Page 28 of Saved by the Vampire Goddess (Dark Wine Vampires #1)

Chapter twenty-eight

Evelina

Streets of New Rome—Moments later

F or cripes’ sake!

The haunted look in Tina’s eyes as she turns away guts me. That bastard Maliff destroyed her world, made her lose her brother and her sense of safety. She must have felt nothing but terror when he came into her room that night. She showed such bravery in attacking the bastard. If the dude wasn’t already dead, I’d beat the ever-lovin’ crapola out of him. For her sake, I’m glad she frightened him off.

Memories of what happened to me in Hollywood surface, and I shudder. I know firsthand how little choice women have in a world like this. The uncertainty of what we’ll be forced to do next. When I moved to Hollywood, I was older than Tina, yet the scars remain. Now, as a powerful vampire, it’s easier to forget that vulnerability and trauma, because no one has overpowered me in a very long time.

Valroy stands watching her leave.

Hard as it is to force him to turn away, I tug on his arm. “We gotta get going.”

We walk in silence toward the nearest light-rail depot. The hurt over Valroy’s attempt to leave me transforms to guilt, and I take his hand in mine. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the full story about Tina’s age.”

“I should’ve asked more questions. It’s messed up to force a young woman into marrying a creep, and I still think you should have used your status to speak out for all women when you had the chance, but I assumed your sister was of age. That wasn’t fair of me.” My points about how this jeopardized the mission are true, but I’m ashamed of my apathy now as I glance over my shoulder at Tina’s retreating back. This life would’ve broken that kid. Is this what the Lux domes saved us for? To build warped cultures that let a dictator reward their fellow oligarchs at the expense of children? “I know what it’s like to be forced—”

He squeezes my hand. “I’m sorry you experienced that with your maker.”

“Thanks.” I still can’t wrap my head around what happened to Tina. “Why didn’t you tell me her age?”

“Shame. Our laws prohibit marriage at her age. Even if you're right and our system of marriage contracts is wrong, Maliff shouldn't have been able to force my hand. I failed to protect her—”

I stop in my tracks and tug him around to face me. “That isn’t your fault.”

“But it is. I’m a dominus.” He releases the suitcase’s extended handle and hugs me. “What good is my power if I can’t protect her?”

I wrap my arms around him. My heart pumps harder, filling with love for both him and his sister.

“We better hurry.” He grabs the bag’s handle. “Or we’ll miss the train.”

When we arrive at the light-rail depot, Valroy uses the extra coins he secured at the hotel to pay the first-class fare. “We’ll look less suspicious.” He leads the way onto the rail car. “An imperial couple in second class would raise eyebrows.”

We take our seats, and during the ride, he digs the domino masks out of our remaining backpack. My mask has a black base with handsewn crystals. His matches, except it’s larger.

“Do we put these on now?” I ask.

“Probably for the best. Otherwise, someone might recognize me.”

The train rattles over the tracks, bouncing us lightly, and I grip the curved bar on the orange plastic seat in front of us to stay in place. Scratched graffiti mars the windows, and the interior isn’t much better. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I’d hate to see second class.

Valroy takes a moment to shuffle our belongings around. He removes the invitation and the framed print of the harlequin ballet dancer from the zipped suitcase pouch and hands them to me.

I accept the invitation and print, but side-eye him. “Why am I carrying these? I thought we had to take it out of the suitcase in front of the guards, so they don’t suspect we’re smuggling something dangerous.”

“I’ve got a better idea. You’ll see. Now hush. We’re drawing attention.”

Crap. He’s got no business changing our plan, but he’s right—we can’t draw attention to ourselves.

The train stops, the brakes screeching metal on metal, and Valroy flinches. I don’t blame him—newbie vampires are sensitive to high-pitched sounds. He pulls the suitcase behind him with the backpack balanced on top, and I follow.

Footmen in bright costumes manually open the doors to first class from the outside. Once we’re down the station’s stairs, we step directly onto the palace’s red carpet. The ragged rug still appears red despite the intermittent worn spots. We stroll past the media, who cluster in a semicircle holding pre-Collapse electronic cameras. I’m always getting requests from the inners to scavenge for parts to refurbish their cameras. This must be how they use them.

