Blood, Smoke and Mirrors (2010) (24 page)

Deciding on a drink, I headed immediately to the bar and poured a tumbler full of Irish cream--some people drink it by the shot, I prefer it by the glass, with a few ice cubes for elegant presentation. I took a long gulp and closed my eyes, trying to sort through the mess of thoughts flying through my head. Did Zach honestly expect me to come back to him? Even more frightening, was there a possibility I would? No, surely not.
No, you'll just go home to your tiny apartment and live the rest of your wretched life with only a series of housecats for companions.

But I didn't have to live alone, I had a soul mate, one who'd been envisioning a happily ever after in our future until the faeries scared him away from it. Lex was out there somewhere, waiting for me, and from what he'd said in the last dream it sounded as though he'd decided to become Oberon. Once Zach let me go, I'd be free to run into Lex's arms and ride off into the sunset. All I had to do was be patient. Maybe Harrison's spell would wear off eventually...

I heard the door open and the sound of approaching footsteps behind me. Without opening my eyes I sighed wearily. "I so do not want to continue this conversation."

Before I could turn around my head was slammed forward, colliding hard with the top of the bar. An instant migraine exploded behind my forehead and then I was dragged backwards by my hair.

"I'll make this quick then," Lovely Laura growled at me. The room spun and tilted crazily around me, and as I struggled to stand the vampire grabbed for my throat. Her pale eyes almost glowed with hatred and her sharp nails dug into my skin. Terrified, I tried to break her grip, but she was too fast. Drawing her hand back, she tore deep slashes into my throat, producing a huge spray of blood. I grabbed at the wounds, hoping to hold together what was left, then Laura struck me hard and I sailed backwards. I'd have a spectacular black eye from it if I lived.

As I hit the floor with a bone-jarring thud, I thrust my shields out with all the control I could manage. The energy sparked, fizzled, and then faded as Laura kicked me in the stomach, and the breath rushed out of me in a guttural whoosh. I struggled to steady myself and try again, but everything was too scattered and hazy in my mind to attempt any magic, even something as simple as my shields.

"I don't know what he sees in you." Jamming the pointed toe of her high-heeled shoe beneath my chin, she turned my head from side to side. "You're homely, overweight, badly dressed. Ungrateful. Unworthy. Dorian should have drowned you at birth like a mongrel pup." Moving her foot, she stabbed my stomach with the sharp heel of her shoe, puncturing who knows what internal organs in the process.

"Fuck you," was the only stinging retort I managed. It was much too difficult to talk and I knew that was a bad sign. The wounds refused to heal, resisting my weak attempt to close them. Warm, slick blood gushed over my hands--I didn't have long left, and Laura was going to waste the last moments of my life with some bitchy speech.

"And you are crass as well," she added with another stomp. "What a fool, to think you able to lead. You're too weak for greatness. He'll be much better off without you."

The vampire stomped on me again and I fought the urge to giggle madly at the image of Lovely Laura and her "killer" heels. Ugh, death by bad pun, how cliche. Closing my eyes, I waited for the end, but to my surprise I heard a startled shout from the direction of the door. I dragged my eyes open again to see a Harrison-shaped blur streak toward her, grab her and throw her against the nearest wall with a resounding crack of broken drywall.

"What the hell are you doing?" he shouted.

"I'm altering your plan."

"Why, you think you can take her place?"

"She won't have you," Laura hissed in reply. "I won't let her."

Gee, hell really doth have no fury like a woman scorned.
My eyes fluttered shut because I no longer had the strength to keep them open. I would've found the exchange much more interesting if I hadn't been bleeding out.

"Get out! Now!"

"No. I
made
you. I know what's best for you. She's too much like her mother, she won't be corrupted. That girl will never obey you. It's best to get rid of her now and make a clean break." Laura made me sound like some sort of untrainable puppy that needed to be put down, and I
really
wanted to light her on fire. Repeatedly. Instead I just gurgled piteously from the pain.

Next I heard a slap followed by an outraged gasp. "How dare you interfere," Harrison growled.

"Someone has to--you don't have even a fraction of my experience. I'm looking out for your best interests."

"No, you're looking out for your best interests."

"
I made you
," she repeated, her voice raising a screeching octave.

