Blood, Smoke and Mirrors

Chapter Sixteen

I thought that I would be much too paranoid to let myself fall asleep in Vampire Central, but as soon as my head hit the pillow I passed out. Admittedly the combination of a relaxing shower, a feast of gourmet food, the softest most comfortable pair of pajamas in the continental United States, and Casablanca on DVD might have contributed to my sleepy state.

I drifted into the dream, the transition from sleep smooth and pleasant. The grass was cool and damp beneath my bare feet as I walked into the center of the grove. Soft moonlight pushed back the shadows that lurked between the surrounding trees, and lazy fireflies pulsed on the summer breeze. I felt calm, serene. Powerful. As I smoothed the skirt of my robes the first note of warning chimed in the back of my brain, reminding me that I’d never be caught dead in a set of long, flowing robes while awake, not even if they were a very complimentary shade of emerald green.

Frowning in confusion, I studied my surroundings again, looking for any familiarity, and an approaching rustle of leaves caught my attention. I turned in the direction of the sound, and my heart leapt at the sight of Lex walking toward me. He’d been spared the indignity of dorky wizard robes, but not given the benefit of a shirt-not that I was about to complain about that detail-wearing only a pair of black leather pants.

Apparently this was going to be a good dream.

Without a word Lex drew me into his arms and gave me a long, lingering kiss. When he pulled away, he gazed down at me. “Where are you, Cat?” Confused, I glanced around at the unfamiliar setting. “No, not here. Where did the vampires take you?”

It took my brain a moment to realize what he was talking about and remember the events of last night. The shock of it almost woke me up, but Lex kissed me again and kept me anchored in the dream. “Where, Cat?” he repeated.

“The tower,” I finally managed to answer. “Downtown. Ask Portia, she probably followed me.”

“She tried, but Faust was blocking her. Is it Harrison’s tower?” he asked, and I nodded. Lex stepped back and ran his fingers over my throat, looking for injuries. “Did he bite you?”

“No. Laura tried to tear my throat out, but she just bounced off my shields. Was kinda funny.” I tried not to shiver at the sensation of Lex’s touch, but failed miserably. Reminding myself that I was supposed to be annoyed with him, I took a step back.

“Don’t let him bite you.”

“Why do you care?”

“Cat, I don’t want to fight.”

“Fine. I don’t intend to let him bite me,” I assured him. “I think he’s going to insist, though.”

“Don’t let him,” Lex repeated, more forcefully this time. “I’ll get you out soon.”

“But you can’t, they’ll kill Mac,” I protested.

“Mac?”

“Mac’s alive, he never got on the plane. The vamps took him as a bargaining chip, and they’ll kill him if I don’t listen to Harrison’s stupid plans.”

“Then I’ll get you both out.”

“But you don’t have your guardian magic, and I agreed-” Before I could continue a loud crack of thunder interrupted me, and the dream suddenly ended. I found myself wide awake, staring at the ceiling of my suite, wondering what to do. Though I couldn’t be certain, for a moment I thought I caught the faint scent of dying smoke lingering in the air.

Aside from last night’s rocky start, the bad guys were pretty much refusing to be bad, and it irked me. I was further irked by the idea of having dinner with a man who some trashy gossip magazine had proclaimed one of the most eligible bachelors alive. First of all, the man wasn’t alive. Second, I wasn’t looking forward to having the head vampire try to sell me some crazy plot to take over the world between dinner courses. I wasn’t buying. Period. I didn’t care how rich he was, how handsome, polite, powerful, dangerous, blah blah blah. I wasn’t my father’s daughter, I wasn’t going to be swayed to the Dark Side by a good sales pitch and an enticing benefits package. I’d rather serve coffee to cranky people in the Three Willows and barely scrape by than sell my soul to Mr. Sexy Corpse. I’d get out of this, both Mac and me.

Unless, of course, Lex charged in and rescued us. Honestly though, I knew he couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t have legal grounds to barge into the Harrison building, and I knew all too well how unwilling he was to break the rules on my behalf. I’d voluntarily agreed to stay, more or less, and if I did manage to escape I’d make myself an oathbreaker in addition to being a kinslayer, which would pretty much ensure that no one in magical society would want to deal with me ever again. No point in being Titania if no one would talk to me.

