Eternal: More Love Stories With Bite (25 page)

Although in the company of
vampires,
I
looked
like .
.
. lunch. But
if there
was one
thing I knew
about Morganville, it was that your risk of being lunch was pretty much the same whether you were dressed like a movie star
or
a bag lady. Better to go out in style, if you had to go.

For all that,
if
Michael hadn't been on my arm, the look
I
got coming
into
the ballroom might have made me turn around and run.

Luckily, Michael stayed steady and
whispered,
"Easy. They're not going to hurt us."
It
was the us that did it— the fact that we were a unit, and he didn't even try to think about it any other way. I took a deep breath, put on a brave smile, and raised my chin. That put my veins on display, but whatever.

Michael was wearing a nice black suit and a tie that wasn't quite conventional, in this crowd, but he
didn't
give a damn. Anyway, it was a music tie. They could munch ass if they didn't approve.

There was a line of vampires to meet, some I already knew and some
I didn't. I
took my cue from Michael about how respectful to be, but not because I felt particularly humble; many of these
old-school
vamps took offense easily.
When
I got to Amelie and Oliver, I breathed a sigh
of relief.
They might take offense, but I knew what I could get away with.

I shook Amelie's hand firmly. She was wearing white gloves, and I was pretty sure the diamonds around her wrists were real. The gown was ice blue, and really beautiful, and probably by some famous designer I'd never heard about. Oliver was in a tuxedo, with tails. Damn, he James Bonded up really well. He bent over my hand, just a little—more of a suggestion of a hand kiss than anything else.

And then there was Gloriana, in a deep, vivid red gown, laughing and flirting with a whole circle of male admirers, both vamp and human. I saw Richard Morrell, the mayor, right in there, while his sister Monica stood off to the side, looking deeply unhappy. She was used to being the belle of the ball, and she'd certainly dressed for it, but whatever she was wearing, it looked like a knockoff rag next to Gloriana's dress, and she knew it. She also was alone, which was very unusual indeed. Even at a vampire party, she would have expected to draw some male attention, but there was a brand-new queen bee in town.

I felt Michael slowing as we passed Gloriana's group, as if he was reluctant to miss the opportunity, but he kept going. We went to the punch table, which featured two kinds— with plasma, and without. He poured mine first. When I looked over at him, his face looked paler than normal, and the pupils of his eyes had gone wide, even in the relatively bright light.

"What?" I asked him.

"Nothing."

Shane squired Claire over to join us, already scanning the edible snacks with the eye of a kid who'd grown up snatching food where he could. He grabbed a plate and filled it until Claire slapped his hand. "You're not starving," she said. "Come on."

"It's been a long time since lunch,"
Shane
said. "So yeah, I am, Slappy Girl. Do you want
one of
these or not?"
He
held up a carrot stick. When she nodded, he fed it to her. Awww. So cute.
"All
right, you are now
a
party to the overindulgence. Quiet."

Claire, bless her, had somehow blackmailed Shane into donning a suit jacket, at least, although the pants looked suspiciously like dark jeans. At least he'd left the tuxedo T-shirt at home. The vamps wouldn't have been amused. He was even wearing a tie, though it featured Bettie Page in a lot of provocative poses. I hoped Oliver hadn't noticed.

"Did you see Gloriana?" Claire asked her boyfriend. Shane—big, scruffy Shane,
who
was cute in a totally different way than Michael, but really, just about as sweet—
looked
down at her and cocked one eyebrow.

"Am
I
alive?"
he
asked, and put his hand over his heart. "Yep,
I
noticed her.
Oh,
sorry, Mikey. No offense to the unalive."

Michael would normally have flipped him off— best-friends love—but he just gave Shane a look. Not his normal look, either. "Watch yourself with her," Michael said. "There's something . . . not right about her."

"Dude, she
looks
very right." Shane lost
his
humor and started to frown. "Are you okay?"

"I can feel—" Michael shut his eyes tightly. "I can feel her from here. It's like a . . . call. A pull."

His hand was tight on mine, so tight it was painful, and I gave a little squeak of pain. When his eyes opened, they were crimson, and his pupils had shrunk down to small pinpoints.

I
turned and looked. Gloriana was standing up. The men crowding around her were backing off,
making ...
an exit. She smiled at them and glided out, hardly seeming to touch the floor as she went.

She headed straight for us.

For Michael.

