Blond hair in a French twist, Delilah glimmered in a long-sleeved, high-necked, skintight gold gown. A burgundy shawl hung off her elbows. Golden studs glittered on her ears. Her red lips were pulled in an aloof half smile, but her blue eyes darted around. She glanced straight at the champagne glass tower shielding Red before her troubled gaze moved on.
Red didn’t let go of the breath she was holding.
“Kristoff.” Michel paused his stride. He pulled Delilah closer and spared one unimpressed glance. “You cleaned up the Soviet discothèque. It will suffice.”
He didn’t linger or shake hands.
Red stepped back beside Kristoff when she saw the two make a beeline to Cora. “What's the deal with them?”
“Let’s wait until the room fills up before you begin the interrogation.” Kristoff tilted his head. “Until then, I want to hear about you. You’re the only one I actually want to make small talk with.”
“You don’t need to keep flattering me. I’m already here.”
“I promised to be honest. I’m not going to ask you about any lost loves and old feuds, either.” He said dryly.
Red laughed. “Fine. Shoot.”
“Easy question.” Kristoff smiled. “Where are you from?”
“Just outside Eugene.” Red technically was telling the truth. As far as she knew, she had popped out of the earth on the banks of Coyote Creek. Her real origins were still TBD.
“You’re always welcome in Portland whenever you want to return to Oregon.”
“I never stay anywhere long.” Red tried to smile but felt it grow crooked. “Eugene was never home.”
“Where is home?” Kristoff posed the Coca-Cola of questions so commonplace you didn’t even notice it anymore as a traveler.
Red had a rote answer memorized, but the words dissolved on her tongue as she looked at him.
Wearing a curious expression, head cocked. Kristoff wasn’t just asking her to make small talk. He really wanted to know.
“I haven’t found it yet.” The words came out, and Red realized that they were the truth as she knew it. She was spared more questions by the trickle of vampires coming into the nightclub.
The next vampires who came up to Kristoff seemed content to not make the political statement of addressing the human. Especially not the one that, rumor had it, Lucas Crawford had gotten a bloody nose for speaking too.
Keeping a polite smile on her face, Red studied each vampire, ignoring Kristoff’s light touch on her lower back between handshakes. She carefully counted her breaths to keep her heartbeat steady as the predators strode into the ballroom.
The mandatory Halloween Ball brought out all the vampires in the city. Formalwear had been widely interpreted from gowns worthy of the Met Gala to a dusty vampire in buckskin who squinted at the low lights. While the mood in the room seemed light, not everyone came with their party hats. Many leaned up against the walls or perched by the drink tables, looking down at their watches and phones with an aura of killing time.
Red looked to her left, stopping herself just short of jumping in shock to see Quinn standing beside her.
In a tuxedo and an expression that begged to be anywhere else, Quinn turned to face her. “I’m sorry about how things ended last time.”
“Me too.”
“Tell Vic.” Quinn glanced at Kristoff, speculation in his brown eyes, before he turned to disappear into the growing crowd.
“He used to be more fun at parties,” Kristoff commented idly. A smirk twitched at his lips as his eyes scanned the crowd.
Red looked down at her half-filled champagne flute and knew she would need it. “You can send me away when he comes in.”
They both knew who she was talking about.
“I’m fine with him seeing you.”
“With you, you mean.” Red snarked, but the bite to her tone trailed off when she met Lucas’s gaze in the mingling crowd. Her eyes darted between the two vampires.
Kristoff glanced down at her, lips pressed tight, before his focus flicked to Lucas. The repressed smirk bloomed on his face.
Lucas flaunted the formal dress code by wearing black jeans, white shirt, and a leather trench coat. His tousled black hair set off the chiseled pallor of his handsome features. While hatred stretched across his features as his grey eyes met Kristoff’s, it softened when he looked at Red.
Red couldn’t look away from him. She moved in front of Kristoff. She mouthed the word, hey, as her fingers made a quick wave.
Kristoff put his hand on Red’s lower back as he stepped closer beside her.
Lucas tightened his jaw, putting his hands in his pockets, and licked his lips. He said his words slowly. “I fucking hate parties, but it’s worth it to see you all dolled up.” His grin turned boyishly sweet as he looked at Red. “You look beautiful.”
She had so much she wanted to say to him, including “fuck you for not telling me that Quinn was covering up for Delilah,” but also high up on the list was the need to tell him that she wasn’t on a date with Kristoff. It was silly. She had kissed Lucas a couple of times. They weren’t dating. She couldn’t say anything with so many supernatural ears around so instead, she said, “Thank you.”
“She does look beautiful in my… gifts.” Kristoff brushed a stray lock of hair off her shoulder.
Red bit her lip, knowing that he revealed his mark. The two neatly scabbed-over fang wounds in her neck had been covered with foundation, but any vampire would notice. She looked away from Lucas. “Come on. Play nice.”
“Parties end, Novak.” Lucas turned and walked away toward the back tables.
Red looked up at Kristoff’s smirking face. “That was petty.”