I stood in front of the wall o’ clothes in the walk-in closet and wondered what the hell I was going to wear to dinner with Dracula. There were several dresses, ranging from airy sundresses to formal evening gowns, but there was no way anyone was getting me into another dress so soon after Portia’s stint as my Extreme Makeover Fairy Godmother. Not a single pair of blue jeans to be found in the whole mess, which I thought was proof of Harrison’s un-American activities. It appeared as though I would have to settle on a suit of some sort. There were plenty to choose from, so I picked out a deep blue suit jacket and matching conservative skirt, pairing it with a semi-ruffled white silk blouse.

Unsure of just when Harrison was going to drop by, I settled down in front of the beautiful giant television and started flipping channels. It had every channel imaginable-movie channels, sports channels, pay-per-view, everything. My heart sank as I flipped past the Game Show Network, wondering if Portia was perched on my couch right now trying to figure out the mysteries of the remote without me. It sank further at the thought that Tybalt would never again sit next to his sister, enthralled by the television.

Out of the five million channels I picked a special about baby tiger cubs in an animal refuge. Harrison arrived as the young tigers were gnawing on the legs of the refuge owner’s kitchen table, and I barely waved at him in greeting, mesmerized by the cuteness in high definition in front of me.

“I trust you find the room to your liking?”

“It’s very nice. I hope you’re not billing my charge card for it though, you’ll put me right over my limit.”

The vampire crossed the room and sat next to me on the couch, watching the screen with a bewildered expression on his face. “What are you watching?”

“Baby tigers.” He frowned at me, and I rolled my eyes at him. “What? You know there is life outside of FOX News.”

“Apparently so. What would you like for our dinner this evening?”

“I’m not on the menu, right?”

“I have no intention of harming you, Catherine,” he assured me.

“That’s avoiding the question, since I know full well you could bleed me and not cause any harm.” Harrison refused to dignify that with a reply, and I shrugged. “What are my options?”

“Whatever you want.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“So if I asked for a Big Mac and fries, we’d eat McDonald’s for dinner?”

The question seemed to throw him. I doubted Zachary Harrison had ever eaten McDonald’s in his entire life. He had been born into money, coming from a long line of wealthy businessmen with a somewhat sordid reputation-think “robber baron”. “If that’s what you wanted, yes.” He nodded firmly after a moment’s thought.

“Do you even eat? Vampires, I mean.” I tilted my head to the side as I regarded him. I knew they needed blood to survive, but I’d never found out if they were completely restricted to that liquid diet. Did they gain weight? Were there fat vampires out there somewhere, binging on doughnuts after feasting on the blood of the living?

“We can eat, but food no longer provides sustenance and isn’t easily digestible. Most consider it a nuisance and only eat when an occasion calls for it to keep up a mortal appearance.”

“A mortal appearance?” I snorted. “Oh, please. You’re not immortal. You’re just harder to kill.”

Dracula did not look pleased by my comment and again decided not to justify it with a reply. Apparently he’d been brought up better than I had. He definitely was more well spoken. Harrison sounded like the narrator for Masterpiece Theatre, and I sounded like a guest on Jerry Springer. Well, maybe not Springer, but something on daytime television.

“I don’t suppose we’ll be leaving the building for our dinner experience?”

“No, we’ll be dining in this evening.”

“I’m not really hungry.”

“You’re not going to attempt a hunger strike, are you?” Harrison raised an eyebrow, appearing amused by the idea.

“No, I’m not.” Though my hips could certainly stand a day or two without food, the only person I’d be hurting with a hunger strike would be me.

“You disapprove of the company then?” The vampire actually appeared hurt by that idea, and I blinked at him in surprise. I was hurting Dracula’s feelings? Go me. No, I meant bad! Bad Kitty! I needed to be on Harrison’s good side if I wanted to remain alive and in one piece. The problem was I didn’t think I had it in me to be nice to him. Sure, he was the prettiest man I ever did see, complete with good manners and a pleasant voice, but he was still a damn vampire. The best I could handle was to not light him on fire or stab him in the chest with a leg from one of the expensive wooden end tables.

