CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
By nightfall, everything’s in place, and I park down the street from the recently deceased Bob Kline’s private estate, the location for this evening’s party.
I take a sip of my scalding hot triple latte and make one final rundown of everything. I cannot make one mistake tonight, and that includes keeping my emotions in check.
8:30 p.m. Time to go. I set my coffee in the cup holder, flip down the visor, pop in my crooked teeth, and smile. “You can do this. You are a badass.”
I reach for the bag on the passenger seat and get out my Jovan Musk for men. I take a quick whiff and cringe—my head immediately begins to pound. I douse my neck, put it away, and grab my handkerchief. Next I dab a little coffee in the middle and place the crumpled wad in my pocket.
“Showtime.”
I start the engine of my red Ferrari and roar up the long private driveway lined with giant cacti. I come to a screeching halt at the valet station, cutting in front of the long line of cars.
The crowd of people flowing inside the house give me side glances and frowns. Just as I hoped.
“Keep Shirley close,” I say with a deep Texan accent to the valet once he opens the door. “I like to know she’s never far.”
“Shirley?” the valet asks.
“My car—surely you ain’t gonna scratch her or I’ll skin ya alive.” I snort loudly for effect, hand the guy a hundred, and strut toward the door, the heels of my black cowboy boots clacking on the sidewalk.
Yes, this is my disguise—eccentric cowboy nerd, complete with beer belly, extra-wide hips, a fake nose, long blond beard, stringy wig, and a ten-gallon hat. I smell like I’ve just rolled out of a whorehouse and had a long night of gambling, thanks to the whiskey I spilled on my pants and the thirty minutes I spent at the local Indian casino before heading over.
Profession #7: detective’s assistant, late 1900s. Skills acquired include surveillance, disguises, and hiding in plain sight. Especially around vampires. The belligerent cowboy was my all-time best costume.
Almost to the grand front door with open double doors and a large crystal chandelier in the foyer, I see there’s a check-in table. Guess who is sitting there. Viviana.
I push my right hand in my pocket, making sure to get it nice and moist with that coffee. Not only will it mask my smell, but the sweaty feel is a human thing. Vampires don’t sweat.
I saunter up behind a woman in a black dress already at the table. She’s thin, middle-aged, and alone.
Perfect.
“Mary Withers,” the woman says to Viviana, who checks her off the list.
“Welcome.” Viviana gives a polite nod. “Come in and help yourself to some refreshments. The festivities will begin in five minutes.”
Five minutes. Good.
Mary heads inside, and I step up, tipping my large black cowboy hat. “Well, howdy, beautiful lady.” I take Viviana’s hand and kiss the top, being sure to leave lots of palm sweat and warm slobber on her skin. Humans have warm saliva, and with the nice hot coffee I’ve just consumed, I am Mr. Toasty Moist Lips.
“Eww…” She jerks her hand away. “I mean—welcome. Can I get a name?”
“Frank. Frank Blackstone,” I say, being sure to let my twang shine through my horrible dentures.
For the record, Frank Blackstone is a real person who owns a cattle ranch in Texas. If Viviana were to Google him, she would find he’s wealthy, single, and looks very much like the man standing before her, who is about to cause a scene.
Vampires do not like scenes. Especially when humans are around, and there are many tonight, though I still don’t know exactly what this scam is all about.
Viviana’s eyes scan the clipboard. “I’m not seeing you on the list.”
“Well, Bob and I go way back. He invited me last week.” I sway a little, feigning inebriation.
“He must’ve forgotten to put you on the list,” she says politely, her green eyes nervously shifting from side to side.
“Now, let me have a lookie there, ma’am.” I rudely grab her roster and push my huge square glasses up my nose.
“Well,” I spout, “damn that Bob. Always fergettin’ stuff. Where is he?” I look over her head into the party. “Bob! Ye old button head! Where ya hidin’? You know he owes me money too! Bob!”
“Sir? Sir?” Viviana says anxiously. “He’s not here yet.”
“Oh. Well, then…” I pull out my phone. “Let’s just give the buzzard a call.” Of course, according to Aspen, Bob Kline is dead, and I’m calling my own home so I know it will just ring and ring, which she is able to hear with her wonderful vampire ears.
“He’s not answering.” I look back at the people behind me, the line to enter growing longer by the second. “Anyone here seen Bob?” I point to a lady directly behind me. “You seen Bob? When’s he comin’?”
“Sir…” Viviana growls. “It’s fine. Just go inside,” she speaks quietly, too rattled by the scene I’m making. Also, I suspect they’re on a firm schedule for whatever is going to happen at this party. I have many theories about what that is, but none matter. It’s how I play my hand tonight that counts and nothing more.