“I enjoyed every second.”
“You say that now, but wait until he runs you over in the parking lot.” Red crossed her arms and broke from her cover as his obedient claimed human to step away. She rubbed her forearm before dropping her hands.
“You’re optimistic. My brother is betting that he jumps on me during the speeches.”
“I said you’d be jumped on the way to hear the speeches,” Arno said as he stepped up to them in an expensive-looking black suit. His hair, darker than his brother’s, was slicked back. Tall, he was still a few inches shorter than his brother. Up close, she could see he’d been turned earlier than his brother, possibly in his early twenties. He gawked at Red before covering his curiosity.
“Well, keep on like this, and I’ll join the betting pool on you not getting through the reception,” Red quipped, trying to ignore Arno’s stare.
“I’m on my best behavior.” Kristoff straightened his lapels.
“I sat your sire in the back to ease the temptation.” Arno shook his head. “You owe me for tonight.” He looked at Red. “I’m running the show so he can act like a bigwig to impress you.”
Arno didn’t give her a chance to respond before gesturing for them to go up the stairs. “The reception is over. Try not to piss off your sire before you get to your table.”
Kristoff offered Red his arm, and they went with the rest up to the next level where the tables were set up. She followed Kristoff to one near the front. They passed Donal, the redheaded vampire working with Kristoff, sitting beside a nervous-looking young blond man—the only other human so far. She recognized them both from the bar even in formal wear.
Donal raised a glass to Kristoff and winked at her.
Red let Kristoff pull out a chair for her. She sat, expecting him to do some kind of weird vampire thing like sniff her, but he merely pushed the chair in and sat down next to her. Red glanced around and shrugged. “So, this is vampire prom.” She pointed to the table arrangement of reddish succulents. “Swanky.”
Kristoff’s chuckle rolled over her. “Are you enjoying it?”
She looked over his shoulder with a small smile. Her chair had a bird’s-eye view of Delilah’s golden back, her blond head turned away as she chatted with Michel beside her. “It has promise.”
Chapter Eighteen
October 31st, Night, Club Vltava, Sunset Strip, Los Angeles, California
Leaning against the closed bathroom stall door, Red slipped the phone back into its hiding place in her clutch purse after sending a status update to Vic. The spyware had worked. He was in the system. Now, they were ready for phase two.
Stepping out, she took off the golden charm bracelet and washed her hands for the vampire waiting outside the bathroom to hear. She removed two charms before replacing the bracelet back on her wrist. Red twisted them open, revealing hidden microphones. She tucked one inside her bodice over the valley of her cleavage. Jagged metal teeth around the edges of the tiny microphone clung to the fabric. The other, she palmed.
Red walked out of the bathroom, Kristoff’s silent female minion following behind. When she’d left the table during the first speech, Delilah and Michel had gone to go wait by the makeshift stage. Now, Michel strutted on stage while Delilah watched from the stairs. Her eyes were fixed on him with the fervent focus of a beauty pageant mom.
Michel spoke into the microphone. “We are building a dream in Los Angeles. We invite you to dream it with us.”
Delilah mouthed the words as he said them.
Red waded through the tables to pass by Delilah’s. She brushed her hand against the dark burgundy shawl, feeling the palmed mic catch on the fabric. Her steps quickened when she met Kristoff’s eyes.
She slipped into the chair beside his while her guard took another. She looked over at the empty chairs reserved for Arno and the two Portland vampires who still gaped at her when they thought Kristoff wasn’t looking. “What’d I miss?”
“A blood toast, polite clapping, and now Michel is going over his time slot. My brother must be seething with a clipboard somewhere.” Kristoff replied drolly. “The dance was supposed to start ten minutes ago.”
“Oh god, we’re going to have to dance. Together,” Red said to herself, cringing. She was undercover, after all.
Kristoff glanced at her, amused. “I won’t step on your feet.”
“I might step on yours,” Red said glumly, cursing his super hearing. The type of dancing she did was shaking her booty while doing classic rock karaoke with Vic. She refocused on Michel. It's just a job, she told herself.
The final applause died away, and the stage cleared. Red took Kristoff’s arm automatically. She stumbled over her dress, catching it with her heel, but caught her bodice from slipping down as she staggered.
Kristoff caught her and wrapped her up in his arms until she was stable. “It’s not that bad in my arms, see?”
“Yeah, flirt later,” Red said, biting her lip before pulling back to retake his arm properly. She looked across the room and saw Lucas staring at her. “Let’s get this dance stuff over so I can do some real eavesdropping.”
“Back to business.” Kristoff led her with the crowd down the stairs to the open dance floor.
“Just because I look like a snack doesn’t mean I’m yours,” Red said. “I’m letting you paw at me for tonight only, pal.”
“You technically pawed me back there,” Kristoff said.
“Falling isn’t pawing.” Red noticed the champagne tables had disappeared, leaving only the slow spiraling red lights on the dancefloor. “Is Cora going to have the first dance or something?”
