Blood, Smoke and Mirrors (2010) (18 page)

"Not a chance." I shook my head firmly and slammed the drawer shut.

An assortment of perfume bottles and cosmetics I didn't recognize were spread across the top of the dressing table--I don't generally wear makeup either. I guess I'm just bad at being a girl. I sniffed in their direction and sneezed at the floral mess that assaulted me. Yuck. No way I was touching any of those.

I was willing to bet the door on the other side of the closet connected to the master bathroom, and I confirmed my suspicions the moment I opened it. This was nothing like the one in my apartment, oh no. The room was like having your own personal spa. A marble Jacuzzi tub took up one corner of the room, there was not one but two sinks, and a shower area--I hesitated to call it a stall, it was simply too large--complete with a zillion water jets guaranteed to spray you from every conceivable angle. More bottles of obviously feminine things I had no knowledge of lined the counter of the sink closest to the tub.

Apparently being imprisoned in the head Dracula's tower wasn't going to be as bad as I thought. Probably a good thing, considering I was going to be here for about two weeks. I decided to test Harrison's claim that the place was faerie warded. I called out Portia's name several times, to no avail. I walked over to a mirror and examined it. I wasn't sure if there were any sharp implements about to cut myself with, but then again the place was filled with beauty products, there had to be some clippers or scissors or a razor somewhere.

For several minutes I searched through the bathroom drawers, increasingly appalled by the sheer enormity of the items stored within them. Did women really use all of this stuff? Finally I found a petite pair of silver scissors in a drawer full of nail polish, and I sliced a small cut into the palm of my right hand. Holding my palm flat against the glass, I chanted an invocation:

"Through ward and steel I punch this door,

A portal to home create once more.

With blood as key, to set me free,

As I will, so mote it be."

The image shimmered with a faint, anemic glow and then returned to normal. I swore at it loudly and soundly before washing my hands in defeat. It looked like I was good and stuck.

Damn vampires.

Chapter Sixteen

I thought that I would be much too paranoid to let myself fall asleep in Vampire Central, but as soon as my head hit the pillow I passed out. Admittedly the combination of a relaxing shower, a feast of gourmet food, the softest most comfortable pair of pajamas in the continental United States, and
Casablanca
on DVD might have contributed to my sleepy state.

I drifted into the dream, the transition from sleep smooth and pleasant. The grass was cool and damp beneath my bare feet as I walked into the center of the grove. Soft moonlight pushed back the shadows that lurked between the surrounding trees, and lazy fireflies pulsed on the summer breeze. I felt calm, serene. Powerful. As I smoothed the skirt of my robes the first note of warning chimed in the back of my brain, reminding me that I'd never be caught dead in a set of long, flowing robes while awake, not even if they were a very complimentary shade of emerald green.

Frowning in confusion, I studied my surroundings again, looking for any familiarity, and an approaching rustle of leaves caught my attention. I turned in the direction of the sound, and my heart leapt at the sight of Lex walking toward me. He'd been spared the indignity of dorky wizard robes, but not given the benefit of a shirt--not that I was about to complain about that detail--wearing only a pair of black leather pants.

Apparently this was going to be a good dream.

Without a word Lex drew me into his arms and gave me a long, lingering kiss. When he pulled away, he gazed down at me. "Where are you, Cat?" Confused, I glanced around at the unfamiliar setting. "No, not here. Where did the vampires take you?"

It took my brain a moment to realize what he was talking about and remember the events of last night. The shock of it almost woke me up, but Lex kissed me again and kept me anchored in the dream. "Where, Cat?" he repeated.

"The tower," I finally managed to answer. "Downtown. Ask Portia, she probably followed me."

"She tried, but Faust was blocking her. Is it Harrison's tower?" he asked, and I nodded. Lex stepped back and ran his fingers over my throat, looking for injuries. "Did he bite you?"

"No. Laura tried to tear my throat out, but she just bounced off my shields. Was kinda funny." I tried not to shiver at the sensation of Lex's touch, but failed miserably. Reminding myself that I was supposed to be annoyed with him, I took a step back.

"Don't let him bite you."

"Why do you care?"

"Cat, I don't want to fight."

"Fine. I don't intend to let him bite me," I assured him. "I think he's going to insist, though."

"Don't let him," Lex repeated, more forcefully this time. "I'll get you out soon."

"But you can't, they'll kill Mac," I protested.

"Mac?"

"Mac's alive, he never got on the plane. The vamps took him as a bargaining chip, and they'll kill him if I don't listen to Harrison's stupid plans."

"Then I'll get you both out."

"But you don't have your guardian magic, and I agreed--" Before I could continue a loud crack of thunder interrupted me, and the dream suddenly ended. I found myself wide awake, staring at the ceiling of my suite, wondering what to do. Though I couldn't be certain, for a moment I thought I caught the faint scent of dying smoke lingering in the air.

