'You look pretty sharp yourself.' I paused a second. 'I was just thinking about our first mission.'
'You were?'
'It reminded me of a question I've been wanting to ask for awhile.' One I apparently only felt brave enough to pose while in goddess mode.
'Oh?' His tone buttoned up like a Victorian collar. But, being temporarily divine, I barreled on.
'I noticed that you always bleed your vamp targets before you take them out.'
'That is true.'
'Well, for cripe's sake, don't go all frosty on me. I don't give a crap about that part. I just saw a pattern and wondered—'
Vayl sighed and the whole car filled with the sound, like a mournful wind bouncing off the walls of an empty canyon. 'It is my failsafe. I do not want to kill innocents, so I take their blood during battle. I can taste whether or not the donor gave it willingly or with his last gasp.'
'Wow, I didn't know you could do that. Cool.' I glanced at him. Not much changed. But the easing of the lines around his eyes and lips told me I'd said the right thing. Which was when I realized it mattered to Vayl what I thought of him. Wow. When had that happened?
I regarded it as if it stood separate from me, a flat-chested freshman wearing too much eye shadow and the confidence of a lame-duck president.
We arrived at the gates of Assan's mansion behind a short line of vehicles that included two limos and a gleaming black Corvette. One by one the drivers showed the guards their invitations and were allowed to enter. I hadn't seen any guards on my scouting trip, though intel had informed us Assan kept anywhere from 10 to 12 on staff. These two shopped in the big and beefy section and still their suit coats barely buttoned, maybe on purpose, so all the guests could see the outline of the guns riding underneath.
One looked to have some Chinese ancestry. He wore his black hair pulled back into a ponytail. His partner reminded me of Schwarzenegger in his bulkier days. If he spoke with an Austrian accent I'd struggle not to laugh in his face. Unprofessional, I know, but the more stressed I get, the more likely I am to bow to inappropriate hilarity. I could already feel the giggles tickling the back of my throat.
'This had better be a damn good forgery,' I said, as I took the invitation from the seat beside me and rolled down the window.
'What,' Vayl whispered, 'are you finally nervous?'
'Welcome to Alpine Meadows,' he said in an American accent—whew!
Vayl sat forward. 'Thank you,' he said, his voice more melodic than usual as his eyes met those of the guard's. I felt the magic cross my skin on its way to Arnold Jr., a scented breeze of power so purely Vayl, I would have recognized it in a perfume factory. 'In five minutes you will not remember our faces or the fact that you admitted us.' Junior's jaw went slack and his pupils dilated like he'd scored an instant high. He nodded, handed the invitation back to me and stepped away from the car.
'Can you do that for me next time Pete wants to wring my neck?' I asked as I moved the Lexus toward Assan's mini-castle. The rumble in Vayl's throat could've been anything from a growl to a burp. I stole a look at his face, and from the way his lips were quivering decided it was a chuckle.
The valet had a hard time understanding why any high society dame would want to park her own car. Then Vayl spoke to him and made it all better. He directed us around the side of the house, where I backed into the space closest to the front door. I sort of specialize in quick getaways. Too bad I wasn't driving a Hummer, It would've been fun to pull straight in and then mow over the perfectly trimmed hedges and gigantic urns on the way out.
Like a good little blueblood, I waited for Vayl to stroll around and open my door for me. We took a path lined with Japanese lanterns around to the front of the house, uh, mansion, um, pretentious freaking monstrosity posing as a home. Yeah, that's more like it. At the top of white marble steps that led to doors the size of rocket silos, a barrel-chested, pock marked man with the eyes of a scorpion took our invitation and added it to a lace-lined basket at his feet. I had a sudden image of him skipping through the woods holding that basket in front of him like Little Red Riding Hood, and laughed out loud. He and Vayl both looked at me strangely. I patted Vayl's arm.
'Oh, honey, I finally got that joke you told me on the way here. Hilarious!'
Vayl nodded as if he understood and led me indoors. 'You will explain that one to me later, I hope?' he whispered out the side of his mouth.
'I'll explain it to you now.' Then I forgot what I was going to say as we entered a massive, marble-lined hall lit with five, count'em, five sparkling chandeliers. So many candelabras lined the walls that even if the lights winked out you still could've seen well enough to read the fine print on an iffy contract. And the art! I smiled up at Vayl as if I belonged among people who thought nothing of owning paintings bigger than my apartment. I had never felt so sorely out of place. Even my teeth felt fake.
'You are looking gorgeous tonight, my dear,' Vayl said, squeezing my hand.
Somewhat reassured, I said, 'Thank you darling. And may I say you grow more handsome with each passing day?'
He nodded graciously, every bit the self-assured multimillionaire we wanted our host to think he was. Speaking of the devil, here he came, greeting his guests with the slick friendliness of a tiger shark at a daily feeding. His white tuxedo set off his dark hair and skin to perfection, and the gold rings on six out of ten of his fingers highlighted his remarkably slender, blunt-nailed hands.
I managed not to flinch as he came at me, all teeth and glittering black eyes. Sometimes things would be so much simpler if you could just pull out your gun and shoot the bad guy. Reason number seventeen why Indiana Jones is my hero.
