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“A witch,” he bellows back, making me fight the urge to flinch. “The tall one.”
Well, that’s better than the Indian Princess bullshit I get from some of the other vampires. I decide to give Sylvester the benefit of the doubt—at least as far as being a racist is concerned.
The jury’s still out on the heartless murderer part…
“Oh, lovely,” Priscilla calls out, not sounding the slightest bit surprised, a fact that has my already cramped stomach tied in knots by the time she adds, “Come down, Casey. I was hoping we’d have a chance to chat, woman-to-woman, before I left.”
“Great, me, too,” I call back, shifting slowly around Sylvester, grin still in place. On my way to the steps leading into the bowels of the ship, I catch another scent—this one even spicier and more sickly sweet than Sylvester’s—and suspect Bodyguard Number Two is also close, but still invisible.
But thank the Goddess, I’ve always had a sensitive nose. Hopefully, I’ll be able to smell them coming before it’s too late to avoid retribution for what I’m about to do.
At the base of the steps, I pause to take in the surprisingly expansive, uber feminine space. The combination living room-dining room is decorated in various shades of pink, peach, and pale yellow, with lace-covered throw pillows gracing every surface and gauzy impressionist artwork on the walls. The overall vibe is Victorian sunset and though I’ve never been a super girly chick, I can appreciate the aesthetic.
And it definitely works for Priscilla.
Dressed in a white, floor length gown with a pink bow at her waist and a matching pink jewel on a delicate gold chain at her throat, she looks like a beloved doll tucked into her ritzy dollhouse for the night.
“Wow, this is gorgeous.” I motion down to my dark jeans and baggy black sweater. “I feel like a little black rain cloud in here.”
Priscilla smiles and motions me to the overstuffed rose couch opposite where she’s stretched out on a matching love seat with a book. “Don’t be silly, you’re beautiful. And very rock ‘n’ roll. Are the kids still calling things rock ‘n’ roll these days or am I hopelessly out of touch?”
I perch on edge of the couch, cradling my bag in my lap. “I don’t know. My kid is too little to be up on all the latest slang, but it sounds good to me. Thanks for seeing me, by the way. I would have called but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to get off the estate. They have us locked down pretty hard.”
She nods, glancing between me and her book, making it clear my mere presence isn’t enough to hold her attention. “I imagine. I’ll have to send Sylvester back with you, to make sure you get home safely. If anything were to happen to you, Edmond would never forgive me.”
I didn’t expect an opening this soon, but it’s a good one, so I pounce. “Edmond knows I make my own decisions. If I got into trouble, he wouldn’t blame anyone else. And besides, it’s not like he’ll be around to hold a grudge for that much longer, right?”
Her pale brows arch. “Excuse me? I don’t understand.”
“Oh, of course, you do,” I say, careful to keep my tone pleasant. “That’s what you were hinting at the night we met with all that ‘together forever’ stuff. You were shoving the curse in Edmond’s face, just to be cruel.” I wave a hand and push on before she can respond, “But it’s fine. He’s used to that kind of thing from you. We shrugged it off and had a wonderful time at the Halloween party, but it did get me to thinking… Would you like to know what I’m thinking?”
She studies me for a beat, unmoving, unblinking, like a shark deciding whether she’s hungry enough to give chase.
Finally, she closes her book and sighs. “If you’re here to bargain for Edmond’s life, I can’t help you, Cassandra. If I could lift the curse, I would—I let go of my anger toward our boy over our foolish lovers’ quarrel decades ago…” She lifts a slim shoulder. “But I’m afraid it’s unbreakable.”
I nod. “I know. He made that clear from the beginning. I knew what I was getting into before we started planning the wedding.” I stare at my lap, swallowing hard, pretending to gather my courage before I glance back at Priscilla. “But he also told me that being turned by an ancient vampire is so much better than being turned by a younger one, that the gifts bequeathed by the blood kiss are way more powerful. He’s obviously offered to turn me himself before the New Year, but I thought…”
I clear my throat, willing myself to keep going despite Priscilla’s utterly disinterested expression. “Well, I thought if you turned me before you left, and I was lucky enough to be one of the witches who maintains her power after the change, I might be strong enough to break the curse for you.”
She cocks her head, looking surprised and…pleased? That certainly wasn’t what I was expecting, but I’ll take my luck where I can get it.
I smile, pushing on in my best kiss-ass voice, the one I used to use on my boss at the casino to ditch a shift when Amy was sick and Manny missing in action on the father front again, “And even if I can’t save Edmond, it would be such an honor to be turned by you. You’re just…” I exhale a nervous laugh. “You’re a legend. Not just in the vampire world, but in the entire supernatural community.”
Her pink lips curve. “I am. You’re right.”
“Damn straight,” I say. “And I love that you own it. No false modesty or any of that crap.”
“I don’t have time for that crap,” Priscilla says, adding in a confidential tone, “Not between us girls, anyway. Especially a girl who’s about to join my family tree.”
We laugh together, and I decide it’s time to proceed to step two.
Lifting my bag, I say, “Then how about a drink to celebrate? I know it’s not much compared to the gift you’re giving me, but I’m a kick ass bartender, and I whipped up this blood cocktail in your honor.” I motion toward the pale oak wet bar in the corner. “May I?”
She extends an expansive arm. “Of course, please do. I haven’t fed tonight. I was waiting for Trevor to get back from the estate with one of the human volunteers, so this is perfect.” She beams as I cross to the bar and begin unpacking my supplies. “And if you make a double batch, we can share a toast after you’re one of us. Most newly changed vampires can’t stomach blood from a glass right away, but I have a feeling you’ll be different. You might just end up being one of my most powerful children to date.”
“That would be such an honor,” I lie, starting to mix the drink I devised earlier today on autopilot, even as I realize she’s lying.
At least about Trevor going to the estate to fetch her a blood donor…
