Nancy A Collins-Vamps 02 (17 page)

“Believe me, there’s nothing I would love more than that.” She sighed sadly. “But I’m afraid it’s just not possible. At least, not now, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”

Cally took a deep breath, then said, “Peter, the real reason I’m calling you is . . . I just wanted you to know how I feel before—”

177

“Before what?” he asked, an edge of suspicion in his voice.

“I leave New York.”

“You’re leaving the city? Why?”

“My father is sending me and my mother to Europe to try and protect us from his wife.”

“Europe?!”
Peter groaned as if he’d just been hit in the gut. “When are you coming back?”

“I don’t know. Maybe not for a very long time.”

“I don’t want you to go away, Cally!” Peter protested.

“You belong here with me!”

“I don’t want to go, Peter, but there’s nothing I can do.”

Peter paused for a moment as what she had said began to sink in.

“How much time do we have before you go?”

“I’m leaving immediately after the Grand Ball on Rauhnacht.”

“Rauhnacht? But that’s this weekend, isn’t it? There must be
something
you can do that will make Todd reconsider!”

Cally took the cell phone from her ear and stared at it for a long moment, as if she could see through the earpiece to the other side. “Peter,” she said icily, “how do you know that Victor Todd is my father?”

“I—I—didn’t say that,” he stammered.

“Yes. You.
Did
. I just
heard
you.”

“Oh. Uh. You must have mentioned it to me earlier 178

and just forgot,” Peter said quickly. Suddenly he sounded very nervous.

“No, I
didn’t
, Peter. I was afraid you might hate me if you knew I was the daughter of your father’s archenemy, so I made sure I didn’t mention his name.”

“Oh. Well. Uh.”

As she listened to Peter hem and haw, trying to figure a way out of his lie, the truth, as cold as morning at the South Pole, dawned on Cally.

“You knew who my father was all along, didn’t you?” she said in wounded disbelief. “And you never said a word even though you
knew
it was important to me! Why?
Why
would you do such a thing to me, Peter? Were you just pretending to be my friend and care about me so I would lower my guard?”

“No, Cally—that’s not it at all!” Peter said frantically. “I was afraid
you’ d
turn against
me
if you knew you were Todd’s daughter! I was just trying to protect what we had between us!”

“You know what, Peter? Before I called you, I was really upset that I had to go away, but now I’m really,
really
glad I’m leaving.”

“Cally, no! Don’t hang up!” Peter begged. “I
love
you, Cally! Living without you is torture!”

“Good! Suffer, then!” Cally said angrily, snapping the cell phone shut.

As she wiped the tears from her eyes, she told herself it was all for the best. Things never could have worked 179

out for them. Besides, Peter was all wrong for her, and she’d never really loved him in the first place.

It was all another lie, of course. But if she kept telling it to herself over and over, maybe she’d come to believe it was true.

180

Lilith peered out the window of the Rolls at Saint Germain’s Fine Books, a few blocks east of Grand Central Terminal. A sign on the door announced: by appointment only.

“What are we doing here?” she asked. “I thought we were going home.”

“
We
are not doing anything here,” her father said.

“
You
are coming here to study after school.”

“But Jules and the others are waiting for me at the Belfry!”

“And they will
continue
to wait until your grades have improved!” Victor retorted. “Until then, Bruno is under orders to drive you to only three destina-tions: home, school, and here, the Central Scrivenery. I advise you to enjoy the Grand Ball as much as possible, because that is going to be the
last
chance you have to 181

see your friends outside of school for a very long time.” Victor leaned across his daughter and opened the door.

“Bruno will be back to pick you up before dawn.” Lilith found herself in a huge, circular room the size of an Olympic skating rink. The ceiling loomed stories above her head. At first glance it resembled a cross between a cave, a beehive, and a public library. The walls of the scrivenery were sixty feet high and lined with numerous hand-carved niches, like those found in catacombs.

Inside each niche were stacks of leather scroll cases. Lilith could see winged figures flitting back and forth from niche to niche, alternately pulling and returning scroll cases for those down below.

