They stare at me with aggressive faces as I take the table in the darkest corner, right by the door. I’m here an hour early to let time pass, allow the patrons to forget my presence before Isolde comes. I’m close enough to the door to take her hand and pull her to the table in the corner before anyone gets to see her.
The crooks soon look away, but they keep talking about me for a while. They think they’re being discreet, of course, merely pointing to me with their eyes, but I can see their inflating chests, hands resting on their knees, knees pointed outwards, ready to attack and show who is boss.
I order chicken wings to make it look like I’m actually having lunch, and keep to myself until a woman walks in. The first thing appearing in my field of vision is her perky backside, a long pencil skirt hugging it. I look up a long straight back to a head with a kerchief over it.
Just as the crooks turn their heads to look at her, too, I grab her hand, making her turn.
Blue melancholy eyes meet mine, curved eyelashes heavy with mascara moving up and down. She has a face so sweet and doll-like one could get diabetes just by looking at it.
“You better sit down fast, if you don’t want anyone to notice you.”
She glances around, the crooks’ eyes now finding her. I have to pull her hand, forcing her to drop into the chair across from me, her back to the crooks. Then the scent of her blood hits my senses—lily of the valley, but natural. This is no perfume, it’s the scent of her flesh, and it’s delicious. My throat goes dry.
Of one thing I’m certain, namely that she didn’t smell like this the first two times we were in the same hall, at Radek’s and later at Lord Dracula’s wedding. But while I don’t understand why she smells differently, I do get why she asked to remain in the shadow when she went to see the witch Magda. Isolde Jochs, now Isolde Serpaint, is supposed to be forty years of age; but she looks twenty.
Isolde
DAMN, TRISTAN DEKNIGHT is handsome up close. Like all vampires, he has that deceiving, pull-you-in-only-to-kill-you kind of beauty. I even heard he’s crueler than most. His electric blue eyes, his white-blond hair and sharp features go along well with that theory.
“Why on Earth did she send you of all people?” I whisper.
“You didn’t know who you were talking to on the phone earlier today?” His voice is deep, masculine. Sexy.
I clear my throat, making sure my nerves don’t show. “She only gave me a number, no names, for safety reasons.”
“And now that you see me you’re disappointed?”
“I was hoping she’d send Lazarus. He would have helped me with more than just the delivery—”
“—Putting himself at deadly risk. I understand you were very close friends for twenty years, how come you’re so willing to expose him to your husband’s anger?” He leans in over the table with the gaze of a cold assassin. Shudders run through me, and it’s all I can do to repress them. “You are aware that the husband you chose, and his kind are deadly to vampires, yes?”
“I didn’t choose him,” I snap. “But I’m not going to explain myself to you. Do you have it?”
His electric eyes move coolly over the room before he reaches to the inside pocket of his jacket. “I have it.”
He reveals a small, pretty bottle with what looks like a golden cap. I’m sure my eyes sparkle at it as I reach over to snatch it from his hand. But he grabs my wrist, his electric eyes fixed on mine. It feels like death itself is watching me, making the finest hairs on my spine stand on end.
“Magda says you have to be very careful, no one is to taste the potion besides your husband and whoever it is you want him to fall in love with. Make sure it’s reciprocated. Not that I care about a serpent’s fulfillment in love, but it’s what will keep him too sated to come looking for diversity in your bed.”
“If this potion is anything like Magda promised, he won’t be able to look away from her, let alone cheat on her.” I try to pull the bottle from his grasp, but his big hand hardens on my wrist, his scent of winter wafting over. He smells fresh and deadly, just like he looks.
I stare directly into his eyes, forcing myself to keep cool. Mr. Handsome Brute surely can make women cream between their legs with his presence alone, but I won’t be one of his harebrained victims.
“Thank you, Mr. DeKnight, your task here is finished,” I decree.
“You don’t get to tell me when my mission is accomplished, Mrs. Serpaint.” He stresses the s, and I know he means to make me feel guilty. “As Lord Dracula’s second in command, I demand to know why you betrayed the vampires like this. Why marry one of their greatest enemies?”
“It wasn’t my choice,” I repeat between my teeth. A mocking smile curls his lips.
“You can fool sweet granny Magda, but not me.” He juts out his strong chin as he assesses me. “There’s one way to find out just how deeply you involved yourself with the serpent. If I remember correctly, you’re a white blonde, like me, yes?”
My heart jumps as I realize where he’s going.
“I dyed my hair.” I try hard to repress the body language that comes with that lie. But Tristan DeKnight’s irises sparkle with the intelligence of a centuries old creature.
“Take off your kerchief.”
I glance over my shoulder. Damn it, the crooks aren’t looking at us anymore, so I don’t have a pretext to refuse, arguing they might recognize me. I have no choice. I take a deep breath, grab the fabric and slide it off my hair, surrendering.
“Ah.” Tristan grins, satisfied that he was right. He points to my locks. “People who take serpent blood get that brown-reddish hair, like melted chocolate. Not to mention that you look strikingly young for a woman of forty. Do you have a pre-made explanation for that as well?”
I just stare at him, my jaw tight. Calm, controlled, he leans to me again.
“You took the serpent’s blood to reverse aging. You got what you wanted from him, and now you’re getting rid of him, am I right?”
“You bastard. You like thinking the worst of me, don’t you? If I wanted to be immortal I would’ve asked Lazarus to turn me into a vampire a long time ago, I wouldn’t have bound myself to a serpent.”
“Ah, but turning into a vampire also means sensitivity to sunlight and silver until you meet your own personal Grail. No one would choose vampirism for themselves if they could live a week in a vampire’s skin before they made the choice. Great burden comes with great power, and you’ve been around vampires long enough to know that. So you found another, better way to eternal youth—serpent blood.”
“Even if that were so, you’re no one to judge me.” I tuck the potion in my small purse, which I then slide over my shoulder. “Thank you for the delivery. As far as I’m concerned, we don’t have to see each other again.”
I stand, but before I can take a step he grabs my wrist, keeping me in place. I fume at him, but his sharp blue eyes don’t change.
“Just one more question,” he says.
I square my shoulders and arch an eyebrow, defying him. “I don’t see why I should answer any. You’ve already formed an opinion. You can stick to it, I have no interest in changing your mind.”