SNAP: The World Unfolds

by Michele Drier

  Matthais took revenge for years of imagined slights by both vampire families. He hadn’t yet declared open warfare when the rest of the world did it for him. When Hiltler swallowed up Czechoslovakia, Austria and then Poland, Matthais sat up and took notice. Here was something he could use for more control. He enlisted dozens of the Huszars for hunting parties that trailed behind the German army as they overran miles of land. Now they didn’t have to cover their tracks by making their kills looks like accidents or murders. There were bodies everywhere; nobody knew or cared how they died. With a secured food supply, Matthais’ power seemed unlimited.

  The Kandeskys still held out and, by the end of the regulars’ war, felt comfortable enough to go into the old Neutrality lands. They even felt comfortable enough that they sent a diplomatic envoy to Matthais.

  Simon, Bela and Jean-Louis, along with four armed demons, headed out across what had been the Neutrality.

  “I don’t like this,” said Sandor, who headed up the demon squad. “I’m sensing something.”

  “Huzaers, their werewolves, the feral pigs, have had the run of this land for years,” Jean-Louis kept his vice calm. “I imagine you’re sensing a lot of presences.”

  Simon spoke up. “Even a few years ago, before Matthais took over, they claimed a possible poacher was using this land. That was when Belon and I were caught in the illegal rigged net. Strangely, they may have been right. We just never believed them enough to investigate.”

  “I don’t think it’s a poacher,” Sandor closed his eyes and turned his head toward the sky, sensing. “It’s malevolent, cold and evil. And it knows we’re here.”

  “That’s no surprise, we sent word to Matthais that we were coming,” Jean-Louis began. He was interrupted by werewolves, a pack of them charging from the brush with wild bays and snarls. Three Huszar vampires, fangs shining in the moonlight and hissing with hatred, followed them.

  Sandor and the demons fired off warning shots, which didn’t slow the charge, then took aim and killed one of the Huszar vampires. That slowed the other two just long enough for the Kandeskys to arm themselves. They whipped out silver knives and went after the wolves, who were circling and snarling, their eyes shining red.

  “I’m hit,” one of the demons shouted as a wolf ripped a gaping wound in his arm. His compatriot grabbed the wolf by the throat and threw it against a tree, where it sank down, taking on its human shape. Sandor whirled around and loosed four more shots, hitting one wolf and another vampire. This seemed to slow the attack. The remaining Huszar vampire and three wolves, now shape shifting into strong, heavy men, circled off and stood, watching.

  “We came as a diplomatic mission,” Jean-Louis shouted. “We were looking to work out a pact again and bring back the Neutrality.”

  “Not a chance,” the Huszar vampire sneered. “Matthais hates you. He won’t be satisfied until you’re under his power or dead.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  I didn’t get the Baron’s private plane. Since I was a regular, it didn’t matter if I flew commercial and during the day. The Baron and SNAP were sufficiently classy to book me on first class, though.

  One of the demons would drive me to Budapest. I’d fly through Paris and stop in New York. The Baron wanted me to spend a few days in the New York office to meet some of the staff I’d only conferenced with. He wanted me to assess them for possible promotion and relocation to Poland or Ukraine, two of the posts in had in mind for the “little Huszar adventure”.

  Jean-Louis came to say good-bye before dawn. He looked excited and his eyes glimmered with anticipation. I looked wrung out and so stressed I had pouches on top of purple circles under my eyes. Even a quick dose of make-up and concealer had little effect. I consoled myself that the trip from Paris would give me a chance to stretch out and sleep.

  “I’m so happy that you had a chance to talk with Carola and Pen,” he reached for my hand. “Thank you for listening and agreeing to help us neutralize the Huszars.”

  Then he stepped closer and ran his hand through my hair. “And thank you for being so lovely and so understanding. I didn’t think I’d ever find a combination of beauty and brains again. After Magda...”

  “Carola told me about Magda last night. I’m so sorry.” I tried to contain the quaver in my voice. I didn’t want to hear about his old love and sure didn’t want any comparison. “I hope you’ll stay in touch and keep me in the loop about the, what did Pen call it last night? contretemps?”

  “I will talk with you as often as I can.”

  Sandor appeared then to give the driver last minute instructions in Hungarian. I was sure he was telling the demon not to stop for anything, keep all the doors locked and not to talk to me. When I looked at Jean-Louis, he grinned. “He’s only telling the driver to make sure he escorts you to the gate. Nothing sinister, I promise.”

  As I walked down the steps of the castle to the car, the Baron joined Jean-Louis to send me off.

  “Stay safe, my dear,” he said. “We’ll make sure we stay in touch.”

  The heavy Mercedes pulled away and I watched Jean-Louis wave again then turn and head into the castle. Was this just one more of the dreams? Would I wake up suddenly in Paris or New York or my own bed in LA and discover that this was my own making? Even if it were real, would I ever see Jean-Louis again? He and the Baron were cavalier about their “little Huszar adventure,” but how dangerous was it really? The Kandesky family looked to be well-ordered and the demons were loyal. From what I’d seen so far, they’d had no trouble handling any of the Huszar’s attackers, but I was sure these had only been small sorties, early skirmishes to test the resolve and defenses of the Kandeskys. If they couldn’t pull together a coup, it might mean war, and that could get a lot of people—vampires, demons and others—hurt or dead.

