by Jill Myles
“Not in these pants,” he said quite seriously. He’d changed out of his cultist robe at my urging, but wasn’t happy about it.
“Of course,” I muttered.
I jiggled the doorknob. Locked. Hmm. I didn’t have a key.
I knocked once, twice.
No answer.
The door had artful stained-glass windows surrounding it. We could punch through the glass and break in. It’d set the alarm off, but I knew the code and could turn it off. I eyed my small fist and Ethan’s large ones. “You want to do the honors?”
He obviously wasn’t following. “What do you mean?”
I gestured at the glass. “The door’s locked. Break in.”
“That would not be right. This is someone’s house.” He gave me a disapproving look.
“This is my friend’s house, and I forgot my key and she’s not home. Just humor me, okay? Or you’re going to have to listen to me bitch if I break my hand.”
“You are right, that would be tiresome.” He studied the situation. “Would it be doing you a favor if I broke in?”
“Yes,” I said, and took a step back in case glass flew.
I should have been more worried about splinters. His eyes flashing, Ethan put his fist through the wood door. An enormous hole was punched next to the doorknob, and he reached inside for the lock and flipped it. A moment later he opened the door.
“Thanks,” I said, regarding the plate-sized hole with awe.
He shrugged and stepped inside.
I followed him, wondering why the alarm hadn’t gone off. But when I got inside, I could guess why.
Remy’s place was trashed.
Shredded paper lay scattered on the floor everywhere and broken glass littered the foyer, along with garbage and candy wrappers. I walked slowly, hearing the crunch of glass under my hiking boots, and peered into the living room. The flat-screen TV was smashed to pieces and hung off the wall at an angle. The fireplace mantel had been broken, and the stones were splashed with dark spots that I sincerely hoped were not blood. The couch had been destroyed, the stuffing pulled free from the leather and scattered across the room like snow. On the far side of the room, the wet bar had been demolished, the alcohol long dried into puddles staining the carpet, and the sweet smell of sugar and booze in the air. The broken glass was piled high over there.
Through the doorway I could see the kitchen, and though the lights were off, the mess was apparent. I didn’t want to even think about what was left there.
“Do wild animals live inside this dwelling?” Ethan asked, his voice confused.
“You wouldn’t think so,” I said slowly, creeping in a few steps more. Oh, man. I didn’t know what to do. I eyed the curved, panoramic staircase. The railings had been destroyed, but the marble steps seemed to be intact. “This must be Joachim’s doing.”
“Who is Joachim?” Ethan clutched his bo staff in a defensive pose.
“I’ll tell you later. But if you see a little Turkish woman with red eyes, let me know.”
Poor Remy. And where was Ethel? Not in pieces somewhere upstairs, I hoped. I sniffed the air, but nothing smelled rotten, which was good. I moved to the wet bar and ran a finger over the cracked marble counter. Dust. Just a little.
Wherever Ethel and Remy were, they hadn’t been here for a few days. All of this madness had happened a while ago.
I started up the stairs. “I don’t think anyone’s here, Ethan. But we should check out things before we leave.” I hitched my shorts up around my waist again.
He glanced around the shattered, trashed living room. “I will check the rest of this floor. Should I look for anything in particular?”
“A rabid succubus. Her missing maid. A big diamond necklace charm,” I added, thinking of the necklace that had kept Joachim at bay for the last six months. “And holy water, if you can find it.”
“You are quite obsessed with holy water,” he observed.
“Trust me, it’ll come in handy if we can find some.” I paused at the top of the stairs. What if Joachim was still hiding in the house? Surely not … and yet …
I called down to Ethan, “If I scream, come and get me, okay?”
He nodded and saluted with the bo staff.
I crept around upstairs, keeping as silent as possible despite the broken glass and littered candy wrappers. If Joachim was still here, I’d hear him first. When Remy had been possessed back in New Orleans, she had panted like a winded runner on the verge of collapse. Constantly and loudly.
But the house was silent. I could hear Ethan moving around downstairs, but nothing up here. I moved down the hall cautiously, then peeked into my old room.
