“Pretty much.”
“Great. Sounds like fun. Can’t wait,” she said with a snort, and turned for the register. As the girl behind the counter began to ring up her purchases, Lana looked at the total growing with each new scan. Good thing she had a credit card; otherwise there was no way this was going to work. As she pulled her wallet from her pocket, Christian reached around her to toss the contacts and a half-face Venetian-style mask on top of the pile. The total continued to climb, but Christian was there with a handful of cash, and used her stunned silence to swipe the bag from the counter and start out the door. Lana stared after him, her mouth hanging open.
“Sweet guy,” the clerk said. Lana nodded. “I wish my boyfriend would buy me an awesome costume like that.”
“Yeah,” Lana replied, distracted, and followed Christian out the door. On the sidewalk, she stalked up and grabbed his arm. “What the hell was that?”
“What?”
“You just spent nearly two hundred dollars!”
“Your point?”
“It’s my costume!”
“And it’s my idea,” he said, turning to start down the sidewalk. She grabbed him and jerked him back. “Look, the costume will probably be ruined tomorrow night. It’s the least I can do for turning you and putting you in danger.”
“Christian, I was already in danger, remember? You’re the one that’s keeping me out of most of it.”
“Maybe so, but I can’t see letting you spend money on something that I’m going to enjoy so much.” He gave her one of those sly smiles of his and curled his arm around her waist. “It’s late. We should probably go home now.”
Lana rolled her eyes. She could almost hear the ulterior motive in his voice.
“You want to go home and have me model the costume.”
Christian didn’t answer. He only grinned, and began to run.
“Well don’t get your heart set on it!” she cried after him, and sprinted down the darkened street.
Chapter Eight
Christian sat on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently while Lana dressed. As he’d purchased the costume the previous evening, he freely admitted a selfish desire to see her wearing it. Too bad she was stubborn and refused to model it for him. Good thing, though, because he probably would have shredded it trying to get to her.
As he’d explained to her, the costume would be the best distraction for the watchers and the older crowd. If she looked the part of a scab, she would likely get farther without suspicion. After all, a new vampire in Xanthe’s territory would stand out like a broken fang.
Of course, there was always the chance they would kill her once they learned her identity, but he chose not to think about that yet. Once he got her in, Christian was certain Lana would be able to take care of herself well enough to stay alive. She was tough and stubborn and determined to see her sister again.
While relegated to the bedroom to wait, Christian’s thoughts turned to an absurd idea. He picked up a notebook and pen, and scribbled a letter. Even if the foolhardy plan didn’t work, it was worth a try. Plus, there was a chance that in delivering this letter, Harlan might be seen as something more than an old lunatic who had outlived his usefulness.
Elders,
Harlan has come before you as a personal favor to me. Please accept my sincerest apologies in not presenting my case to you myself, but an emergency has arisen and time will not allow.
It has come to my attention that The Mausoleum has been participating in illegal activity for quite some time. A friend of mine, a young woman named Lana Roberts, has informed me that her twin sister, Sarah, has gone missing. Knowing what I know of The Mausoleum and Xanthe’s less than honorable actions, I have reason to believe that Sarah is being held against her will inside the club’s private chambers. I believe the young human has become addicted to vampiric blood, and is being used as a feeder by Xanthe’s co-conspirators.
I fear Sarah may not have much time left, particularly since Xanthe has a penchant for the dramatic. I humbly request your help in securing Sarah’s safety, as Lana refuses to leave Boston without her sister. Any assistance you might provide would be greatly appreciated.
Thank you for your time and consideration on this matter.
Sincerely,
Christian Sterling
Christian folded the letter and placed it in an envelope. Across the front of it, he wrote the words Distinguished Boston Elders.
“Harlan,” he called, leaning out of the bedroom door to call down the basement stairs. A moment later, Harlan appeared, grumbling about a lack of good food in the house. “I need a favor.”
“You always need something, boy.”
“I know,” Christian replied, keeping his voice low. In the bathroom, he could hear Lana muttering as she fumbled with the ties on her dress. “I need you to take this letter to the Elders. I have to take Lana into the club again, and it isn’t safe.”
“You really think they’ll listen to me?”
“I think they’ll at least consider you if once they read this,” Christian said. “Please hurry.” Harlan took the letter, then straightened his old back, and saluted Christian with a low, formal bow.
“It shall be my honor and privilege to convey this message to the Elders’ Council.”
“Thank you, Harlan,” Christian replied as the crazy old vampire disappeared through the front door. He rolled his eyes and scratched at the back of his head. “Old fool has quite the flair for the dramatic,” he muttered.
“What was that?” Lana asked, startling him. He hadn’t heard her open the door or come up behind him. Her lack of scent and new stealth skills could work to his disadvantage should he ever decide to play hide-and-seek with her.
“I sent Harlan to ask the Elders for help.” Christian took a deep breath and turned. Lana stood just behind him in stocking feet. The dress, while a cheap imitation of the real Gothic Lolita style, hugged her body and flared brilliantly around her knees. The laces pushed against her breasts, threatening to spill them from her neckline. The lace stockings slithered over her skin, and the matching gloves gave the appearance that her hands were coated in blood. She’d tied her hair up into pigtails on either side of her head. On her face she wore a layer of white crème makeup with black and gray shadows to her eyes, and a perfect, red heart drawn over her lips. With her icy eyes, she looked almost ghostlike. “Wow…” he said on a whistle.