  The trip to Budapest in the daylight showed Hungary at its best. Rolling hills, cultivated fields, acres of grape vines interspersed with stands of forest. It looked peaceful and fertile and I could see why this land had been the crossroads of invasions over the centuries.

  We made it to the airport with just enough time to check in. As instructed, the demon walked me to the gate and gave me a small head bow as I entered the jetway. The trip to Paris was short and when I changed planes for the New York leg I snuggled into a seat that almost became a bed. After breakfast, the attendant offered blankets and a sleep mask. I managed to sleep for a few hours and was met by a town car at Kennedy.

  I must have been rummy because it wasn’t until the car pulled up to a building in the west sixties and the driver got out that I realized he was a demon, black suit and all.

  “I’ve been instructed to escort you to the apartment and check it before I can let you in.” His voice was low in his throat. Not an order, not conversation, just a statement. So I stood in the hall with my luggage and let the demon look for demons, or whatever the Huszars may have sent to New York.

  It checked out to his satisfaction and he led me inside, putting my luggage in a master bedroom. “We have a housekeeping service and I’ll wait until the maid gets here.” He took a straight chair into the foyer and sat.

  After hours of travel I felt dirty and tired so I grabbed some underwear and headed for a shower. I came out, toweling my hair, and found a woman going through my luggage.

  “I’m Elana, the housekeeper,” she introduced herself. She had a slight accent I pegged as Hungarian until she said, “The management at SNAP hired me to staff the apartment. I was just out marketing when I got a call you were arriving. Did you come from Bulgaria? That’s where I‘m from.”

  “No, I’ve been in Hungary. I just came in from Budapest.”

  Months ago when I‘d left LA—at least it felt like months—I’d packed a pair of jeans and a couple of tees. I ‘d only worn them on my stroll to the river and now it was good, and solid, and familiar to pull them on in New York.

  I gave myself a few minutes to survey the apartment before I checked in with SNAP/NY. It was a twelve-room u
nit in prewar building with tall ceilings, three fireplaces, a balcony and a terrace. The dining room would seat twenty and the maid’s quarters were a suite with a sitting room.

  “Does any one live here?” I asked Elena.

  “Only me.” She was working in the kitchen and something smelled good. “The Baron is here sometimes, and we have other SNAP people come through, like you.”

  Typical of the Baron to have a pied-a-terre of only a dozen rooms off Park Avenue in New York. I was learning fast that he and the Kandesky family didn’t stint themselves on any creature comforts. Of course, they’d had centuries to amass money and belongings and real estate and hadn’t ever had to worry about death duties. It was a lot easier to hang on to wealth that way.

  One of the rooms was an office, already connected to the SNAP network. I logged on and got inundated by several hundred emails. I wasn’t going to read them all, so I deleted everything before today. If Jazz or somebody else hadn’t dealt with the problems, they’d get in touch with me eventually. I’d managed to skim most of them and reply to a few when Elena knocked softly on the door and announced dinner.

  The food gave me enough of a boost that I was able to have conversations with the New York editors and set up meetings for the next day. I’d only been gone just under a week, and seen most of the SNAP shows, so I was current on the celeb news and gave myself permission to take a sleeping pill and be out for twelve hours.

  SNAP’s New York office was secondary to LA’s. Since the magazine, and

  then the TV shows, were spawned by movie coverage, they were produced in the Los Angles area and got feeds from everywhere else. In fact, we didn’t cover a lot of New York society or celebs unless they had some entertainment connection or were just too big to completely ignore. This meant that most of the East Coast people were safe from our paparazzi and freelancers. It even meant politicians were out of the celeb loop, at least until they got caught with their pants down.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  New York may have been a secondary office, but the Baron was nobody’s fool when it came to appearances. The offices were at 50 Rockefeller Center, in the same building as The Associated Press headquarters.

  A car with the usual demon driver picked me up the next morning just after 9. His instructions were to get me to the office and into the elevator with no muss, fuss or bother.

  Getting off the elevator the next morning was almost home. One blond was behind a black granite counter and behind her was the ubiquitous mirror etched with the SNAP logo. She looked up and smiled—no ice princess here—and said, “Good morning Ms. Gwenoch, we’ve been expecting you.”

  She punched in some digits, said “Ms. Gwenoch is here,” cut the connection and asked if I’d like coffee.

  Was I expected to cool my heels in the lobby drinking coffee until somebody was ready to see me? I didn’t like that idea one bit.

  I was working myself up into a snit when I heard Pen’s comment about a teenage drama queen, so I smiled. “Thank you.”