Aside from last night's rocky start, the bad guys were pretty much refusing to be bad, and it irked me. I was further irked by the idea of having dinner with a man who some trashy gossip magazine had proclaimed one of the most eligible bachelors alive. First of all, the man wasn't alive. Second, I wasn't looking forward to having the head vampire try to sell me some crazy plot to take over the world between dinner courses. I wasn't buying. Period. I didn't care how rich he was, how handsome, polite, powerful, dangerous, blah blah blah. I wasn't my father's daughter, I wasn't going to be swayed to the Dark Side by a good sales pitch and an enticing benefits package. I'd rather serve coffee to cranky people in the Three Willows and barely scrape by than sell my soul to Mr. Sexy Corpse. I'd get out of this, both Mac and me.

Unless, of course, Lex charged in and rescued us. Honestly though, I knew he couldn't do it. He wouldn't have legal grounds to barge into the Harrison building, and I knew all too well how unwilling he was to break the rules on my behalf. I'd voluntarily agreed to stay, more or less, and if I did manage to escape I'd make myself an oathbreaker in addition to being a kinslayer, which would pretty much ensure that no one in magical society would want to deal with me ever again. No point in being Titania if no one would talk to me.

I stood in front of the wall o' clothes in the walk-in closet and wondered what the hell I was going to wear to dinner with Dracula. There were several dresses, ranging from airy sundresses to formal evening gowns, but there was no way anyone was getting me into another dress so soon after Portia's stint as my Extreme Makeover Fairy Godmother. Not a single pair of blue jeans to be found in the whole mess, which I thought was proof of Harrison's un-American activities. It appeared as though I would have to settle on a suit of some sort. There were plenty to choose from, so I picked out a deep blue suit jacket and matching conservative skirt, pairing it with a semi-ruffled white silk blouse.

Unsure of just when Harrison was going to drop by, I settled down in front of the beautiful giant television and started flipping channels. It had every channel imaginable--movie channels, sports channels, pay-per-view, everything. My heart sank as I flipped past the Game Show Network, wondering if Portia was perched on my couch right now trying to figure out the mysteries of the remote without me. It sank further at the thought that Tybalt would never again sit next to his sister, enthralled by the television.

Out of the five million channels I picked a special about baby tiger cubs in an animal refuge. Harrison arrived as the young tigers were gnawing on the legs of the refuge owner's kitchen table, and I barely waved at him in greeting, mesmerized by the cuteness in high definition in front of me.

"I trust you find the room to your liking?"

"It's very nice. I hope you're not billing my charge card for it though, you'll put me right over my limit."

The vampire crossed the room and sat next to me on the couch, watching the screen with a bewildered expression on his face. "What
are
you watching?"

"Baby tigers." He frowned at me, and I rolled my eyes at him. "What? You know there is life outside of FOX News."

"Apparently so. What would you like for our dinner this evening?"

"I'm not on the menu, right?"

"I have no intention of harming you, Catherine," he assured me.

"That's avoiding the question, since I know full well you could bleed me and not cause any harm." Harrison refused to dignify that with a reply, and I shrugged. "What are my options?"

"Whatever you want."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

"So if I asked for a Big Mac and fries, we'd eat McDonald's for dinner?"

The question seemed to throw him. I doubted Zachary Harrison had ever eaten McDonald's in his entire life. He had been born into money, coming from a long line of wealthy businessmen with a somewhat sordid reputation--think "robber baron". "If that's what you wanted, yes." He nodded firmly after a moment's thought.

"Do you even eat? Vampires, I mean." I tilted my head to the side as I regarded him. I knew they needed blood to survive, but I'd never found out if they were completely restricted to that liquid diet. Did they gain weight? Were there fat vampires out there somewhere, binging on doughnuts after feasting on the blood of the living?

"We can eat, but food no longer provides sustenance and isn't easily digestible. Most consider it a nuisance and only eat when an occasion calls for it to keep up a mortal appearance."

"A
mortal appearance
?" I snorted. "Oh, please. You're not immortal. You're just harder to kill."

Dracula did not look pleased by my comment and again decided not to justify it with a reply. Apparently he'd been brought up better than I had. He definitely was more well spoken. Harrison sounded like the narrator for
Masterpiece Theatre
, and I sounded like a guest on Jerry Springer. Well, maybe not Springer, but something on daytime television.

"I don't suppose we'll be leaving the building for our dinner experience?"

"No, we'll be dining in this evening."

"I'm not really hungry."

"You're not going to attempt a hunger strike, are you?" Harrison raised an eyebrow, appearing amused by the idea.

"No, I'm not." Though my hips could certainly stand a day or two without food, the only person I'd be hurting with a hunger strike would be me.

