Night Veil (19 page)

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Authors: Yasmine Galenorn

BOOK: Night Veil
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I cinched the terry-cloth robe tighter and slid into a pair of fuzzy slippers, following her downstairs to the kitchen.
There, next to a big breakfast of sausage and eggs and toast, sat an envelope with a bloodred rose seal, and my name on it. I recognized the slanted writing—it was from Regina, Lannan’s sister.
I stared at it, not wanting to open it. Not wanting to know what the vampires were demanding from me now. I was their pawn, their hope in this war, and after my dream about Lannan and Crawl, I longed to crawl away and hide somewhere. Finally, I opened the flap and pulled out a single sheet of linen paper, along with two checks.
The writing was, again, Regina’s.
Cicely: Your monthly stipend is enclosed. Also: We request your presence this evening at a small soiree at Geoffrey’s, along with Leo Bryne and your cousin Rhiannon. Formal cocktail attire—use the enclosed to buy something appropriate for yourself. Lannan requests you choose something in black with red accessories. A limousine will arrive for you at 7:30 P.M. Attendance is required. Best, Regina.
 
I swallowed a bite of toast, staring at the two checks. One, for twenty-five hundred dollars, was my monthly pay, for my second month of indentured servitude. The other was for three thousand dollars, and as I stared at it, I realized the writing on it was not Regina’s, nor was it Geoffrey’s—his I recognized on my monthly paycheck.
Lannan . . . it had to be from Lannan. Which meant that he was planning something and I was his target. Angry, I folded the checks and slipped them into my purse. I had to obey—they practically owned me. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.
“Heads up,” I said to Rhia. “You and Leo and I are required to attend a cocktail party at Geoffrey’s tonight.”
She shuddered. “I wonder just what kind of cocktails we’ll be expected to drink. Can vampires eat or drink alcohol?”
“I dunno,” I said, softly. “But contract or no contract, I’m not drinking any Bloody Marys while I’m there.”
Rhiannon broke out laughing. “Me either.” She glanced at the clock. “I keep thinking I have to be at work, but the school’s shut for winter holidays from now till the New Year, so what do you want to do today?”
I thought about the money burning a hole in my purse and shrugged. “Since we were gone longer than we expected, Peyton and I put off opening our headquarters. She has to work for Anadey today. What say you and I go shopping? My treat.” And with that, for the first time in a while, I felt like smiling. Lannan be damned . . . Even though I hated giving him a reason to feel smug, the thought of spending a few hours shopping with my cousin, and maybe taking in a quiet lunch, seemed like heaven.
“Sounds good,” Rhia said. “Finish your breakfast and then get dressed while I do the dishes.” So I cleaned my plate, shimmied into a pair of jeans and a turtleneck, and in no time, we headed out for the mall.
Chapter 9
 
The New Forest Mall was like most malls in the country: a mixture of the bland but necessary (think Limited Express, Jean Junkies, Sizzle), to the yummy (Pizza Ria, KFC, Brent’s Ice Cream Palace), to the esoteric (Leather & Lace, Sharpen, Versailles Vamp, Magic Forest).
There were quite a few people out and about—though no vamps, of course—but everybody seemed to be paired up, or walking in groups, and a feeling of tension reverberated through the air. Which was no surprise, given the recent spate of brutal deaths.
Rhiannon and I deftly maneuvered our way through the main drag until we came to Slither. I swallowed my reluctance and entered the store, Rhia behind me. The shop was geared for clubbing, and the outfits were pretty much what I figured Lannan wanted me to wear. The money rankled. I had no intention of decking myself out to be his toy, but I had to at least meet him partway or I’d be in violation of my contract, and I knew his punishment would be swift and terrible.
The entry was through a set of beaded curtains, and once we were inside, the light dimmed, with spotlights aimed toward the merchandise. Mannequins wore tightfitting jeans that rode so low on the hips it was hard to imagine how they stayed up, and skirts so high you couldn’t hide your panties if you tried. Sequins and glitter abounded, as well as spikes and rivets and studs.
“I like leather, but this isn’t my style,” I said, staring at the clingy, revealing clothing. “I don’t mind showing some leg or cleavage, but I’m just not comfortable with this crap.”
“What about this?” Rhiannon motioned to a black dress with gold threads running through it. It had a plunging keyhole neckline, which, though it showed off the cleavage, didn’t leave me with the feeling of
tits on parade
. The back was draped, reaching the top of the butt, and the dress was snug and form-fitting. But at least it wasn’t so short that I couldn’t bend over without worrying—and around Lannan, bending over wasn’t such a good idea.
The material was knit and it even had a cute little butterfly charm that held the keyhole shut. I flipped through the rack until I found one in my size—most were made for girls the size of young boys, and I was most assuredly not that—and carried it into the dressing room.
A glance at the price tag took me aback—fourteen hundred. But he’d given me over twice that amount with which to shop so what the fuck?
Rhiannon followed me. I shimmied out of my jeans and top, then dubiously assessed the dress. Finally, I sucked it up and slid it over my head, thankful that it had no sleeves. It made it easier to slide it over my curves.
“Oh man.” Rhia gave me one of those
Wow
looks. “Look in the mirror.”
Dreading the sight, I obeyed, and I blinked as I stared at my reflection.
Wow
was right. The dress hugged my body in a flattering way, showing that I had an hourglass figure as well as muscle. It was lightweight and comfortable, and yet I definitely felt dressed. Some dresses left me feeling naked.
“I can sit okay.” I demonstrated, then knelt down, squatting to pick up a thread off the floor. “I can crouch down without my ass giving a peep show.”
“It looks wonderful on you. All you need is a shawl and some heels to go with it.” Rhiannon shook her head, smiling softly. “I could never wear that. I’d be far too self-conscious. But I have a beaded cocktail dress I found in Mother’s closet and it fits me, and it still looks new.”
“You think
you’d
be self-conscious? I know that Lannan just wants to watch me in something like this. I know all too well that he wants me because I won’t succumb to his vampire charms, and I won’t knuckle under. If I gave in, he’d probably lose interest.”
And there was the rub: If I did what he wanted and had sex with him, Lannan would probably stop bothering me. But that would compromise my essential nature. I didn’t want him—at least not when he wasn’t using his charm on me, and even then only my body responded.
“I don’t know about that, Cicely. You never know why people get obsessed. Sometimes giving them what they want only makes it worse.” Rhia bit her lip, then said, “I wish I’d never let you agree to the blood tithe. I wish we’d waited—Myst was going to turn Heather no matter what, and I just couldn’t face it. But now, every time Lannan makes a play for you, I feel guilty. You could have avoided that part of the deal if you hadn’t been trying to help me.”
I sat down beside her on the narrow bench and took her hand. “It’s not your fault. Heather’s my aunt; I was going to do everything I could to help her. How could I ignore the fact that she was in danger? I screwed up on the time limit thing with Geoffrey, but that was my own fault. I’ve never dealt with vampires much . . . not till now. But Lannan . . . No, I think even if he hadn’t horned in on the deal, he would have been coming after me.”
She let out a long sigh. “I guess you’re right. Everything is just so fucked—and nothing’s settling long enough to catch my breath. Don’t you feel like you’re in the middle of a whirlwind and it won’t stop spinning?”
Grinning, I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Rhia, my mother saw to it that I’ve been on a carnival ride since I left here at six years old. Come on, help me get out of this. Then we’ll go shoe shopping, look for a shawl, and go out to lunch.”
With a grateful smile, she helped me ease the dress over my head, and I slipped back into jeans and my turtleneck. Truth was, everything did seem like one big blur to me. But I decided to be the strong one. Rhia needed me, and even though I was the younger cousin, I felt so much older, in so many ways.
 