It was untouched.
Weird. Prickles crawled over my skin as I stepped inside, staring around. My bed was made, the closet was neat and the clothes hung, and the toiletries littering the counter were as I’d left them. Boxes were stacked in one corner of the room and labeled—the stuff left from my apartment. Nice.
After putting on new clothes, I kicked the old ones under the bed and grabbed a can of hair spray, because it felt better to have a weapon, even if it was a lame one.
A quick check of the rest of the floor didn’t reveal any signs of my missing friend. It was upsetting. It would have been more upsetting to find Joachim huddled in a closet, waiting to tear my throat out. But the fact that Remy had vanished really bothered me. I sat on the edge of her trashed bed and tried not to feel overwhelmed with depression. My poor friend. I’d screwed her life up good.
Something hard was irritating my butt, and I slid over, glancing down at the mattress.
Remy’s gigantic diamond necklace. The one with the diamond the size of an acorn. I picked it up and fastened it around my neck. It gave a low, soothing pulse of magic, as if remembering me. I clasped it between my fingers, playing with the diamond. Zane had given me the necklace to keep me safe, and I’d given it to Remy. I tucked it under my T-shirt, hoping I could give it back to her someday.
I scanned her room one last time in the hope that something would call out to me. Her bedroom was set up similarly to my own: a mini-fridge in the corner, a TV and game console installed in the wall, and a library of movies. Since succubi didn’t sleep, bedrooms were for recreational activities of all kinds.
Her cell phone lay on the nightstand, and I picked it up.
The screen was locked with a password. I thought for a moment, then entered the title of Remy’s last movie.
Denied.
I tried two more movie titles, both denied.
Then I typed in 8008135—on a previous adventure, we’d come across that password and she’d laughed uproariously. The oldest calculator joke in the world: “BOOBIES.” Remy loved it.
Sure enough, her phone screen lit up, displaying one last lonely battery bar on the screen. Her voicemail message was on, so I ignored my nosy feeling and clicked on the icon to listen to her messages.
The first one was from her boss. Ick. Porn director. I hit Save to cut it off before I could hear too much. Didn’t want to know.
The next message was from five days ago, from our fellow succubus Delilah in New Orleans. “Remy? You there?” The voice in the message sounded worried. “Pick up, girl. You were supposed to call me to check in last night. I’m hoping you just found a hot football team and decided to make it a night, or something. So, you know, call me when you get this so I can stop worrying.” She had called again three hours later, the message the same: “Remy? Call me.”
I dialed Delilah, who picked up on the first ring, her high-pitched young voice practically squealing in my ear. “Remy? Oh, thank God—I was freaking out—”
“It’s me,” I interrupted. “Jackie.”
“Oh.” She sounded considerably less thrilled. The feeling was mutual. “Hi, where’s Remy?”
“I don’t know. I was in Mexico, and she called me. Only it wasn’t her, it was Joachim. He told me to come back and face him like a man. Except he’s not here, and Remy’s place is t
rashed. She’s gone.”
“Oh no.” Dee sounded extremely worried. “Put Noah on the phone—let me talk to him.”
“He’s not here.”
“What do you mean, he’s not there with you? Where are you? Did you dump him?”
I really, really hated the note of hope in her voice. Delilah LaFleur had a seven-hundred-year-long crush on my master, and I wasn’t ready to release him to her greedy clutches just yet.
“He’s stuck in Mexico right now. The Serim council arrested him.”
“Arrested?” Her voice rose in an alarmed wail. “And where are you?”
“At Remy’s house, trying to figure out where she’s disappeared off to. Joachim has a hold on her again.”
“How could you leave her alone for the past few months when you knew she was vulnerable?” Dee asked accusingly.
Like I could make Remy do something she didn’t want to do? “She didn’t want to go on the dig with us to Mexico. What was I supposed to do—tie her up and keep her drunk?”
“Yes.”