“You don’t think it’s too much?”
He stared at her, mouth agape. Christian wasn’t sure how to answer that. At first, all he could think about shoving her back against the wall, but there was no time. On one hand, he didn’t want to stop looking at her, but on the other, he wasn’t sure he wanted to share this view with anyone else.
“You look amazing,” he said after a long pause. “I was just considering keeping you all for myself.”
“After we get Sarah out of there, we’ll negotiate,” she replied. “Do you think this will work?”
“Once you get the contacts in, you’ll be perfect.” The comment drew a smile to her lips. “Now get your shoes on. We can wait until we’re closer to the club before you put the contacts in, because they’re almost guaranteed to make you have trouble seeing.”
“Great,” she muttered, “just one more stupid thing to make this night even harder.”
“Look at it this way,” he said, taking hold of her hands, “if Harlan can convince the Elders to check the place out, we shouldn’t have a problem.”
“And if they decide to ignore him?”
“Then we’re going to have trouble.”
Lana sighed. “Just what we need…more freaking trouble.”
“It can’t be easy.”
“I know. You need to get dressed.”
“Going,” he said, though as he passed he took the opportunity to pull her into his arms and kiss her. She only allowed it for a moment before pushing him away.
“Quit…you’re going to ruin my makeup!”
“I
’m going…” He sighed and continued into the bedroom where his corny costume hung on the back of the closet door. He dressed quickly and applied a thin layer of makeup to his already pale skin. The costume would be sure to garner some attention…hopefully it would be enough to keep the focus from Lana. If not, there was no telling what would happen.
“Took you long enough,” Lana said with a snort when Christian opened the door. She looked him over, then burst into a fit of laughter. He couldn’t blame her…he looked pretty ridiculous. If it weren’t for the blue hair hanging in his face, he could have passed for a young Bela Lugosi. Too bad real vampires didn’t approve of the old hack.
“Ready?” he asked, bypassing her comment and his own sudden distaste for the costume.
“Not really.”
“Me either. Come on.” Taking her hand, Christian led her outside and to the car. “I thought we might try this a bit differently this time,” he added, opening the passenger–side door of her car for her. “Plus this will buy Harlan a little extra time.”
“But what about Sarah?”
“Sarah isn’t going anywhere yet. If they plan to make a meal out of her, it won’t be until midnight.” Lana looked down at her watch and groaned.
“That isn’t very reassuring,” she said. She looked scared, and he couldn’t really blame her. If it had been his sister in that situation, he’d have been just as anxious.
“It is. We have time.”
Despite his constant reassurances, Lana was jumpy all the way into town. Every time the car slowed at a traffic light, roundabout, or street sign, she would tense and stare out the windows, as if waiting for the darkness to descent and sweep her away. Rather than trying to reassure her, Christian chose to remain silent. It would do no good to give her false hope.
He steered the little car into a parking space near the docks, then turned and took her hand. Even with her new existence, Lana still shivered. The look in her eyes was one of wild terror.
“I wish I could tell you this would turn out all right,” he said, regretting the words as her chin began to tremble, “but I can’t do that. This will be dangerous. You have to stay alert. Don’t let your emotions betray your common sense, Lana.”
“Are you telling me not to be scared?”
“Only a fool would go in there and not be scared. Just don’t let your fear cloud your judgment.”
“Point taken.” She sighed, hesitated a moment, then opened her palm to reveal the small, plastic container holding her contacts. “Do I put these in now?”
“Yes.”
Lana groaned, but pushed the small, glass discs into her eyes. “They hurt… and yeah, they really do make it hard to see.” She dug around in the console and came out with a mirror. Turning it from one side to the other, she squinted at it, and made an awful face that would have normally made Christian laugh.
Lana tied her mask into place, hiding the upper portion of her face, save her eyes. When she turned to look at him, Christian could not suppress the shudder that raced through him. The white makeup coupled with the new, blank stare momentarily made him forget that he was not looking at Sarah.
“Christian, what’s wrong?” she asked, and hearing the difference in her voice helped clear the sudden fog in his brain. He shook his head and pushed open the car door.
“Nothing,” he said. Letting her know how awful her sister looked beforehand was likely a bad idea, so he opted again to keep his mouth shut. “Stick close to me,” he said as he took her hand and started down the sidewalk. “Don’t speak unless spoken directly to. Don’t answer any question—let me do the talking.”
“Why?”
“To make this work, we have to make them think that you’re a scab. The eyes are perfect.” Within a block of the club—he could already hear the noise and smell the stench of sweating human bodies in moldy costumes—Christian pulled Lana to a stop and backed her up against the wall. “There’s one more thing,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t scream,” he said, lifting her arm and digging his fangs into her forearm. She let go a high, keening squeal, but by the time she was able to draw in the breath to scream properly, he’d let go of her. “One more time,” he said. “This one is probably going to hurt worse because your arm is already in pain… but the marks are necessary.”
