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I sighed in relief, turned around—
And saw a doorway full of faces staring at me. There was a line of vamps all the way up either side, peering around the jamb, and more in the opening. I didn’t know how they did it. They must have been climbing on top of one another, like some kind of circus act.
With fangs.
“What?” I asked.
And the next thing I knew, I was being engulfed, and me and my sweats were being stuffed inside a “robe,” which was actually more of a caftan stiff with embroidery and little seed pearls and what looked like actual jewel chips making up flowers and leaves and tiny birds and shit. And then I was being hustled out the door, until Burbles yelled: “Waaaaaaaaaait!” And everybody stopped to look at him.
“Shoes,” he pronounced, in a tone that suggested that Armageddon could be avoided only by locating the right footwear.
For a moment, I was treated to the sight of half a dozen master vamps, some of them probably hundreds of years old with courts of their own, diving for the floor and scrabbling around as if finding the right shoes was a matter of life and death.
And I guess they did, only I couldn’t see them because of all the butts in the way, but something was stuck on my feet. Then the lot of us were shuffling down the hall, which was all I could do in whatever the hell I was wearing, and while batting at some lunatic behind me who was trying to comb out my bed head. And while being pressed in between a phalanx of vamps like the filling in a very weird sandwich.
I’d have fought back, but I didn’t have the energy. And I kind of thought that, if they were going to drag me to an interrogation room and chain me to a wall, they’d have done it already. And wouldn’t be so concerned about my wardrobe.
So I had no idea.
Until the fluttery vamps and the clueless dhampir spilled out into a room at the end of the hall, only to see—
Oh.
That was why.
What I guessed was the salon Burbles had mentioned earlier turned out to be a small room with the dark wood paneling and low burning fire of a gentleman’s study, only sans the books. And plus a glittering vampire queen, all in red, because she’d changed from the mostly green ensemble she’d worn before. I suppose because of all the blood.
She was surrounded by her own entourage, a bunch of absolutely massive vampires that I barely noticed because it was kind of hard to look anywhere else.
You had to give it to her; she knew how to command a freaking room.
The outfit helped. It had what I initially thought were red and burgundy flames licking up it, raised from the underlying crimson satin by exquisite embroidery. Only flames don’t move like that. I was still having trouble focusing, but my eyes suddenly got their act together and caused me to almost jump back in alarm, but Burbles was practically on my heels and wouldn’t let me.
Because the “flames” were snakes. The embroidery—and the charm animating it—was so good that they were positively lifelike, with emerald eyes, and tiny garnet or ruby flakes for scales. And little onyx tongues that flicked out here and there, while the bodies squirmed around the tight sheath and plunging neckline.
Her hair was down, a dark river rippling to her knees, and it was spotted with rubies, too, little ones that glittered in the firelight like drops of blood. She wasn’t wearing a necklace, although the J.Lo-worthy décolletage gave plenty of room for it. I guess she thought she’d already made her point.
Or maybe she was making another one by showing off the unscarred expanse of golden skin on her throat.
Well, I thought.
And then I didn’t think anything else.
Except, damn, I wanted that outfit.
The queen’s arrival had apparently thrown everybody into a kerfuffle—everybody except me. Because I wasn’t all that interested in genuflecting if she’d only showed up to murder me in person. But I guess not. Because a long silk-draped arm extended, and a ring-bedecked
hand rose into the air, and then just stopped, halfway up.
I looked at it.
The rings contained rubies, too, huge old-world things in heavy gold settings. They glimmered and gleamed and showed off how slender her fingers were. The nails were bloodred and slightly pointy, with a little golden glister at the tips. Impressive, the whole damn ensemble.
I was suddenly kind of grateful for the caftan.
I also had no idea what I was supposed to be doing, but I guess it was something, because everybody was staring at me expectantly. I spied Radu, making some kind of gesture I couldn’t see because I could glimpse him only in between the bodies of the queen’s servants, who were some kind of mutants. Seriously, there wasn’t one under seven feet tall.
“You may kiss her hand,” Burbles informed me, a whisper in my ear.
