shoulder, hiding the animal, swallowing back the panic. His arms tighten around me. “Hold on, Anna. We’ll be outside in a minute.”
He understands.
The door opens in front of us.
A figure in bass relief, a plangent voice.
“Rick. You’re not leaving? The party is just about to start.”
Something pulls tight within me.
I look into the face. Rugged, timeworn. Eyes cold, black, empty. Hair burnished copper, drawn back in a ponytail. Thin lips curve in a smile. No warmth. No humor.
I pull at Lance. “We have to go.”
Lance is staring at me. “Anna. This is Julian Underwood. This is my friend.”
No. This creature in his finely tailored suit is not anyone’s friend. This creature is not simply a vampire. This creature is evil.
Lance, get away.
But he doesn’t move. I know he’s staring at me. I know he’s confused. I feel it. I don’t take my eyes off the monster.
Anna. Please. You don’t know what you’re doing.
I do know. My fingers flex, curl into fists.
The animal in front of me, this Julian Underwood, draws himself up. He locks his eyes on mine. He’s old. Older than any other vampire I’ve met. Centuries old. He’s in my head, not just reading my fear but tasting it. He’s rolling it around like a kid rolling a lollipop around his mouth. He likes it. He wants more.
It’s grown quiet in a bubble around us. Humans come and go, passing us like a wake around a ship, not noticing the drama playing out in front of them. They laugh and chatter among themselves. There are five male vampires accompanying Julian, Stephen among them. They alone tense as they watch us. Their eyes are on their sire. They each have a female escort. Human. Young, beautiful. The women continue to talk among themselves, oblivious. They prattle on about hair and makeup and the beautiful gowns and jewels given them by their vampire escorts.
They are here for one purpose, and they are excited, eager. They are impatient for the pleasure that comes with being a blood host.
Only Underwood is alone.
Lance takes my arm. Gives it a gentle shake. “Anna. What’s the matter with you?”
Underwood stops him, removing Lance’s fingers and thrusting his hand away. You’ve done well, tonight, Broderick. You’ve brought me quite a gift.
Lance jolts upright. Gift?
Underwood is watching me. He feels my anger escalate. Smiles.
I look at Lance, raise my hand. “Don’t worry. You and I will be leaving together.”
Underwood’s rage takes control. Tell her, Broderick.
But Lance is shaking his head. No. I didn’t mean—
Underwood crooks a finger, sending a spear of white-hot pain at Lance. We all feel it, all of us under the influence of his mind. Lance cries out. The others stagger back.
I alone, remain still. The pain is intense, concentrated, a laser knife slicing at the core of my body. I want to fight it but something says no. Something tells me to focus on the pain, draw it in, redirect it.
Send it back.
Underwood closes his eyes. Only a tiny movement in his shoulders, an involuntary gasp, tells me it worked. Instead of debilitating him, though, the way it did Lance, the way it did the others, he welcomes it, absorbs it, lets it permeate his body and mind. After a moment, he licks his lips and smiles down at me.
You have a few tricks of your own, don’t you?
He snaps his fingers. Breaks the spell. Turns to Stephen and the others. Go inside. The private dining room is reserved for us. Tell Brian we’re ready.
As one, the five vampires and their hosts pick up the thread of their conversation as if nothing happened, move through the door, disappear into the interior of the restaurant. They show no reaction to the numbing pain of a moment before. Even Lance stands quietly beside me, his mind reflecting only concern for me. The events of the last five minutes lost.
I want to shake him. Scream. Snap him out of the fugue state he’s lost in.
Underwood speaks to me. And what about you, Anna Strong? Will you be
He understands.
The door opens in front of us.
A figure in bass relief, a plangent voice.
“Rick. You’re not leaving? The party is just about to start.”
Something pulls tight within me.
I look into the face. Rugged, timeworn. Eyes cold, black, empty. Hair burnished copper, drawn back in a ponytail. Thin lips curve in a smile. No warmth. No humor.
I pull at Lance. “We have to go.”
Lance is staring at me. “Anna. This is Julian Underwood. This is my friend.”
No. This creature in his finely tailored suit is not anyone’s friend. This creature is not simply a vampire. This creature is evil.
Lance, get away.
But he doesn’t move. I know he’s staring at me. I know he’s confused. I feel it. I don’t take my eyes off the monster.
Anna. Please. You don’t know what you’re doing.
I do know. My fingers flex, curl into fists.
The animal in front of me, this Julian Underwood, draws himself up. He locks his eyes on mine. He’s old. Older than any other vampire I’ve met. Centuries old. He’s in my head, not just reading my fear but tasting it. He’s rolling it around like a kid rolling a lollipop around his mouth. He likes it. He wants more.
It’s grown quiet in a bubble around us. Humans come and go, passing us like a wake around a ship, not noticing the drama playing out in front of them. They laugh and chatter among themselves. There are five male vampires accompanying Julian, Stephen among them. They alone tense as they watch us. Their eyes are on their sire. They each have a female escort. Human. Young, beautiful. The women continue to talk among themselves, oblivious. They prattle on about hair and makeup and the beautiful gowns and jewels given them by their vampire escorts.
They are here for one purpose, and they are excited, eager. They are impatient for the pleasure that comes with being a blood host.
Only Underwood is alone.
Lance takes my arm. Gives it a gentle shake. “Anna. What’s the matter with you?”
Underwood stops him, removing Lance’s fingers and thrusting his hand away. You’ve done well, tonight, Broderick. You’ve brought me quite a gift.
Lance jolts upright. Gift?
Underwood is watching me. He feels my anger escalate. Smiles.
I look at Lance, raise my hand. “Don’t worry. You and I will be leaving together.”
Underwood’s rage takes control. Tell her, Broderick.
But Lance is shaking his head. No. I didn’t mean—
Underwood crooks a finger, sending a spear of white-hot pain at Lance. We all feel it, all of us under the influence of his mind. Lance cries out. The others stagger back.
I alone, remain still. The pain is intense, concentrated, a laser knife slicing at the core of my body. I want to fight it but something says no. Something tells me to focus on the pain, draw it in, redirect it.
Send it back.
Underwood closes his eyes. Only a tiny movement in his shoulders, an involuntary gasp, tells me it worked. Instead of debilitating him, though, the way it did Lance, the way it did the others, he welcomes it, absorbs it, lets it permeate his body and mind. After a moment, he licks his lips and smiles down at me.
You have a few tricks of your own, don’t you?
He snaps his fingers. Breaks the spell. Turns to Stephen and the others. Go inside. The private dining room is reserved for us. Tell Brian we’re ready.
As one, the five vampires and their hosts pick up the thread of their conversation as if nothing happened, move through the door, disappear into the interior of the restaurant. They show no reaction to the numbing pain of a moment before. Even Lance stands quietly beside me, his mind reflecting only concern for me. The events of the last five minutes lost.
I want to shake him. Scream. Snap him out of the fugue state he’s lost in.
Underwood speaks to me. And what about you, Anna Strong? Will you be
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