by Kate Martin
Terrific.
I kept my mouth shut.
“I would be honored,” Warren said, already getting flustered. I could imagine his thoughts running a million miles an hour, deciding on the perfect topics and the perfect questions to ask.
“Lovely.” Grandma reached a hand into her little evening bag that matched her dress perfectly. “Now, Kassandra, I know I missed your birthday this year, and Christmas is coming soon as well, so I think these make up for my neglect.” She offered me two black velvet boxes, one long and thin, the other square.
“You didn’t have to get me anything, Grandma.” I remembered all my previous gifts—things that would never interest a young teenage girl, but made a woman of society happy.
“Nonsense. You’re eighteen now, a woman, and my granddaughter deserves only the best. Besides, they are for tonight.”
Unable to be completely uninterested, and not having to fake some eagerness to open the boxes knowing that, I reached first for the square box and popped the lid open.
Inside sat a pair of diamond earrings, easily a carat each, set in a brilliant shining, silvery metal. Below them, a necklace of the same luster displayed another diamond, twice the size of the earrings, but just as brilliant, and seemingly flawless.
I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
“These were the very first gift your grandfather ever gave me once we were married,” Grandma said, taking the box back lifting the necklace from its velvet cushion and motioning for me to turn around while she fastened it around my neck. “Platinum chain and setting, colorless, flawless two carat diamond. When my father saw this he was convinced he had done the right thing by letting me marry that Thomas boy.” Her fondness for the memory, and her love for my grandfather lingered clearly in her eyes as she admired the stone against my pale skin where it hung just below my throat.
“Grandma, I don’t know what to say. They’re beautiful. Are you sure you want to part with them?”
“Yes, yes. Your grandfather and I discussed it years ago. They are yours. Put in the earrings. They are the same platinum, flawless.”
I let Warren hold the box while I put in one earring, then the other. Warren looked like he might keel over from shock. The only reason I knew I still looked normal, and not about to pass out, was the mirror nearby. The diamonds glittered in the light, adding to the glamour of my dress.
I think the words “thank you” spilled from my mouth about another thousand times.
My grandmother hushed me with a graceful hand. “Don’t thank me yet. You still have another box to open. And this one is all yours. Original and never worn.”
I had forgotten about the other box. Breathing nervously, half afraid I would forget to breathe altogether, I took the long box and popped it open.
Glimmering green stones, all perfectly aligned, cut to match their name, set in a soft white metal that sparkled like the diamonds in my ears. Emeralds.
My birthstone, and the same color as my dress.
I stared at my grandmother as though she were insane. She couldn’t possibly give this much wealth to a kid like me.
“Don’t gape like a fish, Kassandra. It is unattractive.”
I mumbled a sorry and reached for the bracelet, knowing she wanted me to put it on.
My fingers stopped just short of the stones, the heat rising from them sending a familiar chill up my arm. It wasn’t my strange ability to predict doom; it was a learned flight response from experience with a certain danger.
“Grandma,” I said, forming each word cautiously, “this isn’t platinum, right?”
She laughed. “Goodness, Kassandra, what an eye you have. Most girls your age wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. No, it is not platinum. It is white gold.”
Gold. Shit.
Warren looked at me the same moment I looked at him. My panic was mirrored in his eyes. And my grandmother was waiting for me to put on the bracelet the same as I had the earrings and necklace. But if I so much as lifted it from the box I would burn, and despite humans not knowing the truth of our aversion to gold, Grandma would notice the odd reaction.
I tried to think like Cade. Tried to think. I couldn’t wear it. Couldn’t.
I never wore bracelets. And there was a good reason for that. A reason I had never been thankful for before.
“Warren, would you help me put it on?” Trust me, I said with my eyes.
“Sure.” He took the box without missing a beat, unfastening the links from the velvet cushion and freeing the bracelet. I held out my left wrist to him and drew in a breath, bracing myself for the first brush of the gold.
Warren held the bracelet so he could fasten it above my wrist, coming from underneath. It avoided most contact with my skin. He clasped the little latch and, with one last glance at my face for any sign that he should abort, let go.
The next few moments happened in that strange slow-motion for me. The bracelet fell from Warren’s fingers towards my wrist. I felt the heat of my skin’s reaction to the metal as it drew closer, and went stiff when it collided. The burn was immediate.
I turned my hand towards the floor.
The bracelet slid over my hand and off, hitting the soft carpet with a light clink.
As my grandmother gasped and made disapproving sounds, I clutched my wrist close, not daring to look for burns in fear that I would draw attention to them.
“I’m sorry, Grandma, that was careless of me. I should have known.”
“Should have known what?” She had retrieved the bracelet from the floor.
“Bracelets never fit me. My wrists as freakishly small. Everything just falls right off them.”
“Small wrists? You should have told me.”
“I didn’t know it mattered.”
Grandma sighed, clearly disappointed. “Oh well, I suppose it can’t be helped. I’ll have it taken in for you, but that can’t be done before tonight. You’ll just have to wait.”
“Thank you anyway. It’s beautiful.”
