Her coat smelled of blood and alcohol. At first glance, Josef had believed it a cheap imitation of a designer outfit, but on closer inspection he found the department store tags tucked inside, still attached. Had not his houseguest driven him nearly to the point of distraction, he would have been impressed that she had managed to steal it. Sachs Fifth Avenue was no laughing matter. Their security was almost as good as his own, yet somehow she had smuggled out a thousand dollar item without alerting anyone's attention. There was no identification, nothing to indicate who she was or where she had been going when she had stumbled so unintentionally into his path.
Mick was better at this sort of thing. He could touch a garment, catch a scent of blood, and know exactly what had happened, but Josef had never bothered honing those vampire skills. They were of no use to him, since normally he didn't give a damn about anyone else. Nevertheless, he lifted the bloodied garment to his nose and closed his eyes. Fleeting images and no more, darkened shadows, a raised hand striking with such force that his eyes flew open. There had been a face for an instant, but he could not make it out. Whatever had happened had been brutal and relentless. Her cries were still echoing in his ears.
Despite the fact that she made no sound, he knew instinctively when she was behind him. Vampires always knew. There was always something. The faint noise of a heartbeat, a nearly nonexistent intake of breath, the sound of the carpet as it was pressed beneath someone's tread. That was why they were such good hunters, why nothing could escape them once it was in their crosshairs. You could not hide from a vampire. They would always find you. But she didn't know that. He could hear the drops of water as they slid down her arms, the tightening of her fingers around the towel she was holding closed, the tongue that passed over her mouth, moistening her lips. She had been in the shower for over an hour.
Slipping his hands into the pockets of his tailored slacks, Josef turned to look at her, remaining next to the rumpled garment on the bed. With her hair wet, her cheekbones were all the more pronounced, giving her a gaunt appearance that rather reminded him of a figure in a painting, emotionally distant and unreachable through the canvas. One hand held closed the towel, and the other stretched out to rest on the doorframe as she looked at him. She didn't say anything. She didn't have to. Her thoughts were loud in his ears.
"Don't you think it's time you tell me your name?" he asked.
Her eyes were pale in the semi-gloom, of such an unusual color that others would have been quite taken with them, for there was amber in their depths. Josef came up to her but she never shrank away from him, giving no indication that she was intimidated. Looking down at her, he said softly, "I believe up until this point I have been quite tolerant of your presence in my house, but I have my limits. Tell me your name."
Something passed through her eyes but never registered on her face. She tightened her lips and did not respond. Reaching out slowly, Josef brushed his knuckles against her arm and then took her by the throat, not violently or even aggressively, holding her in place as he looked at her. He could hear the increase in the beat of her heart, feel it in the blood that moved beneath his fingertips, flowing through her veins like water in a fountain. But even then she did not flinch, looking at him fearlessly. He could not help admiring her for it. "Tell me your name," he said again, with less patience than before.
"Let me go. You're hurting me."
She did not try to struggle. It was well that she didn't, for nothing could break a vampire's grip. Her voice did not even tremble. It remained utterly calm, confident that he would not hurt her. Josef lifted his eyebrows but did not relinquish his hold. They stared at one another for a significant amount of time, and then she said, "Blair. It's the name my mother gave me, the name my father shouted whenever he came home in a drunken rage, and a name you are never going to forget if you don't take your hands off me."
Her auburn eyes were glimmering in the faint light, like two golden medallions in the darkness. Josef was just as quiet and deliberate as she was, sensing that she was more nervous than she let on. Her instincts were masterful. She was remarkable. But he didn't let go.
"Well, Blair, let's get a few things straightened out, shall we? First of all, you know as well as I do that nothing happened to you in this house last night. So your threats to go to the police and report me are nothing more than idle fantasies. I am not some naive debutant you can manipulate into paying you off, as you have no doubt done many times in the past. The magnificent games you are accustomed to playing with people do not work on me. So you are going to get dressed, and we are going to find out just what happened to you, so I can have the luxury of never seeing you again."
There was less fear than resentment in her face, but at least it was an emotion that he could understand. He wanted her out of his house, preferably before nightfall. Releasing her, he indicated the doors that concealed one of Carmilla's numerous closets, stuffed with out of season clothes she kept for donation to charity auctions. "You'll find plenty of clothing at your disposal. Choose something sensible, since I'll be sending you home in it." He left without a backward glance, and in the half hour that it took her to dress, found some satisfaction in the fact that he had managed to gain the upper hand, but his exuberance was short-lived, for when she reappeared, the fire had returned.
Fixing him where he stood before the enormous glass windows that overlooked the backyard with narrowed eyes, she said, "You think just because you have money, you can treat people like dirt."
A hint of vulnerability, for just an instant. He liked that, for it gave him some power over her. She resented the fact that he was wealthy almost as much as she hated the fact that she was poor. Beyond the glass, the water was shimmering in the sunlight, rippling as the filter recycled the chlorine. Beyond it was nothing, for the grounds fell away into a magnificent visage overlooking Beverly Hills. He had chosen this house for its view, for its isolation, for the fact that he was surrounded by nature in the winding hills, that no one would ever bother him up here. Giving her only a glance at his profile, Josef replied, "Having money gives me the right to treat people how I believe they should be treated. Some need coddled and encouraged, and others need a firm hand. So far you have done nothing to imply that you deserve any treatment from me other than that which I have given you. If you want respect from me, you have to earn it."
Retrieving a set of keys from the shallow dish where Carmilla kept them, Josef indicated that she should follow him into the six-car garage. He escorted her down the steps and she halted in amazement at the polished cars awaiting him. One of them chirped as he activated the key, and she didn't resist as he propelled her toward its tinted windows and placed her inside. The interior was brand new. It still smelled like it, despite the miles he had put on it. He hated driving in the afternoon but it would soon be twilight and the sun was lessening in its intensity. The last thing he wanted to do was suffer a migraine, but he already had the beginnings of one, so there wasn't much to lose.
