by Ranae Glass
“You get so lucky sometimes,” Shane groused, shutting off the computer.
“It’s not my fault vampires are so obvious and uncreative.”
“There’s nothing on the computer. Just a few case files. No e-mail, nothing.”
“Figures.” I stuck the key in the box and turned it. The lock popped open immediately, revealing a tiny, red book nestled within in the gold lining.
“Little black book?”
I held it up. “Nope. Looks like red is the new black.”
We tried to put everything back as it was, even taping the key back to the underside of the desk. Everything, that was, except the small, red book I tucked in my back pocket.
“It’s not going to matter,” Shane said darkly. “The next vamp that walks into that room is going to know someone was in there.”
I shrugged. “Nothing we can do about that.”
We nodded to the secretary as we left the upscale office and made our way back to the car. My stomach growled the minute I got behind the wheel.
“You finally ready to eat something?”
“Yeah, nothing with milk though,” I answered with a frown.
“Understood. Tacos?”
“Chinese?”
“Subs?”
“Pizza?”
I paused, considering my options. We looked at each other and said in unison, “Cheeseburgers.”
I laughed, and a tension I hadn’t known I was carrying melted from my shoulders. I turned the key and looked over my shoulder to back out. Catching a glimpse of Shane’s black box on the backseat made the tension quickly return.
We drove through and headed home to enjoy our bag of greasy burgers. Thankfully, there were no unexpected packages on the porch, so we went straight through to the kitchen to sit at the table. Just as I took a huge bite of my burger, the phone rang.
Shane grabbed the receiver and answered. “Stone PI.” He listened to the voice on the other end, and then held out the phone. “It’s for you. It’s the station.”
I frowned, swallowed, and took the receiver. “This is Isabel Stone.”
“Ms. Stone, this is Detective Mertz. Can you tell me where you were last night at approximately midnight?”
“At a late business meeting.”
Her tone sharpened. “Can you tell me who was present at that meeting?”
“What is this about, exactly?”
“I have a suspect here who claims he was with you at the time in question.”
My mind reeled. Surely, it wasn’t Xavier. Who else…?
“I was with Patrick Stevens. I was meeting a prospective client. He came along to look after me, what with all the things going on here.” My answer was semi-honest, at least.
“I see. And you are certain that he was with you?”
“Absolutely.” But I’d answered too quickly. I hadn’t actually seen Patrick that night. I’d heard a bike and assumed it was him, but what if it hadn’t been? “Can you tell me what he was accused of?”
“Assault. Jarrod Decker, an employee at Mr. Stevens’ motorcycle shop, was beaten up pretty badly last night. Thank you for your time,” the detective said and hung up abruptly.
“What was that about?” Shane asked as I handed him back the phone, and he returned it to the hook.
“I may have just been set up as an alibi,” I said with a frown.
Would my childhood friend have really beaten up the guy who was stealing money from him? Totally possible. Would he use me to set up an alibi? I wouldn’t put it past him, honestly. Who was I kidding? I knew all too well what kind of person Patrick had become. Part of me wanted to call him, to yell at him for using me like that. But hadn’t I used him as well? What had I been thinking going to him for help?
There was nothing I could do about it now, so I filed it away. I might make my share of mistakes, but I never made the same one twice.
To Shane’s credit, he said nothing.
Determined to change the subject, I pulled the red book out of my pocket and set it on the table in front of me. Wiping my hands down my jeans first, I opened it and read the first page. Then the next. And the next. My queasy stomach returned.
“It’s a log book. Girl’s names and a list of their clients on each page. There must be fifty girls named in here.”
“And the clients?” Shane asked.
“No names, just phone numbers. No more than six per girl.” I kept flipping. “Ah, here we go, Lisa. Five phone numbers and a running total at the bottom. Cash earned, maybe?”
I handed the book to Shane.
“It’s counting down from fifty thousand, but it never hits zero, it just stops, see?” He pointed to the numbers at the bottom.
Sure enough.
“So the debt wasn’t paid?”
He shrugged and flipped a few more pages. “Looks that way.”
