Was her mother trying to win Dawn over with a show of honesty again, just as she had with all those confessions earlier in the night?
“Fire away,” Dawn said.
“It’s about Paul Aspen’s party.”
“Yeah, the one where my mind got broken into. Good times.” Eva shifted in her chair. “I found out who took advantage of you, and I’ve been meaning to ask him about it, but, as you know, I’ve been a bit busy. Believe it or not, I was just as upset about this as you were.”
Actually, Dawn did believe her. After all, her mother had smacked that sexually harassing prick Darrin Ryder around for her daughter’s sake. Why not get upset about another assault?
“Do tell, Eva.” Impulsively, she scooted forward on the couch.
Her mother inched closer, too, and suddenly they were as close as they’d been while writing those notes earlier.
“I can’t get into the why of things, but what this ‘friend’ of mine did to you was out of spoiled greed. We don’t mind wipe unless the circumstances are dire, and for him to bite you . . . He disrespected me. Your reputation down here—as my daughter and as a hunter—made you too desirable for him to pass up.”
Violated, defiled.
“Who is it?” Anger began to purr in Dawn, a started engine.
Eva seemed to be just as riled. “Paul Aspen, also known as Edward Waters in his former incarnation.”
Dawn’s head squeezed together, as if trying to recall his attack. But she couldn’t, and the clamping sensation traveled to her body.
Paul Aspen, the boyish charmer she’d seen earlier in the emporium. The vampire who’d invaded her.
She stood. “You said you’ve been meaning to talk to him about it, Eva?”
At first, her mother just sat, posed in something like indecision. But then heat seemed to fill her eyes—maybe because of ire, maybe because she wanted to prove to Dawn that she was truly willing to do anything to make up for Breisi and all the rest of her choices.
Eva rose from her chair, too. “One thing?”
“What?”
“We talk to him my way. I don’t want another Rea Carvahal incident.”
“Sure, whatever.”
And that was how it started, over tea and sympathy. It continued with a knock on Paul’s chamber door.
The actor, who would be in his late thirties for a long time to come, answered the summons in a natty Chinese-embroidered robe. Since he was playing hooky from his and Eva’s movie production right now, his sandy hair had quickly grown back to a conservative cut without frequent shaving. His hazel eyes glimmered just as jauntily as the earrings he’d gotten for the part of a cinematic buccaneer.
“The party has come to me tonight!” He held open the door, seeing only Eva. “I was just preparing to go out again.”
Her mother strolled inside. “We’ll be enough entertainment for you, I think.”
Dawn felt herself falling into the part of an actress, too. She grinned in greeting as she followed her mother.
At the sight of Dawn, the actor seemed caught in a net, as if he knew that he’d been revealed in taking advantage of his costar’s daughter. But when his guests didn’t let on that this was why they were here, he stuffed his hands in his robe pockets and playfully bounced up and down on his bare heels.
“It’s grand to see you, too, Dawn. We’ve all been waiting for your anticipated appearance. Eva hasn’t been able to talk about anything else for years.”
Her mother sent her a sly look, almost as if this were some kind of bonding moment. Unthinkingly, Dawn returned it. Her juices were flowing at the thought of teaching this dick a lesson, just as she’d taught Darrin Ryder what it felt like to have his balls nestled in his chest from a good kick. Power-hungry jerks—male, female, vampire, whatever—were one of Dawn’s pet peeves, and since she had nothing to lose now, she didn’t mind investing some time and effort in rehabilitating them.
“Care for a beverage?” Paul asked, heading for what seemed to be a fancy cappuccino maker.
“Please,” Eva said, going over to his white-on-white living room. Overhead, a massive chandelier tinkled, lending the area a retro-elegant sheen. “But I’m not sure Dawn will join us.”
“I understand.” Paul went behind the bar and filled two mugs with red liquid. “Rumor has it that you haven’t been turned yet, Dawn.”
“Rumor’s right.” Dawn remained standing after she gravitated to the living room, too. “Blood’s not my thing.”
