Bulletproof (Healer) (14 page)

             
She turns to me and assesses me with her snake eyes, “You shouldn't listen to that boy, Cassie, he is bad news.”

             
I nod like a child being punished by a teacher, not listening, not soaking in the reprehension but agreeing to keep the peace. Angelica unlocks the door which reveals a staircase which is very narrow. Chec would never be able to fit up here. I walk precariously up the steps behind Angelica's bony bottom.

             
The Andromeda Suite has clearly been one of the few rooms in the West Wing that has been renovated. I feel like I've walked inside a nugget of gold. The wallpaper is covered in tiny gold flecks. The bed frame, the sheets, the cushions, the chaise longue. All glittering gold. 

             
To the left of the four poster bed, with gold sheer drapes, is a walk in wardrobe. The wooden shutters painted gold and lying open to reveal all the wonderful contents: clothes, shoes, handbags. The strong scent of floral perfumes wafts our way and makes me cough a little. This is paradise. For somebody like Rose at least. I can't deny it's beautiful but I'd rather be outside in the garden or looking at the cars.

             
Angelica doesn't appear to want to make small talk. She unzips my case and yanks out the jewellery Maurice bought me. It was only yesterday that I first felt the tough edges of the crescent moon pendant but it seems like a lifetime ago. Angelica pulls a dress which is wrapped in layers of clear plastic from the walk in wardrobe.

             
"Maurice picked this for you," she says, tearing into the packaging with her small claws. The dress is pretty. Midnight blue, low dip at the neck, draping to the floor and Maurice's signature… diamonds creating the shape of a crescent moon across the bust of the dress. I have never worn a formal dress like this before. I've never been to a wedding or a ball and I didn't want to go to prom either. I would feel more insecure in an extravagant gown than I did in Rose's sexy outfit yesterday.

             
I am stripped bare and Angelica covers my body in a sweet sugar scrub, buffs it until my skin shines like the gold in the room or the crystalline moon on my dress. I am used to having little modesty because of all my hospital appointments where there is nothing but a thin blue paper gown between me and the hospital staff so I don't blink much at being naked in front of Angelica. She doesn't seem to be interested in my body anyway. She throws a pair of nude pants and I put them on quickly, I'm afraid that if I move too slowly that she will shout at me. I slip into the dress, the silk is soft against my freshly scrubbed skin and I stare into the mirror.

             
Angelica stands behind me, admiring her work. "You look much better. Now let me do your make up," she says and gives me a swift shove on to the bed.

             
While Angelica works on my face, I begin to panic about the looming party. I will meet Maurice for the first time. All I know about him is that he is very rich and extravagant and he is besotted with me. Two concepts which are completely foreign to me and my old life. I also think about Gabe's stern face whenever Maurice's name is mentioned. I feel ill. Angelica bark at me to stop shaking because it is making it hard for her to pencil in my eyebrows.

             
Once she's done, she turns me round to look in the mirror. I expect not to recognise myself like when Rose painted my face but in fact I am very impressed with Angelica's artwork. I look beautiful. It makes me laugh. I am radiating like the bedroom I stand in, like a little piece of sunshine or a star. My cheeks are shiny and dewy, my blue eyes pop out of silver fairy dust, my lips are enhanced with clear gloss. I look like me, only better. 

             
Angelica doesn't ask me if I like it. I don't think she cares. She is focussed on perfection and my opinion isn't even crossing her mind. She starts on my hair. I wish Rose was here to do this now because even though her ideas of her beauty were extravagant and not necessarily to my taste, she at least treated me with some respect. Angelica tugs at my hair with a brush viciously and then drags her sharp fingernails across my head to put my hair into a middle parting. My blonde hair normally sits like a nest on the top of my head. Free to do as it pleases, never tamed and certainly not used to it when somebody tells it what to do. My hair is the longest process of all and eventually Angelica settles for sitting it in a neat bun at the top of my head, lacquering it with hairspray. "Thank you," I say.

             
"I didn't think I could achieve what I have," she grins at me and I give her a twirl. I want to snap back at her with something rude but I just smile graciously. "Well, it's time," Angelica says, "Are you ready? You look pale."

             
I feel nauseous, my stomach is flipping, sweat is beginning to rub off Angelica's masterpiece on my face. This is what it must feel like when you're ill, I remind myself. The way I should have felt after my big accidents. Bad, anxious. I groan and take hold of Angelica's arm as she offers to walk me down the stairs. We don't go back down the way I came with Gabe, probably because everything is ready for my viewing. We carry on past the surveillance room, I think of the metal bed where Maurice spends his days which only makes my nervousness tenfold worse.

             
My grip tightens around Angelica's arm, grabbing the loose flesh around her elbow. We follow through a door which states we have entered the North Wing and walk down a set of stairs which are much grander than the ones in the West Wing. Everywhere is red: scarlet, burgundy, auburn, crimson. I can hear the rumbling of voices and a plaque which says GRAND HALL. I remember Gabe telling me this is the hub of Maurice's home, where my party was being held. Behind that door is a whole celebration just for me. Maurice will be waiting for me. I fiddle with the skirt of my dress and my mouth feels dry. Need a drink. Where's Rose? Or Gabe? I want to see a comforting face. Never thought I'd find Gabe's scowl comforting.

             
"Are you okay?" Angelica asks. We pause outside the door where the noise is now raucous.

             
I nod and swallow deliberately, "Yes, I'm fine."

