Midnight Temptation

by Shari Nichols

  Garrett pulled the Lotus behind a row of Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Aston Martins, and stretch limos. He hopped out of the car and stretched, his gaze darting to the back seat. He caught a glimpse of Gillian’s leg and tugged at the edge of the cloak, making sure every part of her stayed covered. When the valet approached, he turned and slipped a twenty in his hand. “Take good care of her.”

  He managed to walk about five steps when a vampire, dressed in all black with a wire dangling from his ear and a gleaming, silver stake holstered to his hip, stopped him. The guard blocked his path and held up his hand. “Arms straight out and legs apart, sir.”

  “I expected to be on a first-name basis before we got to this point in the evening,” Garrett said with a twist of his lips. Smith was supposed to be guarding the front. He’d been hoping to bypass the security check. Instead, Garrett picked up part of his conversation, something about getting held up at the outdoor Loggia attached to the library.

  Before he could fathom what a Loggia entailed, the guard patted him down. He motioned to the nineteenth-century pistol from Garrett’s private collection, the one he kept holstered in a shoulder strap loaded with real silver-tipped bullets for the occasion. “I’ll take that for you, sir. You may retrieve it after the party.”

  Garrett let out a low chuckle. “It’s part of the costume, but if your boss deems it necessary to confiscate a prop, then knock yourself out. I’m sure the old guy who rented it to me will have a good laugh over the whole thing.”

  “Smith will meet you inside in a few minutes. Try and play nice. The goal is to get you inside,” Dubrosky said in his ear.

  The guard pursed his lips in annoyance. Someone called his name and the vampire turned, allowing Garrett to slip past him and blend in with the crowd.

  “Quick thinking, Detective,” Denopoulos said into his mic over the crash of pots and pans in the background. We’re looking for Malcom, but so far no one’s found him yet. I suspect the bastard knows how to stay hidden. As soon as we get Lawrence, he’ll be forced to lead us to his boss.”

  Garrett couldn’t respond without giving away the wire in his ear, so he simply smiled and kept on walking to the main entrance of the house. Lush, green shrubs and tall arborvitaes greeted him. He snuck a peek through the arches of the courtyard to the lawns, and Versailles came to mind. Golf carts filled with guests zoomed past.

  Taking the stone steps that led to the main entrance, Garrett glanced over at the sea of costumes, from a couple dressed as Marilyn Monroe and his all-time favorite baseball player, Joe DiMaggio, to a provocative Snow White with her Prince Charming, all of whom wore masks to cover their faces. But he could sense how uncomfortable the women seemed from their body language.

  Everyone came in costume, and Garrett wondered if Malcom was somewhere among them. Would he be able to recognize the bastard after all these years? A cluster of women clad in vampire costumes, complete with crimson lips and plastic fangs, walked up the staircase, teetering on stilettos with glazed looks in their eyes. He could smell their perfume, along with their fear.

  An attractive female dressed as Marie Antoinette stood at the open doors. A high back stool with an ornate crystal bowl on top sat to her right, filled with red, velvet boxes. “Good evening and welcome.” With a glance at his costume, she checked her iPad. He’d been required to include how he’d be dressed via text.

  “We have you right here, Mr. Beam. My name’s Joanna. Please let me know if you need anything. Enjoy.” She reached into the bowl and handed him a small box, which he placed in the top pocket of his waistcoat.

  “Thank you, Joanna.” Once Garrett stepped through the threshold, he glanced at the enormous hallway. The over the top display of wealth and opulence bought from the blood of the innocent made him want to hurl the box at one of the gold filigree mirrors hanging on the wall. Between the winding staircase that appeared to go as far up as the heavens, to the high vaulted ceilings and enormous brick fireplace, he deemed the place fit for a king. Or in this case, the head of a blood ring. He reluctantly admired the architecture and imagined Malcom had the place custom-built to his specs.

  “What’s with the gift?” Dubrosky asked, breaking into his musings.

  “One way to find out,” he whispered back. When he opened the box, a red signet ring stared back at him. Trying to hide his revulsion, Garrett slipped the gold band on his finger, and crossed into what he knew from the layout was the formal great room where most of the guests now congregated. “We need to confirm Malcom’s here.”