Grandma kissed me on the cheek. I could feel the closeness of the bracelet in her hand as she leaned close. “I have a few more things to attend to before my guests arrive. Meet me downstairs in one hour, just outside the grand ballroom.”
“Okay.”
She said goodbye to Warren, replaced the emeralds in their box and left. The minute the door closed I released my wrist, and my control, and allowed myself to feel the small pain that lingered all around the base of my hand.
Warren took my hand and inspected it while I looked on, more concerned with driving away the discomfort than anything else. “It’s not that bad,” he said. “A few little red spots here and there. I don’t think anyone will notice.”
I didn’t think so either, but the tiny red imperfections were many from where the bracelet had rolled and tumbled off my hand, and they stung. Partnered with the memory of the burn on my shoulder, the pain was impossible to ignorable.
“That was pretty quick thinking.”
I took my hand from him and shook it out. “Yeah, well, it was either think or burn.” I touched the diamond around my neck as a distraction. “So, are you ready to hobnob with high society?”
“I am if you are.”
I thought of my few memories of Eva and all her rich living. She made it seem so easy. Jacqueline, too, had seamlessly fit into the lifestyle of the important and wealthy. I didn’t usually sit around wishing I was more like my past lives, but some input from them right then would have been welcome.
Of course, pretending to be well-bred and rich couldn’t possibly be half as difficult as being a vampire, right?
Right.
The Grand Ballroom was under-named. The ceiling rose high above all our heads, with high arching accents, and windows that sat atop one another, ornate carvings above each. The tables were set with white linens and gold silverware—I would be avoiding eating altogether it seemed—and the centerpieces were constructed of lilies and roses. The air smelled of expensive hors d
evourers, steak and brie and champagne, caviar, quiches and wine with a floral fragrance that reminded me of Madge.
But the party didn’t end there. Carter Enterprises Incorporated had rented out the entire hotel. The gala spilled out into the elaborate hallways, meeting rooms and dining areas. Men in expensive suits and tuxedos spoke in deep voices, discussing business, politics and the war. Woman—discussing the same things, of course—floated about the room, their dresses the many colors of every gemstone imaginable, and not one identical to another. All one of kind, just like mine. Their jewelry ranged from the simple, yet impressive, to the extravagant and overbearing. I kept forgetting my own wardrobe, and worried I didn’t fit in. Then I would pass a mirrored wall, see the reflection of a stranger and remember I had nothing to worry about.
Nothing, until my grandmother cornered me with her match-making in full swing.
Francis Wethersfield was recognizable, if not quite as bad as my imagination had wanted him to be. I suppose he was good looking—to some. At least he wasn’t pock-marked, with crooked teeth, overly slicked hair and asymmetrical features. I gracefully went as far as to admit to myself that he was okay looking. Average. Not ugly. But he wasn’t Rhys, so it didn’t matter.
With quick introductions, my grandmother sent us out onto the dance floor, and what I deemed my penance for being a vampire began. Francis may have been able to carry himself with perfect posture, and speak with impeccable enunciation, manners and grammar, but he could not, could not dance.
We tumbled around the floor. I had never taken ballroom classes, but I knew enough from watching movies and playing around with friends at the dance studio to make my way. And I had enough grace to watch those around me and learn. Francis had clearly been given lessons so he could impress some girl somewhere, or at least not embarrass his parents—that much was clear from the counting I could hear even over the full orchestra that played in the background—but apparently the Wethersfields had wasted their money. He stepped on my feet, bumped me into passing couples and missed the third step of the waltz every other count.
After a full song I tried to save us both. “Why don’t we talk?” I hoped he wouldn’t be able to dance and speak at the same time.
“Talk? All right.” The effort to keep counting even as we conversed crept over his face, causing a line to wrinkle the top of his nose as his feet kept moving. “I am very glad to have the opportunity to meet you again.”
Ugh. “Yeah, sure. Too bad there’s no mud here. Maybe then we would have more fun.”
“I should apologize for my behavior all those years ago. I didn’t know how else to get your attention. I have learned since then.”
Fabulous. Though it seemed he had simply traded mud for awkward and clumsy dancing. “Listen, Francis, I should be honest with you. I have a boyfriend.”
“I know. Your grandmother told me.”
“It’s pretty serious.”
“High school romances usually seem that way, yes. I had one of my own.”
He didn’t get it. “This isn’t a high school thing. It’s more a forever thing.”
Francis smiled. It wasn’t charming. “I’ll change your mind.”
“If that’s the attitude you’re going to have, then we’re done.” I made to pull away from him and end the dance.
He held tight, not really tight enough to keep me there, only if I were human, but I let him stop me. Walking away this early would not please Emmaline Carter Thomas.
“I apologize,” he said again. “I will not disrespect your boyfriend.”
Soulmate, I wanted to correct him. “Thank you.”
“Shall we keep dancing?”
I agreed, and this time, I didn’t try for conversation. I let him count.
In the uncomfortable silence, and the strange monotony of being gracelessly dragged about the floor, I let my thoughts wander. I thought of Rhys, and how handsome he would have looked in a tuxedo, with a flower tucked into his lapel. Bravely, I pulled an image from Eva’s memories and pretended that old fashioned, impeccably dressed Rhys was there with me rather than this wannabe Lord Francis.