“But she was still using the credit card.”
“Maybe it was some kind of advance pay?”
I bit my bottom lip. “Maybe.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Do you think your friend Richard can get a reverse directory on these numbers?”
“He might consider it beneath him, actually.”
“Well, give him a call.”
“What are you going to do?” Shane asked as I dumped the rest of my burger in the trash.
“I’ve gotta go do my hair. We have a party to go to in a few hours.” I smiled half-heartedly and headed upstairs.
I hadn’t been prepared for a great many things that night. I hadn’t been prepared for the limo that picked us up. I hadn’t been prepared for the way Shane looked in his tux pants, white shirt, and shiny black vest—so much like I imagined he would have looked on our wedding day that it actually took my breath away when I saw him. I hadn’t been prepared for the swarm of flashing cameras and paparazzi as we pulled up to the turn-of-the-century mansion that served as Conclave headquarters, or for the heaviness in the pit of my stomach. Even through all the glitz, I felt like I was being thrown in a pool full of sharks.
But mostly, I hadn’t been prepared for the deep, driving loneliness growing inside me as the clock continued to tick, each tiny sound bringing me closer to losing Shane—to losing a part of myself.
The golden gown Mercy sent fit me perfectly, clinging in all the right places, flaring in others. The fabric was a delicate combination of satin and lace. Not exactly the sort of gown you got off the rack at a local department store. If I hadn’t been so nervous, I might have felt like a princess. As it was, I just wanted not to vomit.
Initiation was a big deal in the new celebrity that was the sexy, vampire lifestyle. Thanks to a few million lame books about sparkly, sensitive vampires, they—while abhorred on one hand—were super glamorous on the other. And Shane was the story of the day.
We were ushered in quickly by a group of very tall, very wide doormen who shielded us, as much as possible, from the frenzy. Still, I had no doubt that my stupefied face stepping out of the limo holding Shane’s hand would be fodder for the next day’s Society page.
Inside, soft orchestral music played. I mistook it for a recording before I spotted the actual orchestra playing in the library. I guessed vampires spared no expense.
The knot in my stomach grew to basketball size as we were led upstairs to a small bedroom decorated much like an upscale hotel—generic and impeccably clean, in a pattern of black and white. The only actual color was in the green stem of a potted orchid on the nightstand. Then our guard-escort instructed us to wait there before he turned and left.
I looked at Shane and raised an eyebrow.
He shrugged in response to my unasked question. “I’m sure they just want to walk us through the ceremony.”
I smoothed my dress and sat on the edge of the bed.
“That would be nice. I’d hate to mess up the secret handshake,” I said, my tone dry.
The fact was, even though I’d agreed to this, I hated it. Down to the tips of my toes, I hated
that Shane would be leaving. It was selfish, childish really, but there it was. I really wanted to be all mature and understanding, but I wasn’t. The possibility that someday I might be was the only thing keeping me from resorting to crying and begging him to come home with me right then. But I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t ask him to come, not if I wasn’t going to keep him.
And I knew I wasn’t.
In silence, he sat on the edge of the bed across from me. I looked at him, hoping to see a trace of hesitation or fear, but it was the cool, calm face of the undead. It looked so wrong on him, and yet at the same time, kind of right, too.
“You look beautiful,” he said finally.
I felt the blush creep into my cheeks, but before I could say anything, the door opened and Xavier, Mercy, and Xavier’s second in command, a busty redhead named Ahnarra, glided in. Mercy rushed to Shane, who stood and caught her in a tight embrace.
I turned my attention to Xavier. “So, what’s the drill?”
He leaned casually against the dresser. “The ceremony is called Valde Vitualamen, or in English, the Great Sacrifice. It’s symbolic of vampires cutting their ties with the human world and embracing their destiny as immortals.”
“In the old days,” Mercy said with a giggle, “vampires would actually kill all their human family in the ceremony.”
I swallowed, but I refused to let her rile me. “I assume that isn’t how it’s done anymore?”