"But you can't control me."

For a brief moment I thought I caught a whiff of burning flesh through the stench of blood, but I couldn't be sure if it was my own imagination picturing Lovely Laura wreathed in flames. The smell was followed by a few gasping noises that sounded like they came from a female source. Good for Zach, I hope he snapped her skinny, pale neck.

Footsteps, a door slammed, and then Harrison hovered over me. He looked like hell--he had wounds that mirrored mine, but less severe. Zach murmured reassuringly, and though the words were beginning to sound fuzzy and incoherent I could hear ten shades of worry in his voice. He drew my hands away from my throat and started to heal the slashes with a wave of tingling, stinging magic. Unfortunately the pain didn't subside one bit, and the relentless press of unconsciousness crowded my thoughts. As my mind began to drift, I realized Zach was right--I really could sense his emotions. Staticky and faint, like being able to hear a distant radio station when the conditions were just right. Despite the angry words he'd exchanged with Laura I knew he was afraid, deeply terribly afraid.

"Catherine, look at me," he ordered, and I struggled to meet his gaze. Zach looked grim as he stared down at me, and I knew that couldn't be good. "I need you to drink." I frowned, confused, and watched in pained silence as he unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeve and rolled it up. The vampire raised his wrist to his mouth and bit through the skin. He moved to hold his wound against my lips and I tried to turn away. "Catherine, you have to drink, you'll die if you don't. The blood won't turn you, it won't hurt you, it will just help me heal you."

I had to believe him--I didn't have a choice. Death wasn't exactly an option I was open to, especially when I was so close to regaining my freedom, so I drank. The blood burned, feeling as though it seared a path of scar tissue down my throat as I swallowed. I'd never experienced anything like it. The sensation was like trying to describe how a nightmare would taste, or what flavor death might have. My body tried to reject the invader, and my limbs flailed and thrashed as though suffering a seizure. Zach pinned me down and held me still as best he could, continuing to pour the poison into me. I had no idea how it could be helping, it felt as though the blood was killing me faster.

Finally he removed his wrist and smoothed the fingers of his other hand over the torn skin, closing the wound. Then he pressed his hands against each of the puncture wounds caused by Laura's heel, one after the other. The pain was phenomenal, unimaginable, a spear of agony that sprung from my core out to my skin. I didn't remember it hurting that badly when she'd caused them in the first place. I screamed loud and long, the sound filling the room until I sank into the blessed oblivion of unconsciousness as my newfound talent for fainting finally resulted in something good.

Chapter Twenty-One

The soft, rapid clicking of a keyboard woke me, and I dragged my eyes open to stare at an unfamiliar ceiling. By now I was getting used to the running theme of fainting and waking up in an unexpected place. I'd gone through most of my life without fainting a single time, and yet somehow during the past few weeks I'd developed the constitution of a Victorian heroine suffering from the consumption. If I survived this whole ordeal, I was joining a gym and toughening myself up. And quitting smoking. Again. For real this time.

Lifting my head, I studied the room. Yup, definitely not my suite, or my apartment, and also not Castle Silverleaf, though the bed was nearly as large. The place was the definition of master bedroom--it was probably larger than my entire apartment. Antique wooden furniture decorated the space, and a familiar vampire hunched over a laptop in an easy chair across the room, a stack of newspapers on the table next to him. Though Zach's hair was a bit mussed and the top buttons of his dress shirt were undone, it reminded me of when I'd arrived at his office here in the tower because he had the same intent expression as he studied whatever important work was plastered on the screen. The sight was somewhat of a relief. It was less embarrassing to wake up in Zach's bed when he was fully clothed on the other side of the room, engrossed in some business dealing. Curious, I glanced down at myself, easing the covers aside to discover that I was wearing a set of boring cotton print pajamas I'd ordered from one of the catalogues. While it was a little mortifying that he'd probably dressed me, I was pretty positive he'd behaved himself.

Sensing my movement, Zach looked up from his laptop, seeming surprised. "You're awake," he said, setting his work aside. "How do you feel?"

"Like I got stomped on," I replied, my voice rough and gravelly. Everything ached, thankfully not as terribly as it ought to considering how close to death I'd been. Crossing the room, he picked up a heavy earthenware mug from the bedside table and moved to help me sit up.

