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They were outside a modern building with large windows and a stone terrace. The doors opened into a large, open-plan dining area. Round tables draped in crisp, white cloth filled the echoing space. There was a grand piano on a small stage in the corner. On his left was a wall of glass, the room doubled in its dark reflection.
Only one table was occupied. Baron Emory Von Magnusson sat at a table for two. There was a bottle of red wine and two glasses in front of him. His suit was the cold blue of an arctic ocean. His tie was a shade darker, a rich navy that brought to Jesse’s mind an evening sky in the depths of winter. Jesse recognized the squat, bull-necked man standing at his shoulder with a grimace. He could feel the heat from the man’s glare all the way across the room.
But the haemophile’s eyes were scorching the very skin from his bones. It was like looking into the heart of a whirlpool, all shadows and roaring water. He sat still as a marble carving, with his long, pale fingers interlaced on the table. As Jesse got closer, he was able to see the fingernails were long, glass-like and pointed like claws. A shiver ran over his skin.
He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other without throwing up or tripping over.
“My lord,” his escort said as they reached the table. “Mr. Truelove, as requested.”
“Thank you, Greenway.” His voice in the closed space was like captured thunder. His eyes never left Jesse’s face. He didn’t seem to blink. “Right on time.”
Jesse fought the heat threatening to crawl up his neck into his face and clenched his hands at his sides to stop them shaking.
“Mr. Truelove,” the baron said, standing and indicating the chair opposite. “Please.”
Jesse stared at the haemophile with fire chasing ice down his veins. Finally, he perched on the edge of the chair, glancing over his shoulder to where Greenway stood between him and the door.
“I’m sorry for the somewhat unceremonious manner of your arrival,” the baron said. “I am trying my best to integrate into the community here, but sometimes I am still forced to transact business…discreetly.”
Jesse glanced warily from the baron to the man at his back and down again. “And whatbusinesshave we got, exactly?”
“You will address the baron as ‘sir’ or ‘my lord’, you gobshite,” barked the standing man.
Magnusson raised a hand. “Kingston…please.”
Kingston muttered under his breath, folded his arms and recommenced glowering.
“I’m sorry for my security chief’s manner, Mr. Truelove. This has been a long day for all of us. And please, call me Emory.”
“Okay,Emory,” Jesse managed, the feel of the name on his tongue unnerving him further, but he hoped it didn’t show on his face. “Why am I here?”
A corner of Magnusson’s mouth tilted in the start of a smile that made Jesse’s own mouth dry out.
“You are a direct young man. I like that.”
“A couple of hours ago I was under arrest for breaking into your house. And now you’ve hustled me here at gunpoint.” Jesse made sure he didn’t blink as he held the dark, troubling gaze. “You can see why I might be just a smidge suspicious.”
“Yes. I can smell your fear. Along with…something else?” His eyes were going right through Jesse. His pulse pounded in his temples. “Either way, I can assure you you have nothing to be afraid of. Wine?” Magnusson was holding out the bottle.
Jesse swallowed. “Got any beer?”
Magnusson nodded to Greenway, who paced away. The baron poured wine into his own glass. He swirled the blood-red liquid around the crystal, bringing it to his face and inhaling deeply, closing his eyes and making a low sound of contentment. Jesse’s blood surged.
“I didn’t realize you lot drank…booze, I mean.”
“Oh yes,” Magnusson said. “All we can do is drink, after all.” He opened his eyes. “Are you sure you won’t try it? It’s from our very first harvest.”
Jesse squinted out of the window to where he could just make out lines of fencing. “This is a vineyard?”
“It is,” Magnusson said, smiling wider so a glint of canine flashed white against the deep crimson of his mouth. “With a hotel, spa and restaurant, though it’s not open to the public yet.”
Jesse looked around the large dining room. “I haven’t seen anything about this online.”
“I’m waiting for the opportune moment to announce it. Ah—”
He nodded when Greenway returned followed by a server carrying a bottle of Budweiser and a frosted glass on a silver tray. Jesse ignored the glass, grabbed the bottle and downed a large mouthful. The alcohol fizzed in his stomach. He dared to raise his eyes again. Magnusson was holding his wine glass to his mouth, watching him. He drank then lowered the glass and licked the red stain from his top lip.
Jesse dropped his gaze again.