We join the other royals, dressed fancy like us and wearing glamorous masks. The short entry line at the double doors moves quickly. Soon, it’s my turn, and I present the framed print and our invitation to the doorman, who affixes the numbered invitation on the back of the frame. I guess the emperor will receive a freakin’ report on the largesse of those attending.

I have no idea who originally held the invitation numbered six hundred and seventy-three, but they’ll receive credit for our generous gift.

“What is that?” the greeter asks, gesturing toward the roller bag.

My pulse thrums. Are we about to be discovered? I glance around for escape routes, trying hard not to show fear.

Then Valroy gives a slight nod to the greeter. The greeter doesn’t rank very high at all, or at least that’s what Valroy intends to convey by the shallowness of his nod.

The guy gestures for Valroy to open the bag. For cripes’ sake, how will he distract the guard? Taking the litho out of the bag was supposed to suffice.

“Our instruments.” Valroy raises his chin and speaks in a huffy tone. “We’re singing a ballad in the emperor’s honor.”

I squelch a groan. He said nothing to me about singing. Hell’s bells, I hope the man doesn’t ask for a preview performance. I’ve no idea what passes for music in New Rome.

But the greeter steps back and motions for us to move along. I breathe deeply, both to slow my pounding pulse and to keep up the pretense of looking mortal. It’s been years since I had to pass as mortal, forcing myself to breathe regularly—the mixed domes don’t care if you look dead.

The red carpet continues inside a humongous area, and we stroll past the first round of guards, who have their naked backs to us. Goodness gracious. Old Ernie the Second likes his Roman motif. The gladiator archetypes hold shields slightly, covering bare, muscular chests. Pleated skirts leave their naked legs visible. The butt ends of spears rest on the ground, held at their right sides, resembling a tall picket fence.

If I wasn’t already on the arm of the best-looking man in the room, I’d slow down to ogle the Roman beef.

Still, I take a quick peek over my shoulder. Can we lower the shields, please? I’m getting ideas for some later role playing.

Valroy growls and gives me a little tug. “Keep moving.”

“Hey, I’m just checking out the weapons.”

He’s already clued me in on all New Rome armaments. In addition to the spears, the guards have plumbata tucked into the inner curve of their shields. The lead-weighted throwing darts can be deadly to a vampire if aimed at our hearts.

He leans next to my ear. “You’re eying the men. Stop it.”

Oops. Busted. “I bet you’d look good in one of those outfits.”

His pupils expand until his eyes are all black. A small part of me thrills at his response.

The soldiers lining the room aren’t our worry tonight, as we don’t expect any fighting on the floor of the ballroom. Instead, we’ll wait until the appointed time to climb the stairs to the second floor and meet our contact, then sneak through one of the many “employees only” doors to gain access to the behind-the-scenes area. I carry the map to the plutonium lab in my evening bag. If necessary, I’ll mesmerize a guard or two, and we’ll be golden.

As we walk into the shopping mall’s center court, my jaw drops. I recognize this enormous space with its exposed girders and glass ceiling overhead. I’ve been here before.

The area is four stories of open space and over a mile long. A small indoor amusement park once occupied this center court. Even for pre-Collapse America, housing multiple roller coasters inside a shopping mall was unusual, and on my first visit, I felt like Dorothy landing in Oz.

The emperor, or his predecessor, has removed the rides and converted the area into a sweeping ballroom, able to host a thousand people. The space is so jam-packed, we’re elbowing people to make our way around the perimeter of the crowd.

We have to find a place to stash the suitcase and backpack—we can’t kill time in the ballroom, waiting for our rendezvous, with all this luggage.

Valroy shakes his head. “I thought there might be a back room where entertainers dressed and stored their instruments.”

Yeah, a quick circuit of the gigantic dance floor didn’t reveal any. “What do ya suggest?”

He scans an area where the open space ends and the enclosed shops begin. “Over here.”

Now I see what he does—a coat-check stand.

“Milady,” Valroy says, bowing gallantly to the young gal behind the counter.

She blushes. “Dominus, how may I serve you?”

I roll my eyes at this barnyard dance, yet empathy washes through me, too. If all the coat-check gal can do is hope to catch the eye of a minor imperial royal to lift her out of whatever poverty she’s trapped in, she must be desperate.

A fresh spike of anger rushes through me.