“Couldn’t we have done this with makeup?” She whimpered, hanging her head as she cradled her bleeding arm.
“They know the difference between makeup and scabs. Now give me your arm.” She did so, but reluctantly. Christian lifted her arm again, this time sinking his teeth into the flesh just above her wrist. Cool, sweet blood flooded his mouth with each beat of her rabbiting heart. Even as one of his kind, Lana still had the sweetest blood he had ever tasted. And she was a young enough vampire that she still tasted human. Mostly.
“Isn’t it just going to heal?” she asked, her voice strained with pain as he took her hand again and started around the corner.
“Yes, but you’re still human enough that it will take time. The scabs should already be in place. Just don’t pick at them and we’ll be good. And,” he added, pulling her to a stop again, “whatever I say in there, do not under any circumstances react.”
She grunted, but otherwise said nothing as they turned and started across the street toward the old warehouse. Humans and vampires alike scurried along the sidewalks, all in costumes as outlandish as his own, if not more so. Many humans had opted for the same costume—the bad vampire getup really was overdone, though he saw no one else dressed remotely close to Lana. It could be both a blessing and a curse, he knew… she would be easy to find.
She would also be easy to find.
And the more she stood out, the more dangerous this ruse was. Christian only hoped as they walked up to the new scab at the door and passed into the hallway without a word that Harlan pulled through in time.
“Play blank,” he whispered, pulling Lana close to his side. She shivered beside him, but she followed along obediently, her mouth slightly opened, possibly in awe or terror. Either way, she was as blank as she was going to get.
Christian started across the floor, weaving his way through the couches and chairs filled with addicts and hopefuls, all the while very aware of the curious stares on both him and Lana. From the dark corners of the building, he caught sight of eyes sparkling in the darkness. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat—the watchers had spotted them already. They would be lucky to make it to the bar before they were cornered.
The eyes moved toward them, followed by the dark-skinned faces in which they were set. Not good.
“Shit…” he mumbled, tightening his grip on Lana. “We’ve been spotted… we have to hide.” He tugged her forward, moving through the crowd and onto the dance floor. Bodies writhed around them, threatening to break them apart. Some of the dancers turned to glance at them, but most were so drunk on their blood cocktails that they never even noticed. If he remembered correctly, the hallway that would lead to the private quarters was near the stage. If they could just get to the hallway…
“Where do you think you’re going, Sterling?” The deep, booming voice cut through the noise of the music as a hand came down on Christian’s shoulder. He tried to shake it off, but the grip was like a vise. Instead, he pulled Lana under his arm and shielded her from the brute rounding on him.
“Garrett,” he said with a chuckle. “Nice to see you again…didn’t I rip your head off the other night?”
“That was my brother, shithead. What the hell are you doing back in here?”
“I have a gift for Xanthe,” he replied. “I thought she might like a pretty, little snack.” Under his arm, he felt Lana tense, but she otherwise did not respond. She kept her head down and her lips parted. “I’ll just be taking her up now.”
“Not so fast.”
“Oh you’re going to announce my arrival?” Christian grinned up at him. “Fabulous. I’ll just be taking the scab to the hall to wait.”
Jerking his arm out of the large vampire’s grip, he turned and pushed Lana through the crowd, into one of the side hallways, and backed her up against the wall, using his body and the ridiculous cape he wore to block her from the view of the rest of the club.
Chapter Nine
“What the hell, Christian?” Lana snapped, punching at his chest. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. He actually had the nerve to offer her up as a sacrifice to the one person she wanted to get away from?
“Hush,” he ordered, pressing her back against the wall as he laid his hand over her mouth. “I told you not to react, and I’m glad you didn’t. I had to tell him something to get rid of him. If he got a good look at you, he’d know.”
“How? I’m in costume with makeup!” she mumbled from behind his hand. Lana considered biting him, but the smell of blood, vampire or otherwise, might set off a riot in this hellhole.
“Everyone here knows Sarah.” He moved his hand from her mouth.
“Be glad I can’t see well enough to rip your head off.”
“I thank the stars every second.” His voice dripped with sarcasm, and only served to anger her more.
“Ass.”
“Always,” he replied. He used his considerably larger size and strength to back her farther down the hall. “No matter what happens from here out, don’t for a moment think that I’m going to willingly let anything happen to you.”
“You offered me up as a meal!”
“Only to get us in.” Through the milky haze of the contacts, she could see very little other than his vague outline. “And don’t be pissed, but I might have to do it again.” Her rage threatened to boil over, but when his fingers gently grazed her cheek, she forgot all the reasons why she wanted to tear his throat out. “And for the record,” he lowered his head until his lips just touched her ear, “nobody gets to eat you but me.” Before she could respond, his mouth was on hers, feeding at her lips and tongue. She could taste the makeup on him, but when his hands slid up under her ruffled skirt to the curve of her ass, she forgot to care about the way she looked. She pushed her own hands under the cape, sliding her palms over the ridges of his abdomen to tug his shirt free. His skin was cool and taut, and when she hooked her fingernails and scored his chest, he let out a deep, low growl.
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