Ahnarra shot Mercy a look that was clearly a ‘shut up’ before saying, “No, that isn’t done anymore. It hasn’t been done for centuries.”
“You have nothing to fear, Isabel,” Xavier added. “I swear, no harm will come to you this evening.”
I nodded. Vamps were lots of things, but once they gave their word, it was law, especially coming from someone in Xavier’s sphere of authority. They could lie, but they thought themselves much too civilized for it. Lying was degrading, in their opinions, or so Shane had told me. Ironic that murder was perfectly all right, but lying was frowned upon.
Stupid vampires and their stupid rules.
Ahnarra stepped forward and motioned for Shane and me to stand in front of her. Once we were in position, she withdrew a thick, red ribbon from the back of her tight, red dress.
“Raise your arms, please,” she said gently.
We did. She proceeded to wind the ribbon around his right arm and my left, essentially tying us together.
She stepped back and Xavier stepped forward, handing Shane a large, golden dagger, which Shane tucked into his belt.
“I will call the ceremony to order, say a few words, and then our new initiates will be brought forward, one pair at a time,” Xavier informed us. “We have three joining us tonight. You and Shane will go last in the procession.”
Ahnarra continued the narrative, “Then Shane will be joined to us via Mercy, who is standing in for his sire. He will be bound to her, and by doing so, to the Conclave.”
Mercy leaned on Shane, smiling as she added, “Then, we have our reception.”
“And I can leave?” No way was I sticking around any longer than I had to.
“Of course,” Ahnarra said quickly. “We will have a car standing by to take you home.”
Xavier stepped forward, forcing Mercy back. Taking Shane by both shoulders, he leaned in. It looked like a hug, but I could sense he was whispering something to Shane, but I had no idea what. Then he repeated the action with me.
“Please, before you go home tonight, I would like to speak with you,” he whispered and drew back.
I nodded quickly, and the three of them turned to leave.
“I’ll send someone when we’re ready for you. Until then, please wait here,” Ahnarra said solemnly, closing the door behind her.
I looked down at my arm where I was latched to Shane with blood-red silk. “So, what do we do now?”
He looked at me and smiled. “Wanna thumb wrestle?”
The ballroom was filled with people in elaborate Victorian costumes. I felt like I’d just interrupted the masquerade scene in a Phantom of the Opera production. A red carpet was rolled out, leading from the rear entry doors to a small stage where Xavier sat in a chair that looked way too much like a throne for my taste.
Xavier was flanked by Ahnarra on his left, and a man I couldn’t place on his right. Ahnarra, of course, wore her stunning red dress. The man looked older than Xavier, which I knew was deceiving. Mid-fortyish when he died, he had closely shorn salt-and- pepper hair. A mustache of the same color framed his narrow lips and ended in a goatee.
The first initiate, a slender but stunning blond woman, had already gone through the ceremony when we entered the room. As I watched, the orchestra played a soft tune and the couple in front of us proceeded forward at a wedding march pace.
I shivered and dropped my gaze to the floor. Counting to ten slowly to calm my breathing, I fought back full-fledged panic. Memories of standing alone at the altar on my wedding day came flooding back, as did all the daydreams I’d had of the moment when Shane would walk me back down the aisle as his wife. I wanted to cry, scream, or do something. But I didn’t. I just swallowed my emotions down. I’d cry later, I promised myself, but not here, not in front of these people.
The music stopped abruptly. Looking up again, I watched as the male vampire in front of us drew a shiny dagger like the one Xavier had given Shane and with one swift motion, he sliced through the red ribbon. The scraps fluttered to the floor like leaves on the breeze. The human beside him stepped back and a vampire stepped in, taking his place. Xavier stood from his throne and withdrew a black ribbon from his vest pocket.
“This is the tie that binds, one to another. It is our brotherhood, our unity. With this, we are one.” Xavier’s voice rang out over the silent crowd. He leaned over and tied the two vampire’s arms together. When he was done, he stood and announced to the crowd, “Welcome our new brother, Doctor Peter Chandler.”