The whoop-ass I’m giving Ingvar over New Rome’s poverty and their despicable treatment of women solidifies into a definite plan.

“Milady,” Valroy says, “we have musical instruments for safekeeping until our performance. Do you have space for our bags?”

“Of course, Dominus. Whatever you need to store, I can accommodate it.”

I’m not sure if she intended the innuendo, but I elbow Valroy. He lifts the backpack over the counter, and then the suitcase.

She presses her hand against his and flutters her eyelashes as she takes the handle from him and lowers our bags to the floor.

Geez Louise .

“For your trouble.” Valroy slips her one of our pairs of crystal earrings—boy, do her eyes get big—and she falls all over herself, promising to keep our instruments safe. Valroy accepts the claim check.

As soon as we turn away, I pluck the receipt from his fingers and slide it into my purse.

“Jealous?” he asks with a deliciously devious smile.

I huff at him. “Planning ahead. In my purse is safer in case we get separated and I have to retrieve the football. You can always use your charm and bribery. That gal would give you anything you asked for.”

“You are jealous.”

“Don’t be a silly billy. She’s desperate. I can smell it on her. So don’t go giving her any false hopes.”

“I won’t.” He pauses. “The only woman I have eyes for is you.”

I take his arm and rest my face against his shoulder, my lips turning up at the corners and my heart flutters.

From the choice of music the band plays, the emperor has a penchant for swing dancing. Doesn’t bother me. I adore big bands—Duke Ellington, Guy Lombardo, and Tex Beneke. Too many years of no live music, no dancing, no partying of any kind, and I’m raring to hit the dance floor, even in the middle of this mission.

Hey, we’ll blend in better by dancing rather than walking the sidelines sucking our thumbs. I squeeze his hand. “So how’s your Lindy Hop?”

He stops and turns to me. Both his eyebrows rise. “You know how to dance?”

I feel like whacking him upside the head. “Bet ya I’m better at it than you.”

“I accept your challenge.” He gives me one of his little bows. “Winner chooses our next bedroom activities.” He sounds way too confident as he leads me onto the dance floor.

To my surprise, I find myself in the arms of a master at the Lindy Hop. He leads me through the eight-count move—not that I need much guidance, but he’s classically trained. He presses fingers in my lower back, giving little signals to let me know what’s coming next, and releases my hand for the swing-out, then smoothly transitions from open to closed position, and back to open, all done in quick, snapping succession.

Yes, the man knows how to dance. Just like he knows how to make love. A two-fer.

Be still my—sometimes—beating heart.

We hold each other’s gaze as we swing back into closed position, face to face, the heat between us rising with each strike of the cowbell, the sax player blowing swoon-worthy notes, but it’s Valroy who mesmerizes me. Even here, I want him.

The band slows down the beat with a new song, and I move in close for a slow dance. I feel his erection brush against me. We’re both having the same reaction.

I give him my coyest smile. “You’re quite the dancer.”

“I could say the same for you.” His eyes flash. “It’s the right partner who makes the dance worthy. Tell me, where did you learn, Blue Eyes?”

“Cloud Nine Ballroom. I danced this same number when Tex Beneke performed it live with his full orchestra.”

Valroy’s eyes go wide. Maybe that was too much information.

Then movement at the edge of the dance floor distracts me. “Valroy, check out the guards. Is it my imagination, or are there more spear carriers around the room?”

“It is not your imagination. They’ve moved in additional troops.”

“What does it mean?”

“The commander of the emperor’s personal guard expects an attack.”

“Fudge crackers. Do you think they’ve spotted us?”

He turns us, which should give him a better view. “Keep dancing. Give nothing away. They can’t find us on a crowded dance floor. They don’t know whom they’re looking for.”

“Do you think our contact’s identity has been blown?”

“Unsure. They don’t seem focused on anyone in particular yet.”

The music changes. We stay put, moving into a Balboa, with more fast spins for me. Landing back in Valroy’s arms, I watch him for cues. His chin remains lifted, his eyes directed at the emperor’s pavilion.

Abruptly, he comes to a stop and shoves me behind him. The other dancers part like the Red Sea, and guards march straight toward us. Well, shoot. Looks like they knew exactly who to look for and where to find us. With the speed I’m famous for, I feel for the daylight bracelet and tap the polished gemstone three times.