“Why do you hate all necromancers?” he asked. The bluntness of the question made me pause.

“Because vampires destroyed my family.”

“A few unidentified vampires killed your mother, and that’s an excellent reason to hate those individuals, but why do you blame all of us?”

On the surface it seemed like a valid question that made me out to be some sort of supernatural racist, but I had no intention of letting it throw me. I sat up straighter in my seat and squared my shoulders. “Because you’re evil dead things who feed on the blood of the living and are a horrible crime against nature.”

“That’s quite a list of indictments. I take it you must be a vegetarian, who recycles, saves the rainforest, and drives the speed limit in a hybrid.”

“Very funny.” I frowned. “It’s not the same thing. You purposely and selfishly take yourselves out of the wheel of life. That’s a big karmic no-no.”

“If it’s such a ‘karmic no-no’, wouldn’t we have been punished by a higher power when the first vampire was created, instead of being allowed to flourish throughout the ages?”

“Oh, please. I can think of a lot of bad things that should’ve been destroyed on creation and weren’t. Like serial killers, or disco,” I countered with a roll of my eyes. I wasn’t about to accept the idea that vampires were okay just because they hadn’t been wiped off the face of the earth in a hail of holy vengeance. There were plenty of evil things out there that deserved to be smote into oblivion and yet weren’t. It’s almost as though the higher powers have a policy of “it’s your mess, you clean it up.”

“Well then, what makes you believe that we are incapable of doing good?”

“Your track record, for one thing, and just because you donate money to your family tax write-off charity doesn’t mean you’re a good guy.”

“Not even when that charity helps thousands of people throughout the world every year? I think you’re being a bit harsh, Catherine.”

“Aren’t those the same people you want to rule over with an iron fist?”

The vampire nodded, smiling dryly. “Yes, though that is not entirely accurate. I don’t propose that we crush the voids beneath our boots, I’m merely proposing that the magical races should be leaders, in the forefront of society. Not the mystic healer pushed away to live at the fringe of a village, the monster under the bed, or the martyr who chooses to burn rather than to fight back. We can’t trust the voids with our lives, not after the way they treated us in the past.” Seeing that I wasn’t convinced, he sighed and folded his hands in his lap. “Will you at least allow me to prove to you that I am not worthy of your hatred?”

“Umm, you kidnapped my best friend because you wanted him to be ‘insurance’. That doesn’t really inspire trust.”

“And he’s alive because of it, isn’t he? And unharmed as well.”

“There was blood on his hat when your faerie buddy showed up at my apartment.”

“I knew you would require proof that we did indeed have Mr. MacInnes. It was a painless blood draw, no worse than donating to the Red Cross.”

“Huh.”

“Would you like a glass of wine while you decide what you would like for dinner?” he suggested, and I nodded. He rose to his feet and crossed the room to the bar. He opened a bottle of white-smart move, I don’t drink red unless it’s a dessert wine-and to his credit he didn’t slip anything into the glass as he poured it. When Harrison returned I took the glass and thanked him, and he sat next to me on the couch again.

“Let me guess. You do not drink…wine…” I commented with a bad Béla Lugosi impression.

“Not generally, no.” He chuckled. “Have you decided, or should I order something to match the wine?”

I’m not exactly an expert on what matches with food. White wine went with fish? Maybe? Chicken? Letting the vampire pick would probably make him happy. “Sure, you can order.”

We chatted politely until dinner arrived, and then we moved to the suite’s table. I wasn’t sure what it was I ate-a series of fancy courses of tiny portions of strange cuisine. I almost felt like a judge on one of those gourmet cook-off shows. Yes, the presentation is lovely and the taste is subtle, yet profound. Not the sort of food my palate was accustomed to, working at the Three Willows and living on a diet of grease, salt and cheese. The vampire didn’t eat, which I expected but was still somewhat unnerving, and he continued to engage me in chitchat throughout the meal. This was the charming gentleman I’d seen in interviews. He was cultured, well-mannered and seemed genuinely interested in everything I had to say. If I didn’t know he was king of the undead castle, I’d have been very flattered by all the attention.

