Useful. She’d never been called that. It made her smile again. “If we survive this, I think I would like to be your friend, Bella.”
“And I yours.” She was beaming again. Smiling as though she were the very sun itself. “We are in need of a negotiator. Alfonzo and Eddie are quite terrible at it, as you can imagine, and I have no talent for such things.”
The thought of taking up with the vampire hunters and traveling the world defeating darkness made her chuckle. It was so outlandish that it was humorous, although she found she didn’t dislike the idea at all. “They seem like fine men. Well, one man and one boy, perhaps.”
“Alfonzo is a noble, determined soul. Don’t let his stern exterior fool you. Time has just left him a little grizzled.” They began to walk through Price’s home as they talked, sipping their wine. Eddie had asked that they remain by the windows in the front of the building so he could provide support via his rifle should something happen. There was a window in the ballroom that would be perfect, and they made their way there, accepting the food that was offered to them on trays by passing waiters. Bella was ravenous, and Maxine realized the hunters might not get a chance to eat regularly.
“And what of Eddie?” she asked as they took up their post by the window in the ballroom. It was out of the main path of the guests—which was fine for Maxine, since there were a lot of guests—and secluded enough that she could watch and not be watched.
“He’s sweet. He’ll stop the horses to help a turtle cross the road. He’s funny, silly, and compassionate.” Bella smiled faintly. But there was a kind of remorse to her expression. A fashion of regret.
Ah. The love Eddie felt for her was not requited. Poor boy. She opted not to bring up what she knew. It would only rub salt in the wound. “How long have you traveled together?”
“I’ve been with Alfonzo since I was ten. Nine years, then. Eddie joined us about four years back. Alfonso has practically raised me. We both owe everything to him.”
“I suppose it makes it easy to lay down your lives for a cause that has defined it.” Maxine sipped her wine again. It was good and clearly very expensive. Far more so than anything she would ever purchase. She tried to enjoy it as much as she could, all things considered.
“That is true. But what of you? You have taken this all remarkably in stride.”
“Everything I touch—every bauble, every knickknack, every building, I see all that has ever happened to it or within it. I see every proposal, every kiss, every moment of love. I see every tragedy, every betrayal…and every murder. I have witnessed a thousand deaths as if they were my own.” She looked down at her gloved palm. “I felt their emotions as they died, and because of that…I have died a thousand different ways. I suppose that is why I don’t fear it. That is why some people might even think I embrace it. I have felt the soul of this Count Dracula, and I know what is coming for me. I know I cannot fight a force of nature.”
“My God, Maxine, I am so sorry.” Bella reached out to touch her but changed her mind and dropped her hand. Either out of respect for Maxine’s discomfort of such things, or nervousness of her own. She wasn’t quite sure. “We will fight it together. We will prevail.”
I wish I had your faith. I wish I had your hope. She kept those words silent. Crushing the dreams of another was a needless cruelty. “Thank you.”
“Do you have your revolver?” Bella had asked her that question at least ten times so far.
Maxine smiled and nodded once. She knew it came out of a place of concern for bringing someone untrained and untested into a situation where a fight would likely occur. “It’s been many years since I had cause to use one, but the Roma were keen on all their children being trained for self-defense and hunting. I know which end to point at a thing I wish to die, though I am no marksman.”
“I hope it does not come to that.”
“I get the sensation that hope matters for little in moments like these.”
Bella chuckled in response.
Looking out at the crowd, Maxine wondered how many of the guests were human and how many of them were not. It was hard to separate out the emotions in large groups. It all just turned into noise. It was another reason she avoided events such as these. “Are vampires able to hide in a crowd?”
“Some can, yes. Vampires are quite like people in that their powers and gifts manifest differently. Some can blend in seamlessly with humanity, while others are grotesque things that would clear a room at the very sight of them.” Bella leaned back against the window frame, watching the crowd. “I do not see any I might suspect, though. Do you?”
“No. Although they all are muddled together, I admit.”
“Arthur said the Count was not yet here. Perhaps he and his prefer to be fashionably late.” Bella sighed. “How inconsiderate.”
Maxine laughed. “Of all things they could be, I would prefer them to remain only inconsiderate.”
Bella laughed as well, and they fell into companionable silence. It was a few minutes later that a young man approached them. Maxine blinked. The man was…beautiful. There was no way around it. He had sharp features that were both masculine and also a little delicate. His blond hair was swept back, although a few strands had fallen loose, giving him a rakish air.
Eyes that were a shade of blue that appeared purple in the light of the gas lamps were fixed on Bella. Or perhaps it was the purple ascot he wore that gave him such an appearance. He was smiling, an expression that looked like it came to him easily. “Pardon me, my lady.” The man bowed gracefully. “May I have this dance?”
“I—ah—” Bella stammered. “I, well—” Maxine watched as the young woman blushed bright pink. Her blue eyes were wide in surprise, and she glanced to Maxine, then back to the man, clearly unsure of what to do.