The floor of the scrivenery itself was crowded with reading tables and copying desks arranged in a dimin-ishing spiral, resembling the ringed chambers of a nautilus. At the center of the great chamber stood the Master Scrivener’s desk, which towered over the lesser tables like a judge’s bench.

“Please make yourself comfortable,” one of the assistant scriveners said, gesturing to the desks. “What scroll do you seek?”

“I dunno,” Lilith said, shrugging her shoulders. “I’m flunking my alchemy class.”

“Alchemy, eh? Wait right here. I will be back shortly.” The scrivener shed his human guise and, with a single flap of leathery wings, took to the air, flying up to a 182

niche thirty feet above the chamber’s floor.

He returned a moment later and handed a two-foot-long leather document tube to Lilith.

“Here you go,” he said. “Should you require any other documents, just raise your hand and one of our staff will be happy to assist you.”

“Yeah. Whatever.” She shrugged. “Thanks, I guess.” Lilith waited until the spoddy apprentice dude, or whatever he was supposed to be, had walked away before unfastening the lid on the document tube and sliding its contents onto the table.

This was so incredibly stupid. It was bad enough her father had derailed her career as a supermodel, but now he was actually forcing her to study. Yuck. If Victor thought he’d frightened her into abandoning her dreams of striking out and becoming her own woman, he was seriously deluded. Oh, sure, she’d played all cowed and tearful and promised that she had learned her lesson, but in reality all dear Daddy succeeded in doing was hardening her resolve.

She had gone into modeling completely blind. Still, despite her ignorance of how things were done in the world of humans, she had succeeded in going pretty far, very fast. Now that she knew how easy it was to be someone else, she had a taste for the excitement and novelty that came with living a double life. With a well-placed bribe or two, she was sure she could acquire a Social Security card and other forms of ID she’d need 183

to move freely among humans.

Still, her father’s threats aside, there was the unavoid-able fact that her image was already starting to fade away, at least on traditional film stock. That meant it was only a matter of time before she would be invisible to digital cameras.

It seemed ludicrous to her that humans, who lived lives as short as mice compared to her people, could have figured out how to transplant organs, fly to the moon, and split the atom. Yet no one, in the twenty thousand years the vampire race had walked this world, had tried to address this serious drawback to their people. Perhaps it was time to take a page from the humans. After all, they spent billions on creams and lotions in an attempt to postpone, if not reverse, the effect of aging. If they could do it—why couldn’t she?

Her father had triggered a cultural revolution the likes of which had never been seen before, simply by making the hunting of humans no longer necessary for the survival of vampires. But imagine the changes that would result if her people no longer had to fear reflective surfaces and cameras. The resulting shock waves would make Victor Todd’s contribution to vampire society look like the hula hoop or Pac-Man.

Lilith smiled at the thought of her father being reduced to a footnote. She liked that idea. Yeah, she liked it a lot.

Surely, among all the centuries of collected infor-184

mation stored in the Central Scrivenery, there was something that might answer this question. But how to find it? How could she hope to figure out an answer to the most serious impediment to the vampire race’s continued survival: the lack of a reflection? She was flunking out of Basic Alchemy, for crying out loud.

“What are
you
doing here?”

Lilith looked up to find Xander Orlock standing on the other side of the reading table, a parchment case in one hand and a scrivening kit in the other. He was still dressed in his Ruthven’s school uniform, the tie loosened and pulled slightly askew. He was so pale the blue veins in his hands and face were visible through his skin, and his long fingers reminded Lilith of spider legs.

His champagne-colored hair was brushed back from his high, wide forehead and worn in a pronounced widow’s peak. With his pointed ears, arched eyebrows, and unretractable fangs, there was no way he could pass as human, but as Orlocks go, he wasn’t too hideous. Still, he
was
an Orlock.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” she replied, not bothering to hide her irritation.

“Are you sure you haven’t made a wrong turn somewhere? This isn’t a nightclub.”

“Duh! I hadn’t noticed,” Lilith said, rolling her eyes for emphasis. “If you
must
know, I’m here to study for my stupid alchemy class. If I don’t pass, I’m going to flunk out of Bathory.”

