Night Huntress 02 - One Foot in the Grave

“Of course. How rude of me. My name is Spade.”

 

 

I controlled my expression to show nothing, but inwardly I grinned. This was Bones’ best friend. Years ago when we met, I’d automatically assumed he was a bad guy and tried to smash his head in with large stones. After Bones arrived and cleared up his identity, Spade had brushed himself off—and then roundly criticized me for my method of introduction.

 

“Spade. Nice name. Were you forced to pick from a comic book or something?”

 

I knew why he’d chosen the name, of course. Spade had been a South Wales prisoner along with Bones. The overseer used to call the former Baron Charles DeMortimer by his assigned tool, a spade. He’d kept the name so he wouldn’t forget his former helplessness.

 

His mouth twitched before he stilled it. “I’ll ponder my choice later, angel. If you would step this way? I’m going to search you for weapons.”

 

The other eight formed a protective circle around us as Spade ran his hands leisurely and thoroughly over me. When he was finished, he wore a slight grin.

 

“Now it’s a pleasure meeting you.” He inclined his head toward one of the cars. “After you.”

 

We drove to a deserted road where a helicopter waited. There was no more conversation. I drummed my fingernails on my leg as we took off. The other vampires kept staring at me, but I ignored them. For his part, Spade was silent, but every so often, he’d cast a sideways smirk at me.

 

We landed just over two hours later. I didn’t have a watch, but guessed the time around eleven-thirty. Soon, then. Very soon. I said a silent prayer that no one but my father would get killed tonight, and then I got out to start the party.

 

 

 

Ian certainly liked to entertain in style. This house was even grander than his last one, a virtual mansion. Gardens formed eerie shapes in the moonlight, and torches were decoratively displayed for maximum effect. Sculptures frozen in permanent pose either welcomed or warned, and some of them were downright barbaric. Idly, I wondered if the ancient-looking Greek ones were authentic as we crossed underneath a marble trellis. Knowing Ian’s penchant for rare and valuable things, they probably were.

 

The collective force of supernatural power that hit me when the doors opened made me pause. It was like walking into liquid electrocution with all the inhuman currents buzzing around. Good God, what kind of creatures were in here? A twinge of apprehension shot through me. This was the big leagues and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to go pro, but it was too late to turn back now.

 

There was a gauntlet of vampires and ghouls lining the hall we strode through. The weight of their stares was heavy, but I looked straight ahead and forced my legs not to tremble. Never show fear. That would be the same as ringing a dinner bell.

 

A set of impressively carved, giant double doors were pulled open by two attending vampires. Spade motioned for me to go inside. I squared my shoulders and straightened my spine, gliding into the dangerous unknown as casually as if I were Cinderella to the ball.

 

Thunderdome, was my first thought. Gothic, luxurious Thunderdome. An amphitheater of sumptuous chairs, couches, and pedestals circled an open bare center that could have been an arena. The room was set up stadium style, with each level overlooking the ominous square platform. Since my path took me in a straight line to center stage, that’s where I went.

 

Murmurs broke out at the sight of me, so many it was hard to translate. Apparently I was the main attraction tonight. How flattering. With sheer willpower I refused to search the dozens and dozens of faces for the one I loved. Bones was here. Even in the maelstrom of whirling energies, I could feel him. Hell, I could smell him after downing all that blood last night.

 

Ian was seated front and center like royalty. The lowest balcony was one level up from the platform, so I tilted my head toward him and feigned surprise.

 

“So you’re the one who’s behind all this? Serves me right for not twisting that knife before. Come on down and I’ll fix my oversight.”

 

Ian had dressed up as well, wearing a vintage flowing shirt with ruffles of antique silk. I guessed it was late seventeen hundreds, from the style. Its pearly color nearly matched his skin, and his chestnut hair was tastefully arranged. Turquoise eyes gleamed at me with anticipation.

 

“Your prissy pants suit didn’t begin to do you justice, Catherine. You are simply dazzling.”

 

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