“Not yet anyway.” Paul chuckled and came over with the mugs, handing one to Eva, then sitting on a white leather couch. “Is there something else you’d like instead?”
This guy was either real forgetful or terrifyingly arrogant, Dawn thought. “Last time I got served a drink at your place, it was spiked with some junk that turned me fifty ways up and down. Or . . .” Dawn put a finger to her lips, tapping them. With every beat, her fury turned up. “Oh, yeah. It wasn’t the drink, was it, Eva?”
Paul slowly set his mug down on a glass-topped table.
“You are correct, my dear,” Eva said, mocking Paul by setting down her own mug. Now that they were committed, her mother seemed to be having a ball, excited about costarring with her daughter. “Paul, with everything that’s been going on, I haven’t had a moment to really sit down and chat with you.”
Even just watching the actor was bringing Dawn’s body to a boil. She felt a pressure at her temples, heating, thrusting.
Paul cleared his throat. “Chat?”
“Hmm, maybe that’s the wrong word for it,” Eva said.
Pump, pump . . . Dawn’s head was about to burst.
“Now, ladies,” the vampire actor said in a smooth tone, “let’s—”
A flare of heat made Dawn’s head feel like it was shattering. She even heard the sound of glass, but when her vision cleared, she saw that it wasn’t her mind bursting to pieces at all—it was the chandelier.
A few crystal droplets had zoomed down to pelt Paul, who was raising his arms to cover his precious face. “Wh—”
“You want to see into my mind?” Dawn yelled. “Then take a look!”
Zweek, zweek, zweek—more chandelier shards speared the air, this time embedding themselves into Paul’s shielding hands. Blood spurted from his wounds, beading the white couch and carpeting with crimson.
He stood, uncovering his face and revealing a misty grimace. Dawn recognized the signs of impending Danger Form.
“Paul!” It was Eva, who was standing, too. “You turn; I turn. And, believe me—I’m going to trump you.”
The actor shook like an old machine that’d been unexpectedly shut down. Just for good measure, Dawn shot another drop of crystal at his cheek. He startled but didn’t do anything because Eva was watching.
But, after a moment, he did turn to Dawn in a visual threat. That was how bullies operated, even if they knew they’d been beaten for the time being. Blood graced his hands and face like grotesque gems.
“Didn’t you always want to wear Swarovski?” Dawn asked.
Eva broke in, shooting a shut-up glance to her daughter. “Paul, those wounds are going to heal before daylight comes, so don’t get upset.”
What her mother didn’t say was that the actor’s humiliation would last longer. That was what mattered, and that was why he wouldn’t tell anyone what had just happened.
As Eva took Dawn by the hand to lead her out of the room, Dawn dug in her heels, still ready to throw down. She wasn’t finished, and she had enough fuel in her hatred to go as many rounds as it took with him.
“Stop it,” Eva hissed, crushing her daughter’s hand in hers until the pain woke Dawn up.
They left the actor standing in the middle of his room, blood splattered and lancing a glare at Dawn.
His former victim.
As soon as Eva closed Paul’s door, a rush of adrenaline lifted Dawn so high she could’ve walked on air.
“Sweet revenge,” she said while Eva pulled her along the hallwa
y. “Funny how the tables can be turned like that, huh?”
Her mother stopped, her look hard enough to make Dawn feel like she’d just smacked into a glass door.
“You feel good about what just happened?” Eva asked.
Heartbeat pistoning, Dawn thought about it. But only for a second. “Yeah. Yeah, I feel great about it.”
Eva resumed towing Dawn. That was when she realized she was holding hands with Mommy. She shook off the connection.
“Where’re you headed?” Dawn asked.
“While we were in there, Benedikte summoned me. He’d like to see you in a half hour.”
Dawn hadn’t noticed Eva getting any Master messages. Then again, would it be obvious? Also, she’d been pretty occupied.
“You’re at his beck and call like that?” She laughed and started moving in the opposite direction. She hadn’t felt this powerful in . . . ever. “I don’t think your master is going to order me around the same way.”
“Dawn.” Eva’s voice required attention. “You do realize Elites like Paul could kill you, don’t you? You’re not indestructible. Not even close.”
