Silent Doll (5 page)

“Not much to tell,” I muttered under my breath. Incarra pushed back her chair and smiled pleasantly at Jareth. He inclined his head to give her his full attention.

“Will you come with me to the bar, Jareth?” she asked. “The cocktails were very sweet, but they’re not really my thing.”

Before I could stop her, they had left me alone with Aram. I was so going to revoke her best friend status after this. I looked sideways at him and he rested his cheek against his palm, taking me in.

“You look very nice, Andra.” I’m the kind of girl who can take a compliment, but not the kind that can brush it off without some courtesy in return, so I said a soft thank you and didn’t meet his eyes. He leaned a little closer. “It was a very thoughtful gift. I can see what you are doing.”

I arched a brow and looked at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Our last dream was very pleasant. Your resistance is wavering, and you lured me out here to meet you,” he said, tutting as if I was the villain behind some great Machiavellian scheme.

I said, “I thought
you
sent
me
the tickets.”

Aram sat back in his chair, frowning. A voice coming from hidden speakers asked us all to be seated, as the night’s entertainment was about to begin.

Incarra returned to her seat, carrying two beers and followed by Jareth. She slid one over the table toward me. I accepted it. Pushing the frothy peach colored drink toward Aram. He snatched it up and drank it.

I sat back in my chair and only half watched the first few acts that came on the stage; they were like a bit of a mix between cabaret and circus acts. The first was a woman with long black hair who did a sort of burlesque strip tease where you didn’t actually get to see anything. It was all about the art of revealing and not revealing. She had a pair of large peacock father fans; the eyes seemed to watch the audience with each gentle undulation. The second act was a quartet of identical girls, all about the size of gymnasts, that did acrobatic tricks across the stage, contortions and such like.

I kept an eye on Incarra through most of the beginning to see if she was enjoying herself–which she was, for the most part–and also to be able to watch Aram out of the corner of one eye. It felt very strange having him there next to me; with Incarra and Jareth there, it almost seemed like a double date. He had one hand wrapped around the empty cocktail glass; the other hand absently stroking his leg, the side of his chair, back and forth in long, smooth lines. I had to take a deep breath as my heartbeat started to quicken.

It was so stupid: he wasn’t even touching me, but the sight of his hand moving like that made me think of things that would ordinarily have made me blush. Lost in my thoughts, watching Aram’s hand, I completely missed the next act, only noting it was another female performer and that she had been a redhead. I wanted to reach out and take Aram’s hand just so it would stop the slow sensual movement. I had to get a grip on myself.

I took a long pull from my beer bottle and made a determined effort to focus on the stage in time for the last act. The stage turned and another set was revealed. A pink chaise lounge stood in front of five mirrors, and reclined on the chaise was a petite woman. Ringlets of yellow blonde hair fell around her shoulders, and when she opened her eyes they were china blue. The whalebone corset around her chest looked so tight that I found myself wondering how she breathed.

As she turned slowly on the chaise to look at the audience, the feathers that made up what I think was supposed to be a skirt fluffed up. Music started, melodic and bouncy, and I was surprised when the woman’s perfectly painted lips opened and she began to sing.

The dress is Chanel. The shoes YSL.

I recognized the song from the movie
Burlesque
; the girl sang with all the power and conviction of Christina Aguilera while she danced and moved like a pussy cat doll.

They all say, “Darling, what did you do for those pearls?”
She placed a hand coquettishly over her mouth.
What?! I am a good girl.

She danced to a mirror and as she looked back, her eyes really did look innocent, if a bit glazed, and her rosy cheeks were shiny under the spotlights. The mirror twirled around, taking her out of sight, and the other four mirrors spun around, revealing the acrobatic quartet, in new matching outfits, dancing as back-up. Her mirror spun once more, bringing her back for the next verse of the song: playful, smiling, teasing and kicking her legs girlishly.

You know I have found the words goin’ round. They all say my feet never do touch the ground.
She made the same gesture of her hand over her mouth, just like in the movie.

What?! I am a good girl.

The dancing got a little more riotous, mainly from the identical quartet, until the music ran down. They struck poses around the couch as the singer collapsed onto it, mock exhausted. The applause was deafening, and I joined in. It was a brilliant performance.

A woman slithered out onto the stage. Her black coat had a train that followed behind her like a serpent tail, feathers fluffed up around her collar like an angry bird, and her face was so meticulously painted that you had to look hard to see the nips and tucks she’d had. Her hair was piled onto her head like Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, and her fire engine red nails had to be at least two inches long. I wondered how she was able to pick anything up, let alone hold the microphone in her left hand.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, I thank you for joining us tonight. Let us thank the stars of our show!” She took a step backwards extending her arm. “Prima.”

A spotlight lit the back of the stage, showing the black-haired woman smiling and holding a pose.

“The Seasons,” the hostess called next, and one after another spotlights fell on the four acrobatic dancers as she called their individual names. “Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter.” The next spotlight hit on the redhead I’d hardly noticed; her name was Ember.

“And last but not least,” she said as the final spotlight illuminated the smallest of the performers, “Trinket.”

As Trinket curtsied in a way I can only describe as childlike and cute, her smile didn’t seem as bright as that of her fellows. Her gaze seemed to rove the crowd for something, and when her eyes fell on me—I knew it was me she was looking at because I felt the intensity of her gaze—I felt that she was trying to communicate something to me. It was strange, and I tried to brush it off; but I couldn’t stop the cold shiver that slithered down to the base of my spine.

