I served the first few guests who sat down in the dining hall, while listening intently to my earphone. Sinead—or rather, Baroness Fleurette van Dijk—had just passed through the gate with no problem. The forgery of the invitation was flawless, and when they checked her name on the computer, it was there, just where Harutaka had put it.
“The couple at table fifty-seven both want martinis,” I told the bartender.
“Sure,” he said, smiling at me. “What are you doing later?”
“Going home to my boyfriend.” I smiled thinly.
“Hello,” the baroness’ voice buzzed in my ear.
“Good evening,” I heard the hostess reply. “Name?”
“Baroness Fleurette van Dijk.”
“Here you are, madam, table eighteen. I hope you have a lovely evening. Your personal servants can wait in the servants’ quarters, right over there.”
The servants’ quarters were in a separate structure, disconnected from the mansion. We had known this beforehand, and were prepared.
“Go on, darlings, I’ll be fine,” the baroness said. “Oh, Bente, would you please take my bag with you? I swear, the thing weighs a ton.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kane’s voice answered.
There was a moment of silence in the chat. I served the martinis to the elderly couple who had ordered them, smiling politely.
“Okay,” Kane whispered. “Isabel and I are entering the servants’ quarters, and Sinead is on her way to you. This place is unguarded.”
“It doesn’t need guards,” Harutaka said. “Every inch of the quarters is visible on the security feeds. I promise you there’s someone watching carefully to make sure none of the servants decides to take a walk.”
I tensed as a man entered the dining hall and glared around him with piercing eyes. Maximillian Fuchs, the security chief. The vampire.
“Maximillian just entered the dining hall,” I murmured.
“If you say so,” Harutaka said. He couldn’t see him in the security footage, of course.
“And here’s the baroness,” I added.
A lot of heads turned when Baroness Fleurette van Dijk entered the room. Dressed in a gorgeous scarlet dress with a glimmering translucent gray shawl on top, hands clad in feminine silk gloves, Sinead looked like a woman who could launch a thousand ships. She had the careless air of an aristocrat who was used to being the most sought-after person in the room. She glided with catlike grace to table eighteen and sat down, smiling at the other people at the table and introducing herself.
The vampire didn’t even glance at her twice. He didn’t care about beauty, or youth, or charm. She meant nothing to him. We would have to change that.
I began making my way toward Sinead the baroness when, ahead of me, I saw Jonathan hurrying toward her. I clenched my jaw, realizing he would reach her long before I would. Dammit! I needed to be the one serving her.
I flicked my wrist and my bracelet detached, the chain slinking into my palm. Almost imperceptibly, still walking toward Sinead, I tossed the chain forward. It coiled in the air, flying low, and entangled itself around Jonathan’s feet. He yelped and tripped, slamming to the ground. Everyone turned their eyes to him as I crouched by him, the chain slinking up my sleeve, now hidden.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“Something… tripped me!” he winced.
“Everyone is looking at you.”
“Oh, god.” His nose squeaked.
“Don’t worry about it, just go to the kitchen for a bit. We’ve got you covered, chief.” I winked at him, with the expression of a soldier covering for her beloved commander.
He nodded and I helped him to his feet. He limped away, and I sidled over to the baroness, who gazed at the events with an expression of mock horror.
“Is the poor man okay?” she asked me, her Dutch accent bordering on outrageous.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry. His shoelaces were untied.”
“I see.” She sniffed. “All this chaos has made me thirsty. Tell me, do you people know how to make a Bloody Mary?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Good. Go light on the Worcestershire sauce, but don’t skimp on the vodka.” She flicked her hand at me imperiously.
“I’d like a glass of whiskey,” the man sitting next to her said. “No rocks.” He seemed distinctly pleased with himself for drinking straight whiskey.
“Vodka martini for me,” the woman next to him added. She had a mouth that reminded me of an angry llama video I’d once seen. “With four olives please.”
Because five olives would totally ruin her drink. Everyone thinks they’re special. Then again, at this VIP banquet, everyone probably was.
“Coming right up.” I smiled politely at them all and walked over to the bar. I gave the bartender the drink orders, and turned to watch the crowd.
Something was going on.
All heads were turned as a man entered the room. At first I couldn’t see what was so interesting about him—just another man in an old-fashioned suit. He had a cigar between his lips, a plume of smoke drifting from his mouth. Then I realized the cigar was unlit. And the smoke kept coming.
This was Ddraig Goch, the dragon.
Though I had known that dragons could wear the shape of men when it suited them, I was still caught by surprise. Once I understood who he was, I noticed a hundred little details. His eyes, predatory and lizard-like, the irises huge and green. The subtle scales that ran down the back of his neck. His fingernails, much too long.
His smile. The smile of a god among ants. Of a predator surrounded by food.
He stopped every few steps to swap a few words with an acquaintance, to shake the hand of a duke, to nod politely at the French ambassador.
Did these people know who he was? Did they realize he could open his mouth and incinerate us all? I doubted it. If any of them noticed the unlit cigar, they probably assumed it was some sort of trick. Most of them just thought he was a very powerful businessman. A man who could change fortunes with his endless resources, topple governments, create kings.
And they were right. But he was more. Much more.
I glanced at Sinead, and our eyes met. Her eyes were full of excitement, and fear. This was the creature we were about to rob. It was complete insanity.
“There you go,” the bartender said in a low voice, placing the drinks on the bar. “Man, to be that guy, huh? Must be great, knowing you’re at the top of the food chain.”
“Quite literally,” I whispered to myself.
I twisted my right hand, and the vial hidden in my sleeve dropped into my palm. I popped the cap open with my thumb. Then I picked up the drinks, pouring the contents of the vial into Sinead’s Bloody Mary. The crimson drops sank into the thick red drink, disappearing from sight.