I burst out laughing, unable to believe the odds.
The skeleton managed to free himself from the piano as my laughter slowly faded. I sighed, shaking my head.
“Where, oh where, did my pianist go?” I taunted, locking onto the crimson mist.
Chapter 4
A man in a dark suit materialized from within the mist, staring at the skeleton in stunned disbelief. The skeleton in the red dress wilted in fear, clutching his skull in the crook of an elbow as he hurriedly scooped up random bones lost during his performance and then darted a safe distance away from his boss. The man shook his head, looking angry, before he turned to face me.
“No one puts a saddle on me,” I told him, pointing at the red dress the skeleton was now attempting to take off. Then I waited. Because I was pretty sure this was Dracula.
He wore a tailored black suit with a bright white shirt underneath that ended in lacy ruffles at his wrists. He had long, dark hair that was held back by a red ribbon tied into a small bow behind his head. His skin was obviously pale, but I hadn’t expected him to look so youthful—and surprisingly handsome.
Except for his eyes. They were dark, cold, and lifeless.
I knew I couldn’t leave without Samael—or killing Dracula—and it was obvious that my Godfather had been abducted from his dressing room. So I had modified my plan to provide some theatrics—taking a cue from Samael’s advice about playing our parts—in hopes that a flashy entrance might give Dracula something else to focus on. It was better than appearing docile and meek after he’d already cut my team in half. He was a predator, and predators pounced on weaknesses. I was betting that he also wouldn’t appreciate his plans deviating beyond his control, and I wanted him to know right from the get-go that I was a messy kind of girl.
Dracula opened his mouth to speak but I held up a finger. Then I pointedly turned away from him and took a moment to actually get a good look at the room for the first time. It reminded me of those romanticized royal banquet halls where the kings and queens of old held elaborate feasts with birds flying out of pies and everything.
I still saw no sign of Samael and I felt my nerves ratcheting up slightly, but I forcefully kept them under control.
Although Samael was nowhere to be found, there were about thirty of the skeleton dudes strategically placed around the room—sans boots and bandana. Several waited obediently near the wall, holding golden trays of food and drink, or stacks of napkins and silverware. I even spotted a few humans—looking surprisingly youthful and healthy—but their eyes were hollow and vacant. I shivered. Blood slaves—prisoners for so long that they were practically vampires themselves. Or maybe they actually were vampires. Royal-blue banners with an embroidered image of a dragon hung from the high ceiling.
I idly wondered how Dracula managed to acquire his victims. Had they been willing or had he used his vampire gaze to seduce them into joining him for a weekend spa retreat? How long had they been here? Because this place had been on lockdown for a year, thanks to Samael and Roland. Had they been here for decades or centuries?
I calmly walked up to the table and stabbed my katana into the wood, making the non-servant skeletons whirl towards me in a rattling staccato.
Unlike the cross-dressing skeleton—who had finally resolved his numerous wardrobe malfunctions and was standing by himself in the corner—the other skeletons had their arm bones carved into points, openly held blades, or even had metal weapons grafted onto their bones. There would be no handshakes here.
Even though their faces could not smile or frown, I knew they hated me. And feared me. Which had been the entire point of my act. To make them think twice. Long enough for me to reassess the situation and make my move. I smiled sweetly at them.
Then I sat. A plate heaping with savory meat and crisp, steaming vegetables sat before me, tempting me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually eaten a real meal. It felt like years ago. I pointedly shifted the plate to the side anyway. “Where is my companion?” I asked, lifting my eyes back to Dracula.
Dracula just smiled at me, having somewhat regained his composure. “Perhaps he’s taking a tour. It is an impressive castle, is it not?”
I narrowed my eyes, allowing a bit of magic to visibly crackle down my arms.
“Oh, don’t be like that,” Dracula encouraged pleasantly. “Eat. My wolves caught that fresh this afternoon.”
I pursed my lips, staring back at him. It was no accident that he’d humble-bragged about having wolves as pets. He had an army of skeletons, so why wouldn’t he have werewolves? His grin stretched wider as if he could read my thoughts—that I was analyzing his every word. He was probably having the time of his life. He didn’t get many visitors—only food.
And keeping his existence a secret made it practically impossible to socialize.
He might act like he knew everything and held all the cards, but he didn’t know about my Horseman’s Mask. He only knew that I was powerful. Anything that had happened in the last year in Kansas City was likely news to him because Samael and Roland hadn’t let any specific information about their plan get out—not wanting Dracula to get wind of the assassination attempt. That had been the entire purpose of their plan, after all. They hadn’t even told their own vampires, not wanting anyone to leak the plan to the Sanguine Council, who would have leaked it to him.
But how aware was he of the world at large? If he ran the Sanguine Council, I was betting he had a fair idea of the power players in the world. Did he know about Nate Temple? Or about me and my allies? Why wasn’t he even slightly concerned that we had succeeded in invading his sanctum sanctorum—the place he felt safest in the entire world?
The only thing Dracula could know was that I was either powerful or stupid. Maybe both. That was it. There was every chance he had no idea who I was, as a matter of fact. I’d been gone for a year, after all, shortly after I built the reputation as the White Rose. I was old news, presumed dead.
Did he know Samael? The demon had been locked up inside my ring for quite some time, but both men had been around for a while.
“You aren’t a vampire,” Dracula said suddenly, sounding almost surprised. And…disappointed, for some reason. “You look familiar, yet I do not know your name,” he continued, since my silence made it obvious that I hadn’t intended to respond.
So he hadn’t known I was coming. Thinking back on the red dress, I suddenly had a nauseating thought. It had likely belonged to one of his old victims. I was doubly glad I hadn’t tried it on, now. I thought about his question and decided that it wasn’t really a necessary secret to keep. “Callie Penrose.”
He scratched his jaw, studying me. “I’ve never heard of you.” Which was kind of strange. I’d had a few run-ins with the Sanguine Council, so he should have heard at least something about me from them. Maybe he wasn’t as all-knowing as I had feared. “What exactly did you intend in coming here?”
“You and I have unfinished business. A date, you could say.”
He smiled, flashing brilliantly white teeth. “My dear, we don’t have any business. There is nothing to finish if we’ve never started.”
“Sure we do. My companion is missing, remember?” I repeated in a darker tone.