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“Agreed. While I don’t care about the humans on whom he feeds, he wil give us a bad name.
We live by the treaty to avoid al -out war, but not al vampires have agreed to it. Until the Regencies are set up, we won’t have an official ruling class approved by the government to enforce sanctions against aberrant behavior. Which brings me directly to a topic I wish to discuss: your friend Wade.”
Uh-oh. Wade was running for Regent against Terrance from the Fangtabula. Was Roman backing Terrance? I hoped not; it would tel me a lot more about him than I wanted to know.
Though I’d wiped Wade off my radar after he kicked me out of Vampires Anonymous, truth was, I hoped he’d win. At least he’d be a sane choice for the job. Terrance was trouble incarnate.
Roman cleared his throat and I could hear a whistle. He must be smoking one of his cigars.
Roman might be a hedonist, but he also refused to al ow his passions to rule his life. He was in control with a capital C.
“This matter directly impacts you. I have a job for you, Menol y.”
Great. Another person yanking on my coattails, and one whom I couldn’t afford to ignore. “What do you want us to do?” I glanced over at Erin. She was happily absorbed in another movie, oblivious to my conversation. I had the feeling Sassy limited her television.
“Us? Not us if you’re referring to your sisters, though if you need their help, I won’t object. This is a serious task. But I trust that you wil succeed. You are the only one I will trust for this matter, precisely because you aren’t part of the vampire politics swirling through the town right now.” He sobered, and behind the strength, I could hear a tinge of worry.
“What’s going on, Roman?” I blinked. Vampire politics was so not on my plate right now. We had enough worries now with Stacia Bonecrusher—a demon general—dead. When Shadow Wing realized she’d vanished like her predecessors, he’d send someone bigger and badder after us.
“The phone is no place to discuss this matter. Come to my place. Eight thirty tonight. We’l dine on the richest blood you’l ever taste—voluntarily harvested from my stable of beauties. And I wil tel you what I want of you.”
His voice lingered over the words as his energy coiled through the phone to trail around me, caress my shoulders, and gently coax me in. Roman didn’t just want my help. I could feel it, and the thought scared me shitless. He was the godfather of vampires, someone you just didn’t say no to. He was no Dredge, but I had the feeling he could be far worse if he wanted to.
“Roman . . . I’m not sure what you’re asking—”
“Eight thirty. My driver wil pick you up.”
“No, I’l drive. I’ve been there before.” I refused to be at the mercy of anyone else’s transportation.
“Very wel , as you wish. But come alone. We have several matters to go over, so plan on staying late.” And then silence as he hung up.
I stared at the receiver, then slowly replaced it on the cradle. The drowsy pul of dawn beckoned, and I tapped Erin on the shoulder. She startled out of her fixation on the screen, and as she looked up at me, I could see the tinge in her eyes that marked her as a vampire. She was beginning to develop her glamour—al vampires did, at some point during their early years. Even with her rather plain looks, Erin would be gloriously magnetic in a year or so, and humans would have a hard time resisting her.
“It’s nearing sunrise,” I said. “Time to sleep.”
“I can’t sleep on the bed with you. It’s not proper. I’l sleep on the floor.” She motioned to the bottom of the bed. “This wil be fine.”
“Wait.” I ran upstairs and brought down a spare sleeping bag from the closet. Spreading it out, I tossed on a couple pil ows and a lace throw. “There, that should work for you. Sleep now, my daughter.”
Holding out my hand for her kiss, I watched as she knelt and pressed her lips to my fingers.
Then she silently crawled into the folds of the sleeping bag and—as I made myself comfortable in the bed—she had already sunk into that darkness that claims every vampire with the rising sun.
We walk the world in our sleep, walk through air and shadow, through dream and projection.
Before I’d staked Dredge, I’d relived my torture and turning nearly every night, unable to break free from the horror.
But more and more, my dreams carried me out on a wave across the ocean, to wade through the depths of Earth, to spiral out into space and watch the turning of the world. Each time I returned and woke to the night, there was a little part of me that regretted coming back, because my dreams had gone from nightmares to visions of beauty, and they never seemed long enough.
I found myself in a long, narrow room and knew I was dreaming, but my surroundings were so vivid and bril iant that I paused to look around. The wal s were heavy, Old World paneling and paper; the floors marbled white with veins of gray. Heavy walnut furniture was arranged in a precise manner, and my instinct told me I could sit and relax. It wasn’t that I was tired, but the room invited visitors to rest a spel , and as I took my place on a velveteen sofa, the strains of a harpsichord filtered through the air, like spun glass pipes or chimes in the wind.
Not sure what I was here for, I decided to wait. After al , the sun burned high in the sky and there was no waking for me til she sank beneath the horizon. It wasn’t like I was going anywhere in a hurry.
As I passed the time examining the patterns on the wal paper—the king stag was fighting a hunter, and it looked like he was winning—the door at the far end of the room opened and a figure glided through.
Roman. It was Roman.
I slowly rose and waited for him. The ancient vampire looked barely thirty-five, but power rol ed in waves from him, almost knocking me off my feet.