             
Two men in tuxedos enter and smile at me. Wide, sinister grins. "Good evening, Cassie," they say together in an adorable American accent. They should be in movies.

             
"Justin and Channing will escort you through, Cassie, I need to change," I thought Angelica looked appropriately dressed for a party but obviously she had other plans. She walks off, the sound of her heels clicking on the red wood floor is drowned out by the collection of voices and booming music floating from the Grand Hall. The two men, who I quickly recognise are the same men who were shifting furniture outside when I arrived, are meltingly handsome. I can hear the girls from my school giggling at their pearly white smiles. Their perfect faces just make me feel more shaky. I want to throw up. I never have before as a result of my stellar immune system but my body is telling me that I need to throw up. I don't though, even if I could it would be sacrilege in such a beautiful dress. Instead I loop my arms into Justin's and Channing's. They stand either side of me, at least six feet tall like sturdy bookends.

             
"Are you okay, Miss Mueller?" one of them asks. The one with darker hair and stubble. The other is fair haired and clean shaven. The only distinguishable difference as they are both impossibly handsome. Perhaps they are brothers.

             
I nod, "Yes. Let's just get this over with."

             
Fair haired man pushes open the door to the Grand Hall with the tip of his shiny shoe and I am thrusted into my new world. My mind almost goes black when I realise how familiar the scene is to me. Straight from a dream. My dream. From last night. The nightmare with the garish pinks and orange cream puffs and outlandish clothes. I look around me, at the strange faces. I'm begging to see Rose or Gabe but I can't find them in the vast ocean of people. Waves of colour ebbing and flowing around the room. There are fountains with champagne effervescing over the sides and the most colourful, sickeningly rich foods strewn along a banquet. There are circular tables around the perimeter of the hall with blue orchids as the centrepiece and silver jewels dripping from the vases. All this for me. I touch my quivering lips with a finger. Justin and Channing are looking at each other, wondering if they should be prepared to catch me and carry me somewhere safe if I faint. But they don't realise I never faint. The motions come, the sickness pounces on me but I still stand straight. I'm fine. On the outside, I'm always fine.

             
My eyes dart across the room. It is almost exactly like how my dreams conjured up. Now I had to wait for the evil face from Gabe's tattoo. I hope that part can remain a figment of my imagination, just ink on Gabe's arm. Not real. This isn't real, I remind myself. As people dance around me, waltzing in dresses like pink meringues and icy blue tuxedos. Some people even have decadent masks covering their eyes. But most people are staring at me. They chat, flutes of champagne in their hands, but their eyes are not focussing on their conversation or the cake they stuff into their painted mouths. They are drawn to me. The new girl in the blue dress. I wish Angelica hadn't made me look so radiating. So effortlessly beautiful in a sea of extravagance and over-the-top, my simplicity stuck out like a bloody scar on my porcelain skin. Where is Gabe? I would take his cold glare over these strangers' hot stares a thousand times over. He won't even touch me but these people are desperate to get their hands on me. I wish I had told Rose about my dream now. About the clown like faces. About the vampire with the strawberries and fangs dripping with my blood. Wish I wasn't alone in this dream world, stuck in limbo between what images are from my nightmares and which are the real, tangible people and objects in front of me.

             
"Cassie," calls a males voice. Gabe? No. I hear a French accent. Maurice? I hope not. I am not prepared to meet the man who sleeps on the operating table because I am so afraid that this creature of the night who I so desperately wanted to meet is actually the man in my dreams, the man from Gabe's tattoo. I don't know why he would get an image of his boss permanently sewn into his skin but I can't shake the idea from my muggy head.

             
Fortunately, the voice doesn't belong to Maurice and it isn't Gabe either. I haven't seen this man before. He is older but not ugly and deformed like Angelica. He seems like somebody Shannon would lust after like George Clooney or Brad Pitt with his silver hair, a scratchy beard over his soft, weathered skin. I trust this man before I know his name, his eyes are wise and kind. He shakes my hand. He keeps his eyes locked on mine, I can't look away. His grey hair is cut short and is trimmed neatly, there's not a stray hair to be found. 

             
"It's so nice to meet you, Cassie. My name is Ben." He tells me how lovely the party is and that he hopes I'm enjoying my trip but I can't look away from  his mouth. Fangs where a straight set of white teeth should be. My first vampire encounter.

ELEVEN

              I try not to look directly at the fangs. I make a poor attempt at hiding how startled I am. The air is becoming too thick so I feel as though I can't breathe. I can't look away from those long, sharp teeth: pointed weapons made for puncturing, ripping apart, human skin with ease. I touch my neck, self-consciously, and gasp. They are so inhumane. It is like being face to face with a salivating lion. No photographs on the Internet could have prepared me for this shock.

             
"Are you okay?" asks my dark haired, stubbled bodyguard.

             
"It's so warm in here," I sound like I’m being strangled and it feels like it too. The air is so clammy; it’s making it difficult to breathe. "I need some fresh air."

             
I turn around on the balls of my feet and leave the Grand Hall. Not even paying attention to all the staring faces who will be watching my exit. There is a hard mahogany bench in the corridor outside the Grand Hall. I barely reach it before I collapse. My two guards follow me out and look anxiously at me. I apologise profusely. Repeating 'sorry' until it stops sounding like a word. I am being so rude. All those people, all that food, the music and the dancing. Another gift to me from Maurice and I was being outrageously ungrateful to him. Storming out of my own party at the sight of a set of fangs. Hadn't I longed to see a vampire? To feel that adrenaline rush?