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Something caught my eye and I looked back down at the water. One of the reflections from the overhead lights was drifting upward. It was a testament to how my week had been going that I didn’t so much as blink when it broke the surface and floated into the air, like a small glowing balloon. Only this one had familiar shadows drifting over the surface, one half of which was dark, and the other a blinding, brilliant white. I reached out a hand to touch it, because it looked so solid, so real.
But as soon did, it just sank into my hand and was gone.
And a moment later, so was Deino. She hared away across the bridge with her sisters, leaving me with a cursing, livid, doused vampire flailing around in the dirty water below the bridge. And the feel of cool, cool mist on my fingertips.
Chapter Thirty-three
I heard the yelling as soon as I popped back into the suite, a vaguely familiar voice screeching in one of the back rooms. I paused in the foyer, wondering if I cared. I decided on the negative, and was about to pop back out again, but I waited too long.
Somebody grabbed me.
“Cassie!”
I looked down to find a panicked-looking Fred standing at the bottom of the short flight of steps and gripping my sleeve.
“What now?” I asked, resigned.
“It’s . . . I . . . Marco is off duty and I don’t want to have to call him. It makes it look like I can’t handle things.”
“What kind of things?”
Fred waved a hand toward the interior of the suite. “That thing. He stormed in a few minutes ago and demanded to see you. And, of course, I had to tell him that you weren’t in and I didn’t know when you’d be back. And he went off—”
“He who?”
“—and started going though your stuff. I told him he couldn’t, but—”
I didn’t have to wonder what he meant for long, because a second later, a tall, enraged blond emerged from the hall. He was wearing a glittering green brocade tailcoat that, with his height and overall skinniness, made him look like a particularly fabulous praying mantis. “You!”
A long, bony finger was pointed, and of course it was at me.
“I’ve been wanting to see you,” I told him, but I may as well have saved my breath. Augustine wasn’t listening.
“Who are you wearing, and don’t lie to me!”
“What?”
“A month of my life—a month. Do you understand?” The finger was shaking now, and so was he, but I didn’t think it was in fear of the circling ring of vamps. In fact, I got the impression that Augustine didn’t even see them. His eyes were fixed on me, and if blue eyes could burn, they were doing it. “I have slaved—slaved, worked myself into a frenzy. My masterpiece! Do you understand?”
“No.”
“My masterpiece,” he screeched. “The finest gown I have ever made. It’s almost ready, and what do you do? Who are you wearing?”
“Okay, no touching,” the redhead guard told him, prying long, bony white hands off the front of my shirt.
“You set me up!” Augustine’s usually perfect complexion was an ugly, mottled red. “You planned this all the time!”
“Planned what?” I asked, staying calm because I thought there was an outside chance the guy might actually have a heart attack right there.
“It isn’t ready! Do you understand? Another day, even two—but not by tonight!”
“Tonight? What is tonight?”
“Don’t give me that! We started getting requests this afternoon, but I didn’t think anything of it. It’s normal that people would want to pick up their dresses in advance. They are accustomed to dealing with inferior tailors, people like that Claude, who can’t fit a gown to save his life, or that ridiculous Tyndale. Tyndale—what kind of name is that for a—”
“Augustine—”
“But they kept on coming, didn’t they? Request after request, and do you know how many gowns I have left now? One! The one. The one in comparison to which all others are garbage—garbage. Do you understand? Except for mine, of course, but even they—”