“Thank ya kindly.” I tip my hat again and go inside, stalking after the woman who came in right before me. The room, filled with about sixty guests, is open with a high ceiling and gold curtains. There’s a bar in the corner and a sitting area, but everyone is standing and socializing.
“Mary! Mary is that you?” She’s alone, and my pretending to know her will help me blend in.
I walk toward Mary and immediately notice one very strange fact. There are no vampires in this room. Not one.
Knowing how this place looked and smelled after the last party, I suddenly wonder if these dinner guests are the dinner and the real guests are on their way.
Is this what Aspen is up to? Holding slaughter parties. It was a big thing before our vampire revolution.
“Do I know you?” asks Mary.
“Now, don’t you go tellin’ me you don’t remember. I’m Bob’s old college friend. Frank, Frank Blackstone.”
As she’s crinkling her lips, trying to place my face, I hear a valet by the front door inform Viviana that the bus has arrived.
The bus? If it is full of hungry vampires, this room is about to become a giant bloodbath. If Lula is here, perhaps they intend to feed her to these vampires, too. We both have rare, ancient blood, guaranteed to add at least a hundred years to anyone’s strength.
The moment chaos breaks out, I must go find her and get her out of here.
“No, I am so sorry,” Mary says. “I don’t remember you.”
“That fundraiser a couple o’ years ago.” I smile down on her. “We danced the two-step.”
It dawns on me that this woman is about to die. They are all about to die. I cannot let that…
My thoughts get away from me when a familiar human enters the room. Miriam?
She’s in a short blue dress and black heels. Her blonde hair is up in an elegant bun, and she’s wearing big black-rimmed glasses. She looks breathtaking—bookworm chic. I try not to stare, but I immediately feel the pull. I’ve missed her. I’ve missed her sweet smell and tiny mouse-like voice. I’ve missed her warm brown eyes.
Stop. I pull my gaze back to Mary, who’s going on and on about how excited and nervous she is to be here.
Meanwhile, out of the corner of my eye I see a tall man, with short black hair, wearing a black suit and green tie, come up behind Miriam and hand her a glass of white wine.
Jeremy. Why the hell did he bring her here? He can’t possibly want her to be on the menu. She has his blood. He should want to protect her.
I look away, fully realizing that she could be here as leverage against me. They are expecting me to show up, fangs out, ready to draw blood in a heroic attempt to save Lula.
A loud clank on a glass catches the room’s attention. It’s Aspen in a black suit with a red tie, a slimy smile on his face. “Everyone, I would like to welcome you to our party.”
I brace myself for a flood of vicious, hungry vampires to come tearing through the room.
Aspen continues. “As before, only thirty will be selected tonight. If you are new to our parties, you’ll find the silent bid sheets here on the table or being passed around the room. Write your name and bid amount on the sheet and place it inside the box. We will announce the winners shortly after. If you are chosen, then we’ll move ahead to dinner—” everyone chuckles “—and proceed to the waiting bus outside.”
Huh? I have no clue what is going on. And regrettably not on my list of professions: psychic.
Mary claps, bouncing up and down in front of me. “Oh, I’m so excited. I’m going to be chosen this time. I can feel it. How much are you bidding?”
“Errrr…haven’t decided just yet.”
“I’m putting down at least one.”
“One thousand, huh?” I wish I knew what we are talking about.
She laughs. “You’re a hoot.” She grabs my arm. “But seriously, do you think one is enough. Should I go up to one point five million? I really, really want this, but I need something to live off of after.”
After? And she’s spending one point five million dollars…and…I realize everyone in the room is having a similar conversation, only they’re throwing around words like eternity, drinking blood, I’ll be young forever.
Oh. They aren’t going to be eaten. They are going to do the eating.
Lula! They are selling Lula’s blood. My stomach constricts into a knot of rage I quickly tamp down. Not only do they plan to allow thirty of these guests to drink Lula to death, but then they plan to snap all their necks and turn them. My mind races through the scene left behind from the last party, about the time that Clive was killed. The sorrow I feel has no words.
They drank Clive. Sold him to the highest bidders. And then they loaded all of these fresh new vampires on a bus and took them out for a night of fun.
The ranch. The piles of dead bodies. That must’ve been where they took everyone after the last party to feed.
From the corner of my eye, I see Jeremy go to Aspen and whisper something in his ear.
Aspen nods. “Sorry, everyone. A small change of plans. There are only twenty-nine slots tonight.”
Sonofabitch. Is he going to turn Miriam? Why would he do that?