A stirring of doubt settled in Dawn’s lower stomach. Sure she’d realized it, yet the crystal illusions had overwhelmed her. Still . . . you know what? She’d gotten him, and he could never reverse his punishment.
“And you realize,” Dawn said, “that I’ve killed a rogue Elite before.”
At the reminder of Robby Pennybaker’s fate, Eva stiffened. They’d been costars, friends, just as Breisi had been Dawn’s friend.
“I assume killing Robby makes you proud,” her mother said.
Not at all, and it made Dawn even bitterer to think that Costin had made her into . . . this. Into something that had killed. It made her furious that she’d allowed it, herself, and that she was allowing something even worse to creep up on her now.
Reality cloaked her, then a defensive resentment. Eva seemed to notice.
“You could be so much more, Dawn, if you’d only—”
“If I wanted to be one of you, I’d already have done it, okay? I’m not as desperate about my looks as you are.”
Eva reacted as if bitch slapped. Well, she had been, verbally.
Caught up in her black mood, Dawn pressed her advantage. “What are you going to do if the Master gets slain, Eva? Will you finally look your age? I’m not talking about losing your career or providing for me, but becoming just as unspecial as the rest of us.”
Eva went stony.
Down the hall, a bunch of vampires emerged from another chamber door and headed toward them in the direction of the emporium. Dawn recognized a bare-chested Jesse Shane along with the silver-eyed Groupies who were flanking him, wearing nothing but delicate chains. His long golden hair made him look like a prince among jewels.
“There she is!” He held his arms out to Dawn. “Eva, where’ve you been hiding our spectacular newbie?”
As one of his muscle-honed arms slipped around Dawn’s shoulders, she got a hot flash. Jesse Shane, action star, had been a buried preteen fantasy of hers, and here he was, in the flesh.
He pulled her to his famous chest and her stomach flip-flopped. Jesse Shane.
You hear that, Costin?
Eva greeted the vamp group while a male Groupie petted her blond hair. She seemed perfectly at home with the attention.
“Dawn and I were just about to—”
“Come to the emporium,” Jesse finished, already sweeping Dawn away. “We’ve finished training for the night, and it’s time to . . . er . . . meditate on our future success.” He squeezed Dawn to him. “Isn’t that right?”
Holy crap, she might faint. Jesse Shane, probably the only star who’d ever risen above her low expectations of the breed. A reluctant crush that she’d kind of forgotten about until now, in his tongue-lolling presence.
She bungled an answer—sounded like a yes to her—and forgot about Eva as Jesse brought her into the domed emporium. The erotic temperature of it soaked into her skin, making it buzz.
Just watch me live, Costin. . . .
Jesse led her to a steaming pool and stepped out of his silk pants. Several female Groupies clung to him, rubbing against his sleek thighs. One even reached out to caress his, well, quite impressive package, if Dawn said so herself. It seemed natural for them to be so carnal, but Dawn wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Not here, not now.
Jesse and his perfect, broad-shouldered body slid into the water, and Dawn had to remind herself that she hated actors.
As four Groupies joined him, splashing one another and giggling, he motioned to Dawn.
“You allergic to water?” he asked.
She tried to seem as confident as ever, because, really, this was no biggie. Skinny-dipping and flashing her skin around guys was par for the course. So why was she hesitating?
She looked around for Eva, but didn’t find her.
“Dawn Madison . . .” Jesse said playfully. He finger-sprayed some water at her, and the women around him laughed. “If you can’t beat us, join us.”
He didn’t seem to mind her face—the wound from Robby Pennybaker on her check or the stunt-earned scar flicking her eyebrow. He didn’t care that she wasn’t the second coming of any beauty queen.
In fact, he was looking at her like she transcended a title, like she fit right in with all these beautiful creatures.
Join them. It was the first thing that made sense in a while. What was she holding on to anyway?
And when she saw how the vampires were watching her, with lust and acceptance and even anticipation, she undid her hair, shaking it out and freeing herself.
