a white linen napkin. Darcy shuddered when she realized the southern belle had actually wolfed down her entire bowl of Red Velvet Pudding.

  Cora Lee flipped open her yellow fan. “I do declare, I hope someone will ask me to dance.”

  “Me, too,” Lady Pamela said. “I simply adore dancing. Oh, bravo. Connor is coming this way. He does an excellent minuet.”

  Darcy stiffened. She clenched her hands together and focused on the bare white tablecloth in front of her. It had been hard enough to face him earlier. With any luck, he would ask Lady Pamela or Cora Lee to dance.

  “Good evening, miladies.” His low voice carried the soft musical lilt that Darcy had once thought was so adorable. But now, it only brought back memories of that terrible night.

  “Why, Connor, it’s so good of you to stop by.” Cora Lee fluttered her fan. And her eyelashes. “Did you try the pudding? It was just the best thing ever.”

  “I havena tried it yet.” An awkward silence ensued.

  Lady Pamela fiddled with a button on her pale pink glove. “Lovely weather we’re having.”

  Connor was silent. Darcy glanced up and found him watching her with that tinge of regret in his blue eyes. Memories of that horrid night flashed through her mind. The terror combined with the smell of blood pudding. Her stomach churned.

  “Ye’re looking lovely, Darcy,” Connor said softly.

  She swallowed hard at the bile in her throat. Yeah, putrid green had always been a becoming color for her.

  “Would ye care to dance?”

  She shook her head, avoiding his sad eyes. Maggie nudged her under the table and shot her a disapproving frown.

  “I…I’m sorry. I can’t,” Darcy whispered.

  Maggie stood. “I’d be delighted to dance with you.”

  Connor nodded. “Thank you, lass.” He raised an arm and escorted Maggie to the dance floor.

  Vanda leaned close to Darcy and whispered, “Why are you so mean to Connor? He saved you.”

  Darcy shook her head, unable to explain. She squeezed her eyes shut to block out the sight of Bubbly Blood and Red Velvet Pudding.

  Vanda sighed. “You’ve got to stop fighting it. Remember what Maggie says—everything happens for a reason. And you are meant to be here.”

  Here? When her mind screamed with every heartbeat to break free and escape? She still dreamed of the sun. She longed to be with her family. She wanted to run on the beach. She wanted to be with Apollo, the sun god. Adam. She wanted to be with Adam.

  She took a deep breath and prepared herself for the pain of reality. It flooded over her, washing away her dreams and leaving her feeling cold and empty.

  “Oh, no!” Lady Pamela gasped. “Look who just entered the ballroom.”

  Darcy glanced back. Corky Courrant and her crew from DVN had arrived. Corky surveyed the room, then motioned for her cameraman to follow her. She marched toward the dance floor, obviously intent on first getting footage of the newlyweds.

  “That woman is evil,” Maria Consuela announced. “I believe she was a torturer during the Spanish Inquisition.”

  “That is naught but a rumor,” the princess assured her. “But she did work at the Tower of London for Henry VIII.”

  “Oh, mercy.” Cora Lee snapped her fan shut. “What if she notices us?”

  “I’m sure she already has,” Vanda muttered.

  “She will come to torture us.” Maria Consuela clicked nervously through her rosary beads. “She will tell everyone that the master rejected us for a mortal bruja.”

  “And she will display our humiliation on television. I simply cannot bear it.” Lady Pamela’s hand fluttered by her bosom. “Oh, dear, I’m coming down with the vapors!”

  “Here.” Princess Joanna lifted a bowl of blood pudding to Lady Pamela’s nose. “Breathe deeply.”

  Lady Pamela sniffed and instantly perked up. “Oh, I do say, that smells rather delightful.” She leaned over for another whiff.

  “Whatever will we do?” Cora Lee tossed her fan onto the ta
ble. “I’m so embarrassed. Oh,”—she motioned to Lady Pamela’s face—“you have a spot on your nose.”

  Lady Pamela quickly wiped the drop of blood pudding off the end of her snooty nose. “Perhaps we should leave. We could all run to the powder room and hide.”

  Darcy had had enough. “Why do you all insist on acting like victims?”

  Cora Lee cocked her head, her ringlets bouncing. “Because we are.”

  “You don’t have to be.” Darcy leaned forward. “Take charge of your own destiny.”

  Princess Joanna huffed. “But the master—”

  “Forget the master. He cheated on you with another woman, right?” Darcy pinned each woman with a pointed glare and gave them a version of the truth that she hoped would motivate them. “You deserve better than that. You deserve a man who wants you, who will treat you with respect and honor.”

  Lady Pamela plucked at the button on her glove. “I suppose, but—”

  “Listen,” Darcy interrupted. “This is what happened. You refused to be mistreated, so you left.”

  “That is not true,” Maria Consuela said. “He threw us out.”

  “None of the Vamps out there watching television know that.”

  Princess Joanna narrowed her eyes. “Are you suggesting we lie?”

  “I’m suggesting you take charge,” Darcy said. “When Corky Courrant comes over, she’s going to try her best to humiliate you. But you can stop her. Just say that Roman betrayed you with another woman, so you all decided to leave him.”

  Cora Lee bit her bottom lip. “Will they believe us?”

  “Why not? Take a strong stand on this, and believe me, all the lady Vamps out there will be cheering for you.”

  The ladies looked at each other, their expressions still doubtful.

  Darcy pushed harder. “If you really want everyone to believe that you rejected Roman, you can say that you plan to pick your next master yourselves.”

  Lady Pamela shook her head. “It simply isn’t done.”

  “There’s a first time for everything. Tell Corky you’re planning to choose your own master. Then, no one will think you’re shameful. They’ll think you’re strong and brave.”