Chapter Five
"There you are, princess!"
Lilith was on her way out when her father called her.
"What is it, Dad?" she sighed.
Victor Todd took in the purple wool sheath dress with black-and-white patent leather trim and the red soles of the Louboutin pumps his daughter was wearing. "Very nice!" he said, nodding in approval. "Are you going out with Jules tonight?"
"I'm meeting him at the Belfry," Lilith said. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't the truth, either. She glanced at the Patek Philippe watch on her wrist. "Did you want to ask me something, Dad? Because I need to be somewhere and I'm running late. . . ."
"I just wanted to remind you that your mother is flying in from Monte Carlo for your debut at the Grand Ball. Her flight should arrive at JFK before dawn."
"Wonderful," Lilith groaned, far from thrilled by the news. "I can't wait."
She surveyed her father. He was still unaware she knew the truth about Cally, and Lilith wanted to keep it that way for as long as possible. Up until the moment she tasted her sister's blood, Lilith had been content to play the part chosen for her by her family. But now she knew her father had lied to her from the moment she was born, stringing her along with promises of power and privilege. She felt like some pathetic clot gulled into surrendering her blood in exchange for immortality, only to discover it included an eternity of servitude. It was only fair she get back at him by secretly rattling his cage, and it was easier for her to manipulate the situation if she didn't tip her hand. Besides, she enjoyed the feeling that came with knowing something her father did not know. It made her feel powerful.
"Oh, by the way, Dad, I almost forgot to mention it-but I had a bit of a run-in with the Maledetto twins yesterday."
Victor's smile disappeared. "Where?"
"Bergdorf's."
"Were they alone?"
Lilith shook her head. "Melinda and the New Blood were with them."
"What New Blood?" Victor frowned.
"You know, the stormgatherer I told you about," Lilith replied casually. "The one that got Tanith killed."
"This New Blood is associating with the Male dettos?"
Lilith had to fight to keep from giggling. Her father was trying sooo hard to make it look like he wasn't deliberately pumping her for information. Judging by the scowl on his face, he had been completely unaware of his little love child's taste in friends.
"They're thick as thieves. In fact, one of the Maledettos' drivers has been dropping the newbie off and picking her up from school."
"What could Vinnie Maledetto possibly want from this girl?" Victor mused aloud, his brow so deeply furrowed it looked like it was folded in on itself. The head butler, Curtis, suddenly appeared in the doorway.
"Sorry to interrupt, Master, but there's an urgent call for you. It concerns the Williamsburg branch."
"Tell them I'll be right there." Victor turned back to Lilith, flashing her a wan smile. "Sorry, princess-I'm afraid I have some business I simply must attend to. I hope you enjoy yourself tonight."
"Don't worry, Dad." She smiled. "I already am."
The taxi smelled like ass, and the driver was so ugly he made an Orlock look good, but Lilith did not dare use the family chauffeur on her little jaunt to Tribeca. As she rode up the elevator of the six-story brick warehouse that had been converted into loft space for stockbrokers, lawyers, and at least one fashion photographer, she could not resist using the stainless steel surface of the elevator doors to primp herself one last time.
"Welcome to my humble abode." Kristof smiled as he opened the door.
"Wow," Lilith said, staring up at the twenty-foot ceiling of the photographer's living room and work space. "I've never seen a loft where the person living in it also worked out of it!"
"You mean you've never been in a real loft before."
Kristof chuckled as he helped her out of her black leather coat. "I was living here before Tribeca became trendy. The realtors basically had to do the conversion around me."
Lilith walked around the cavernous space full of backdrops, cameras, tripods, lighting stands, and photogenic umbrellas. She came to a stop in front of a wheeled wardrobe rack packed with costumes, hats, and other accessories.
"Do you do all your work here?" she asked.
"Only private shoots, like for friends or models who hire me to shoot their comp cards. You know, business cards," he explained on seeing the blank look in his guest's eyes. "So, tell me about yourself, Lili. . . ."
"Like what?" she asked as she pulled a feather boa off the rack and began arranging it around her neck.
"How about your last name, for starters?" Kristof suggested, picking up one of his cameras.
"My last name?" Lilith froze, careful to keep her face turned so he couldn't see the panic in her eyes. She did not dare give him her real name. But she couldn't call herself Smith or Jones or something bogus like that. It had to sound authentic, but not so distinctive it could be easily traced. Suddenly it came to her. "It's Graves. Lili Graves." Surely Tanith wouldn't mind Lilith using her surname as a secret tribute.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Graves,"
Kristof replied, snapping a shot of her with the feather boa draped about her shoulders. "Have you been photographed before?"
"Never."
Kristof obviously meant whether she had ever posed for a professional photographer before, but in this case Lilith was telling the honest truth. She was almost seventeen years old and there were no baby pictures, no vacation snapshots of her skiing in the Alps, no Polaroids of birthday parties, no home movies of her celebrating Long Night, the most important holiday of the vampire calendar. There was absolutely no photographic evidence of any kind to prove she ever existed. Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
"So, are you a student?"
