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Most of the fashions looked like the ones I’d seen at the theatre, but there were a few more exotically dressed guests including an African chief wearing enough gold to buy a small country and a guy in a toga. It looked like a costume party, but I knew better. I pulled my legs up and wedged myself as far as possible into the dark alcove. It wasn’t much of a hiding place, though, considering the nature of most of the room’s occupants. For a moment, I just looked around in stunned awe. I’d never seen that many vampires in one place in my life.
Then I noticed an even stranger sight. A diaphanous form, transparent enough to be almost invisible, glided along one wall. It blended so well into the shadows cast by the chandelier’s long tapers that for a moment I doubted my instincts. Then it passed in front of a painting so dark with age that the subject was unrecognizable, and I saw it more clearly—an amorphous column of pastel iridescence. At first I thought it was a ghost, but the only discernable features on the protrusion I assumed to be a head were two huge, silver eyes. Whatever this thing was, it had never been human.
I was so intrigued that, for an instant, I almost forgot my predicament. There was a huge amount about the Pythia gig I didn’t understand, but I knew spirits. I’d met old ones who’d been around for centuries, new ones who, in a few cases, hadn’t even known they were dead, friendly ones, scary ones, and some things that weren’t ghosts at all. But this didn’t fit into any of those categories. I realized with shock that I didn’t know what it was.
It drifted along with the crowd in the direction of a ballroom directly across from the stairs. I couldn’t see much of the interior, which was lit for vampire eyes rather than mine, and received only an impression of laughing, candlelight-gilded faces and rich fabrics. But the thick, cloying scent of mingled perfume and blood that spilled out of its doors convinced me that I didn’t want to get any closer.
A young man, probably in his late teens, paused a few yards in front of me. He looked strangely out of place in the formally dressed crowd, wearing only a pair of plum-colored trousers in a silky fabric that hung low on his hips. His chest and feet were bare and his long hair was loose around his shoulders. It had a slight ripple to it as it cascaded down his back, like dark silk against his pale skin.
I really wanted to move, to get out of a place where my heartbeat had to be audible to the entire room, but he was in the way. And the last thing I needed was to answer questions about my right to be here when I didn’t even know where here was. Then one of the guests approached, a vampire with pale blond hair wearing what looked like a military uniform—red with gold braid and highly polished black boots. He stopped directly in front of the young man, his eyes sweeping over him in obvious appreciation.
The boy shivered, back tensing, buttocks tightening. He ducked his head shyly, causing light and shadow to play across high cheekbones and a cleft chin. His face flushed with a healthy glow, making him resemble the cherubs who stared down from flaking murals overhead, all but their pink faces lost to the dark.
The vamp stripped off one of the white gloves that went with his uniform. His hand stroked possessively down the boy’s side, fingers playing along the ribs until they came to rest on the thin silk clinging to his hipbone. The young man’s chest started rising and falling faster, but other than for louder breathing, he made no sound. My eyes focused on the boy’s bare feet, which were directly in my line of vision as I tried to melt into the floor. They were startlingly white against the dark green, and looked strangely vulnerable next to the vamp’s heavy footwear.
The young man stiffened as the blond head bent towards him, probably from the first glimpse of fangs, but a hand splayed possessively on his trembling back, holding him in place. He gave a small cry when his neck was pierced, and a visible shudder ran through him. But within seconds, he slid an arm around the vampire’s neck and began making low soun
ds in his throat, openly, generously eager.
The vampire pulled back after a minute, his mouth stained as red as his uniform. The boy smiled at him and the vamp ruffled his hair affectionately. He threw his short cloak around the young man’s shoulders and they walked together into the ballroom.
With a lurch in my stomach, I realized why I hadn’t seen any waiters passing with trays of drinks, or heard the chime of glasses. When the heart stops, blood pressure in the body drops to zero, the veins collapse and the blood starts to coagulate. Not only is it less palatable in that form, but it’s also harder to extract. Even baby vamps learn quickly—only feed on the living. At this party, the refreshments walked around on their own. And in my brief shorts and tank top, I looked a lot more like part of the beverage parade than a guest.
Almost as if he heard my thought, a vamp suddenly looked my way. He had a graying goatee that matched the silver brocade on his robes. They were lined with what looked like wolf fur, and he wore a large pelt draped around his shoulders. There was also something almost wolflike in the way he paused, one foot on the last stair, his nose tilted as if scenting prey. His flat black eyes came to rest on me, and a look of fierce interest crossed his previously unreadable face.
I scrambled to my feet and stumbled into the drifting crowd, panic lancing through me. The only doors were to the ballroom, and I dove for them as if my life depended on it, which it might. Somehow, I made it ahead of him, probably because he was too polite to elbow fellow guests out of the way. But a glance over my shoulder as I entered the dark, cavernous space showed that he wasn’t far behind. Anticipation had lit those expressionless eyes and I felt my stomach plummet. Some vamps preferred their food frightened and struggling; just my luck I’d find one on the first try.