“Go on.” Maxine nudged Bella’s elbow. “I will be quite fine here on my own.” She motioned her head out the window, knowing Eddie was there with a long-range rifle ready to assist her should something change. “Enjoy the dance.”
The man smiled to her and bowed his head slightly. “Thank you for loaning me your companion.” His voice was quiet, smooth, and there was something deeply seductive about him. “I promise I’ll return her unscathed.” He offered his hand to Bella.
Poor Bella did not stand a chance. The girl was already enamored; she could see it in her face. She put her hand in his, and he pulled her toward the dance floor where couples were waiting to begin.
Maxine watched them wistfully. There was no small portion of her that was jealous. The way they were smiling at each other. The attraction was instant and mutual. One dance turned into two. If there was a third, it would be an absolute scandal. She couldn’t imagine Bella knew or cared of such social etiquette. With a sad smile, Maxine looked out the window.
It was something she could never have. A relationship. Attraction. She looked down at her gloved hands. She was always going to be as she was—surrounded by others, but utterly alone. Some days it threatened to crush her. She shut her eyes and let herself stretch out her awareness to sense the emotions of those around her. Happiness, enjoyment, and the playful excitement that came with a party. She tried to take some of it into herself, but it was a poor salve.
She stayed at her post by the window, knowing she must look bored and uninterested in the goings-on of the room. While she wished to never be alone, she hoped her expression might discourage any would-be gentleman callers desperate for a companion.
It had always worked before, and it would work again this evening.
Even without knowing who she was and what she could do, she carried the feel of death about her. She was told by many others that she was somehow inherently eerie and unsettling. Even if the living could not see the world in the way she could, they knew something very other clung to her like moss from the branches of a tree.
The room was filled with men, women, and those who seemed to be either a mix of the two or neither at all, each one dressed in their finest. It was a joyful af
fair, and Bacchus would be proud. More than once she caught sight of Arthur Price with a man under one of his arms and the other around the waist of a young lady. He clearly enjoyed the company of any gender, and he was not shy about admitting it or showing it in public. She knew it was only by his extreme affluence that his proclivities were tolerated.
The room was alive with pleasure.
And she stood alone.
After forty-five minutes of nothing, with no vampires to be seen, she had lost her focus. Bella had disappeared with her young man, likely to talk in private on some balcony. Or to go do more lascivious things. She did not judge or bemoan the girl if that was her choice. Her life had clearly been one of suffering. She should enjoy herself whenever she was allowed.
Lost in her thoughts, Maxine failed to notice a shadow that had approached by her side.
“May I have this dance, my lady?”
The unexpected voice made her jump, and she looked up wide-eyed at who had spoken to her.
The man was tall. Easily six feet or more. He had brown hair, worn swept back in the fashion of the day. He had light brown eyes that shone with warmth and a smile that matched it. He was a bit older, perhaps in his mid-thirties. He was handsome in a way that was uniquely British. His accent when he had greeted her had given that away, as well. He looked well-to-do—to be at Arthur’s party, he must be—but his mien did not scream aristocracy. Nor did he ooze charisma like the man who had swept Bella off her feet.
But there was something instantly charming about him. Something that made her curious. Something that hinted of a current that ran beneath the surface of a winter lake. That there was more about him than met the eye.
Maxine was absolutely stunned and found herself only able to blink in surprise. She was leaving him with his hand extended to her and in the awkward silence of her befuddlement.
“If your card is full,” he prompted with a twist to his thin lips, “I understand.” Oh, he was certainly very British.
“N—no,” she stammered and cursed herself for being such a child. He was a man, nothing more. He did not have the pallor of Dracula, and there was no flash in his eyes that betrayed him to be a vampire. He was a living man. “It is only that I fear I am a horrid dancer. I have not done it since I was a child. I will embarrass you.”
“If you are able to follow my lead, none will be the wiser, I swear to you.” She had thought him not as impressive as the young man who had come for Bella, but, as he talked, she found herself amending her opinion. There was something deeply alluring about him. Casual, but gentle. But there was something else there that she could not place. She was not one who would ever fall for such a thing, but she felt her cheeks begin to grow the barest bit hot.
Before she could really think it through, she placed her gloved hand into his. Her unease seemed to make him smile farther. It was a kind expression with a warmth that seemed genuine. His brown eyes seemed old, now that she took a closer look. Who is this man?
He walked with her to the dancers who were preparing for a waltz and guided her hands to the appropriate locations. The man chuckled deeply as he looked down at her. “If you keep that look of utter fear on your face, you may give your inexperience away.”
She laughed quietly and forced herself to relax. She took in a breath, held it, and let it out, along with the tension in her limbs. “I do believe this is my first time upon a dance floor since I was not standing on a man’s shoes,” she admitted to the handsome gentleman.
He chuckled. “If I may be so bold, my lady?”
“Of course. I have little patience for anything else.” What on Earth prompted her to say that? Idiot! He is a gentleman from some foreign place, and you sound like a complete harlot.