  “Hang on, Mulroney. We’re searching the crowd, trying to do face recognition scans, but with the masks, it’s almost impossible.”

  White-gloved waiters and waitresses walked by carrying trays of flutes filled with champagne. A waiter brushed past him with a tray of hors d’oeuvres and Garrett caught the scent of the strawberry blond demon agent from the Greenwich field office. They called him Big Red.

  Set up in the corner with stools and loveseats, an enormous bar seemed the place to congregate. The MBI had sent in their agents to pose as bartenders.

  At first glance, the room appeared to be at capacity, buzzing with chatter. Despite having studied the blueprints, Garrett wasn’t prepared for the sheer size of the house and the number of creatures and humans inside. It made their jobs more difficult.

  There was a task force nearby, prepared to bust up the place and rescue all the women as soon as they got the okay. If they went in too soon, they’d have a blood bath on their hands. Once they got Brooke Corey and the rest of the vics out of there, they’d seize whatever they could from Malcom’s computers, and hopefully, put him and Lawrence away for the rest of their miserable lives.

  Garrett wasn’t sure how Lawrence had managed to pull off something this elaborate as a fugitive. He tuned into the multitude of conversations around him, hoping to pick up on something that would lead him to Brooke and the sleezebag host for the evening.

  “Does anyone want to venture a guess as to how Lawrence will be dressed tonight?” he whispered into his mic.” In all the surveillance video the agents managed to listen to, nothing had given them any clue on his choice for a costume.

  “Do you see anyone dressed as Attila the Hun or Lucifer? Any giant douchebag costumes?” Teague said into his mic.

  Garrett tried hard not to laugh. Leave it to Teague to always provide comic relief under duress.

  “You’re not helping matters,” Dubrosky shot back.

  Turning his head, Garrett searched the room again for Lawrence, and his attention became diverted to an area next to a wall of windows where an eight-piece band played. Something about the bass guitar player, who was dressed as a pirate, looked familiar, but he couldn’t figure out from where.

  Frustrated, Garrett exhaled, his tension mounting by the second. Shit, they could be anywhere. The song ended and a vampire dressed as Elvis walked up to talk to the band.

  “We’d like to do a request from Mr. Lawrence.” The guitar player announced to the crowd. The song, Love Me Tender began to play.

  Searching for “The King,” Garrett crossed the room and cut through the crowd, when a vampire dressed in a Danny costume from the movie Grease approached him with a wide, beaming smile. “Good evening, you must be Mr. Beam. I spotted you from across the room. Lestat, right? Excellent costume by the way. I’m Jason Massey. We spoke on the phone.” He shook Garrett’s hand.

  “Yes, of course. Please, call me Sebastian. Thank you for coming over to introduce yourself. I just arrived and I’m still getting my feet wet, so to speak.” Garrett glanced over at the group of young women he’d seen walking into the party and pretended to check them out, playing his part to the hilt.

  “I could tell by the way you’ve been gazing around the room that you’re searching for that special someone. Let me explain how things work at these kinds of gatherings. You may choose someone on your own to be your companion for the evening, as long as they’re not currently with another vampire, of course. Or we can choo
se for you. But remember, as a member of the Brotherhood, you have unlimited access to all of our companions from now on.”

  “So is that what the twenty-five thousand bucks gets you?” Now speak into the mic loud and clear, you piece of shit.

  Massey smiled. “Exactly. We can arrange to have a companion come over to you immediately based on your personal preferences.”

  Once they received the MBI wire transfer, he’d been required to fill out a Scantron for Sebastian Beam’s personal preferences for a blood bond. The whole exercise had made his stomach turn. “I’d like to have a drink first.” That was Denopoulos’s cue to come and find him.

  “The choice is yours. Whatever you choose, Sebastian, you won’t be disappointed.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to meet with Kurt yet. I’d like to speak with him about a new venture. I’m sure he’ll find it quite interesting. Business before pleasure I’m afraid. I thought I saw him walk by.”

  “Not to worry. I’ll bring you right over to him.”

