SNAP: The World Unfolds (11 page)

.We were chatting when Francois came over and whispered something in Carola’s ear. She turned to look at someone across the room and shook her head. “I don’t think so, Fran. You have to stop trying to pick up on regulars. You know they’ll always break your heart.”

“I know,” Francois’ eyes took on a spaniel sadness. “They look so attractive when they’re young, but they age and then they die. I’m tired of that. I have a request in to the Baron to let me get an acolyte but he’s being stubborn ‘You’ll be responsible for her forever,’ he says. ‘What’s going to happen when you get tired of her. Francois, you’re just not settled enough.’ Merde, you’d think he’s my father!”

At work, Francois was a little flip, but knew the French market well. He’d found several Parisian women whom we could groom as celebs, mainly models. I thought it was easier for him—French women have an innate flair. Maybe they were issued a scarf to wear “just so” in the hospital nurseries.

“Bon soir, Francois.” I used my best college French accent, which made him giggle. He was not much more than 20, adopted a retro Jean-Paul Belmondo look with dark hair, dark eyes and stubble. He probably had been around long enough for the world-weary air he affected, but he looked way too young for it to be effective. I always wanted to giggle right back at him and we had a good time at work.

“Allo, Maxie. You look good enough to eat,” and the giggle began again. “You
do
look wonderful tonight. Who’s been dressing you?”

Carola and Gregor had wandered away. I was surrounded by a pool of quiet as the party eddied around me. I sank onto a pouf to give my feet, hurting already, a rest and looked around. The sitting room, I guess it was called, that the Baron chose for cocktails was large but easily held the crowd. Like all the rooms on the ground floor, it was probably twelve feet high. Two walls held tapestries and the far end had a massive fireplace. Sofas, chairs, tables and ottomans were scattered around artfully. Jean-Louis appeared in front of me.

“This is a part of the first castle, it dates back to the 16
^th
century and the Baron’s left it original. It’s wired but there’s no heat other than the fireplace. I think he really feels at home here, but it’s cold and drafty during the winter. One thing you appreciate in a long life is the progress in creature comforts.”

He was smiling down at me, his glimmer enveloping him like an aura. A flush started up from my chest, warming me to my hairline. This was getting too much; I couldn’t even carry on cocktail chatter with him without tripping over my tongue. I was literally saved by the bell as Josef announced dinner. I took the hand that Jean-Louis offered and stood up with only a whimper from my feet. A trace of something must have crossed my face because Jean-Louis said, “Are you alright? You look like something hurts. Is it from last night?”

“No, I have to admit to vanity. These shoes...,” and I lifted my dress and stuck out a foot.

“They’re lovely.”

“They are lovely, but they’re also higher than I’m used to. My California laid-back style has spoiled me for dressing up. I’ll get used to it, but right now sitting for dinner would be great.”

We found our places at the long table. I was between Bela and Gregor with Jean-Louis across from me. I missed not being able to feel him next to me, but watching him made my skin shiver.

The courses for the regulars included a clear consume, poached fish with a delicate sauce, vegetables, lamb chops and a salad. Bela, Gregor and the others had borscht—except I knew it wasn’t—with steak tartre and blood pudding, washing it down with Bull’s Blood. I wondered in passing if meals got boring for them.

There were several conversations around the table, with a surprising amount of SNAP business discussed. No specifics, just assessing trends and general chat about using the new social media to the best advantage. Most of the vampires had heard about the incident last night, and with the Baron at one end of the table and Pen at the other, they tried to veer conversation away from the Huszar family.

Dinner was longish and it was almost 11 when Pen stood up as a signal for all of us to leave. All the food and three glasses of wine left me full and sleepy and I was starting to look forward to bed when the Baron said, “The screening will be in the media room.”

Oh crap, I’d forgotten we were supposed to see and critique tonight’s shows. We moved into a small theater and settled down. The SNAP music signaled the start of the L.A. episode and I bit my lip to wake up and pay attention.

They’d chosen the French version next and Francois was busily taking notes, shaking his head and muttering. All I could make out was “Merde,” and “Mais, non,” but I was pretty sure he wasn’t raving.

When the lights came up, everybody blinked and started moving around.

“We’ll adjourn to the conference room for the meeting,” the Baron announced. “We only need the family members and senior employees. The others can make themselves comfortable in the sitting room.”

With that, Jean-Louis took my arm and steered me toward the conference room. “There are only two items on the agenda tonight,” he said quietly. “Pen’s next assignment and you.”

“Me? Why me?” I gasped and tried to pull my arm away. Had he just been trying to lull me into a false sense of security with all his glimmering and sweet talk? As I tried to move my arm away, I instantly remembered how strong he was. I’d probably have bruises tomorrow.

Josef had set the conference room with carafes of water, bottles of Bull’s Blood, glasses, cups and an urn of tea. A large flat-screen was mounted on one wall with an array of electronics shelved below it. This time, the Baron sat on one side, with Pen at his right hand, and Jean-Louis led me to a chair across the table and firmly seated himself next to me. The rest of them took seats and the Baron announced, “Alright, the meeting of Kandesky Holdings will come to order.”

Kandesky Holdings? Apparently, this was some parent company of SNAP Enterprises. I’d thought SNAP was the corporate name. What else was there?