185

“Bummer.” He cleared his throat and pointed to the chair opposite from Lilith. “Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“You’re kidding, right?” she said, fixing him with an icy stare.

The hopeful look on Xander’s face quickly disappeared and his shoulders dropped.

As he turned to leave, it suddenly occurred to Lilith that the answer to her problem was about to slip between her fingers. If anyone could invent her new cream it was Exo. She quickly pasted on her most winning smile and hurried after her target.

“Exo, I mean, Xander—come back!” she said, touching him on the arm. “Don’t be silly! Of course you can sit here with me! I was just joking with you.”

“Really?” he said, dazzled by the smile Lilith flashed him. “You don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t mind,” she said. “You
are
Jules’s cousin, after all. Speaking of which, I thought you were staying with his family for the time being. What are you doing over here?”

“I’m doing research on a paper for my Applied Necromancy class for extra credit,” he explained, looking sheepish. “I know, I know: I’m a
complete
spod.

Jules already said so.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Lilith lied as she sat down opposite him.

Xander set the document tube he was carrying 186

down on the table and then glanced over at the partially unrolled scroll Lilith was attempting to read.

“Did you specifically ask for that text?”

“No, the scrivener guy pulled it.”

“You mean Clovis?” Xander chuckled. “He’s an excellent scrivener, but if you ask him what time it is, he’ll give you a scroll on watchmaking. You’re better off with
The Apprentice Alchemist’s Guide
, by Skorzeny
.
It’s a lot easier to understand.”

“Thanks, Exo,” Lilith said, now focusing the full force of her smile on him. “You’re
really
smart, you know that?”

“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, dropping his gaze as he blushed.

“Jules told me you help him with
his
alchemy homework. Do you think you could help me, too?” Xander blinked in surprise and looked around, as if uncertain Lilith was talking to him. “You want
me
to tutor you?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure about that? I mean, this isn’t a joke or anything?”

Lilith leaned forward, her face a mask of seriousness.

“Does it
look
like I’m joking?”

“No,” he admitted, “but I thought you, you know, didn’t like me.”

“You’re being silly again, Exo!” Lilith laughed. “Of
course
I like you. Whatever gave you the idea I didn’t?” 187

“I dunno.” He shrugged. “Maybe it was all those times you called me creepy and told me to go away when we were growing up.”

“We were just kids!” Lilith insisted. “Things have changed since then.”

“Not
that
much,” Xander replied. “Look, Lilith—I’ll help you with your alchemy homework, but only if you agree to make me your escort at the Grand Ball.”

“Are you
crazy
?!” Lilith recoiled, her voice rising so sharply it threatened to enter the ultrasonic register.

Several other patrons of the scrivenery paused to look up from their research and scowl in the direction of the two fledglings.

“Okay, if you don’t want my help . . . It’s your decision.” Xander started gathering up his things.

“It’s not that!” Lilith lied again. “It’s just that the Grand Ball is this weekend and I already asked Barnabas Barlow to be my escort.”

“I understand,” Xander said, getting to his feet. “But those are my terms; take ’em or leave ’em.”

“All right! You win!” Lilith said, trying her best to mask her disgust. “You’re my escort.”

Xander smiled and held out his hand. “It’s a deal, then?”

“Deal,” Lilith agreed, suppressing a shudder.

Jules de Laval reclined against the padded leather head-board of his king-size bed, idly fingering the keyboard 188

of his Guitar Hero controller as the video game played on the fifty-inch plasma flat screen mounted on the ceiling overhead.

He hadn’t heard from Lilith all night, and she hadn’t shown up at the club. He wondered if she’d found out about Carmen. No, then he
definitely
would have heard from her. Besides, Carmen had been at the Belfry, and she didn’t seem a bit scared or missing any body parts, so obviously Lilith couldn’t know about their affair, at least not yet.

She needed to find out pretty soon, though, because Carmen was starting to really get on his nerves. Every time Ollie got up to get a round of drinks or hit the john, she was all over Jules, squeezing the inside of his thigh and rubbing her boobs against his arms and chest. He’d enjoyed it the first few weeks, but no more.