"You disapprove of the company then?" The vampire actually appeared hurt by that idea, and I blinked at him in surprise. I was hurting Dracula's feelings? Go me. No, I meant bad! Bad Kitty! I needed to be on Harrison's good side if I wanted to remain alive and in one piece. The problem was I didn't think I had it in me to be nice to him. Sure, he was the prettiest man I ever did see, complete with good manners and a pleasant voice, but he was still a damn vampire. The best I could handle was to not light him on fire or stab him in the chest with a leg from one of the expensive wooden end tables.

"Why do you hate all necromancers?" he asked. The bluntness of the question made me pause.

"Because vampires destroyed my family."

"A few unidentified vampires killed your mother, and that's an excellent reason to hate those individuals, but why do you blame all of us?"

On the surface it seemed like a valid question that made me out to be some sort of supernatural racist, but I had no intention of letting it throw me. I sat up straighter in my seat and squared my shoulders. "Because you're evil dead things who feed on the blood of the living and are a horrible crime against nature."

"That's quite a list of indictments. I take it you must be a vegetarian, who recycles, saves the rainforest, and drives the speed limit in a hybrid."

"Very funny." I frowned. "It's not the same thing. You purposely and selfishly take yourselves out of the wheel of life. That's a big karmic no-no."

"If it's such a 'karmic no-no', wouldn't we have been punished by a higher power when the first vampire was created, instead of being allowed to flourish throughout the ages?"

"Oh, please. I can think of a lot of bad things that should've been destroyed on creation and weren't. Like serial killers, or disco," I countered with a roll of my eyes. I wasn't about to accept the idea that vampires were okay just because they hadn't been wiped off the face of the earth in a hail of holy vengeance. There were plenty of evil things out there that deserved to be smote into oblivion and yet weren't. It's almost as though the higher powers have a policy of "it's your mess, you clean it up."

"Well then, what makes you believe that we are incapable of doing good?"

"Your track record, for one thing, and just because you donate money to your family tax write-off charity doesn't mean you're a good guy."

"Not even when that charity helps thousands of people throughout the world every year? I think you're being a bit harsh, Catherine."

"Aren't those the same people you want to rule over with an iron fist?"

The vampire nodded, smiling dryly. "Yes, though that is not entirely accurate. I don't propose that we crush the voids beneath our boots, I'm merely proposing that the magical races should be leaders, in the forefront of society. Not the mystic healer pushed away to live at the fringe of a village, the monster under the bed, or the martyr who chooses to burn rather than to fight back. We can't trust the voids with our lives, not after the way they treated us in the past." Seeing that I wasn't convinced, he sighed and folded his hands in his lap. "Will you at least allow me to prove to you that I am not worthy of your hatred?"

"Umm, you kidnapped my best friend because you wanted him to be 'insurance'. That doesn't really inspire trust."

"And he's alive because of it, isn't he? And unharmed as well."

"There was blood on his hat when your faerie buddy showed up at my apartment."

"I knew you would require proof that we did indeed have Mr. MacInnes. It was a painless blood draw, no worse than donating to the Red Cross."

"Huh."

"Would you like a glass of wine while you decide what you would like for dinner?" he suggested, and I nodded. He rose to his feet and crossed the room to the bar. He opened a bottle of white--smart move, I don't drink red unless it's a dessert wine--and to his credit he didn't slip anything into the glass as he poured it. When Harrison returned I took the glass and thanked him, and he sat next to me on the couch again.

"Let me guess. You do not drink...wine..." I commented with a bad Bela Lugosi impression.

"Not generally, no." He chuckled. "Have you decided, or should I order something to match the wine?"

I'm not exactly an expert on what matches with food. White wine went with fish? Maybe? Chicken? Letting the vampire pick would probably make him happy. "Sure, you can order."

We chatted politely until dinner arrived, and then we moved to the suite's table. I wasn't sure what it was I ate--a series of fancy courses of tiny portions of strange cuisine. I almost felt like a judge on one of those gourmet cook-off shows.
Yes, the presentation is lovely and the taste is subtle, yet profound.
Not the sort of food my palate was accustomed to, working at the Three Willows and living on a diet of grease, salt and cheese. The vampire didn't eat, which I expected but was still somewhat unnerving, and he continued to engage me in chitchat throughout the meal. This was the charming gentleman I'd seen in interviews. He was cultured, well-mannered and seemed genuinely interested in everything I had to say. If I didn't know he was king of the undead castle, I'd have been very flattered by all the attention.

When dinner was over, Harrison decided to mix me up a cocktail while I sat at the bar and watched, surprised and impressed. I'm sure the man had a legion of people to do this sort of menial labor for him, yet he performed the task with efficient skill. As I sipped the drink, some sort of heavenly chocolate martini concoction, the vampire eyed me.