“Cora is too much of a hipster for that kind of ceremony. I think she’s preferring to DJ tonight,” Kristoff said. “Clever woman. The view is better from the DJ Booth.”
Arno strode out of the shadows, red light casting shadows over his face. Jaw tight, he looked around as he put a hand on Kristoff’s arm. “We need privacy.”
Kristoff nodded to the two minions shadowing steps behind them. “Excuse me, Red.”
Arno pulled Kristoff aside.
Red watched them go, wishing she had a mic to spare to have bugged him. She tapped her foot to the Supremes song playing as she crossed her arms. She heard the name Delilah whispered by a passing pair of women in black suits. Red stepped away from the Novak brothers to eavesdrop, walking toward the edge of the dancers.
“I spy an Amazon in our midst.”
Red spun around. “Pardon?”
“If I were to guess, I would say you were a fighting woman. I don’t need to guess,” Michel said, looking down at her. The club’s lights turned his white eye patch red. “Can you claim I am wrong, Amazon?”
“You say that because you’ve forgotten my name.” Red thought fast as she squared her shoulders and struck a confident pose, lifting her chin. She wished she had a glass of champagne to use as a prop. Something to make her fit in and look less like a claimed human waiting for her keeper.
“You see through me so quickly. I’ll admit when I saw you from the stage your name escaped me. It bedeviled me through my own speech until recognition overcame me. You’re the hunter Kristoff claimed. The one they call Red.”
“Word travels fast.”
“When I want it to.” Michel examined her. “Do you know who I am?”
“Who doesn’t, here? The supreme master is lucky to have you at her right hand.”
“Flattery suits you, dear girl. I can already tell that you’re too good for Kristoff.” Michel tilted his head. “You’ve stayed obligingly quiet to your Brotherhood about his bad behavior. Even if I wouldn’t have blamed you in the least, it does serve our cause. We have a cornucopia of problems. I’m glad the Bards aren’t one.”
Nodding, Red stayed quiet despite her curiosity as to how Michel guessed or knew that she hadn’t told the Brotherhood the whole story. A PR man to the core, she knew he would fill the silence if she let him.
“Can I repay your silence with candor?”
“Sure.” Red said, wondering when Kristoff would come rescue her from this small talk. “Shoot.”
“You’ve been claimed by a monster. I say it as someone who is monstrous. The Butcher has crossed lines that even vampires respect. Betrayal is the nature of that man.” Michel said the word as if he meant to say bastard. “Novak isn’t your only concern. Lucas Crawford may charge in on his metal steed like a champion, but he is more like one of the four horsemen.”
“He has a soul.” Red said, even as a chill went down her spine.
“The worst murderers in history had souls, child.” Michel shook his head. “It’s the mind that fuels a vampire’s actions, no matter if there’s an angel or a demon on his shoulder. Those two left chaos in their wake when they were friends. As enemies, they are even more dangerous. Between them, even an Amazon should know fear.”
“Fear is a sign you’re not a moron. I know the score.” Red tried not to look away.
“If you did, you wouldn’t have made yourself look so bewitching and graced us with your presence. You would have run.” The white patch didn’t obscure the pity in his gaze. Michel’s brown eye narrowed, and his lips thinned as his mood shifted to thoughtfulness. “Unless this is part of your plan?”
The silence grew as Red fought her instinct to take his advice and run. But she couldn’t look like prey among the predators, even if it was the truth.
“Michel, Cora has been trying to reach you,” Delilah said as she emerged from the dance floor. She leaned against Michel, shining in her gold dress against the black of his suit, and played with his black ponytail. Her burgundy shawl was missing. “She told me to send you along for a private chat in the DJ booth. Just you.”
Michel kissed her cheek. “The faithful servant is commanded.”
Delilah crossed her arms and waited for Michel to blend into the crowd, staring between Red and her retreating boyfriend. “This is a stupid move.”
Red tensed her shoulders, biting her lip to stop the scathing reply.
“I keep expecting you to be smart because Juniper was, but I’m as much of a fool as they are. You’re not her. You’re a knockoff.” Delilah pursed her lips.
Red’s cheeks heated, and she looked down. Delilah’s words didn’t sting as much as the realization that the shawl wasn’t on her should
ers. Had the vampiress discovered the mic and ditched the burgundy wrap? Or had she left it upstairs on accident? Either way, it was one mic down. Red cursed at herself for wasting one of the two.
Delilah continued, satisfaction in her voice. “My mistake. No, you’re not Juniper St. James. She knew enough about us to pick her battles and get the last laugh.”
“What do you mean?” Red looked up, cocking her head. “How’d she get the last laugh?”
Sighing, Delilah looked away. “Let me get you back to Kristoff.”
“I’m not a pet dog to return.”
“No, dogs are loyal. I like dogs.” Delilah snapped her fingers over her shoulder and started walking toward the edge of the room. “You’re more like a stubborn cat who keeps scratching at the wrong doors.”
A Witch Called Red: A New Adult Urban Fantasy (Red Witch Chronicles 1) Page 22