"Here, drink this."

"No more blood," I protested in a piteous whine.

"No more blood, it's herbal tea. I added a potion to it that will help ease the pain and regain your strength more quickly."

I nodded my thanks and took the mug, holding it with both hands as I sipped at it. The liquid was dark and lukewarm, and it smelled faintly of mint. If there was a potion stirred into it I couldn't smell it, but then again alchemy is the most difficult magic for me to detect. Potions tend to smell like their ingredients, or whatever they're added to.

"You were an alchemist?" I'd figured him for a sorcerer, since so many necromancers start out that way.

"Yes. I'm the first magician in the Harrison family." He smiled dryly. "It was a bit of a surprise for my father."

I looked down at the tea and froze. Zach was an
alchemist.
"You put potions in my food, didn't you? To do the spell that bound us together."

"Part of it," he admitted. "Your weakness for sweets was very helpful. As was the fact that you're a heavy sleeper."

"You son of a--"

"Catherine, if I hadn't cast the spell, you would be dead right now. I wouldn't have known Laura attacked you until your body was found in the morning. Would that be better?"

"No." He had a point, as much as it pissed me off to admit it. "Thank you. For saving me, I mean. How did you do it, I'm not--I mean, I'm still...?"

"Alive? Yes, you are. It takes more than that to become a necromancer, and a lot more to become a master. You should get used to the terminology, by the way. Many of the elder masters consider being called vampire a grave insult, and they don't deal well with being insulted."

"Uh-huh. Why did I have to drink from you?" I wrinkled my nose at the very idea of it. Yuck.

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't heal you without it. Usually to heal a wound, like a bite for example, we use the magic within the person's own blood to do it. You'd lost so much blood that you didn't have the strength to repair that much damage. I had to give you mine so I would have something to work with. It won't happen again, I'll make sure you stay safe."

"Really. Did Lovely Laura suffer some sort of unfortunate accident while I was asleep?"

"No, she didn't, but she's not getting anywhere near you again."

"My hero. You know, I don't think these bruises will match my dress for the party," I joked half-heartedly.

"I'll find a makeup artist to cover it for you. You should be well enough to make an appearance, but we won't stay long at the opening."

"Is Laura going to be there?" There was no way I could deal with her after this--she was number one on my hit list now. Maybe when I got out I could join up with the Silverleafs and we'd slay her mightily together, one big, happy, vengeful faerie family.

"Yes she is, but if she even looks in your direction, she'll be asked to leave."

"Asked with extreme prejudice?"

"Yes. I'm sorry she attacked you, this is entirely my fault."

"You two were..." I paused, searching for a polite term, "...involved, huh?"

He shifted uncomfortably and then nodded. "I was one of her most prized pets, but that was years ago. Laura tends to go through men rather quickly."

"Like she goes through shoes?"

The vampire chuckled, but it was a hollow sound. I could tell there was a story there, but he wasn't going to discuss it. "Why'd she go after me like a jealous wife if you're not involved anymore?"

"Aside from the fact that she doesn't agree with my politics in this case, it's one of Laura's eccentricities. She has no problem moving on to a new pet, but she expects all of her former ones to pine for her for the rest of their lives. She hasn't cared as long as I've had short, empty relationships with other women."

"And I'm different?"

"You are, yes." Avoiding elaborating on that topic, he changed the subject. "Catherine, I know you must leave tomorrow, but you need to be careful when you do. Magicians who haven't become necromancers don't typically ingest our blood, and there can be dangerous side effects. Rare, but there is a risk."

I frowned down into my mug and considered his words. "I'll be careful."

"Good. Now, I'd like to test how steady you are on your feet."

For the next several minutes Zach let me lean on him as I tested my wobbly legs doing laps around the room. At first it was a struggle, but as we continued to move I realized most of the problem was in my head. Sure I had plenty of aches and pains, but he healed my injuries very well and they'd been reduced to bruises and sore muscles. Once he was convinced I wasn't going to crumple like a wilting flower, Zach gave me free reign of the room and also the ginormous master bathroom and retreated with his laptop into the main room.