A single chuckle left him at her comment. “Good. Neither do I. Allow me, then, to observe that you carry great resolve in you. I can see it in the way you carry yourself. You are accustomed to relying on no one. But here, you are unsure, and you are unprepared for what lies ahead of you. If you do not allow me to lead, this will all go quite poorly.” His playful smile had not left him.
She hadn’t realized she had been pressing away from the hand that rested against her lower back. Unconsciously, she was still resisting, and he had been holding her there, as if she were out on the floor against her will. Allow him to lead, you dimwit. Allow him to lead! She forced herself to stop leaning back against his hand and cleared her throat. “Better?”
“Very good. And just in time.” Amusement poured from him. Not mocking her, but honestly enjoying the experience. It was so very foreign to her, it left her almost as uncertain as the prospect of the dance.
The music began. There was a knowing sort of kindness in his eyes, as if he found her awkward inability to sacrifice control of the situation, even in something as benign as a waltz, somehow charming. If only. It was likely her interpretation of a man who had realized he had made a terrible mistake by choosing her for a dance partner.
She squeaked in surprise as he pulled her along the dance floor. It drew a laugh from him. She focused everything she could on simply letting it happen—letting him guide her movements. He made it easy, as there was a firm and inarguable certainty to his actions. Standing this close to him, she caught the scent of a cologne that reminded her of roses.
He was strong. Very much so. More than his thin frame belied. He pulled her along through the dance, and she wondered if she dug in her heels whether it would even do her any good. She now understood what it meant to be “swept up.” If she did not consider herself to be a woman of wits, she would likely be swooning over the man with whom she now danced.
“See? There is no reason to fear,” he teased as they moved, still clearly enjoying her unease. “Though you may find this more enjoyable if you stop attempting to fixate upon my cravat and look at me instead.”
Maxine blinked, not having realized she had locked on to a point straight ahead of her as if that would somehow keep her from tensing up and fighting him without realizing it. “I’m sorry.”
“Be not so. You are doing fine.”
“No, you are doing fine. I am having very little to do with this!” She laughed as they twirled about.
His laugh joined hers, and he smiled broadly. “Such is the way of things. If only humanity could understand their rightful role in the world as you find yourself now.”
“What do you mean?” That was an unexpected turn in the conversation, but she was eager to be distracted from her fear of ruining their dance with her ineptitude.
“Willing surrender comes with its own joy, does it not? This Earth would be a better place if others could understand that.”
She scoffed. “I reject that notion. Forgive me.”
“Oft, to fight against such a thing would cause nothing but pointless harm. Take this waltz, for example. If you were to fight me now, we would topple over to the ground. And for what reason? The only way this is to be successful is if you allow me to lead. Even if you were a skilled dancer, it is the only way this moment can exist at all.”
That much was true. She couldn’t deny it. As much as it was entirely against her nature to allow someone else to take control, here he was, guiding her along the dance floor. But only because she allowed it. “Both must agree to the situation in which they find themselves, at all times. And besides which, a waltz is not life, as rue as we might find that to be.”
“Are there no parallels to be found? Dancing is a window to the view of how men and women interact with each other. It is a glimpse of how two souls may seek the other. From approach to completion, it is a perfect gesture of the whole.”
It had been a long time since she had found herself in a debate. “Well put.” She conceded his point. “And as time has progressed and changed, and the social interactions between the genders have sifted, so has the dance itself. But I still insist that willful acquiescence to another is not the way of things, as you say.”
He was smiling, even as they debated and danced. “Ah.
Is it not? The child to a working father, the father to the foreman, the foreman to the owner, the owner to a Lord, and a Lord to a King. And that King then answers to God, does he not? The acceptance of the existence of hierarchy is all that gives authority its power. Surrender to a dance is all that gives it grace.”
She let herself dwell on his statement and found she could not muster a rebuttal. She smiled up at him, enjoying a well-played game of cards, even if she had lost the pot. “Well said once more. I accept your point, as I cannot seem to find the means to argue against it.” She chuckled again, realizing the irony in her situation. “Willing surrender. And in doing so, continue to prove your point.”
“Stubborn adherence to a view, even once proven faulty, is the deepest plague of man. There is no sin in laying down one’s sword when one is defeated.” He smiled, but it was a gentle one and not prideful. He was not boasting, and for that she gave him a great deal of credit.
“I will point out,” she added, “that many men and women feel trapped in their ordeal, not by their own acceptance of hierarchy, but because they are outmatched by those who do. Even when the ruler is by no means worthy of his position, the sense of singularity keeps an individual from action. Coups and riots only work by the benefit of numbers. Willful surrender to hierarchy leads to more tyrants and madmen upon thrones than benevolent ones. While I will concede that it is the way of the world, I do not agree that it is benign.”
“The system of the world is not without its flaws,” he agreed. “Tyrants and madmen are often the only ones willing to do that which is required to maintain power. But they all fall in their turn. Power is a spider’s silk threat. Devious and intimidating, perhaps, but fragile and easily destroyed.”
“Unless you are a fly.”
“Indeed.” He grinned, one that seemed to belie mischief. It glinted in his dark eyes. “I would argue that only ignorance leads one to believe they are only ever merely prey.”
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