Nancy A Collins-Vamps 02 (16 page)

It was because of this appreciation for the inherent poetry of black-and-white photography and old-school optical lab techniques that Kristof had turned his second bathroom into a darkroom.

In the blood-red glow of the light, he watched as Lili’s face gradually appeared on the exposed print paper floating in the developer tray, like a ghost emerg-ing from a fog bank.

As Kristof quickly transferred the print from the developer tray to the stop bath with a pair of tongs, then moved it to the fixer tray, he thought he heard someone moving around in his combination sleeping area/office/living room.

It was probably his assistant, Miriam. She was always forgetting something. Last time it was her purse. The time before that it was her laptop. Setting the timer for two minutes, he opened the door to the darkroom and stuck out his head.

166

“Miriam—is that you?”

He waited for a reply, but all he heard was silence.

He shrugged and ducked back inside the darkroom as the timer went off. It must have been the building settling or the upstairs neighbors coming home.

He removed the black-and-white print from the fixer tray and placed it in the wash, swishing it back and forth with his tongs. As he looked down at the print floating in the distilled water, Kristof noticed for the first time what appeared to be a double exposure.

As he pulled the photograph out of the rinse tray and clipped it to the drying line strung across the bath-tub, he could clearly see the outline of the Eiffel Tower superimposed over Lili’s face. But that was impossible.

He’d triple-checked all his cameras before the shoot for light leaks and film misfeeds.

Kristof’s frown deepened even further when he discovered that the double exposure did not seem to affect either the clothing the model was wearing or the surrounding props and scenery. Although her features were still visible, it was as if she had suddenly been transformed into glass. How the hell was it possible for Lili to be the only thing affected in the entire frame?

Looking more closely, Kristof realized that the Eiffel Tower on Lili’s face was not the haphazard result of one exposure being taken atop another, but the simple fact he was looking
through
Lili’s head at what she was 167

standing in front of, which just happened to be the fake window with its pretend view of the Eiffel Tower.

“What the—?” he muttered, snatching the print off the line.

Kristof turned around to discover he was no longer alone. Standing between him and the darkroom door was a tall man with dark hair gone gray at the temples, his eyes glowing like those of an animal.

“What do you think you’re doing with my daughter?” the intruder growled, flashing fangs as white and sharp as those of a wolf.

Kristof didn’t have time to explain, but he did manage to scream.

168

Two in the morning is the time when most reasonable people have long gone to bed and the unreasonable start to consider heading home. For the students of Bathory Academy, however, it means school is out and the rest of the night is their own.

For Lilith Todd, that normally meant spending the few hours before dawn partying with her entourage in the VIP room at the Belfry. As she exited the bloodred doors of Bathory Academy, Lilith spotted Bruno, her chauffeur, standing by the rear passenger door of the Rolls, stoically awaiting her arrival as he did every school night.

“To the club, Bruno,” she said with a toss of her head. Her smile disappeared on seeing her father in the backseat of the sedan.

“Daddy! What a surprise! I wasn’t expecting you.” 169

“I know,” Victor growled. “You’re not going to the club tonight—or any other night.”

“Haven’t you forgotten our little agreement?” Lilith said testily. “You don’t tell me what I can and can’t do, and I don’t tell dear mother about your little . . . indiscretion.”

“It would seem I am not the only one in this family guilty of being indiscreet,” Victor snarled, holding up the leather portfolio Kristof had given Lilith the night before. “Now get in the car!”

“Where did you get that?!” she gasped.

“From your bedroom.”

“How dare you go in my room without my permission?”

“
Your
room?” Victor said with a humorless laugh.

“All that you have in the world is that which
I
have chosen to give you. Now get in the damn car!”

“Give it back!” Lilith cried as she tried to make a grab for the portfolio. “That’s mine. Kristof gave it to me.”

“How could this possibly belong to you?” Victor taunted, holding the portfolio just beyond his daughter’s grasp. “Kristof gave this to Lili Graves, not Lilith Todd.”