This time, when the memory began to creep towards me, I gave in willingly.
Every man and woman of society had come to honor us. They had dressed in their best, the woman with their newest bustles and the men with their crisp shirts and long coats. Julius and my father had insisted upon this gala. I didn’t mind. It meant all the young ladies of the city would have to pay attention to me, and spend the entire night being jealous of my newly betrothed. My engagement party would be the talk of the town for weeks to come.
Rhys held me close as we danced. I gazed at him, pleased with the way the color of my dress emphasized the blue of his eyes. I had picked the fabric for just that purpose.
“You seem quite contented tonight,” he said.
“And why shouldn’t I be?” We glided effortlessly across the floor. “I have the most handsome husband-to-be, and the best dance partner in the room.”
“You’re shameless.”
“I see no point in shame. I like that the other girls envy me. I spent enough time envying them. Their jealousy is their sin, not mine.”
“What about pride?”
“I can’t take pride in you?”
“There aren’t many ways I can answer that without seeming either self-important or self-hating.”
“Then don’t answer at all and let me have my moment.”
“As you wish.”
We collided with yet another couple on the dance floor. My heel slid out from under me, turning my ankle. I caught myself, with no help from Sir Francis, and stepped back, giving myself some room even as everyone else continued to turn and waltz around us.
Francis reached out as if to catch me, far too late. “Are you all right?”
I held up a hand to keep him at a safe distance. “I’m fine. Really.” And I was. My first thought had been fear that I had twisted my ankle, a common hazard in dance class. But there had been no click, no pop, no snap. I was fine. Another point for being a vampire. I thought again of my memory of dancing with Rhys in old New York. This night should have been like that. Instead, it was a disaster.
Francis was reaching for me as if my being fine meant we would continue dancing. I glanced nervously around the room, searching for Warren so I could pretend he had signaled that he needed to talk, but saw him nowhere. My graceless dance partner put his hand back at my waist.
“Mind if I cut in?”
A warm hand took mine, twirling me away from Francis without waiting for an answer from either of us. The familiar scent of lightning washed over me with the first turn, and I stared up at the equally familiar face. And yet, he looked very different. The usual layer of dirt had been washed from his face and arms, and his hair had been combed back out of his brown and gold eyes. I had never seen him in anything other than a tee-shirt and jeans, yet the tuxedo was clearly perfectly tailored to him—not borrowed.
He laughed and pulled me closer. “You look like a fish out of water.”
My mother had always said the same thing. Why did he always do that? I closed my mouth and pulled myself together. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I was invited.”
“I don’t believe you.”
He looked incredulous. “Why not?”
“Because this is my grandmother’s company gala and a street-living–” I stopped myself before I said vampire, “—person like you would not really merit an invite.”
“Ouch.”
“So tell me the truth.”
He guided me expertly around an oncoming couple, weaving in and out of the crowd without missing a beat. With a quick flick of his wrist, he spun me out of his arms, then caught me again, picking up the waltz as if we had never stopped. “I was invited,” he said, leaning in to whisper the words in my ear.
My cheeks grew hot, from both his breath on my skin, and the realization that he was a good dancer. A great dancer. Bette
r than me. Where with Francis I had felt stifled and stepped on, with Solo I felt clumsy and awkward.
“Where did you learn to dance?” I asked, forgetting, for the moment, that I didn’t believe he had an invite.
“I’m old,” he said with his usual grin. “Once upon a time, everyone knew how to dance. Even me.”
I let him lead, enjoying the feeling of actually dancing. I had never really done it before. Not with a good partner. Solo was good. We floated over the dance the floor, never missing a step, and never interrupted by another couple. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
But I didn’t lose myself in the dancing completely. “Why didn’t you tell me you would be here?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you my calendar keeper now? Should I run all my appointments by you?” There was no anger to his voice, just humor.
“Shut up. You know what I mean.”
“We haven’t exactly seen each other recently. And I don’t believe you offered the information either.”
“You knew I would be here.”
“I know you have this habit of likening me to a god, but I am not all-knowing, no matter how much we might wish it otherwise.”
“You’re infuriating.”
“You don’t seem infuriated. But I can give you back to Lord Francis over there if you’d like. He certainly looks infuriated.”
A quick glance over Solo’s shoulder as we made another turn proved that. Francis stood at the edge of the dance floor, his face so red it looked like he might burst a vein. “Ah, no thanks. I’m good here.”
“What’s with that guy anyway? He seems like a complete tool.”
That about summed it up. “My grandmother thinks it would be a good idea if I married him.”
“Well, there goes my eternal belief in the woman’s good taste.” He switched his hold on me, placing two hands on my waist. “Up you go.” He lifted me easily, still in time with the music. I was so shocked I didn’t do much to help him out, but for that moment in the air—a moment that lasted just that half a second longer than you would expect—and when my feet touched the ground again, picking up the waltz as though they had never stopped, I caught myself smiling.