When I was clean and clothed--he'd brought a T-shirt and jeans from my suite in addition to the pajamas I was wearing--I emerged into the main area of his lair to discover a feast fit for ten people waiting for me. I'd always wondered what it would look like if someone ordered everything on a restaurant menu, and thanks to Harrison I had my answer.

"I wasn't sure what you wanted," he offered as an explanation as I stared in amazement at the banquet.

"Right..."

Like a parent trying to keep an eye on his child without hovering constantly, he observed me from a distance for the rest of the day. While he took calls on his cell phone and worked on his computer, I lounged around and watched movies until evening began to draw near. True to his word, Harrison found not only a makeup artist for me but also a hair stylist, a manicurist, and a fashion consultant who brought enough clothing to fill the women's section of a department store. The four of them swarmed around me like stylish bees and whisked me back into the bedroom. It was an effort to find something that I looked good and felt comfortable in. The experience was even more overwhelming than Portia's stint as the Makeover Fairy. My hair was trimmed and warm red highlights were added, and my poor, neglected nails were molested in some acrylic fashion the girl called "French tips".

The makeup artist was a woman named Willow, who was slightly older than me, with shocking purple hair and funky black rhinestone-studded eyeglasses. She clucked with disapproval as she examined the dark ring around my eye.

"Oh, honey, what happened?" she asked.

"The ex-girlfriend threw down with me. She won." It was both a simple and accurate explanation, and Willow sighed and shook her head.

"She must be a real bitch."

"You have no idea."

"Well, it's obvious you're the one he loves now, or he wouldn't be lavishing all this attention on you." She winked conspiratorially. I fought the urge to frown in response, uncomfortable with that idea, and she took my hesitation as uncertainty. "Don't worry, hon, we can see it in the way he looks at you. Right, Steph?"

The girl attacking my nails looked up and nodded. "Oh yeah, totally. You know we do weddings too."

"I'll keep that in mind." Great, a vampire wedding, just what every little girl dreams of. My stomach plummeted and hung out somewhere between my knees for the rest of the experience. By the time they were finished, I barely recognized myself in the mirror. My hair was curled and swept up into a million-and-one hairpins piled on top of my head, with a few soft, decorative ringlets cascading downward. The makeup was flawless, concealing my bruises and improving my features so I looked like a movie star. The consultant had chosen a long, draped dress made of an airy material that seemed to float around me as I moved. Shades of light, summery green that I probably never would have chosen actually looked fabulous with my highlighted hair and the spray-on tan Willow had assaulted me with.

I looked fabulous. I hoped it made Laura suffer.

When I emerged from the den of fashion and was free of the hovering stylists I found Zach waiting for me, dressed in an honest-to-goodness tailor-made designer tuxedo. I'd never seen a tux that wasn't a rental before. He looked damn good.
For a walking corpse, right?
Right, I meant damn good for a walking corpse.

This could only end badly.

"You look stunning. Ready to go?" he asked, offering his arm.

"Yeah, just walk slow. I'm wobbly enough without balancing on these stilts."

"Of course." Zach smiled. "I must apologize, though."

"For what?"

"Smudging your lipstick." Gathering me into his arms, he kissed me. Unsteady from the shoes, I couldn't do much other than cling to him. "I want you to stay here with me tonight." I started to shake my head, but he cut me off before I could protest. "Nothing improper need happen, I only want to make sure that you're safe and well."

Though his words sounded sincere, there was an intensity in his eyes that promised much more. "I'll think about it," I replied weakly.

With me holding tight to his arm we made our way to the elevator. After a short ride we emerged onto the floor of the art gallery, arriving at his super-secret ninja back way in, which I was rather grateful for considering I didn't want to make an awkward grand entrance from the main doors. Caterers, security and other random minions parted before us like the Red Sea as Harrison swept past them. We walked through a set of swinging doors into the gallery itself, and I was struck by the thick, roiling scent of mixed magic--some vampire, some shapeshifter, a little bit of everything but faerie.

"I thought this was a human party?" I asked between gritted teeth, a fake smile plastered onto my face as we gazed out at the crowd.

"What would you prefer, the rich and privileged or the fanged and furry?" he asked, guiding me into the fray.

"None of the above."

"Don't worry, you'll do fine."