“Not funny, Dee.” I pinched the flesh between my eyebrows. Her snotty little voice could drive anyone to a headache. “It doesn’t matter—what’s done is done. Noah’s under arrest, I’m here trying to hunt her down, and when I find her and fix her, we’ll go back and get Noah.”
“He’s in Mexico, you say?” Her voice became thoughtful. “What part?”
“The Serim are holed up near Cancun. I don’t know how long they plan on staying there, but—”
“I’ll go,” she cut me off. “I’ll see if I can reason with them, since you didn’t even try. Maybe I can persuade them to release him early.”
Uneasy, jealous prickles swept over me. “What do you mean, you’ll go?”
“I know a few Serim,” she explained, her voice confident. “I’ll go down there and see who I can persuade to look at things my way. One of us should be down there to help Noah out.”
The rotten little opportunist. She didn’t know that we’d just agreed to keep some distance for a while, but jealousy roared inside me again. I forced myself to agree. “Sounds good. Thanks, Dee.”
“Keep the phone with you and I’ll call back when I’m with Noah and have news.”
She sounded like she was going on vacation. The phone beeped at me, signifying the battery was dying. “Okay, and you call me when he’s free, all right? I want to talk to him.” And make sure he didn’t touch Dee’s little blond jailbait ass.
“Done.” She hung up.
Great. I stared down at the beeping phone with an unhappy clenching in my gut. It was either hunger, or I was really upset at Dee for maneuvering around me to save Noah. Or guilt, because I knew I should have stayed with him and I didn’t.
I rubbed my stomach and glared at the phone. One more message. I sighed, holding the beeping phone up to my ear.
The message had been sent yesterday. “Remy? It’s me.” Zane’s low, husky voice sent chills through my body, and my panties grew instantly wet.
“Sorry to call.” There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and my heart did terrible little somersaults in my chest. He sounded so … weary. Alone. Oh, Zane! My mind was screaming to hit the callback number, but it was daylight. He wouldn’t be able to answer.
He began to speak again. “Was just wondering if Jackie got the package I sent to her. The ball is tomorrow night and … I just wanted to see her. But I guess you’re not taking my calls, right?” The hard, cynical edge of his voice returned. “Don’t suppose I can blame you for that. But at least tell Jackie I was thinking about her. That’s all.” He hung up.
I immediately hit the Replay button, but the screen went dark. No! I quickly found the charger and plugged it in, staring at the phone for a bar of juice to reappear so I could listen to the message again.
He’d called. He’d called for me. After saying we couldn’t be together because he’d given himself up to save me, he’d called looking for me. He missed me! He hadn’t forgotten me after all! I clasped my palms tightly together to keep from squealing with girlish delight. He wanted to see me despite everything. Tomorrow! No, wait. The message was left yesterday.
Tonight! And he’d mentioned a package.
I bolted out of Remy’s bedroom, scouring the upstairs hallway. Package. Package. Zane had sent me a package. I ran down the stairs, tossing the can of hair spray onto the marble floor so I could pick through the wrecked living room. I grabbed couch cushions and flung them aside, stuffing flying everywhere.
Ethan rushed into the room, weapon ready, his eyes wild. As he stood in a ready stance, a piece of stuffing landed on his head. “What is it? Where is the attacker?”
“No attacker,” I said. “Help me look for a package!”
The urgency in my voice compelled him forward, and he began to look inside the fireplace. “Is this package dangerous?”
“No! Well, actually, I don’t know.” I peered under the broken coffee table.
“Does this package have information? Will it tell us what happened here?”
“No and no.” I went into the kitchen, digging through broken dishes.
Ethan trailed behind me, a confused look on his face. “Then why is this package so important, Jackie Brighton?”
I looked up and blew the bangs out of my face, frustrated. “Because it’s from my ex-boyfriend.”
A look of comprehension came over him as I hurried past. “We are searching for a memento from your lover?”
I ignored him and hurried outside. Trust a man with the body of an Adonis and the soul of a dweeb to not understand why it was so important to me. It was hope, wrapped up in a mysterious package. I didn’t want to wait another minute to find out what was in it.