She was wearing red gloves, and her diamonds, just like Amelie's, were real. Her smile was brighter than the glitter of the jewels. "Michael," she said, and took his hands
in
hers. He dropped mine so fast it was as if he'd forgotten I was there, and leaned in. She air-kissed him on both cheeks. He didn't pull back very far, and she didn't let go of his hands. "So glad you came to my party.
It
wouldn't have been a welcome without you,
mon chere."
She did let go then, but only to reach
up
and touch his eyelids to close them. "You're going too far. Control. You must learn control."

He was shuddering very slightly, but when she stepped back, he opened
his
eyes, and the
red
was almost gone. Almost. "Thanks," he said. His voice sounded rough in his throat. "Have you met my friends? You remember Eve . . ."

Somehow, having my name follow the word "friends" didn't make me
feel
any better at all.
I
didn't say anything. Neither did Gloriana, who just nodded very slightly. I couldn't tell what she felt about me, if she felt anything at all.

"And this is Claire—"

"Yes, we've met," Gloriana said. Her voice was warm and very sweet. "How is dear Myrnin? I thought he would be here tonight."

"He doesn't do parties, mostly," Claire said. She seemed kind of charmed by Gloriana's make-nice attitude, which was surprising; Claire was usually more level-headed than that. "Well, neither do I, really. Oh, this is Shane, by the way. My boyfriend."

"Charming," Gloriana said, and extended her hand to him, knuckles up. Shane, who looked just about as overcome as every other guy in the room, took it and shook vigorously. Gloriana looked, just for a moment, taken aback, and then she smiled, again. "Very direct, I see."

"I'm not subtle," Shane agreed. "You're very pretty."

Claire dug her elbow into his side. He didn't seem to notice. Gloriana's smile grew wider. "Yes," she said. "I'm afraid I am. It's a bit of a curse, sometimes." She turned back to Michael, who was still treating me like a nonperson, and held out her fingers. "Perhaps you'll save me from this sea of admirers," she said. "And escort me to the dance floor."

I opened my mouth, then closed it, because without a glance at me, Michael walked her past me, out to the open area of the ballroom, and the musicians struck up some kind of a waltz. And that wasn't Michael. It
just. . .
wasn't.

She was doing this to him.

As I looked around, I saw it on the faces of the guys who'd been hovering around her earlier—a kind of lost longing, as if she was the only girl in the world. I even saw it on the faces of guys I would have sworn knew better, like Richard Morrell.

It was creepy, to the power of actively sinister.

Claire put her arm around me. "Hey," she said softly. "Are you okay?"

I was, surprisingly. "That bitch is going down," I said. "She is
not
taking my boyfriend for a party favor."

"Chill, she's just dancing with him," Shane said. He was watching Gloriana with that same eerie, distracted concentration, and now Claire noticed it, too, with appropriate levels of alarm.

"No, she's not," Claire said, and smacked his arm. "Hey!"

"Oh, sorry," Shane said, and then looked around. "Right. Michael, not a party favor . . . How exactly are we going to accomplish that? Because she's wearing him like a paper hat right now."

I marched right over to the receiving line, grabbed Oliver's hand, and said, "Dance with me."

He gave me a long, odd look, exchanged a glance with Amelie, who seemed amused, and finally said, "If you insist."

"I do," I said. "Come on."

In my heels, I was almost a match for Oliver in height. The last thing I wanted to be doing was clutching his undead body and twirling around on the dance floor, but I needed to keep Gloriana in sight, and I needed information. Oliver was a two-in-one.

And surprisingly, my vampire boss could
dance.
Like, reality-show-winning dancing. He whirled me around like an expert, and all I needed to do was pay attention and relax. That was a lot more fun than it should have been.

"Now," he said, about a minute or so into the ballroom display, "what exactly do you want from me?"

"Gloriana,"
I
said, a little breathlessly. "I need to know what her deal is. Now."

Oliver glanced over at Gloriana, who was clinging to my boyfriend like red moss on a tree. Michael looked dazed. She looked delighted. "Ah," he said. "Gloriana doesn't like to be alone. I think she's decided that Michael is her newest accessory."

"He
didn't
want to go,"
I
said. "She did something to him. I
saw it. Some kind of . . . vampire superpower."

"Glamour," he said. "Most vampires have it, to some extent, though we rarely bother to use it. Gloriana is one of the few that has it in strength, and can use it on her own kind."