  “We’re in luck. I just got a facial scan match to your sire, Mulroney,” Dubrosky said in his ear. “He’s in an Aro costume.”

  Not sure who Aro was, Garrett exhaled with relief. Now all they needed to do was create a diversion to allow Gillian to get Brooke away from Lawrence, take her to an empty powder room, administer the potion, and then get the hell out of there. At least he hoped it would go down that smooth. As soon as she gave the signal, Teague would meet them at the rear of the house.

  “We have a visual on Gillian,” Hastings said in his ear.

  Garrett tried not to show any reaction as he followed Massey through the crowd. He stopped when he smelled Kurt Lawrence. The vampire was clad in a white and gold jumpsuit with his dark hair gelled to within an inch of his life. Pasted-on mutton chops covered the sides of his face.

  His Priscilla stood nearby wearing a long-sleeved, white mini-dress and tall, white go-go boot. The black wig teased into a Beehive, and the heavy makeup made Brooke Corey almost unrecognizable. Her eyes narrowed in recognition when she glanced over at Garrett and then glazed over.

  “Kurt Lawrence, I presume? I’ve been waiting a long time for this moment. We finally get to meet in person.” Garrett slapped Lawrence on the back—hard.

  Before the vampire could respond, Denopoulos walked up holding a tray of red wine goblets and purposely bumped into Garrett, spilling the contents of the tray all over his rented Victorian waistcoat. Glasses crashed onto the marble floor and scattered everywhere. “I’m sorry, sir, let me help you.”

  “This jacket has been in my family for generations,” Garrett snarled. “What kind of people do you have working for you, Lawrence?”

  “Are you insulting me?” Denopoulos shouted, getting right up in Garrett’s face.

  “I think that’s obvious. You’re a blundering disaster,” Garrett growled. “Now step aside.”

  “I’d rather be a blundering disaster than an insufferable fop like you.” Denopoulos glared at his waistcoat now soaking wet and stinking of red wine.

  “You don’t know who you’re addressing. Plan on getting ripped apart.” Heads turned in their direction. and the women got out of the way in anticipation of a fight.

  “Mr. Beam, you need to calm down. You’re causing a scene,” Lawrence admonished, trying to hold Garrett back. The vampire turned and waved his hand in the air. “Security!”

  Smith, along with three guards, rushed over and stood between Garrett and Denopoulos. “Is there a problem here?”

  Dubrosky’s voice came into his ear. “Gillian, you’re up. Mulroney and Denopoulos, you need to make this look good.”

  Denopoulos grabbed Garrett by the collar and jabbed his fist into his face. Garrett made a show of stumbling backward. He rubbed his jaw and then rushed him, tackling him to the marble floor. They rolled around in a heap of limbs. A crackling noise pierced his ear, followed by dead silence. Son of a bitch, he’d just crushed his mic.

  The room erupted in shouts and screams.

  Through the corner of his eye, he saw Smith approach. The demon ducked out of the way at the last second, coming close to getting kicked in the face. He grabbed Garrett by the back of his waistcoat and hoisted him to his feet. “You’ll need to come with me, Mr. Beam.” He held him in a chokehold. “I’ll personally escort you out of the party.”

  Chapter 27

  The moment the fight broke out, security guards scattered throughout the room. Before one of them could grab Brooke and whisk her away, Gillian slipped out from behind a marble column and scanned the crowd for Brooke. She spotted a woman across the room in a white mini dress and a black wig. Then she remembered her vision, so she cut across the ballroom, praying no one would notice. Seeing her in the flesh after all this time made her want to hug her cousin until her ribs ached. But there was simply no time. She grabbed Brooke’s hand and whispered in her ear. “Brooke, it’s me, Gillian. We need to go. Now.”

  “Gillian? What are you doing here?” Her voice sounded haunted, and her words were slurred. When she tried to take a step, she wobbled in her boots. “Where are we going? I can’t leave Kurt.”

  “We just need a moment to talk, and then we’ll be right back. Hang onto me, sweetie.” Gillian tugged her along, heading toward a set of doors. “Talk to me, Natalya, which way?”

  “Who’s Natalya?” Brooke murmured, looking over her shoulder.