When dinner was over, Harrison decided to mix me up a cocktail while I sat at the bar and watched, surprised and impressed. I’m sure the man had a legion of people to do this sort of menial labor for him, yet he performed the task with efficient skill. As I sipped the drink, some sort of heavenly chocolate martini concoction, the vampire eyed me.

“Why Baker? I understand not keeping your father’s name, but Baker is not your mother’s maiden name.”

I wasn’t prepared for the question-no one had ever asked that before. “I wanted something that I felt represented me, and baking is something I’m good at. Baking cookies with my mom on the weekends was my favorite thing to do as a kid. I make awesome chocolate chip cookies.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“That’s one thing I love about the café: I’m a big believer in the healing power of food. A good burger can cure what ails you. It’s not an accident that my butt’s so big,” I joked.

“I wouldn’t call it big.”

“No?”

“No. Lovely would be a better word.”

I rolled my eyes at the compliment, and he shook his head at my reaction. “You still don’t like me very much.”

I blushed, feeling a bit bad that I was so transparent after he’d gone through the effort of being a courteous host. “No. Well, yes, but we aren’t working under ideal circumstances here. You’re Mr. Rich and Pulseless, and I’m just a waitress from the suburbs. A waitress who just happened to find her mother ripped apart by vampires. No matter how friendly you are, I can’t have a warm fuzzy feeling to all this.” I waved a hand at the gorgeous room around me for emphasis. “I’m not exactly here on vacation, considering you blackmailed me into staying.”

“Regardless, you are my guest, and I wish you to be as comfortable as you can be while you are here,” Harrison said, attempting to placate me. “And for the record, I do have a pulse.”

“You do?”

“See for yourself.” Pushing back the cuff of his sleeve, he bared his wrist and held it out to me across the polished wooden top of the bar. I eyed it warily, expecting some sort of trick. I reached out two fingers and lightly placed them against the vampire’s skin. He was cool to the touch, as though he’d been sitting under an air-conditioning vent for too long, but he wasn’t a popsicle. Not cold enough to qualify as a corpse, but still abnormal. Trying to remember back to my Girl Scout days and my first-aid patch, I felt around for a pulse. I found a slow, sluggish beat beneath my fingertips, like the sleepy tune of a waltz. I frowned, somewhat surprised, and then I caught the scent of smoke as I felt an electric line of heat shoot up through my fingers and zing through my body.

“Whoa!” Snatching my hand away, I glared at him. Rising to my feet, I stepped back from the bar.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to harm you.”

“What’d you do?”

“Increased my heartbeat to raise my body temperature. I didn’t realize you’d be affected by it. Actually I’m quite surprised you were able to sense it at all.” Harrison seemed impressed by my abilities. “You really are quite remarkable, Catherine.”

I opened my mouth to correct him, to tell him to call me Cat, but my good sense kicked in and reminded me that I didn’t want to be on a chummy, nickname basis with Dracula. Instead, I shrugged and thanked him.

“Well, now that I’ve made you uncomfortable I suppose this is a good point to end our evening,” Harrison said, smiling dryly. Stepping out from behind the bar, he crossed over to where I stood, and taking my hand, he raised it to his lips and brushed a light kiss across it. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Catherine.”

A faint blush stained my cheeks as I struggled to come up with a reply. It was most tempting to ask if I could go home now, but I had a feeling it wouldn’t go over well. Flustered, I stared up at him. He had stunning green eyes, the same shade of emerald green that my robes had been in my dream. Lex’s warning leapt into my thoughts, as though he stood behind me, speaking the words aloud. I backed away, but the vampire tightened his grip on my hand and pulled me tight against him.

The magic washed over me in a wave of smoke and lust, and I recognized it as the same seductive spell Simon had placed over me. My heart did a startled flip, and though my brain warned me to back the hell away, my body seemed to be happy right where it was. With one hand firm against my back, Harrison placed his free hand under my chin and turned my gaze up to his. The color had somehow drained from his eyes, making them a pale, watery green. The smoky smell intensified, and what little part of me that hadn’t been inundated by Harrison’s magic cringed in anticipation of being bitten.

And then he kissed me.

