A Thousand Kisses Deep (17 page)

He heard footsteps and turned quickly.

"What do you think?"

"I think you shouldn't paint your face. You know how prone to infections you are. It can take only the slightest thing," he said studying Simon's face, then his costume as a court jester, minus the hat.

The leotard emphasized his frail stick-shaped body. Half of the costume was white, the other half black. Along with half of his face being painted black, he'd colored half of his hair black as well.

"The paint is made from natural products. And see, it won't rub off." He rubbed his neck. "Not until I want it to, anyway."

The Chameleon wasn't amused. Simon looked like an idiot. He nodded just the same, willing to play along tonight because it was Simon's special day. "Where is Evka?"

The smile on Simon's face left him. "You're not taking her away before the party begins are you?"

"No. She's yours until
midnight
. But I am anxious to see her." The Chameleon turned his attention to the crowd gathering below, then to the ten-foot-high pedestal that rose out of the middle of the ballroom like a giant mushroom. Two men in shackles, with black hoods over their heads, stood on the stone pedestal. They wore wide belts around their waists, and there was a long relief-cable that hung from the ceiling attached to each. "I see you have a game planned for the evening."

"What is a party without entertainment? I have circus performers, too. But that—" Simon gestured to the pedestal"—will be the grand finale. A little blood sport for the wolf that lurks in all of us. What do you think?"

"I think you have again outdone yourself."

The Chameleon heard a door open and close across the balcony and he turned to see a lovely creature standing in an alcove. He knew it was her. Knew it was Evka.

"Magnificent," he muttered, totally captivated.

"Yes, isn't she?" Simon agreed.

"What is she wearing?"

"When you told me it was time for Eva to spread her wings and fly, I knew just what she needed. A pair of butterfly wings."

The Chameleon watched her come to him and felt an overwhelming rush of pride. She was his creation, and he would let no other take credit for what she had become.

He rubbed the scar on his chin and thought back to that night so long ago. The night of the fire when she had proven herself worthy of life.

"Leave us, Simon. You know the rules."

"Yes, I do. Send her down when you are finished talking to her."

As Simon walked away, the Chameleon set his glass of brandy on the railing. Sliding the red bird mask up to rest on his forehead, he waited for her to stop before him.

She wore a sheer black body stocking. Her long legs were beautiful, her breasts full, with black star-shaped pasties covering her nipples. A black thong concealed her sex, and a black leather harness curved her ribs and wrapped her shoulders to support a colorful pair of four-foot Monarch butterfly wings.

The mask covering her eyes was a smaller version of the wings. It outlined her emerald-green eyes and curved over her delicate nose, leaving her mouth exposed.

She had her mother's lips. Lush and full. Red and wet, like dew on a piece of fruit.

"You look well, daughter. Stunning, in fact. The year has served you well."

"And you, Father," she answered in her smoky voice. A voice he had come to look forward to hearing.

When she stepped forward and dutifully kissed his cheek, he made no attempt to touch her. Hands clasped behind his back he said, "Simon has outdone himself this year on your costume."

"Yes, I would have to agree. But then it's not my place to agree or disagree, is it?"

Her answer was sweet music to his ears. Four years ago she had accepted Simon as her keeper because he had wished it and demanded she comply. Tonight she would acquire a new keeper because he wished it, and he didn't doubt that she would again respect his wishes and surrender once more to his demands. Yes, Simon had taught her well.

He said, "You are the perfect daughter, Evka. No father could ask for more. Discipline will serve you well in your next life."

Eva willed her body to relax, telling herself that all her private parts were covered. When she had opened the garment bag an hour ago and looked inside at the sheer body stocking, she had wanted to cry. But she hadn't, not until she'd found the thong and black stars. Then she had wept with relief that she wouldn't be completely naked among two hundred strangers.

She studied her father, again aware of why she had loved him so much. He was a prodigious force like no other, and it was that supreme energy surrounding him that had made the little girl in her so proud to be his daughter. Seeing him again … it validated all the reasons why she had wanted so desperately to please him—for him to love her.

It was why she had offered him unconditional love, in hopes that one day she would understand why he had surrendered her to Simon and a life of pain and suffering. But she was no longer a little girl anymore. Fourteen years later, the little girl was now a woman, a woman no longer wanting to understand, but needing to.

"Is something wrong?"

Eva blinked, looked down at the crowd wondering if Sly McEwen was one of the cloaked figures. Would he be wearing a mask? Was he one of the beasts, or the knight with the sword?

"Eva?"

"No. Nothing's wrong."

"But you have something on your mind."

"Yes."

"Can I help?"

"Why didn't you want me with you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why didn't you want me with you after Mother died? The fire was traumatic, and—"

"You needed a safe place to heal. I did what was best for you. Safest. Why ask me about this now? You've never brought it up before."