The applause roared like thunder through the room, shattering the stillness as the new vampire moved into the crowd to be welcomed him with handshakes and hugs. The human was led to a room off to the side.
Shane gently squeezed my hand but kept his eyes forward as the music began again.
Feeling like I might hyperventilate, I picked a spot on the wall behind Xavier and focused on it as hard as I could, trying to drown out everything else. A soft gasp beside me brought me back to reality. We’d stopped in front of the stage, but something was wrong. Shane’s nostrils were flared, his body rigid with tension.
“What is it?” I whispered, though I was sure the whole room could hear. He gave me a barely noticeable shake of his head and drew the dagger.
Something was wrong. I could feel it as sure as I could feel the blood pounding in my ears, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. My nerves were too frazzled. I was hot all over, breathing too hard and too fast.
Giving my hand one final squeeze, Shane tensed. I closed my eyes, part of me hoping he’d stop, drop the knife, and walk out of the ballroom with me.
But he didn’t.
I didn’t feel the knife cut the ribbon. After a second, I opened my eyes, expecting to see the red trimming still connecting us, but it was gone. My heart fell. Xavier was watching me, his emotions unreadable on his stoic face. They were waiting for me to move. I glanced at Shane, who was staring ahead, ignoring me as if I wasn’t even there. I took a shaky step back.
Mercy swooped into my spot, flashing a bright smile over her shoulder at me before turning to face Xavier, who stood and spoke.
I didn’t hear the words this time. Turning away, I walked slowly back down the red carpet, this time alone, and out into the hallway. I must have stumbled because one of the guards grabbed me by the waist and lifted me into his arms. Behind me, I heard applause erupt in the ballroom, and the tears started flowing from my eyes. I only knew that the guard was taking me away because the noise in the ballroom grew more and more distant.
I wasn’t as scared as I knew I sho
uld be at being carried off by a strange vampire. All I knew was he was taking me away from that sound, and that was all I wanted.
The guard left me in some kind of office, which I assumed belonged to Xavier, with a bottle of water and a golden chenille blanket draped over my shoulders. As soon as I was alone, I could think again. I’d never had a panic attack before, but I could imagine that was what they felt like. I hated feeling out of control; it made me feel so weak. Using a bit of my water and the corner of the blanket, I carefully wiped the dark mascara stains from my face, praying that no one had witnessed my little meltdown. Especially Shane and Xavier. I hated the idea that Shane might feel sorry for me. I also hated the idea that Xavier might see me as a simpering, needy human.
My dad was a cop. The rule in the house when I was growing up was always, Don’t cry unless you’re bleeding. Sometimes not even then. The fact that I’d let my emotions get the better of me was equal parts disturbing and embarrassing.
No one would blame me, not after the week I’d had. Fires, dead bodies, long-lost sisters, werewolves, and of course, all the vampire nonsense, were all contributing factors, I told myself. It wasn’t just Shane leaving that had shaken me. It was everything, my whole life. I’d held it all at bay for so long that at the first emotional crack in the wall, it had all come flooding out.
Swimming back to my full faculties, I took a long drink of water, tossed the blanket off, and rose to wander around the room. I admired the photographs on the walls. Some were in color but most were black and white or sepia.
The one that caught my eye above all the others was one of Xavier with, if I wasn’t mistaken, Amelia Earhart. They were both dressed in 1940’s aviator chic, complete with leather pilot’s jackets and goggles, but what really struck me was the smile on his face. It was a real smile, the kind that lights up your eyes, the kind of smile that makes other people smile, too. The expression illuminated his already-handsome face.
I’d seen Xavier pretending to be human, but in the picture, all traces of his vampire nature were gone. I mean, if I didn’t know he was much older than that, I might have thought from looking at the picture that he was human. It wasn’t the uncomfortable fake-human act he’d put on for me. It was sincere. Honest. I wondered if he could still do that, let his guard down and just smile. I assumed it was something vamps lost with age, but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe they had to be hard and cold because of the world they lived in, not because they lost the ability to do, to be anything else. Reaching out, I traced his image with my fingertip.