A subtle groan erupts through the room, and it takes every ounce of restraint I have not to go off the rails. Miriam cannot possibly know what’s happening because I feel her emotions. She’s uncomfortable and feeling out of place, but it’s not in line with how someone might feel if they knew they were about to drink blood, have their neck broken, and wake up in an hour with an urge to gnaw on some necks. Being turned is terrifying at best.
Jeremy probably told her it’s some eccentric fundraiser involving a dinner and night out on the town. She doesn’t know, and I certainly can’t allow them to do it.
“I guess that means I’ll have to go higher,” says Mary. “Here you go. I got you one, too.” Mary hands me a slip of paper and a pen she’s grabbed from a waiter who’s walking around the room passing them out and then collecting them in a box.
“Thanks.” I take it, write down an outrageous number—three point two million dollars—fold it, and hand it back to the waiter.
Mary does the same, and I try my best to focus on her. It’s nearly impossible with Miriam so close.
I turn my back to Miriam and pretend to listen to Mary chatting away about how she’ll “die” if she’s not picked.
“You’ll die if you are.” I snort for effect.
“Right! I know.” She chuckles.
How is it possible that they all see this as a game? I’m sure Aspen has done a marvelous job of selling these people on the enormous perks of having a severe sun allergy, raging temper, and mild psychosis for the first eighty years as everyone you’ve ever known or loved dies of old age. And these people will not have a maker to guide them. They will have no one to help them through any of it. They’ll go mad. Then they’ll either go on a killing rampage and have to be put down, or they’ll commit suicide.
There is no glorious, immortal, vampire future for any of them, though Aspen and his society are clearly making substantial sums of money. Explains the watch. And Bob’s house. It doesn’t explain the cartel’s involvement or how Miriam got mixed up in all this. Although, Bob Kline really wanted her land for something. But what?
After a few minutes, me keeping my distance from Miriam, I see the box is collected, and Aspen and Viviana go through the bids, circling names on their guest roster. Viviana keeps checking the door, and I suspect it’s because she’s looking for me. Aspen, on the other hand, appears content, happily counting all of the dollar signs about to come his way.
He doesn’t expect me, I realize. But Viviana does. So this wasn’t a trap? She really hoped I’d come and save Lula.
I cannot be sure, and trusting anyone is completely off the table.
I see Aspen nod at Viviana and then move to the side of the room. “Everyone, before I announce the twenty-nine lucky guests, we again thank you for coming this evening. If you are not chosen, please take your leave. If your name is called, congratulations.” Aspen clears his throat and reads off the names.
Mine is the first, and I sigh with relief. Obviously I do not want to leave.
“Wow. Congratulations,” Mary says, squeezing my arm.
Her name is called last, and she squeals. “Ohmygod! Ohmygod!” She jumps on me, wrapping her arms around my neck and nearly making me lose the wig.
There is a moment when I see Miriam flash a glance my way, and our eyes meet. I am wearing thick glasses, but the way her cupid bow lips smash together alarms me.
Has she recognized me?
It is certainly possible, but not likely. I’ve had decades of experience perfecting my disguise. It is as good as anything one might see in a Hollywood film. Think Val Kilmer as the nutty professor in The Saint or Ralph Fiennes as Lord Voldemort. Nevertheless, part of me hopes she does see behind the latex because it would mean that she senses me.
“Well, guess it’s time to pay up.” Mary pulls her phone from her evening bag and begins tapping away.
And there is the hitch I didn’t think of: Actually having to pay three point two million dollars. For the record, my net worth is upwards of a hundred million; however, given I am not allowed to live an overtly luxurious lifestyle, most of my funds are tied up in long term—very, very long term—investments. No millions just sitting around in my checking account.
I think quickly. Either way, I’m at the end of this portion of my plan. I cannot allow anyone to start feasting on my Lula.
“Congratulations to the chosen ones,” announces Aspen. “Please see Viviana for a quick orientation and then get ready. It’s going to be a fun, eventful night!”
Oh yes, we are all going to juggle and eat cake. So much fun!
I walk over to the bar and order a tall glass of whiskey. The young bartender slides it over, and I throw it back.
“Hey there, junior. How ’bout pointing me towards the men’s room. Time to shake the lizard,” I say loudly.
“Down the hallway, first door on the right.”
“Thank ya kindly.” I head in that direction, ensuring to add a little stumble and sway to my step. Once in the hallway, I try to sniff out Lula, but the downside of my enticing aftershave is that I cannot smell a thing. The good news is I do not see any vampires stationed inside the house. Whoever is guarding this party is outside, which will make it easier for me to get to Lula. I slip into the bathroom and get to work wiping off as much of the odor as I can. I will have a minute, two tops, before my scent permeates into the living room, but I need a clear nose to find Lula quickly.
I close my eyes for a moment and clear my mind.
This is it.