“By now, I’m sure you’ve all met Maxmilla Gwenoch, the new ME of SNAP Magazine, right?” He nodded in my direction and I held up a hand and feebly waved. “For her sake, and because she’s the second subject of this meeting, I’ll do a quick run-through.” He clicked a button and a slide appeared on the screen.

Kandesky Holdings held a lot. The primary company was SNAP Enterprises, which was the television show with productions, the magazines and a syndication department. There was also Baron Ranches, a subsidiary that raised cattle in Hungary, the US and Argentina. There was a land development company, Castle Keep, with holdings in Europe and the US. There was Viper Airways, a charter plane company that specialized in “unusual” transportation. There was something called “Clinque du Lac,” which I guessed was medical. And finally, there was BK Catering, a “food service” company.

“As you see, Maxie, we cover a broad swathe of services, much of it directly related to our family. The past centuries have taught us that we must be self-sufficient and only interact with regulars in ways that we control. Our commercial enterprises, specifically SNAP, are closely held and there are no regulars on the board. You are one of the highest-placed regulars, which is why you’re at this meeting. Your presence has upset the Huszars and we need to deal with that. First, though, there’s Pen,” and he turned to the beautiful woman beside him. Tonight she was in a deep red gown that looked like fresh blood against the pallor of her skin. She smiled with her mouth closed and regally nodded.

“I know that it’s hard to take me out of circulation. If I’m gone too long, we have to build me up again. But not long enough and people will start to compare my pictures. I’ve suggested to the Baron that five years away should be enough.”

This wasn’t my bailiwick so I didn’t venture an opinion. Was five years enough? I knew photo editors who had memories a lot longer than that. She was distinctive, plus the name.

Clearing his throat, the Baron began, “I think we may need to do things differently. Many of you have had fun, and a long run, at changing places every few years. But with 24/7 news, instant communications, global interest, people are likely to remember you. And if they don’t actively remember, there are reruns, late night movies, online blogs and chats, conspiracy theories. Some one, somewhere, is apt to see an old picture and begin to ask questions.

“We could manage a few off-the-wall conspiracies, but there’s no sense putting SNAP in jeopardy.” He turned to Pen. “I’m afraid, my dear, that we need to start with you. We need to make your retirement permanent. If you go gracefully, then everyone else will follow when it’s their turn. With plastic surgery and the health industry helping keep regulars looking the same for several years, then we can be in the limelight between thirty and forty years. But we can no longer recyle ourselves.”

A chorus of dissent started. The Baron raised his hand to instant silence. “It doesn’t mean that we have to give up working for SNAP Holdings, or doing other things we love. It simply means that we can no longer be the celebrities. If any of us miss it, we have hours and hours and miles and miles of film and video we can watch of ourselves. After all, we’ve all had a lot more salad days than anybody else has!”

At this, there was a ripple of laughter and a general murmur of assent. The Baron nodded firmly. “Next item...,” and I was a pinned butterfly with thirteen vampires looking at me.

“I know you’ve all heard about the little fracas last night,” he started and there were nods around the table. I wasn’t sure I would have referred to last night as a “little fracas,” since it was my neck involved. “This was the second attempt on Maxie. She was also attacked in the parking garage at SNAP right before they left L.A. I’m disturbed at the attacks and want to know why. Why Maxie? Why now? Any theories or suggestions?”

The room hummed with murmured voices. “Do we know for sure it was the Huszars?” Carola asked.

“Last night, the attackers were actually members of the next-door neighbor’s family,” the Baron said drily. There were snickers around the table. Living next to the Huszar family for hundreds of years hadn’t made for any better relations, apparently. I wondered if I could find what had started the feud or if it was buried in all of the vampire myths from this part of the world.

“In the Los Angeles attack, I don’t know if they were Huszars or hired goons. One of them was killed and the other got away. The dead one didn’t have any identification on him. All we know is that he was a vampire. One of Sandor’s men killed him.”

This was my first exposure to vampire killings and I had a lot of questions. The Baron had talked about peasants using stakes in the past, Lisbet and her family wore crosses and some of the other castle staff smelled—reeked—of garlic. But other vampires wouldn’t wear crosses or garlic and wooden stakes weren’t much available; hard to carry around and use. Jean-Louis saw my eyebrows wrinkling and said, “All of the security demons carry silenced Sig Saurers or Glocks with special adaptations for our own ammunition. We have a factory in the Czech Republic that makes silver bullets.”

“You’re showing your naïveté as a regular,” Francois was laughing so hard he started coughing. Gregor reached over and slapped him on the back—harder than he needed to, I thought—and Francoise hiccupped a couple of times and wiped his eyes.

I didn’t think my questions were
that
funny. I guessed I hit some nerve.

“Did you have to go through airport security?” Jean-Louis looked at me, his right eyebrow arcing.

My mouth imitated a perfect “O” as the light dawned. Everybody who worked with the Baron flew Viper Airways when they needed to, which used private airports with a minimum of security checks. Guns and silver bullets were only part of the different baggage. There was also blood, often a lot of blood, transported. Since the Kandesky family had foresworn killing humans regularly for food, they had to carry around all their food with them.