Lilith froze, a startled look on her face. “How did you know about that?”

“I know a great deal about ‘Lili’—or at least
now
I do,” Victor said. “After all, I
do
own Maison d’Ombres.” 170

Lilith gasped in disbelief. “
You’re
Nazaire d’Ombres?”

“No, Maison d’Ombres is one of my more recent acquisitions. Considering how much you and your mother spend on couture, I decided it might make for a profitable side venture.”

Lilith looked around nervously as the limo pulled away from the curb. “Where are we going? Back home?”

“No,” her father replied. “I thought we should visit a mutual business acquaintance first.”

They were two blocks from Kristof’s loft when Lilith saw the police barricades blocking the middle of the street. A weary cop was standing on the curb, alternately sipping coffee from a ubiquitous blue-and-white paper cup and talking into his two-way radio.

As Victor powered down the rear window, the acrid stink of heavy smoke wafted into the limo. “Excuse me, Officer,” he said politely. “But what seems to be the holdup?”

“There was a fire in an apartment building up the street here,” the policeman replied, pointing in the direction of Kristof’s. “It was burning pretty good for a while, but it looks like they finally got it under control.

We have to keep the block sealed off because of the fire trucks.”

“Oh, dear,” Victor said. “I do hope no one was hurt.”

“The EMTs hauled off some guy who lived there for 171

smoke inhalation. Photographer or something. The fire started in his darkroom.”

“Thank you, Officer,” Victor said as he closed the window. He turned to look at his daughter, who was glaring at him with undisguised hatred.

“Don’t you
dare
hurt Kristof!” she said, her voice trembling in both fear and anger.

“My dear, if I wanted to kill him, he would already be dead. You needn’t concern yourself over the photographer’s well-being, if for no other reason than that he’s needed for the Maison d’Ombres launch campaign.

“I assure you, he is unharmed. However, I did take the liberty of erasing
all
memory of you—or should I say Lili Graves—from his mind. I’ll leave it to Metzger and his son to mind-wipe the others who may have come in contact with you. As for the fire, it was never meant to kill Kristof, just destroy all physical evidence of Lili Graves’s existence.

“I have no idea what you were trying to prove with this idiotic stunt of yours, but praise to the Founders I was able to nip it in the bud before it was too late!

Lilith, do you have any concept of what you risked doing this?” Victor asked, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“Do you realize how close you came to being dragged away by the Crimson Guard and publicly executed as a traitor to the Blood? The moment someone recognized your face in a magazine or on a billboard and reported it to the Synod, the Lord Chamberlain would 172

have signed your death warrant without any hesitation.

I cannot believe a child of my issue could do something so incredibly stupid!”

“But you didn’t have to do it like this!” Lilith sobbed.

“You could at least let me keep Kristof!”

“No, I couldn’t,” Victor said grimly as he reached inside the portfolio. He pulled out a black-and-white print and showed it to his daughter.

Lilith’s face blanched and her hands began to tremble even more than before as she stared at the Eiffel Tower outlined against her face as if etched in crystal.

“By becoming involved with Kristof, you not only risked calling attention to the existence of vampires, but you jeopardized your marriage to Jules as well. If Count de Laval ever finds out about these pictures, he will negate the contract between the families.”

“But I didn’t have sex with Kristof,” Lilith protested.

“
That’s
not the point!” Victor snapped. “As a member of the aristocracy, you’re expected to show both wisdom and tact. What you’ve done is not only recklessly selfish, but self-destructive as well. Those are qualities that can spell disaster to even the most powerful house.

By the Outer Dark, what patriarch in his right mind would allow his heir apparent to become bound to a bride capable of such childish idiocy?

“While you may not be my only daughter, you are the one who bears my name. Since I have no sons 173

to continue the House of Todd, I’ve worked hard to ensure that our family’s genetic legacy and bloodright isn’t usurped by weaving it into the tapestry of one of the most influential and powerful aristocratic families in the world.

“I want to get three things straight between us.