"Then it was for my safety that you left me behind?"

"I left you with a competent staff that was paid well to care for you."

"And when I was given to Simon, what purpose did that serve?"

"You were nineteen. Old enough to be on your own, and yet too naive to survive. I realized that you needed further instructions."

"So you gave me to Simon."

"Life is about survival, Evka. I instructed Simon on what was permissible, and what wasn't. He was to teach you patience and strengthen your will to survive any situation you were faced with. You have learned patience, have you not?"

"Yes, I suppose."

"And survival. Do you feel more confident this year over last?"

"Yes."

"Then Simon has done his job."

"I would have liked a friend over an eccentric teacher."

"Friends are a luxury few of us can afford. An expensive luxury if they turn on you. The fire that killed your mother was an attempt on my life by a friend."

His admission silenced her and she glanced over the railing to the white pedestal high above the crowd. "Those men, are they—"

"Part of Simon's entertainment for this evening. You know how he enjoys a good game."

She brought her eyes back to him. "Yes, I know well his love of a good game."

"Do I detect anger in your tone?"

"I admit to tiring of Simon's games."

"Then the surprise I have for you comes at an appropriate time."

"Surprise? What kind of surprise?"

He pointed to the room behind him. "Meet me there at
midnight
. The door will be unlocked."

"All right. Father?"

"Yes."

"Thank you for the ring."

She held her hand up to show him that she'd opened the box.

"Your mother would have wanted you to have it. Her wedding ring was important to her."

"I've been remembering things," Eva confessed.

"What kind of things?"

"How happy we used to be. You used to laugh when I was little."

"The loss of your mother killed my spirit. I find it hard to laugh. What else have you remembered?"

"Your friend coming to visit."

"What friend?"

"Adolf Merrick from the agency."

"You remember
Merrick
?"

"Yes. And those silly suckers, too."

"What?"

"The suckers he used to pull out of his pocket and give me."

The music had started and both Eva and the Chameleon turned to study the crowd. He said, "It sounds like the party is underway. Simon requests that you meet him downstairs."

"Aren't you coming?"

He pointed to the intimate portico overlooking the ballroom. "I've elected to watch from the crow's nest. A fitting place for a bird of prey, don't you think?"

Eva reached out and slid her father's mask back into place. "I'll meet you back here at
midnight
."

"Yes,
midnight
. Your surprise will be waiting."

The crowd quieted, and Eva knew what that meant. She'd been spotted. She started down the stairs, searching the crowd for Simon. She told herself that she only looked naked, that everything vital to her gender was covered.

She spotted Melita, and as she descended the last staircase, Simon's sister greeted her wearing a red gypsy costume covered with a dozen colorful scarves attached to her skirt, and one tied in her hair. She wore large gold hoop earrings and a belt around her waist that jingled when she walked.

She said, "You've never lacked guts, but I have to tell you, I'm more impressed than ever. You're amazing."

"And you're fully clothed," Eva replied. "I'm jealous."

She surveyed the crowd still looking for Simon. When she didn't see him, her eyes drifted to the pedestal twelve feet in the air, deciding that things could be worse—she could be on display wearing chains.

She studied the two men. Their chests had been oiled to make their muscles gleam.
One wore skintight striped pants that reminded her of a zebra, while the other wore leopard print.

It was while she was comparing the two that Simon appeared and took her arm. His black-and-white bodysuit fit him like a glove, making his legs and arms look like twigs. One half of his face was black.

He leaned forward and whispered, "You make a beautiful butterfly, sweet Eva." His red eyes glowed as he started at the top of her head and slowly examined every inch of her. Seemingly pleased with her appearance, he turned to Melita. "You are a wild vision, sister. We must dance together later."

"I accept," Melita promised. "Happy birthday, Simon."

"Thank you. Our table is over there." He motioned to a table on a platform two steps above the ballroom. "I want to introduce Eva to someone, then we'll join you."

As Melita headed for the table, Simon took Eva's hand and led her through the crowd of masked guests. He motioned to the pedestal. "I thought a little game of muscle versus muscle might excite the crowd," he said by way of explanation. "What do you think?"

"I think this is your party and you should enjoy yourself in whatever way pleases you."

He stopped and turned her to face him beneath the pedestal and that's when she saw that his fingernails were painted black. He smiled, and he flashed them as he had done so often in the past right before he announced something terrible.

"Look up, Eva."

He gestured toward the pedestal, and she looked up, her heart beginning to race as she locked eyes with the man dressed in the zebra pants. She suddenly wanted to run when she lowered her eyes to the white bandage along the man's rib cage.

Oh, God. Sly McEwen was one of the men in chains on the pedestal.