Vampire Games (Files of the Otherworlder Enforcement Agency #4)

Vampire Games (Files of the Otherworlder Enforcement Agency #4) Page 16

“Would you like me to bring you back a drink?” Claude asked.

“Sure,” I managed.

“Wonderful. I’ll show you around afterward.” Claude gave me a tight smile.

Just seeing the Magister’s face, so familiar and yet brand-new, sent emotions rushing through me. Anger and rage carried by a flurry of questions I wanted—needed—answered. Questions about the selkie and the brand and what the hell he’d been doing in the room when the brand was imprinted with that vision.

Questions about my brother.

But I couldn’t ask any of them. So I pushed down the anger and swallowed the lump in my throat.

“No rush, I can mingle just fine.” I gave him a broad smile that I hoped looked bright, and not full of barely concealed rage.

Claude and the Magister disappeared into the crowd, and I grabbed a glass of champagne from the waiter. I swallowed a bit, just to fit in with the other guests, and barely withheld a grimace. There was no doubt the champagne was good, definitely expensive. But I hated the taste. Just not my drink.

The crowd was full of interesting-looking people, vampire women with their perfect skin and rich furs, and the occasional vampire man, skin just slightly too pale. Although there were surprisingly few actual vampires. What were the others? Humans? Witches? Perhaps a mix of just about every type of otherworlder.

I almost wished for the powers of a sensitive so I could tell for sure. There were hints. A twitchy woman in the corner who moved like an imp. Two women—sisters by the look of them—that radiated so much sex appeal I was tempted to ask them to dance. Succubi, then.

Did the Magister keep the vampire numbers down purposefully in these mixed-group balls in order to keep the auras of fear manageable? I guessed it wasn’t good manners to force your guests to concentrate on not running from the room the whole night.

They all looked rich, happy, and delighted to have been invited. But how many attended just to socialize, and how many for other purposes? Backstabbing and deal-making were doubtlessly the main reason most were here, I’d bet my badge on it.

I sidestepped a portly man wearing so much cologne that I almost gagged, and then stopped in my tracks. A handsome man stood about twenty feet from me, a break in the crowd allowing me to see him clearly. Like most of the men, he wore a tuxedo and was undoubtedly good-looking. But it was his resemblance to Luc Chevalier that caught my eye.

A younger version of the Magister—although in appearance he only looked ten years shy of Luc—the man had probably been changed in his early twenties. The same nose and hair, the same jawline and general height. But unlike the Magister, this man had a cruel turn to his lips, as if he could either laugh or order a murder with his next breath.

There was no doubt in my mind that I was looking at the Magister’s son—at Nicolas Chevalier. I could see why Claude suspected him of murder, and who knew what else. He might look human, but he wore cruelty like a cloak.

Or maybe I was only seeing what I expected to see?

I scanned the room for Claude, but the vampire had effectively disappeared. Nicolas turned and started for the far end of the ballroom, away from the entrance. Giving the ballroom one last glance for Claude, I followed.

A subtle pursuit, it was not. I did my best to move through the crowd as if at random, but the vampire was moving quickly toward a hallway and I had to struggle to keep up. I slipped inside after him. A woman in a red dress with a slit up to her waist strutted past me, headed back for the ballroom. The way my eyes wanted to follow her made her succubus nature obvious. A man passed me as well, not even sparing me a glance. Definitely a vampire—my heart rate kicked up a notch at the intimidation flowing from his aura.

Nicolas moved even faster, and I trotted after him, passing a powder room and a small balcony where smokers gathered. The noise from the ballroom faded behind me, and when I took a turn I’d sworn the vampire had taken, the noise completely disappeared. Had to be a noise-dampening spell.

The thought slowed my pace. Those spells worked both ways. Were they trying to keep the noise out, or in? Since I hadn’t seen another partygoer for a couple of turns, I was hoping for out. But its presence made me nervous.

Sure, they weren’t uncommon in a nice household like this. They could be used to keep the noise from the party away from the guest quarters. But what if this spell’s purpose was darker?

I moved as silently as I could down the long hallway, which was lit by low-watt bulbs set in small sconces along the wall. For a second, I thought I’d gone the wrong way. But another step and I could feel sweat break out on my forehead, and I had the sudden urge to run.

The intimidating aura of a vampire.

Was it Nicolas? If so, the man really had a nasty aura.