The sheer shock of it allowed me to shove more of his influence away, just enough to let me struggle in his arms. I felt a small but sharp nick of pain on my lower lip, and dimly recognized the faint taste of blood in my mouth. Aside from the bloodshed, Harrison was quite a talented kisser-I’m sure he had a lot of practice with the never-ending parade of models and Hollywood starlets the man dated. Yet aside from the spell I felt nothing, none of the fire and emotion I felt with Lex. This was empty, hollow. Fake.

I managed to turn my head away and break the kiss, but the vampire took that as an opportunity to plunge his fangs into my exposed throat. I shuddered and my legs went weak at the knees as another wave of power rushed through me. I didn’t think it possible, but the sensation was even stronger than Simon’s bite had been. The realization frightened me. I’d let Simon bleed me into unconsciousness, would I let Harrison bleed me to death?

Harrison moaned against me, like a diner appreciating exquisite cuisine, and I gathered my resolve to fight. His effect on me was magic, nothing more, and having experienced it before I was pretty sure I could fight it off if I concentrated hard enough. Focusing on the memory of Lex’s voice telling me not to let the vampire bite me, I gathered a wave of energy and shoved Harrison away with my shields. The energy fizzled and faded after a moment, as I was too scattered to concentrate enough to keep them up, but they’d helped. Harrison stared at me, almost slack-jawed with amazement, and I took the opportunity to haul back and slap him hard.

“I. Am not. For dinner,” I informed him, my voice weak and breathy. Staggering away, I backed toward the bedroom. It made no sense to try and head for the hallway-I’d only run right into the security guards and I doubt they’d be sympathetic to my plight.

“How did you do that?”

“Magic,” I said snidely.

“You severed the spell, that’s not possible.” The vampire glided toward me, the expression on his face reminiscent of a scientist studying a specimen under a microscope. I turned to bolt into the relative safety of the bedroom, but he moved with frightening, unnatural speed and caught my arm, hauling me back against him.

“It is too possible, you’re just used to easy women.” Wriggling and squirming, I tried to fight my way out of his iron grip. The stench of vampire magic rose around me so strong that my eyes watered, and it triggered a sneezing fit. Either it’s difficult to bite a girl who’s sneezing like someone with cat allergies standing in an animal shelter, or Harrison was just too shocked by the reaction to respond, because my neck remained fang free long enough for me to manage to put up my shields and shove him away again.

Like a terrified bunny I bounded through the doorway to the bedroom and cut to my left, through the closet and into the bathroom. Slamming the door behind me, I locked it and turned to my reflection to see how bad the damage was. My throat hadn’t been ravaged or anything, but there were definitely two bleeding holes in the side of my neck that would make a horror film director proud. With some arterial spray I’d qualify for a Tarantino movie.

“Catherine!” Harrison called from the other side of the door. The knob jiggled but refused to open. Thank goodness the man demanded quality construction in his buildings. I wiped my right hand over the wounds and placed my open palm flat against the door, drawing a sloppy protective pentacle.

“Open only for light and life, seal thyself from death and blight,” I breathed a quick impromptu spell. The smeared symbol glowed brilliant white for an instant, burning its image into the wood. An indignant, inhuman howl sounded from the other side of the door, and I drew myself up in satisfaction.

“I am not on the menu,” I yelled at the very top of my lungs. “Now get the fuck out!” Deciding to make my point clearer, I grabbed the nearest bottle of bath oils and hurled it at the door (after I’d backed away far enough to avoid the glass that exploded everywhere on impact). “Out, out, OUT!” I screeched, throwing another bottle with each word. The room filled with a horrid mix of floral scents, but I was really more concerned with the scent of dying embers that seeped in under the bottom of the door. It rattled on its hinges but stayed shut, and a long string of curses followed. I responded to said string of curses with one of my own, a parade of colorful metaphors commenting on Harrison’s parentage, breeding, manners and various suggestions of just what he could go do with himself.

Sitting as far as I could from the door, I snatched up a washcloth and held it to the side of my neck to staunch the bleeding, and then curled up and hugged my knees to my chest. I supposed it was a petty female thing to hide in the bathroom and throw things, but if being a petty female kept me from being on the dinner menu then I was all for it. Course I had no idea what I’d do when someone managed to open the door. I’d deal with that problem when it occurred.