I took a quick look around the ballroom, but there were no obvious exits. Of course, the stairs should have warned me—we were probably underground. I tried to focus, but it was difficult with power crawling along my skin like a cloud of insects. None of it was directed at me specifically; it was just overflow from the beings jostling me on all sides. I realized with a jarring shock that I wasn’t seeing merely a room full of vamps; it was a room crowded with master-level vampires—hundreds of them.
Convocation, I thought numbly—it simply had to be. Every Senate had a biannual meeting where master-level vamps met to discuss policy. I’d never been to one, but Tony had spent days preparing for them, changing his mind about clothes and escorts as often as a teenager going to a prom. His entire entourage had been designed to impress, and with good reason. The weeklong gathering was the one time when he and other low-level masters could rub elbows with the glitterati—their own Senate members and visiting dignitaries from other senates around the world. Boots were licked, deals were made and alliances decided for the next two years.
Tony had always gone armed to the teeth and surrounded by bodyguards, since it wasn’t unknown for the entertainment to get a little out of hand. I darted towards the orchestra on instinct—their golden instruments were the brightest things in the room—and hoped I wasn’t about to be another Convocation casualty. Of course, it was a bad idea. There were no service doors, hallways or exits anywhere I could see, just a large alcove surrounded by burgundy drapes. I looked back to see my pursuer almost within arm’s reach, and all the breath left my lungs.
What I’d taken to be a wolf pelt, I realized with horror, wasn’t wolf at all. The paws draped over his chest were normal enough, if oversized. But the head that dangled halfway down his back was pink-skinned with a shock of light brown hair. I didn’t get a good look at it, just flashes under his arm as he reached for me, but that was more than enough. My eyes told me what my mind didn’t want to believe. He’d skinned a werewolf halfway through the transformation, so that the gray fur shaded into human skin around his shoulders.
I tried to shift but felt too light-headed to be able to concentrate. I bit the inside of my cheek hard, to keep from passing out, and tried to climb into the orchestra pit. I’d hoped to find a hidden exit, but a clarinet player shoved me back out, hard enough that I went sprawling. I slid into oiled black boots that shone in the low light. A hand grabbed my hair, using it as a handle to jerk me upright.
I stared into black eyes dancing with dark fire and forgot about the pain in my scalp. “You reek of magic,” the vamp said, his voice thick with an accent I couldn’t place. “I did not think the English brave enough to provide us with such a rare treat.”
My eyes fell to the skull-less head bumping lightly against his side. It was now less than a foot away, and my throat closed in horror. I could see it perfectly—the sagging features, the dull hair, the empty eye sockets—and the limp, lifeless thing frightened me more than the vamp wearing it. If it brushed against me, there was a chance I’d See part of the creature’s life—and knowing my gift, it would undoubtedly be the last part.
I moved away from it as much as I could, not wanting to know what it felt like to be skinned alive, and the vamp moved his grip from my hair to my elbow. His thumb caressed the skin at the bend of my arm, lightly, gently, but it felt like liquid metal poured from his hand into my veins. Pain was too mild a description for the shock that reverberated through me, bringing tears to my eyes and blinding me to everything outside my own body. He moved down to my wrist, a delicate stroke, but it spilled a line of blood along my arm as if his touch was a knife.
“They usually cringe at the idea of feeding from magic users, too afraid of retaliation from the mages,” he said contemptuously. “I will have to remember to thank our host.” Panic flooded my system with adrenaline, but there was nowhere to go. I pulled backwards, even knowing it was a wasted effort, and he smiled. “Now, let us see if you taste as good as you smell.”
A warm hand descended on my shoulder, and his smile faded. “This one is taken, Dmitri.”
I didn’t need to turn around to know who had spoken. The rich tones were unmistakable, as was the pleasure that danced down my arm, slicing through the pain, reducing it to a low throb. A flash of anger passed over Dmitri’s face. “Then you should have kept her with you, Basarab. You know the rules.”
A claret-colored cloak fell around me, so deeply red that it was almost black. “Perhaps you did not hear me,” Mircea said pleasantly. “So close to that appalling orchestra, it is not surprising.”
“I don’t smell her on you,” Dmitri said with open suspicion.
“Our host asked to see me shortly after I arrived. I did not think he would appreciate my bringing an extra pair of ears.” The joviality had fallen from Mircea’s voice.
Dmitri didn’t seem to hear the warning. His eyes had fixed on the rapid pulse in my neck and he sneered, showing elongated canines. “She will not live to speak of anything she overhears.” His grip tightened, his fingers pressing into my flesh hard enough to bruise. The split in my arm widened, spilling a rush of blood over my skin.
“That is for me to decide.” Mircea’s voice was soft but deadly cold. His arm encircled my waist, drawing me back against his body. His other hand caught Dmitri’s wrist. White-faced, the vamp swallowed, his hand spasming in Mircea’s grip. Power sparked between them, washing the air around us in a burning mist that felt like it would eat into my skin if I stayed there long enough.
