Jeaniene Frost - Destined for an Early Grave

Four days passed with no word about my mother. I spent them in constant activity—when I wasn’t immobilized from dawn’s power over me. I found that the more blood I drank from Bones, the more I could force myself to stay awake as the sun crept over the horizon. I was up to being awake for an hour after dawn. Granted, that hour consisted of being in a state of near paralysis, but it was progress, though there was no meter for me to compare my progress to. I wasn’t the world’s only known half-breed, but apparently, I was the only one who’d been turned into a vampire. No one knew how long a typical new vampire’s weakness to dawn would affect me. I could be doing cartwheels at sunrise in a week—or it might take me a year.

The fifth night was my coming-out party. I was in no mood to stand there, smile, and greet a bunch of people who might have been screaming for my head recently, but that’s what I’d be doing. If it prevented more tensions between vampires and ghouls, as well as helping my chances of getting my mother back, I’d do it naked if I had to. Since this was a formal undead gathering, there would be food—all kinds—drinks, dancing, and festivities, while those in power pondered whether or not to slaughter half the people around them.

In other words, like a high-school prom.

I had just finished drying my hair when I heard the downstairs front door slam, then rapid footsteps on the stairs. Bones was back. He’d gone to get me a dress, since for whatever reason, he didn’t feel anything in the house was good enough. He came through the door with a garment bag in hand.

“Just in time,” I said. “I’m about to curl my hair. So, let’s see the dress.”

Bones zipped the bag open to reveal a long black dress, spaghetti-strapped, narrowing to a nonde-fined waist but with crystals embedded in the fabric around the bodice. Those crystals would mold around my breasts, I could tell from the cut, and even in the low light in the room, they sparkled and threw off dazzling colors.

“Beautiful,” I said, then smiled wryly. “Can’t wear a bra with it, though. I’m sure that was accidental on your part.”

He grinned. “Of course.”

It really was a beautiful dress. Simple, gothic, yet sparkly. Very appropriate for a vampire coming-out party.

“This’ll go great with my fangs,” I said, trying for flippancy to cover my nervousness. Even still, I could smell it on me. It was sickly sweet, like an overripe peach. If only there was a way I could cover my tension with the scent of eau de brass balls instead.

Bones kissed my bare shoulder, easy to do since I was still only wearing a towel. “It will be fine, Kitten.”

I smiled, ignoring the squeeze in my gut that didn’t agree. “Of course it will.”

The last receiving line I’d stood in had been at Randy’s funeral. This one was almost as cheerful. For one, my conversation with Bones was mostly limited to him saying, “This is so-and-so. So-and-so, may I present Cat, the newest member of my line,” and I would shake hands with someone who might just as soon roast me over hot coals.

Rodney was here, looking as grim-faced as I felt. He blamed himself for not waking my mother when Gregor stalked her in her sleep. I’d tried to tell Rodney there was no way he could have known what was happening, but my reassurances fell on deaf ears.

Fabian floated around like a transparent maître d’, reporting in when the drinks or hors d’oeuvres ran low. Spade and Ian paid their formal respects in line. About thirty introductions later, Annette was next. She wore a strapless dress that looked poured onto her voluptuous figure. Long black gloves added a classy touch to the gown’s sexiness. Next to her, I felt like Carrot Top in drag.

She put her arms around me. Taken aback, I froze. Annette squeezed me once, and whispered, “You made the right decision,” and then let me go with a smile.

“Don’t you look lovely, Cat? It would seem death becomes you indeed.”

I hadn’t expected such a warm greeting from her. “Thank you,” I managed. “I heard it was all the rage this season.”

She laughed, her chuckle holding a sinful undercurrent. “Dare I hope your heterosexual exclusivity has been buried along with your pulse?”

Now there was the Annette I knew. A voracious shark disguised behind a beautiful woman.

“That hasn’t changed,” I told her dryly. “Kind of you to inquire, though.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as they say. Ah, well, must move along. Frightful lot of blokes here to watch you not breathe, after all.”

I saw a familiar frame lingering near the front entryway. Dark straight hair with its pronounced widow’s peak framed an angular face while coppery green eyes met mine.

“Vlad!”

The tenseness of the past hour had taken its toll on me, making me so glad to see someone I trusted that I left my place to greet him. He smells like cinnamon and smoke, I thought when I hugged him. What an interesting combination of scents.

Then I became aware that the room had fallen silent. When I looked around, everyone had stopped what they were doing to stare at us—and the look Bones gave me could have freeze-dried steam.

“Kitten,” he said. “Would you kindly return… now .”

Uh-oh. Guess I’d committed a faux pas by greeting a friend out of order.

“I gotta go do this,” I muttered to Vlad. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course.” His smile changed from the genuine one he’d given me to its usual sardonic curl. “Go greet your fans.”

My fans, indeed. I’d never felt more judged or dissected in my life than I had tonight. Forget my lack of heartbeat or breathing; if someone had pried open my mouth and demanded to see my fangs, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

“So sorry,” I said to Bones. It surprised me that he was rigid, anger wafting from him like he’d been splashed with kerosene.

“Quite,” he said, ice warmer than his tone. “Let me introduce you to Malcolme Untare. You’ll recognize him by another name. Apollyon.”

I almost snatched my hand back from the insipid grip of the man I’d barely glanced at. This was the ghoul who’d been spreading the most rumors about me?

Malcolme Untare, or Apollyon, as he’d named himself, was my height if I was in bare feet. He had black hair anybody could see was dyed, and even had one long piece wrapped around his head in that way some men did to fool no one into believing they weren’t bald. I resisted a sudden strong urge to tug away that piece and scream peekaboo! at his bare crown underneath. Since I just left him standing there after I’d dashed off to welcome Vlad, however, I thought that might be pushing things.

But some things couldn’t be helped. “How do you do?” I asked, giving him a more-than-firm handshake.

Apollyon let go like touching me had been distasteful. He had flat blue eyes and those smooth baby cheeks seemed at odds with his persona. Somehow I thought he should be covered in warts because he reminded me of a mean, squat toad.

“You are just as I expected you to be,” he said with a scornful twist of his lips.

I straightened to my full height. In heels, I had two inches on him. A prick like Apollyon would hate to be looked down on by a woman. “Let me return the compliment.”

“Kitten,” Bones drew out.

Right, this was supposed to be a “no stones thrown” affair. “Great to meet you, Apollyon, and make sure you save me a dance. I’ll just bet you’ve got on your boogie shoes.”

Vlad made no attempt to hide his laughter. Mencheres gave me one of those you’re-not-being-prudent glares, and Bones looked like he wanted to throttle me. Well, too bad. Apollyon had tried to incite people to kill me and other vampires, all based on lies and paranoia. Damned if I was going to kiss his ass and say it tasted like candy.