"Alvisi," she said from between clenched teeth. Tears burned her eyes.
And what about Flora? What will you do when you see her again? Her insides roiled alarmingly. Drive a stake into the heart of her best friend?
Never.
You must.
She stilled. The sounds and sensation over her neck told Macey undead were approaching. They exchanged glances, then wordlessly got into position on each side of the door. Macey had the stake from beneath her skirt, and Chas pulled one from some hidden location on his person.
When the door opened, they moved in tandem. Slam. Thrust. Shove. She got the first undead, Chas the second-and he would have gotten the third on his backhand swing if she hadn't yanked the startled vampire out of the way.
Despite the pain in her shoulder, and the fact that she barely reached the lanky vampire's chin, Macey whirled him against the wall. "Where's Alvisi?" Her stake hovered over his heart. Chas made a sound that resembled a surprised laugh, but she didn't spare him a look. Anger and resolve boiled inside her. There was no room for levity.
"Uh. . . he's in his private. . . quarters. " The vampire looked as if he might have been barely twenty when he was turned-and a skinny, gawky young man. "Don't. . . push that. " His goggling eyes focused on the wooden pike settled on his chest.
"I won't. If you take me there. " Macey pulled out the silver cross from behind her gown for added insurance.
"I will. "
"What were you doing here?" Chas interrupted. "Coming to get us?"
"We were. . . she told us we could feed. " The vampire's eyes darted about. "We haven't fed in three days. She said you'd be easy. "
Macey didn't want to ask who "she" was. She didn't want to know if it was her dear, clumsy, funny Flora. Surely it couldn't be. Surely Flora wouldn't say something so crass. Macey avoided looking at the telltale wounds on Chas's arms. Her stomach was still upset, still churning, and a sensation of dread cloaked her as she and Chas ushered the vampire out from what was, indeed, little more than a storage closet.
"No funny business," Chas warned. "No detours, and keep away from populated areas. Or instead of staking you, we'll throw you out in the goddamned sun to fry. Slowly. "
Their guide seemed to take Chas at his word, for he led them quickly and efficiently through back hallways. They encounteredqe was s blood no one. Macey was glad, for she was still weak, and her injury bothered her. It would slow her on the left side, her fighting arm. Chas seemed to be himself, however, despite the great loss of blood. Or perhaps he was just better at hiding his deficiency.
The ever-present frigidity at the back of Macey's neck was nearly unbearable when they approached a set of double doors. "No guards?" She poked the stake into the vampire's back.
"No. Not here. He doesn't need them. This is his private quarters. "
The sound of raucous laughter from beyond the door indicated three or four, maybe five people. Mostly female from the sound of it.
Macey whipped her captive around to face her. "What's your name?"
"Ricky. "
"All right, Ricky. Here's what's going to happen. You are going to bring me in there as if I'm still your captive. My hands will be behind me, and you'll make it look as if I'm still tied. You stay out here," she added, looking at Chas. "You can join us at the appropriate moment. "
Her companion nodded, pursing his lips. "Go on. "
Turning back to Ricky, she tucked the silver cross back down inside her dress. "If you get me close enough to take a strike at Alvisi, I'll let you escape unscathed. And so will he. " S
he gestured to Chas, who rolled his eyes but nodded agreement. "If you leave and don't come back. If I see you again anywhere in the vicinity of The Blood Club or Alvisi, you're dust. Understood?" She ground the stake deeper, poking through his shirt.
Ricky nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing and his eyes wide. Macey might have had a flicker of sympathy for him if she were in a better mood-and if he hadn't chosen to become an immortal, blood-sucking fiend.
"Let's go. "
Chas moved out of sight of the door. Ricky opened it, then shoved Macey through. The gawky undead did a good job playing his role, holding onto her arm, directing her toward the vampire count. She kept her hands behind her back, with a stake hidden up her sleeve and pressed against her spine. She knew she looked beaten and bedraggled, bloody and exhausted as she was.
Attempting to appear cowed and weak, Macey took stock of the room. The scents of lavender, blood, and oil paint mingled. Apparently, Count Alvisi fancied himself an artist, for he stood in front of an easel in one corner of the chamber lit by electric bulbs-presumably to give him the best artificial lighting for his work. He brandished a palette and brush, and a nearby table held pots of paint. Two female vampires were arranged on a divan, draped in diaphanous white clothing. The filmy, toga-like attire did nothing to hide sharp pink nipples, the dark shadows at the juncture of their thighs, and a myriad of bite marks in intimate places.
In two armchairs, with a small table between them, Flora and a fourth female vampire sat. They had gobqs slylets filled with something red. Macey suppressed a shudder and looked away, but not before she caught Flora's eye.
Macey quickly averted her gaze, unable to bear what might be in her friend's expression. Focusing on creating a devastated facade, she allowed herself to be manhandled toward Alvisi.