On the way home, we stopped by Anadey’s Diner for lunch. The snow was coming down hard as we gingerly parked next to a snowbank and hurried for the door. The lights on the Christmas tree glimmered out through the window, reminding us that the winter solstice wasn’t far away. I had my doubts about how much of a celebratory mood we’d be in, and if Myst didn’t stop with the snow, there wouldn’t be longer days to look forward to . . . not for a long time to come.
Peyton waved at us as we pushed through the door and stomped the snow off our feet. She was cooking, as usual, while Anadey waited tables. Anadey had become our touchstone since the Indigo Court took Heather, and we clung to her as we’d cling to a surrogate mother.
She brightened as we entered the diner and motioned to an empty booth. I glanced at the counter. Werewolves from the Lupa Clan . . .
crap
. Why they ate here, I didn’t know—considering how much they detested the magic-born—but a few had become regulars and were in here every time we dropped by.
They snarled as Rhiannon and I walked by, and I ignored them. It was dangerous to engage the Lupas, and we did our best to pretend they didn’t exist. I slipped into the booth on one side, Rhiannon on the other. Anadey came by, pulling out her pad.
“You girls want hot coffee?”
Rhiannon shook her head. “No more for me today. Tea, though—strong, with milk.”
I glanced up at the older woman. She was pushing sixty, but in pretty good shape even though her bones creaked and her muscles hurt from the long hours she spent on her feet. Anadey crackled with magic. She was one of the shamanic witches who could work with all four elements—unusual, and they were usually loners.
“I want a hot mocha, please. Triple shot, with whipped cream and chocolate shavings, please.” I smiled at her and she laughed.
“Oh, Cicely, you and your chocolate shavings. Every time you order hot cocoa or mocha, you ask for them. Very well. You girls hungry? Do you need menus?” She automatically wrote
allergic to fish
on the order pad—as she did every time I came in. I gave her a grateful smile, and she shrugged.
“I think I know what I want—what about you, Rhia?”
Rhiannon nodded.
“We’re ready to order. I want your turkey plate—turkey, dressing as long as it’s not oyster based, cranberries, mashed potatoes, and green beans.”
“You want pumpkin pie for dessert or Yule log?”
I grinned, suddenly feeling happy. When times were dark, you had to take happiness where you found it, and right now it was in the form of a whipped-cream-stuffed chocolate cake with mint icing. “Yule log, please.”
She chuckled as she wrote it down. “Thought so. Rhiannon? What can I get for you?”
My cousin pondered the question. “Chicken soup, toasted cheese sandwich, pickle on the side, and for dessert, I want some of the Yule log, too.”
“Check. I’ll get this right in, girls. Rhiannon, do you want your soup now or with your sandwich?”
“With my sandwich, please.”
As Anadey headed for the back to put in our order and fix our drinks, I leaned against the back of the booth, watching the fall of snow outside the window. The past couple of weeks, it had seemed like New Forest was cut off from the world, silent in its shrouded wonder, alone in the universe. But all over the world, Myst’s people were beginning their war, making inroads, looking for prey. How many of the Vampiric Fae existed? How many were out there?
“What are you thinking about?” Rhiannon asked. “You look so pensive.”
“Myst and her people . . . how many do you think there are? How many small towns are feeling their encroachment, uncertain of what to do? How many people have they killed in their feeding?”

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