He wasn't sure what Mick would do in his situation, but suspected it would involve returning to the scene of the crime. Driving this car always relaxed him; the feel of the leather, the soft hum of the engine, the faint classical music rippling out of the expensive audio instillation. It was peaceful, harmonious, more soothing than a lover's caress. At least for a few seconds, until one slender finger reached forward and punched the dial on the radio. Instantly, the soft crooning of instrumentals was replaced by the harsh noise of electric keyboards. Blair refused to look at him, staring out the window as the hills passed beneath them. There was just a hint of auburn in her hair, which explained the handful of freckles on her milky white shoulders.
Josef turned the dial back to his music. She punched the button. The music flipped back and forth between them before he said in exasperation, "This is mycar!"
"I cannot believe you listen to that stuff. Anyway, shotgun always chooses the music." Blair slipped her feet out of her high heels and rested her bare toes on the dashboard. Beyond the window, the bluffs were passing beside them, a sheer drop to the sea. It was beautiful in the late afternoon, a view that he had never seen before in sunlight. Normally he drove this road in the evening. He left the music tuned to the station that she wanted and attempted to ignore it as he navigated the narrow streets, returning to where he had found her. There were no candy wrappers or damp toilet paper strung across this alley, and the buildings looked far more ominous in the coming twilight than they had in the darkness.
He could smell her blood long before it appeared on the pavement, so faint that none but his kind would have sensed its presence. Pulling to a gradual stop a half block from the main street, Josef allowed her to look around curiously and when she focused on him, remarked, "This is where I found you last night. This is also where you're getting out." Reaching across her, Josef opened the car door. Last fleeting rays of sunlight filtered into the black leather interior, and he was careful to avoid them.
Blair stared at him incredulously. "Like hell, I'm getting out. Do you want me to get mugged?"
"Mugged. Bludgeoned. Dismembered. I really don't care." He meant it, but once she got out of the car and slammed the door, he could not drive off and leave her there. Instead, he pulled up down the street and parked, pocketing his keys as he stepped out onto the hot pavement. The shadow of the building was cast over him, but nevertheless he grimaced at the fact that he was outdoors. Blair stood in the center of the street with her arms crossed and legs apart, throwing a long shadow across the asphalt. She opened her mouth to speak, but he said, "Don't say anything."
Pinching her lips together in amusement, she followed him down the alley, all his senses on alert as they passed the nearby buildings, wondering which one she had stumbled out of. There should have been some indication of what had happened to her. "You really don't remember anything?"
"Nothing."
"And you're not just lying to me?"
"Believe me, I want to find out what happened just as much as you do."
The surroundings were strangely familiar, and it took him an instant to realize that he knew where they were, not too far from one of his old haunts, a nightclub with an elite clientele and even more impressive owner. Even Mick had liked it, in the days before he had given up warm liquid refreshments for those dreadful plastic hospital transfusion bags. Most vampires were not even allowed in, if they knew where it was to begin with, but it had become a staple of the old city in the forty years of its existence. The painted black door was still intact, giving to his nudge as he stepped into the darkened interior. He had not been there in years, but knew the owner would be glad to see him. Adrianne was always glad to see him. She was one of the most beautiful immortals he had ever seen. Most of them when retained some of their youthful perfection, but she surpassed all of them. Josef had been her pet for more than a century, after she had rescued him from the mob. Their bond was still strong despite the different paths their lives had taken, and it took him mere seconds to be noticed as he moved through the club.
She glided out of the darkness, taking his arm and whispering into his ear, "I haven't seen you in quite some time, but I hardly expected you to bring your own refreshments." Her smile was luminous; her teeth perfectly white as she glanced back at Blair. Adrianne did not try and hide what she was near as much as the others, and nor did she need to. Others saw only beauty, not the ruthless creature beneath the façade. The chiffon of her long black dress swirled about her as she stepped into his path, taking hold of his collar between her black fingernails. She was five hundred years older than he was, but looked even younger.
They'd had some fun in their time. He remembered their adventures with a hint of a smile as she slipped her arm around him. If he hadn't been dragging the hellcat with him, he might have stayed awhile to become reacquainted, but sadly, business took precedence over pleasure. "I was actually wondering if you knew anything about her," Josef said, following her gaze. Blair was staring up at the high ceiling, turning in a slow circle as she took in her surroundings. There was something gangly and awkward about her, as though she had never passed the clumsy stage of her adolescence. "I picked her up just down the street, but she either won't tell me what happened or cannot remember. Did any of your clients lose her last night?"
"Darling, if she'd come here last night, she would still be here," Adrianne purred. She meant of course that her clients were often bored with her selection, and she was always looking to recruit new blood. She was clearly interested, her amber eyes gleaming as she watched the turn of Blair's exquisite neck. Josef did not trust her, but also knew that she would never interfere in his affairs. Blair would be safe with her for an hour while he found nourishment. He had not eaten since that morning, and his even brief and indirect contact with the sunlight had made him weak. "Keep an eye on her," he whispered into her ear, and she watched him ascend the staircase with a smile.
One of the girls at the head of it came toward him, taking his hand and luring him into one of the private rooms. She remembered him from before, and he could already taste her just through her presence. But before he crossed the threshold, he could not help glancing down into the gloom at the figure standing awkwardly on one foot as she fixed the strap on her heel. There was something about her that he could not explain, some sense of knowing that their meeting had not been mere coincidence. For some reason, she had gotten under his skin.