Chapter Five

As the performance wound to a close, I had the excuse I needed to get up and leave. Incarra, though, needed the bathroom, which made us linger longer than I wanted. I did not want to give Aram the chance to get me alone; I didn’t know what I would do if he did.

From my spot outside the ladies’ room, waiting on Incarra, I saw Aram and Jareth waiting by our table, obviously waiting to escort us home. Jareth had the look on his face that men get when they think women are being silly. It was not a look I liked on the older vampire.

I began to wonder if Jareth had set this whole thing up; not the converted warehouse and the show, because that would have been elaborate even for him, but sending us each the tickets so that we would be forced into seeing each other. It wouldn’t be the first time I had suspected Aram’s brother of trying to mend our broken fences. He was a plotter and a schemer, that one.

A woman exiting the bathroom knocked into me. As she hit me, the bare skin of her arm touched my hand and I was sucked into a black tinged vision of her death. There was a terrible urgency to the vision that told me it would happen soon and it would not be natural.

When I came back to myself, Incarra was staring at me, and I couldn’t see the young woman who’d brushed past me. I looked around the departing crowd desperately.

“What is it? What’s the matter?” Incarra asked, clearly alarmed by my expression.

“The woman who bumped me. Did you see which way she went?”

“Yeah, she headed toward the stairs. She didn’t pickpocket you, did she?” Incarra pushed up her sleeves as if ready to bring wrath down upon her.

“No. I think she’s going to die,” I stuttered, which disarmed Incarra. “In fact, I’m sure she’s going to be murdered. We have to find her.”

I started into the crowd. Everyone was trying to leave at once. I started pushing my way through, ignoring the grunts and curses. Incarra followed suit, hot on my heels.

“You’re really serious, aren’t you?” she asked as we emerged at the top of the stairs. People filed out to waiting cars and taxis; some were walking away in groups. I looked around but caught no sight of the woman; still, she couldn’t have gone far. The vision had placed her murder on this street. She had to be walking home.

“Yes, absolutely serious. I can’t see her. Can you?”

Incarra shook her head. I rallied and started heading toward the main road. This whole area was a maze of alleys and side streets that wound themselves around warehouses. Incarra stayed with me.

“We should split up, each take a different route,” she said, but before she could leave my side I grabbed her arm. I didn’t want her going off on her own, not on this side–it was far too dangerous. She shrugged off my hand and my explanation.

“We’ll cover more ground and I’ll be fine. I won’t do anything that could be considered brave, I promise.”

I had to admit that it made sense to split up but I was worried about her: she had no weapon, no magic to protect her like I did. I reached into my purse and handed her a canister of mace. I had it since I was a teenager and never had to use it. She arched a brow at me.

“What? It’ll disarm a bad guy.”

“Is it magical?”

I shook my head, smiling at her. “No, it’s mace, which I have on good authority really stings.”

She nodded and went left while I went right. I didn’t exactly run, because I find running in heels to be extremely difficult, but I more or less trotted, peering down alleys, walking into one or two.

It was disturbing to see someone die before it had happened, and even worse to think that I could stop it. I wanted to save this woman from a horrible, unnecessary death.

I ran into another alley, only to bump straight into a hard, pale chest. Aram was caught between desire and anger. He obviously didn’t like that I’d made a mad dash to get out of the show and away from him before we could talk. I took an involuntary step back.

“Have you seen a brunette about so tall?” I asked, making a rough scale with my hand in the air.

Aram shook his head, looking puzzled.

“Great!” I started to go around him, but he grabbed me by the arm, spinning me so that my back was against the alley wall with him looming over me. He had something planned, a further assault on my resistance to come rushing back into his arms.

“Please, I don’t have time…” I barely had the time to voice my protest before he took one long step and pressed his cool, demanding mouth over mine, kissing me like I hadn’t been kissed in months. I’d almost forgotten his familiar, comforting taste. He pulled back from the kiss, smiling because I was already a little breathless; when he nipped my ear, I forgot why and where I was going.

“I have missed you, pet.” He kissed along my jaw, down my neck to find the scar there and slowly licked along the white rough ridge of it. I gripped his arms, convinced that I needed to push him away; but I wasn’t sure my legs would hold me up if I did, so I just clung helplessly to his sleeves as my body betrayed me. His mere nearness had such a powerful effect on me.

I’d spent ages trying to erase the memory of how much I loved being touched by Aram. Apart from the deluge of erotic dreams he was sending me, I’d been living like a nun and nearly managed. I knew that I loved Aram, but I was still trying to deal with my identity issues that were raised when I discovered I was not human. I couldn’t engage in a relationship with him until I was settled in my own skin and could commit to him—I mean we could literally be together forever. Why couldn’t he understand that I was trying to be fair to him?

I tried to shield myself against him as he caressed my breasts through my top, tried to temper my reactions; but when he bit lightly on my collar bone, I whimpered. Since my discovery—at his hands might I add—that I was a sexual creature, I found I had a woefully small capacity of resistance to someone who could push the right buttons. I hadn’t been with anybody since Aram, and it was shamefully easy for him to prove how well he knew my body. He slipped his hands under my skirt and stroked along my panties. I bit my lip as arousal rushed over me.

“Did you miss me too, my Andra?”

My knees were shaking but I had enough strength of will left not to answer that question; besides, my body was doing a fair job of answering for me. I shivered as his fingers slid under the edge of the damp cotton and delved inside me. I moaned low, fisting his shirt lapels in my hands, dragging him close to me and wondered—not for the first time—if I was perhaps addicted to vampiric sex.

I didn’t have sex on the brain, but I’d never truly been away from him because of the dreams. My body had reacted to them as if they were real, and part of me had begun to look forward to the sensations.