  The receptionist and I walked through the mirror into an office space with fewer cubicles than home. As we walked back to the private offices, I realized there were differences. Here, phones rang. They were quiet, but they weren’t gurgling. And when I got to the office of Harry Jonas, the New York managing director, he not only had windows, but the sun streamed in.

  He stood up and came around his desk. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Ms. Gewnoch,” he extended his hand. The receptionist popped back up with a tray containing a coffee pot and two cups. “Do you want it in here, or in the one you’ll be using,” she asked, nodding to an office two doors down.

  We walked a few steps and Harry swung open my office door. I had a desk, two monitors, a fax, phone, pens, headsets, just like home except the view.

  “When they called from Hungary and said you’d be stopping here, we called your assistant in LA and she told us how you liked to work.”

  Oh boy, even heads of state and protocol chiefs could take lessons in how the Baron ran his empire. Planned, punctual, polite par excellence. The receptionist set the coffee down. “Thanks again,” I nodded and she turned a little pink.

  It was clear that the staff of the New York office was regulars. Neither a vampire nor a donor would have had that rush of blood when she or he was embarrassed. If fact, I hadn’t ever seen any of them shy or embarrassed. I understood again that I had a lot to learn if I wanted to throw my lot in with the Kandesky family and its hangers-on. The problem was that they’d had years and years and years to learn social skills, to learn to keep their emotions in check, to feel completely self-assured in their skins and to know and appreciate their places.

  “I managed to get through most of my emails last night,” I said to Harry. “Do you have anything pressing?”

  “No, not really. We don’t cover as much as you guys out on the coast do, so much of my day is spent juggling freelancers and paparazzi. I have one guy who sticks close to Caroline Schlossberg, I mean Caroline Kennedy. New York City is lousy with old money, old families, society with a capital S, celebrities. It’s the people you see in the Times or the Daily News even Newsday but it’s not like movie or media people who have recognition everywhere so our staff here is smaller.”

  Not that we were looking for hordes more people; we weeded through every show and every edition as it was.

  And this was only in the United States. If we were ever short, we still had the Royals, the Europeans, the South American polo and money class. The world was populated by people whom other people wanted to read about or hear about or emulate or envy. Privacy was beginning to be a scarce commodity.

  Harry stood. “I’ll give you a couple of hours to catch up. I thought we could go to lunch and then swing by a few clubs and see if they have anything going tonight.”

  It sounded like a good plan, particularly the part about leaving me alone. I did want to spend an hour or so with Jazz, and see if Carola, Chaz and the others were home yet. I needed to check my own reality. Was it true that I’d spent the last few days in an Hungarian castle with vampires? With vampires who were both my employees and my bosses? With demons who guarded me and other vampires who were after me?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  I spoke at length to Jazz and conferenced with the art director and a couple of layout people on the print issue. Things ran smoothly in my absence and I slipped back into a work mode easily.

  Chaz, Carola and the others who’d gone to Hungary were due in the office today. I was afraid to ask. Jazz sensed my hesitation.

  “Jean-Louis isn’t coming back with them. There’s a rumor that he’s on some special assignment for the Baron. Maybe trying to find a replacement for Pen. That sounds like Jean-Louis, getting an assignment to find and photograph beautiful women all over Europe.” She snickered.

  “OK, don’t you guys out there have anything better to do than to start rumors and gossip about co-workers?” My tone must have been way sharp because I could hear Jazz suck in her breath.

  “Uh, yes, we have plenty to do. I just thought you’d want to hear where everybody is.” I could feel waves of hurt coming through the phone.

  “It sounds as though everything is set for this week.” I forced a calmer tone. “You’ve done a good job of holding the office together while I was gone. Thank you. And thank you for setting me up with the shoppers at Saks and Neiman. All of the clothes were a hit. You should have seen some of the others, as well...” I stopped myself. I wasn’t sure that Jazz was aware and fully understood the implications of working for vampires.

  “It looked like some of the other women shop in Paris. The clothes were lovely.” It was a lame ending, but Jazz had heard the thank you’s as sincere and that was what mattered.

  Jazz’ voice regained her normal bounce. “How is the New York office, by the way? I’ve never been there.”

  “It’s nice. It’s at the Rockefeller Center complex but it’s not right in the middle. I only have a view of some
other skyscrapers. When I have to come back, I’ll try and finagle a way to get you here, too, if you’d like.”

  “That would be super. Where are you staying?”

  “I’m at the Baron’s apartment off of Park Avenue. I’ve always been in a hotel before and this is pretty swanky.”

  “Oohhh,” Jazz sucked in her breath again, this time with admiration. “That’s cool, Maxie. Not everybody gets to stay there. Getting invited to the castle and now staying in the Baron’s New York apartment...you’re coming up in the world. Does that mean that I’m coming up, too?”

  If only she knew what I was coming up to.

  Actually, I wasn’t sure what I was coming up to. At best, I was falling in love with a vampire, not the easiest path to true love. At worst, I could be the cause of some arcane war, where everybody involved in the Baron’s empire could lose their jobs if not their lives. And I would lose Jean-Louis. Maybe I wanted to come down in the world.