"Yes."
"Hunter or NYU?"
He thinks I'm a college student! Lilith had to pull the corners of her mouth down to keep from smiling.
"Columbia, actually." She folded her arms, giving him a quizzical look, which he promptly snapped a picture of. "Have we started the shoot?"
"Not exactly," Kristof admitted. "How old are you?
Eighteen? Nineteen?"
"Eighteen." It was another lie, of course, but what was one more on top of all the others?
"Are you new to the city?"
"No, I've lived here all my life-look, are you going to keep playing Twenty Questions?" she asked impatiently. "Because I'm really not comfortable telling you anything else about me right now. The only reason I called you is because I saw you with that model the other day. That's when I realized you were for real and not just some perv."
"I understand. You're a beautiful girl. It's a dangerous world. I'm sure you have strange men coming on to you all the time," Kristof said smoothly, a hint of admiration in his voice. "It's just that whenever I shoot someone I've never worked with before, I like to take a few casual shots to get a feel for how they move and hold themselves. The questions are a means of breaking the ice and getting familiar with you before I start shouting directions while shoving a honking-huge camera lens into your face. So . . . you were at the trunk show the other day? Funny, I did not see you there."
"I'm not surprised. You were utterly focused on that Gala bitch."
Kristof lowered his camera while raising an eyebrow.
"You know her, then?"
"No," Lilith said quickly. "But I overheard her in the ladies' room, talking to a girl who asked her for modeling tips. She said some pretty mean things to her."
"Yes, well, the fashion world is full of divas, both in front of and behind the cameras." Kristof sighed. "Why don't we go ahead and get started for real?" He pointed to one corner of the loft, where a white backdrop stood in front of the exposed brick wall.
"So what do you want me to do?" Lilith asked.
"Just stand there for the time being until I get the lighting adjusted," he replied.
As the hot overhead light came on, Lilith instinctively raised a hand to shield her eyes. "Is that really necessary?" she asked.
"Only if you want to look like something other than a shadow. Besides, you have truly gorgeous hair and the most amazing eyes I've ever seen, and I want to properly highlight those features on film."
"You really mean that?" Lilith asked. Her threshold tolerance for flattery was so high that normally anything short of adoration failed to register on her ego. But there was something about Kristof that made even the slightest compliment feel like the highest of praise.
"Hold that feeling, whatever it is!" Kristof said excitedly, bringing his camera back up. "Your face looks like it's glowing! It is sooo completely real!"
"Really?"
"I told you I never lie unless I'm in love-and even then, not until the third date!"
"You're terrible!" She giggled.
"That's it! Toss your head back-let me see that wonderful hair of yours fly!" Kristof reached over and switched on the fan next to him, aiming the airflow in such a way that it moved through Lilith's honey-blond locks like a gentle summer breeze. "Okay, Lili-I want you to imagine that there's an invisible thread pulling your head back and your chin up. No, higher. Higher. That's it! Stop! Perfect! Look at that long, beautiful neck!"
Lilith struck pose after pose, throwing her head back, shifting her weight between her hips, and striking asymmetrical stances, just like she'd seen the models do on Bravo and E! At first she felt kind of silly and selfconscious, but as Kristof shouted encouragement, she began to feel more and more confident.
"That's it, girl-work the boa! There we go-there's the shot! Beautiful! Rock the boa! There ya go! That's good! Now, I want you to keep playing with the boa while moving around-that's it! Keep shifting! Oh, yeah, I like that! Don't second-guess yourself, just go for it! Hold on a second, sweetie . . ." He sprinted over to the wardrobe rack and came back with a paper parasol.
"Here, I want you to swap out the boa for this."
"And do what?"
"Whatever you want-use your imagination!"
Lilith frowned for a moment, then opened the
parasol and began to carefully walk heel over toe, pretending she was a circus acrobat up on the high wire in the center ring. She could almost smell the sawdust and make out the faces of the spellbound audience watching her from below.
"Perfect! Absolutely perfect," Kristof crowed, dropping down on one knee. "Okay, bring your face around to me but don't get caught doing it. Don't wrinkle your nose-keep your face relaxed. That's it!"
Normally Lilith despised it when others told her what to do, but when Kristof told her to move her arm or adjust her legs, she didn't mind in the least. In fact, she followed his instructions to the letter. For some reason, it seemed important to please him, even though she was at a loss to understand why.
As she finished her imaginary high-wire act with a curtsy to her audience, the opening bars to "Freeze Frame" suddenly broke the silence. Kristof reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone.
"Excuse me for a moment, will you?" he said apologetically. "I have to take this. Hello-?" The veins on the photographer's temples seemed to double in size as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line.
"What?!?" He looked up at the exposed beam ceiling in frustrated disbelief. "You're kidding me, right? When did it happen? Uh-huh. Is she okay? The doctors said what- ? Well, no wonder she fell down the stairs!
