“Smell the fear in our blood,” I repeated. I snatched my hands from his, trying to clear my mind. “They do want something from us, Kane. Something we all have. Blood.”
“Lou, no offense, but if you’re thinking of offering that vampire a goblet of your blood, spiked with a little truth serum, I think you might be disappointed by the result. Vampires are not known for their stupidity.”
I was only half-listening to him, my mind whirling with possibilities. “I think I have a plan. But I have to get to my lab and start working. There’s no time to lose.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
By the time I finished preparing the potion, my body was drenched in sweat. The lab was more than just stuffy. The alchemical reactions my preparations created exuded heat and steam, and the air was almost hazy with warm fog. A single vial, containing a sticky, dark red fluid, sat on the counter.
I checked the time and spat out a curse. It was half past five. The banquet started at eight, and I had to be there at seven sharp.
My hair, clothing, and even my skin stank from alchemy.
I smelled like a mixture of ammonia, ripe cheese, and the weird tobacco my great-uncle used to smoke in his pipe after Thanksgiving dinner. I couldn’t go to the banquet smelling like that; I would be fired before I even stepped through the gate.
I dashed to the bedroom, Magnus chasing me and barking in excitement. Cursing and repeatedly glancing at the time, I shrugged out of my shirt, pants and underwear, throwing them all in a stinking crumpled pile. Magnus stepped to the heap of clothing, sniffed at it, then commenced rolling in it, eyes closed in glee. Given that my dog had a penchant for rolling in roadkill carcasses, that wasn’t a great compliment on my current odor.
Okay, shower. I opened the door, stepped inside, closed the door behind me while leaning against the wall, one foot pushing Magnus out. I turned on the water and adjusted the temperature to “fires of hell.” Only water close to boiling would wash this stench away.
I’d had the foresight to braid my hair before I began working, so I only needed to shampoo it three times to get the stink out. I scrubbed my body until it was red and raw. Then I got out, toweled myself, wrapped the towel around me, and went out to the bedroom.
I had picked the outfit for the evening beforehand, and it was spread out on my bed. Black shirt and pants, dark boots, a brown belt with a silver clasp. It was well suited for both a waitress and a bona fide burglar. The pants’ legs were tailored to be wide and loose. After putting them on, I grabbed the ankle holster with my small Glock and slid it onto my left ankle. My lockpicking kit snapped shut and tight on my right ankle.
I put on my shirt, and checked the hidden pockets in my sleeves. One already hid a vial of Margherita’s fix-it-all. Another held a potion intended to help me crack the safe. I picked up the vial of red liquid, and slid it into the third hidden pocket. Then I touched my silvery chain, and let it slide up my wrist. It looped several times and latched into a loose bracelet.
“Angustus,” I murmured, and the bracelet tightened, flawlessly fitting my wrist.
I went up to the mirror, and put my Bluetooth earphone in my left ear. Then I carefully combed my hair until it covered it completely. I grabbed a can of “Extra Super Hold Professional Hair Spray” from my night table, and sprayed the hair covering the earphone with it thoroughly. I moved my head around a bit, verifying that the earphone remained well hidden under the stiff hair.
Amateur burglars often forgot to pee before a job, and found themselves trying to crack a safe while cross-legged. I was anything but an amateur. I quickly went to the bathroom and sat on the toilet, realizing a fraction of a second later that it was still wet from my shower. I did what I had to, dried myself up a bit, and fixed my clothing again, making sure in the bedroom mirror that all was well.
I checked the time again, muttered the obligatory “Fuck,” and dashed outside, grabbing my purse on the way and shouting apologies at Magnus, who howled at the door, mortally offended that I wasn’t taking him with me.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I reached the mansion only five minutes early, which was, to my taste, cutting it a bit close. I immediately noticed that the gate now held three guards, not two. Jonathan Roth waited in the entrance and tried to hurry me inside, but the guards checked my ID meticulously, and verified my name was on the list. There would be no mistakes tonight. As Jonathan briskly led me to the dining hall, muttering angrily that I could have been a bit earlier, I noticed there were two patrolmen with dogs walking alongside the outer wall. They didn’t want anyone crashing this party. We went past a hostess standing by a table with dozens of seat placement cards, around through the back door, and into the kitchen.
“Each table needs to have a bread basket and a bottle of wine before the guests show up,” Jonathan told me. “Each bread basket should contain a dozen buns. After that’s done, we begin setting the salads. Hurry, the rest of the staff are already working at it.”
I joined the waiters in the dining hall. Sally, a nice waitress I had befriended the day before, whispered that Jonathan had already changed his shirt once. Apparently, this was his first big banquet, and his armpits were drenching his suit. Though he was a thoroughly annoying individual, I couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.
Going to the farthest table, I took out my phone and logged into our voice chat.
“I’m here,” I murmured. “Baroness Fleurette? How are you doing?”
“Wonderful, darling,” Sinead’s voice rang with a rich Dutch accent. The engine of the car hummed in the background. “I am on my way in our lovely car, driven by my ravishing butler, Bente Visser.”
“Hardly ravishing,” Kane’s voice interjected.
“You’re just upset because I made you leave that ghastly coat of yours behind,” Sinead said, her baroness accent becoming even more pronounced.
I stifled a smile. “And your personal assistant?”
“I’m here,” Isabel’s voice was soft. “Looks like we’ll get there at eight sharp.”
“No rush,” I murmured. “Reception is until eight-thirty. You can be ten minutes fashionably late. Harutaka?” He was supposed to be in the nearby mansion, monitoring us.
“Right here,” he said. “Watching you through the security camera. A waiter behind you is checking out your ass.”
“Well, if she’s wearing her black pants, her ass looks delicious in them,” the baroness said.
“Yes, thank you for keeping this chat professional,” I muttered. “Okay, I’m going to set some tables. Baroness, remember, once you’re here, you need to order a—”
“Bloody Mary, yes darling. You’ve only told me eleven times.”