Not a peep sounded until I hit another corner. The voices coming out of the room at the end of the short hall were low and hurried, and I couldn’t make out the words. A small bit of light shone through the corner of the slightly open doorway where the muffled voices came from.

I crept forward, thankful for the rug that lined the floor. How close could I get without the vampire inside noticing I was here? The smart thing to do would be to leave. Because if they caught me, I would be worse than dead.

That thought sank in. What the hell was I doing? Sure, I was an investigator, but I was more the “touch things and research online” type—less the “chase bad guys without even a sidearm to my name” type. I turned to go, but a single word, ringing clearly from behind the door, stopped me.

Claude.

I couldn’t convince my body to leave after that. What if the people behind that door were plotting to off Claude, and I missed the details because I was too afraid to listen in? Even if they caught me, surely they wouldn’t kill me with a houseful of guests only a few turns down the hall?

The sound-dampening spell was something I decided to ignore, however. Wouldn’t do to dwell on the fact that no one outside of this area could hear me scream.

Creeping forward slowly, I kept my breathing as quiet as possible. Tempting as it was to hold my breath, that wouldn’t do. I’d end up gasping for air and giving myself away as surely as if I walked in that door and demanded to know what was going on.

The voices grew clearer as I approached.

“…doesn’t have anything.”

“He has the brand, made by my own hand. That ain’t enough for ya? The timetable ain’t bendable now, fanger. We don’t have time for bullshit.”

My hands clenched into fists automatically, and I had to force myself to stay put. I recognized that voice. The urge to fling open the door and ask them what the hell they were up to threatened to overrun my good sense, but I couldn’t let it. I had no gun. No useful otherworlder powers. And no one would hear my screams.

“That isn’t proof, and my father will not act without direct and incontrovertible proof.” The smooth drawl that could only be the Magister’s son’s was so full of confidence I wanted to slap it right out of him.

“I’m not worried about yer father! It’s that fuckin’ vampire cop. He’s got a hankerin’ for ya, and a psychometrist followin’ him around like a lapdog.”

A surge of anger hit, but I kept my mouth shut. The voices lowered, indecipherable. My welcome was more than worn out. I needed to get away and tell Claude what I’d heard before they noticed me. I stepped back, but my heel caught on the carpet. My hand slammed against the wall as my body did its best not to fall.

Hell.

I turned and rushed down the hall as quietly as I could. It was possible they’d inspect the hall if they’d heard me, then look no further.

Not likely.

But it was the only hope I had, so I clung to it as I ran down the winding halls.

Chapter Eleven

Two turns later, I was still running down the hall. Panic overrode my desire to play it cool. When I took what had to be my fourth wrong turn, I ran headlong into a hard chest. I would have flopped ungracefully to the ground, but the man grabbed my arms and held me to him. I struggled against the impossible strength. How had they gotten ahead of me? With all the wrong turns I’d no doubt made, it was no wonder they’d headed me off.

“Let. Me. Go!” I yanked with all my strength and the man did just that, sending me flying, only to bend down just in time to catch me in his arms. Striking green eyes, laced in amusement, met mine.

“Are you all right?” the Magister asked.

I couldn’t seem to find any words.

He pulled me to my feet, and I fought against the urge to push him away. Was he here to help me? Hurt me? Was it possible that of all the people present at this big party, I’d only accidentally run into Luc Chevalier?

Unlikely.

“My apologies,” I managed. “Got lost on the way to the ladies’ room. I’ll just be getting back to the party.”

“I’ll guide you. I’d hate for you to get lost again.”

“Oh, gosh, no thank you.” What to say? My mind raced and I struggled not to yell at him, ask him what had happened to my brother. A lot of good that would do me, in an empty hallway of a house I’d gotten lost in, with his likely murderous son and evil witch at my heels. “I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you.”

“It’s no inconvenience.” His mouth tightened. “I insist.”

I took a step back—or tried to. The Magister grabbed my elbow, his hand tight on my skin. I opened my mouth to yell when someone touched my back, making me jump.

“Everything all right here, Luc?” Claude’s smooth voice had never sounded so damn good.

Luc’s smile returned, but tension remained around his eyes. “Of course. I was just about to help your friend find her way back to the party.”

“I’ll assist her.”

Luc hesitated, then nodded. “Of course.” Then to me he added, “Enjoy your evening, my dear. Please do take care not to get lost again.”

His words still hanging in the air, Luc gave us a short bow and then turned and left. But he didn’t head back the way he’d come—instead he went in the direction I’d come from.