At dinner, their goal was to facilitate a match between two of the other guests. Andrei and Clara both had very distinct auras, strong in their own ways. Lawrence found them particularly interesting because Amaia recognized both of them. Ever since her study of reincarnation, she’d been alert to the possibility of finding familiar energies. It helped in her quest to make sense of Michael and justified her studies to Lawrence. Andrei’s aura was bold, extending further than most mortals, while Clara’s was warm and rich, amplified. Both distinct and familiar. Their offspring would make an interesting study.
Amaia had one job during dinner. It wasn’t to be clever or appealing. She didn’t even need to pay attention to the conversation, which was a relief since she usually found it dull and trite. Her sole focus was on the auras of Andrei and Clara. The abnormally strong energies in the area had given her much to play with, and she was learning to do more than just warm herself with them. If she concentrated hard enough, she found she could slightly alter a human’s energy.
Clara was a charming young woman. Her rich brown eyes were always bright, and her chestnut hair silky. She was modest and timid, the way men liked women they were to marry. Her looks ensured that Andrei stole glances at her across the table. Every time he did so, Amaia reached out to his energy, massaging it into mimicking the energy of a human in love. Over the last couple of years, she had become quicker at it, but it still took time.
It appeared to be working. Andrei kept looking at Clara. Amaia renewed the feeling. After all, the girl wasn’t that beautiful. His eyes took on the warm look of a man besotted. Clara caught Andrei gazing at her. Amaia jumped to her energy, working it in the same way as she had the man’s. It was easier. Clara was a more naturally loving person. Amaia wished she could work on both auras at once. That would be the next skill to learn. She hoped that eventually she’d be able to alter a mortal’s energy almost instantaneously.
After dinner, the men and women separated. The rest of the evening passed in an unbearably boring blur. Amaia had no interest in the conversation. She only paid attention so she could manipulate Clara’s energy any time Andrei was mentioned.
“May we leave, Lawrence?”
“Soon, but not yet, my dear.”
“Are you sure boredom can’t kill our kind? It sure feels like it might.”
Lawrence chuckled. Amaia loved the sound and took pride in it. Lawrence rarely found anything genuinely funny. “It sounds as if you aren’t being creative enough.”
“How do you mean?”
“It seems to me like this is a great time to practice your skills.”
“I’ve been manipulating that empty-headed girl’s energy all night. I’m developing a theory that her aura is so strong because it’s composed of energy diverted from her brain.”
“An interesting theory, definitely worth further study. But I wasn’t referencing Clara. This new power of yours can be used for more than just facilitating our breeding program.”
“Are you saying that I should stir a little mischief?”
“Have fun. Just don’t cause too much trouble.”
Amaia had been so caught in her own bloodlust and fighting her own angel—she had to call Michael that; it wasn’t fair to call him a demon, and if either one of them was a demon in this situation, it was most definitely her—that she had only devoted the minimal time Lawrence required to her skills. It had never occurred to her that she could use them in ways other than pleasing her sire. The evening had just become more interesting.
Amaia surveyed the women around her. So far, Amaia had only influenced strong auras. They were easier to sense in the level of detail needed to reshape them. Plus, all the people she and Lawrence wanted to manipulate had stronger energies. There had never been a reason to mess with anyone else’s aura.
With the possibilities of her newfound power in mind, Amaia was eager to find out just how far her reach extended. Could she completely change a person’s feelings? Make a woman believe she felt fear where there was joy? It was tempting to try, but Amaia knew it was asking too much. It would be difficult enough working with the smaller canvas of a weak aura. Best to start by amplifying existing feelings and proceed from there.
“Elena, why don’t you tell us about your wedding plans?” one of the old biddies asked.
“Things are coming along nicely.” Elena sat her drink down in preparation for being the center of attention, a position she took to with ease. “My dress is absolutely gorgeous. Papa has spared no expense. I only hope it’s ready in time. I don’t know how the dressmaker is going to do it.”
On and on. After fifteen minutes going over every detail of the dress, it was time to move on to the wedding party and who was invited and who wasn’t and the dreaded task of having to snub some people because simply wanting an invitation was not enough. Then on to the wedding feast and the care that was being taken to make sure there was something appetizing for everyone in attendance, even dear Aunt Olga who found almost everything disagreeable.