First, you will cease making attempts on your sister’s life. . . .”

“Did
she
tell you I tried to kill her?” Lilith snarled.

“What a sniveling little snitch. And she’s
not
my sister!”

“Very well, then you will cease making attempts on your
demi-sister’s
life. Second, if you so much as
whisper
Cally’s name around your mother, I swear by Tanoch the Stormgatherer, I will take these photographs and turn them over to the Synod myself! And last, but most importantly, if you
ever
try to blackmail me again, whether you’re my heiress or not, I
shall
destroy you.”

“You wouldn’t
dare
!” Lilith replied, trying to hide the quaver of uncertainty in her voice.

“Wouldn’t I?” Victor said coldly. “I didn’t get where I am today without being willing to shed the blood of my kin. And as you know, I
do
have another daughter. . . .” Cally sat and stared at the dressmaker’s dummy Granny had given her for her thirteenth birthday. Save for a couple of minor embellishments here and there, Cally was pretty much finished with her evening gown for 174

the Grand Ball. And in her opinion, it was every inch as kick-ass as the designer gowns Melinda and the twins had paid thousands of dollars for. Take
that
, House of Dior!

If someone had told Cally a month ago that she would be a debutante at the Rauhnacht Grand Ball, she would have laughed. But here she was, less than forty-eight hours away from making her social “debut” to New York City’s Old Blood elite. And as usual, she found herself with conflicted emotions.

While she was excited by the pageantry and ritual of it all, another part of her was distressed by the fact that she was participating under false pretenses. Not only was she claiming to be the daughter of a man who was not her father, but she wasn’t even a true-born vampire.

Then again, what did it matter? She was leaving for Sweden the moment the ball was over.

It was hard to believe that within seventy-two hours she would be on a snowmobile, headed into the Arctic Circle. After a lifetime spent in the hustle and bustle of New York City, she might as well be going to the moon. The idea of not looking out her window and being able to see the bridge and the lights of the city was almost too much to bear. And who would tend her grandparents’ grave once she was gone? She hated to think of Granny’s headstone becoming as weathered and unkempt as those residents of Rest 175

Haven who no longer had visitors.

Not being able to tell any of her friends good-bye was tough, but she could do it. What was hard was leaving the one person she truly cared about.

Breaking up with Peter had been the hardest thing she’d ever done, but she did it to protect him. Still, it saddened her to think that they might never be together again. She didn’t want him to go through life thinking she no longer cared. The possibility of never seeing his face or hearing his voice was enough to crack her heart like an egg.

Cally got up and tiptoed into the living room to make sure her mother was asleep. Sure enough, Sheila was sprawled on the chaise lounge, snoring softly, her wireless headphones still clamped around her ears. The undead servants her father had left behind were busy in the darkened kitchen, stoically wrapping dishware in newspaper and packing it into cardboard boxes.

Satisfied the coast was as clear as it was likely to get, Cally returned to her bedroom and locked the door behind her before calling Peter’s number on her cell phone.

After several rings, a groggy-sounding voice finally answered.

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry I’m calling so late, Peter.”

“Cally? Is that you?” Peter was suddenly wide 176

awake. “I miss you so much.”

“I’m sorry I said what I did,” she apologized. “I didn’t really mean it. I said a
lot
of things that night I didn’t mean.”

“Me too, Cally,” Peter said. “It’s just that I was so afraid of losing you. Sometimes I start talking before I start thinking, if you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I do,” she said, smiling into the receiver. “I’m so sorry things went so wrong between us. I don’t want you to think I hate you. What I feel for you is anything
but
hate. It’s just that I’m so afraid. . . .”

“Afraid of what?”

“Of you getting hurt, that’s all. It would tear me apart if anything happened to you because of me.”

“Cally, I feel the same way you do,” Peter said pas-sionately. “Every time one of the others tells me they’ve staked a sucker—I mean, killed a vampire—my heart stops, and I pray it’s not you they’re talking about. If only we could run away and put all of this behind us and start fresh somewhere. . . .”