I broke into a run at the sight of the piles of mail stacked up around Remy’s mailbox. Success! Sure enough, a shoebox-sized package lay on top, addressed to Jackie Brighton, care of Remy Summore. My heart slammed wildly in my throat. With my supernaturally long (and usually annoying) fingernails, I slit the brown wrapper and pulled open the box.
A red envelope lay inside over neatly folded, shimmering silver material. I stared at the material in surprise but reached for the envelope. It was sealed with black wax, and I ran my finger under it, then pulled out the card inside.
You are invited to the annual Vampire Ball to be held at the Queen’s mansion. Wear appropriate clothing and leave your neck bare.
That gave me the creeps.
The date was tonight, and the card provided an assigned time that a limo service would come to pick me up once I called the confirmation number. Go to the queen’s house for a party? I so did not want that. But I wanted to see Zane so desperately that it hurt to think otherwise. I touched the filmy fabric in the box. Wear appropriate clothing, the queen’s invitation said.
This was by far the stupidest idea ever. In a daze, I walked back to the trashed house, staring at the invitation.
“What is it, Jackie Brighton? What is wrong?” Ethan moved to my side and awkwardly patted my shoulder, trying to comfort me. “Is it your friend?”
“It’s an invite to a party,” I said slowly. “The most dangerous party in the world. And I think I’m going.” I looked up at him and grabbed his shirt, my eyes wild. “Please please please, talk me out of it?”
“Your former lover will be there?”
I nodded, my throat tight. “Stupid, huh?”
Another awkward pat on the shoulder. His hands were so large, it was like being patted with a baseball glove. “Then we must go to this party.”
“We?” I felt a glimmer of hope and looked up at him. He’d be hard to fit for a tuxedo, but … it could work. Excitement bubbled through me. “You’d get dressed up and go to this shindig with me?”
His brow furrowed. “Dressed up?”
Before he could protest, I grabbed his hand. “No takebacks—you already promised. Come on. This thing starts in a few hours, and we’ve got to rent you a tux.”
CHAPTER NINE<
br />
Several hours later, as the sun was setting, my “date” and I sat in Remy’s trashed living room and waited for our ride.
This afternoon had been a scurry of errands. We’d picked up Ethan’s tux, then I’d dropped Noah’s mysterious painting off at the research department of the museum with a note to one of the assistants and my phone number. They could figure out the age of the painting and, I hoped, tell me a bit more about it, because I was damn curious. Then I’d gone to the local church for supplies.
I had holy water and Remy’s diamond necklace inside the small clamshell purse that had come with the dress, along with her phone and my BlackBerry. Common sense said that I should wear the necklace, but considering that a vampire had given it to me in secret, it probably wasn’t a good idea to waltz into the vampire queen’s lair wearing it for all to see.
The garment was more of a suggestion of a dress than an actual dress; a short, silvery miniskirt with a high slit, and two draping scarves that tied behind my neck to make the top. My entire back was left completely bare, and only an artful little chain in the front kept the two scarves from sliding under my armpits. Still, I filled out the dress far more than the designer had anticipated, and it left me almost bare to my navel.
And I was supposed to go out in public in this thing? Ethan wouldn’t even look me in the eye. He’d glance over, his gaze would drop to the dress, and then he would have a blushing fit.
And then I would have a blushing fit, too.
The shoes were equally ridiculous, with little more than a spaghetti strap to anchor the four-inch heel to my foot. I’d nearly broken my neck twice already.
“Are you sure this is wise?” Ethan asked me for the tenth time in the past five minutes.
“I’m almost positive it’s not,” I shot back, standing as the limo pulled up. “But it’s what we’re doing. They might have an idea of where Remy is.”
Not that it was the main reason I was going—I wanted to see Zane.
We went out, and Ethan opened the door for me, ever the gentleman. No driver got out to greet us, which pinged my radar—even more so when I slid into the limo and saw a young, attractive woman behind the driver’s seat. She gave me a thumbs-up and smiled into the rearview mirror.