Karl, I've already booked the hair and makeup personnel and there's no getting the deposit back on the rental space for the shoot! You know the deadlines as well as I do. There's no way we can wait until she's ready and still make the cutoff dates. And finding another model on such short notice is going to be impossible. . . ."
Kristof paused and glanced over his shoulder at Lilith, who was pretending she wasn't eavesdropping on his conversation.
"Is something wrong?" Lilith asked, trying to look as innocent as possible.
"Hold on a minute, Karl-I think I might have
someone we can use. She's a brand-new face and a natural in front of the camera! Is she pretty? She's an absolute knockout! She doesn't have Gala's Malibu Barbie vibe, but she is classy. Very classy. How about we push back the shoot a day or so? I'll email you the pictures I've taken so far and you can decide whether you want to go with her or try and book another model through one of the agencies. Uh-huh. Great! I'll talk to you tomorrow, then."
Kristof slapped the cell phone shut and turned to grin at Lilith. "That was the U.S. rep for Maison d'Ombres. Guess what? Your pal Gala dropped some acid last night and ended up at the bottom of a flight of stairs. She's not going to be available for three months. Look, I realize that this is exceptionally short notice, not to mention a seriously huge leap-but I wasn't bullshitting when I told the rep you're a natural talent. Not only do you have the looks, Lili, you have the fire. I can see it in your eyes. You were born to be in front of the camera."
"You think I'm that good?" Lilith said, pretending to hesitate.
"Princess, you are so far beyond good it's scary! Just tell me you'll take the job, Lili."
"Okay, I'll do it."
She had originally intended to use her mesmeric abilities to beguile Kristof into offering her the modeling job, but it was nice to know that she didn't have to rely on blatant mind control in order to get what she wanted.
Lilith couldn't remember the last time she was so happy. The mixture of excitement and elation she was feeling was better than shopping, sex, and feeding combined. Not even looking in a mirror could compare to the rush that came from standing in front of a camera. But the greatest thrill of all came from pretending she was no longer Lilith Todd, super-rich vampire debutante, but Lili Graves-a girl with no fixed history and no true past, but with a world of limitless possibilities before her. As Lili Graves she was free to be whatever she wanted to be-even a human.
How messed up was that?
"I'm going to go get myself a drink," Sergei announced.
"Can I get either of you anything?"
Jules nodded and handed him a red-stained glass.
"Yeah, another scotch."
"Anything for you, comrade." Sergei smiled crookedly. Once Sergei was safely out of earshot, Carmen leaned across the divan, her green jersey halter dress providing Jules with an unobstructed view of her cleavage.
"I thought he'd never leave," she purred as she placed a hand on Jules's upper thigh. He shifted about uncomfortably but did not remove her hand from his leg. "I've been waiting for the right time to ask you this. . . ."
"Ask me what?"
"What do you think, silly?" Carmen replied coquettishly. "Do you want to escort me to the Grand Ball?"
"No." The answer was as bald and blunt as a billiard ball.
Carmen drew her hand back. The look on her face was one of utter disbelief. "What did you just say?"
"I said: 'no,' as in I do not want to escort you to the Grand Ball."
"But-I thought you liked me!" Carmen's voice wavered, threatening to crack.
"I like banging you," Jules sneered. "Don't get the two confused, okay?"
Carmen got to her feet and hurried off. Jules heaved a sigh of relief.
"Where did Carmen go?" Sergei asked as he returned with the drinks.
"She went to the restroom," Jules said. "I think she's upset because I said I don't want to be her escort."
Sergei shook his head in disgust. "Chicks! There's no figuring them out-especially in this country! The girls here are too influenced by human media. The Founders had the right idea-it's better to keep a harem. That way you don't have to worry about one of them getting too much power over you."
"Are you insane?" Jules laughed. "If I had multiple brides, I'd be constantly breaking up catfights. I'd never get any peace!"
"Speaking of catfights: where is Lilith?" Sergei asked.
"She said she'd meet me at the club, but she didn't say when. She had some business to attend to first."
Sergei put aside his drink and scanned the room. "I was thinking of checking out this new VIP club I heard about from a friend of mine. You want to go?"
"Sure," Jules replied, a gleam in his eye. "What's it called?"
"The Viral Room."
"Let's take my limo," Jules said. "You got the address?"
Carmen returned from the ladies' room only to find Jules and Sergei gone. She hastily searched the dance floor, but there was no sign of them. As it sank in that she'd been ditched, Carmen began to hyperventilate, causing her bosom to heave.
A regulation hipster leaned over and tapped her on the shoulder. "Hey, lady-are you okay?"
Carmen instantly regained control of her breathing and smiled, twirling one of her red curls around her fingers. "I am now, lover."
Although the twentysomething in the designer jeans and ironic T-shirt didn't really look like Jules, even if she squinted, Carmen decided he would make a decent enough stand-in for her rage.
Her prey, being the complete and utter idiot most human males prove to be when an incredibly hot girl way out of their league shows any interest in them, was grinning from ear to ear.
The poor dope thought he was getting lucky.