EIGHTEEN
THE BITING TRUTH
LOOK at me, Costin, Dawn thought as she grabbed the bottom of her shirt and yanked upward. I can be just like I was before I met you.
Jesse and the Groupies were egging her on when Dawn felt someone tugging down her shirt from behind, then hoisting her away from the pool.
“Hey—” she started.
But Eva finished. She looked fit to be tied. “Not the time for this, Dawn.”
Jesse and his Groupies oooed in anticipation of a tussle.
Her mother turned on them. “Did you think about what the Master might do if he saw you encouraging her?”
The oooing stopped. The splashing of the waterfall into the far end of the pool substituted for an answer.
Dawn took up the slack. “Am I not supposed to be having ‘the time of my life’ down here, Eva? Unless I’m wrong, I think you suggested it.”
“I meant with the Master.”
“Ah, sublime monogamy.” She put on a saccharine smile. “I didn’t expect you to be the only prude down here.”
As her mother pulled her away from the vampires, Dawn looked at Jesse Shane one last time. He smiled his blockbuster smile, making her want to stay and be a part of what he offered.
But Eva pulled her daughter into the hallway for the second time that night, and Dawn couldn’t help feeling like she was being dragged to her room for a good talking-to. Again.
“Think,” Eva said. “Would the Master be happy that you’re cavorting with someone else when you rejected him earlier?”
“I’d be happy. Seriously—you’re protecting my virtue?” She laughed shortly. “How Kiko of you.”
Her mother seemed to notice the wistful change in Dawn’s tone. Eva stopped, then tilted her head in the way all vamps seemed to do when they were trying to figure you out.
“Kiko,” she repeated softly.
It held a note of remorse. While disguised as Jac, Eva had developed some affection for the psychic—at least, she’d acted like it. Dawn chose to believe it was true because, as Kik himself would’ve said, how could it not be?
The vamp let go of Dawn’s hand and moved on, changing the subject. “Besides the Master, I have an ulterior motive for getting you out of the emporium, something that won’t take long. We’ll see Benedikte right afterward.”
“Please elabor
ate. Because that was Jesse Shane in there. Jesse. Shane.”
“I thought you might be more interested in trying to contact Frank.”
Ears perked. “What do you mean . . . ?” Dawn caught up to her mother, keeping pace. “How?”
“I’ve been hoping to make an attempt down here, maybe at an old quarry entrance near the surface to try my Awareness with him. Now that we’re prepared for . . . the nameless agency you used to work for . . . it’s no danger to use vampire communication Above. It was a concern before because it could be detected. We all had to be careful.”
Dawn appreciated that Eva wasn’t referring to Costin out loud. It was a small but important sign of simpatico.
“But,” her mother continued, “I suppose Jesse is waiting.”
“We’re talking about my dad, Eva.” Hell, she hated actors anyway, and it was simple to remember it now that she was out of Jesse Shane’s sexual force field.
At her mother’s smile, Dawn picked up speed. They had come to a fork in the tunnels, and Eva led her to the right, where electric lights stared and the floor turned to dirt.
A question poked at Dawn, something she’d been wondering for a while now. “Eva, how strong is Frank as a vampire?”
Her mother lost a step, then continued. “I don’t have a definitive answer because . . . Well, there’s a lot to consider. First, I’m strong. During my last blood-taking from the Master, I overindulged, and it boosted me. And”—she lowered her voice, although what she would say out loud probably wouldn’t get her in trouble if it were overheard—“I already told you what happened last time I fed Frank. Here’s the thing: in our community, blood loses its power with the introduction of every new generation, so that’s why we have strong vampires like the Elites and weaker ones, like the Groupies.”
“Right . . .”
“What I’m saying is that Frank is no doubt stronger than any of our Groupies. He might be a cross between that and an Elite, so I’m not sure what to expect out of him. Elites aren’t interested in making children, really, so Frank’s an anomaly.”
“And . . . how about this brotherhood I keep hearing about? The one the Master was in.” Introducing . . . the detective. It’d appeared in Dawn’s mental doorway uninvited, eager to take up the Costin/Jonah case again. “Are all the brothers equal?”
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