  “There are twelve bathrooms in this house. I’m trying to get a visual on all of them to find an empty one. Hang on.” A few tense minutes passed. Then, Natalya finally said, “Okay, head out of the great room and make a right, then continue down the hall. It’s the third door on your left. Make sure to lock it when you get inside. I’ll send someone to put an ‘out of order’ sign on the door.”

  “Let’s go.” Gillian did her best to look nonchalant while she practically dragged Brooke from the great room and down the length of the hall, hoping and praying no one would stop them. Luckily, the hallway was empty. All of the security guards seemed to have rushed to the area where the fight had broken out.

  Gillian hurried her pace with her arm linked through Brooke’s. Once she found the door, she turned the glass knob and slammed it shut with a wave of her hand. After Gillian locked it behind her, she turned and let out a gasp. Paneled in red lacquer with white vanities, crystal chandeliers, and huge, silver mirrors, she’d never seen a bathroom this fancy in her life.

  “C’mon there must be a make-up area with some chairs.” They pushed through red and gold draperies and entered a sitting area filled with red cushioned benches.

  “I don’t feel so good all of a sudden,” Brooke whispered as Gillian sat her down in one of the benches. “I need to go to Kurt. He’ll find me, and neither of us will ever get out of here. I can’t live without his blood. I won’t.” Her head slumped to the side and rested against the wall.

  Rushing to the sink, Gillian filled a cup of water, came back, and placed it in her hands. “Drink this, and listen to me, Brooke. Garrett and a group of special agents are going to help us. I’m wearing a mic. They can hear us. They’re going get us out of here and away from Kurt. I will break your blood bond. You just need to listen to me and do what I say.”

  Brooke lifted her head and the color drained from her face. Her skin looked as pale as death. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I thought I’d never see you again, Gillian. I know what you’re trying to do, but it’s no use. Leave me while you still can.”

  “I’m not leaving you, no matter what.” Gillian fought the rush of tears and took a seat next to Brooke. Wasting no time, she reached for the potion vile, tucked safely in the silk pouch in the pocket of her dress, and set it on the vanity. Once she unsheathed the dagger from her thigh holster, she plunged the tip of the blade into the center of her hand. She winced as blood seeped from the cut and began to flow.

  “What are you doing?” Brooke sniffed the air and a savage hunger spread across her face. She leaned into Gillian, her eyes focused on
the drops of blood like someone about to savor a tasty meal.

  Gillian stopped her by plunging the tip of the blade into her hand and Brooke flinched in pain. “Saje made a potion that will free you from your bond with Kurt forever, but you have to do exactly as I say.” Gillian closed her eyes and focused her mind, willing her magick to call to Brooke’s. Sparks flew from her fingertips and circled above Brooke, surrounding her body in a glowing, white light.

  After a few minutes, Brooke jerked upright, becoming more alert. Some of the haze lifted from her eyes. “Help me, Gillie.”

  “Brooke.”

  “You need to hurry, Gillian. The guards are searching for Brooke. They’ll stop you when you try to escape,” Natalya said in her ear. “We’re trying to send an agent to you now, but we’re outnumbered by Lawrence’s thugs. We’re waiting for the task force to close in. They should be coming through any minute now. Teague will take it from here.”

  Without a second to waste, Gillian slapped their hands together and held tight. “Your blood and my blood. We are family, and it’s our blood that’s bonded together.” She opened the top of the potion vial with her free hand and let a few drops of their blood spill inside.

  Now came the hard part, getting Brooke to drink every last drop. Gillian racked her brain, trying to figure out a way to get her to open her mouth. She’d have to be quick. She tried not to panic. Then, an idea came to her. Brooke had always been terrified of spiders.

  “Don’t move.” Gillian looked up. “There’s a spider web right above your head.”

  Brooke opened her mouth to scream and Gillian poured the potion into the back of her throat. Before she could spit it out, Gillian held her cheeks together. “I’m sorry, but this is for your own good.” When she finally swallowed, Gillian chanted the spell.

  Everlasting truth, love, and harmony,

  I ask the Goddess to break what should no longer be,

  Restore the blood from this innocent and set her free,