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When I was assembled, my clutch and katana scabbard in hand, I locked up and headed to Seri’s room. The guards at the door checked my identification, nodded, and let me in.
Seri stood in the middle of the room on a flat box while Odette, on her knees with a pin in her mouth, worked at the hem of Seri’s gown.
If my dress was old-school American glamour, Seri’s was French avant-garde. The skirt was long and straight, with a slit in the front that rose to the top of her thighs. There was a navel-baring bodice with mesh sleeves that started below her shoulders, leaving them bare. Her hair was piled up in a complicated braid around a silver diadem, and the same black mesh reached from the bottom of the band to the top edges of her sleeves, enclosing her face in a strange, cocooning veil. Her earrings were drops of diamonds long enough to brush the tops of her shoulders, and her eyes were dark and smoky.
“Lis!” she said, pressing her hands together with excitement. “You look exquisite. What do you think of this?”
“It’s... amazing,” I said, and walked closer, then around her. The fabric shimmered with even the slightest movement, so it looked like Seri had been draped in a starlit night.
“I am so glad we decided on the green,” she said, swearing in French when Odette stabbed her with a pin.
“Sois immobile!”Odette said through her teeth, then pulled out the pin. “If you do not move, I do not prick you.”
“She is a thorny rose,” Seri said, sighing with relief when Odette sat back on her heels, surveyed her work.
“It will do,” she said.
“Merci,”Seri said, stepping off the platform and giving the dress a spin. “It is beautiful, no?”
“It really is. Won’t the veil thing get irritating?”
Seri laughed. “The ensemble is worth a bit of irritation.”
“You look very vampiric,” I said. “And very French.”
She smiled. “Perhaps I will find a strong American vampire to teach me a thing or two.”
“I wouldn’t mention that to Marion. Are you ready to go?”
“Finishing touches,” Odette said, adjusting the veil and fit of Seri’s dress across the shoulders. Then she stood back, put her hands on her hips, and surveyed her creation.
“You are ready,” she pronounced. And that was that.
• • •
Where downtown Chicago had become sleeker, Hyde Park had stayed pretty much the same. But several of the older homes and mansions had been renovated and rejuvenated, because peace brought new cachet to living next to vampires.
Cadogan House looked the same as it had four years ago. A big, stately stone building with an arch over the front door and a widow’s walk crowning the top, in the middle of a gorgeous lawn big enough to be a park. There was a tall fence around the perimeter, a new guard house at the gate.
It had been my home for nineteen years. I loved the building and the park that surrounded it, and I loved my parents and the other House vampires who’d become part of my supernaturallyextended family. But I’d been ready to move on when I’d left for Paris, and leaving the fortified House had been part of that. I’d proven to myself that I could make it on my own. And coming home again made the House seem somehow smaller.
Paparazzi waited outside the fence, but there were plenty of guards to keep them away from the gate. They were positioned every few feet, and I guessed they had repeated that precaution all the way around the House. Unlike vampires, the humans opted for guns, and there were matte handguns strapped to their waists.
Our Autos rolled to a stop in front of the gate. A tuxedoed guard with a clipboard approached the first Auto, opened the door, and checked their credentials, then assisted Marion onto the red carpet.
Seri squeezed my hand. “The House is lovely,” she said. “Just as you’d described.” She leaned forward to look out the window, take in the white lanterns that hung like moons over the cocktail tables that dotted the front lawn. The tables were decked with flowers. Servers bore trays of appetizers and crystal flutes of golden champagne in the balmy August air, beneath a brilliant waxing moon. Even in the vehicle, I could hear the hum of music from a jazz band, probably on the other side of the House.
Our Auto pulled up into the spot vacated by Marion’s car, and the guard with the clipboard approached.
“Name?” he asked, giving me a pleasant smile.
“Elisa Sullivan, Seraphine, and guests.”
The guard had been looking down at a clipboard, and his head snapped back up quick enough.
“Yes, I’m their kid,” I said with a smile. “We’re here for the party.”
“Of course,” he said, and stepped aside, offering a hand as I stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk. The song grewlouder, and the scents of wine and food and perfume added notes to the air.
