The Invitation
The invitation, when it comes, is written on thick cream vellum, and accompanied by a narrow rectangular box. The card, in his precise hand, reads:
You want to know about my world? Stop pestering me with questions and find out for yourself. My home. This evening.
There's a P.S. at the end. I almost forgot. Wear this.
She gasps when she opens the box, can't imagine parading in public in anything this expensive without a phalanx of armed protection. A diamond collar two inches wide lies flat against navy velvet, its faceted gems blinding in the harsh glare of the D.A.'s neon lights.
She has experienced Josef's generosity before, but never on this level. Perhaps he just doesn't want her to feel out of place amongst his guests.
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By the time she wraps the towel around her chest and steps out of the bathroom, the rapping at her door has the urgency of machine gun fire. She's not expecting anybody, but sees through the peephole that it's Lowther, his chauffeur, and he looks positively queasy with anxiety.
"Come along now, Miss Beth. You're late. Everybody else is already there."
"What?!" It was only seven, hardly even dark yet.
"You must get dressed and come downstairs. Now. Mr Kostan doesn't like to be kept waiting."
Gowns fly out of her wardrobe; they land on the floor like wilted petals, or settle across the bed in a billow of air like expensive silk throw rugs. Finally one is suitable: a flowing strapless gown of emerald green. It clings to her bust and falls to the floor in an elegant cascade from a diamond knot under her breastbone. She smooths an approving hand along her side, nodding at her reflection.
Hurrying now, she twists her hair into a chignon and outlines her eyes heavily in kohl. Ruby lips complete the ensemble and she runs down her front stairs like Cinderella running from the ball; only tonight, the flight is in the other direction.
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Lights are glowing from every window of Josef's mansion when she arrives, surrounding it in an aura of enchantment. It's a fairy tale castle, and as she steps from the car, she's stepping into another world. Will he be Prince Charming, or will he be the Beast when he presents himself to her this evening?
Wide double doors swing open noiselessly to admit her to the party, and she gasps. Whatever else she expected, it wasn't this. A series of extravagantly decorated rooms runs one into the other, like a set of dominoes laid down end-to-end on a grand scale, and each room is full of people. No, not people, women. There's not a man to be seen anywhere. And they're beautiful women. Extraordinary women. Every room is swimming with them. She has walked through the looking glass and into the Vogue version of Wonderland.
Beth wanders dreamlike through Josef's halls, there's an usual, heightened sense of excitement here, an underlying edge of sexual tension. It gives her goose bumps. Just when she wonders how she might amuse herself, make conversation with these haute couture clad lampposts, she's granted a reprieve, and sees that she's been mistaken, there are men here after all. Her eyes shine, her smile the most genuine one there as she stands on tiptoe to scan the crowd, counting ten dark suited men, none of who are Josef.
"My dear," his voice is so deep and rich it reverberates somewhere close to her belly button, "Won't you do me the honor?"
She would have sworn he was in his mid-thirties, but something about his ageless eyes told a different story. He was taller than she, and handsome; in a sleepy lidded, dark eyed Spanish way. He held out his hand, and she reciprocated, thinking that he wanted to introduce himself.
A hand clamped around her wrist in a bruising grip and forced her arm to her side. She barely recognised Josef's voice as the one speaking with such respectful gravity.
"My apologies, Senor Diego. This one is previously engaged."
The smile on Josef's face looked strained and Beth looked across at the stranger's outstretched hand, seeing now that it held a tiny box, its open lid displaying a magnificent set of ruby earrings. Senor Diego's eyes flared white for a second, and then he smiled, bowed to her gracefully and retreated back into the milling crowd of women.
"What are you playing at? Do you deliberately enjoy causing trouble?" Josef hissed, taking her elbow and marching her to the darkest corner of the room. His lips were white with anger. "Why aren't you wearing your marker?"
"My.. what - ?"
"The diamonds, Beth. The ones I instructed you to wear this evening."
Her hands flew to her neck. In her hurry she'd forgotten to put on Josef's gift.
"I'm sorry, I was late.. and in a rush.. and I just forgot to.."
"Look around you, Beth."
It only took her a moment to understand. None of the women are dressed alike, yet oddly, many are wearing similar pieces of jewellery: a pair of breathtaking girls by the piano are wearing identical sapphire pendants; a minute later, a coterie of young goddesses sashays by, sipping from champagne, butterfly brooches of carnelian and amethyst pinned to their elaborate hairstyles. Ruby droplets, the very ones offered to her by Senor Diego, hang from the ears of several beauties draped across the sofa to her left.
Her eyebrows drew together in a puzzled frown.
Josef sighed and moved closer, lowering his voice. "When vampire Elders meet, Beth, the host provides the 'refreshment'. By tradition, a large selection of possibilities is presented; in older times a means of lessening the chances of poisoning. Every guest chooses his own meal, four or five girls he'll sup from over the course of the evening, and to signify his choice, she wears his marker."
A light dawned. "The jewellery!"
"The jewellery," he confirmed. "Girls who are unadorned are free to be chosen."
Her round eyes widened, realising at last the significance of Senor Diego's gift. "Oh god."
"Yes," he said.
He beckoned to a waiter with a barely perceptible motion of his hand, and whispered something to him. He turned back to Beth, inclining his head a little closer to hers. "When a girl accepts a marker, she's agreeing to be bled. And it's unacceptable to refuse one, Beth. If Diego had rested that box in the palm of your hand for even a second, you would have had to open a vein tonight my dear, and not even I could have interceded on your behalf to prevent it. As it is, my interruption will have caused him serious loss of face and he'll expect to win a lot of my money at the tables tonight in recompense."
The waiter returned bearing a discreet black box, and she held her breath as Josef's icy fingers fastened the collar around her neck.
She thought of her close call, the image of the dark stranger's head pressed close against her throat causing thick coils of emotion to churn in her belly. Relief warred with other, darker feelings on her face, as her fingers played across the cold, hard surface of the marker. What would she have done, if - ?
She sighed. "It doesn't matter now. I'm safe."
"Are you?" A low voice whispered to the back of her neck, "Do you really think you are?" And as he straightened, she thought she caught the words, "You're wearing my marker now."
Then he was gone, her round eyes following his broad back as it receded into the crowd, his face lost amongst the shadows.
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