Fire Dancer (Spellbound in Sedona #2)

Chapter Twenty-Three

PIPPA

“Places, everyone. Places,” Deirdre snipped.

The escorts scattered throughout the living/dining area of the main house. Delaney and I were assigned the drinks table — to begin with, at least. Once things got into swing, we escorts were supposed to mingle with the guests.

Mingle. Such an innocent word. Such horrifying connotations.

Well, I, for one, had no such plans. I was going to fix that nanny cam, then mingle my ass right out the door.

I eyed the giant screen that blocked the camera. It showed a stage, where curtains slowly drew open. A red dot and tiny text in one corner said Live from the Met , and a stout woman in a red dress and a very hardworking push-up bra started to sing in warbly, ear-piercing notes.

An opera. I knew that much, even if I couldn’t tell Tosca from Aida . I was pretty sure they both died at the end, though.

The volume was low enough to stay in the background, as were the muted optics.

I slid my eyes over to Deirdre. The woman had the eyes of a hawk, and they were right on me.

Shit, shit, shit. How was I ever going to pull this off?

My throat was dry, and my fingers tingled as I fantasized about turning the whole place into an inferno. But that wouldn’t put Jananovich away, and it would risk innocent lives, like Delaney’s.

Her hands shook as we poured juice and water into glasses.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” I murmured, keeping my eyes down.

Her head whipped around in surprise. Then she looked down and continued pouring. “I do. I have to.”

Her voice was thin and shaky but packed with determination, and I wondered what misfortune had led her here.

Another helicopter thundered overhead, and we all followed it with our eyes.

I swallowed hard. The VIPs were arriving. Whatever was about to go down was officially in motion.

I closed my eyes briefly. Whatever happened tonight, I would get at least two people out alive. Myself and Delaney.

“They’re coming!” Kelly chirped from the doorway in excitement.

Excitement , like she couldn’t wait to lose a little — or a lot — of blood.

I’m told it’s quite a pleasurable experience. Jananovich’s words echoed through my mind. A real rush.

Ha. As much of a rush as Russian roulette, I figured.

The door opened, and the escorts lit up expectantly.

The first two guests were middle-aged men who would have fit in at any ordinary business shindig. Well, a high-end shindig, given those tailored suits and silk ties. They looked around with appraising eyes, then winked at each other. My sisters and I probably mirrored them when we stumbled across a great deal on brownie mix or ice cream at the supermarket, but yeesh. These were vampires.

Victor Jananovich strode in next, chuckling to the man at his side — a tall, thin man with gray hair and round glasses — the spitting image of John Lennon, if only he’d lived to old age. My stomach turned at the deceptive similarity. John Lennon had been an artist, not a vampire, and he’d written beautiful songs about peace, love, and some really out-there psychedelic trips. This look-alike sucked innocent victims’ blood.

The flames in the fireplace beside me leaped and crackled. Deirdre frowned and fiddled with the damper.

My mind spun with ways to play that to my advantage.

The next guests were a man and a woman — er, vampire and vampiress — who wouldn’t have looked out of place in Marie Antoinette’s ballroom, minus powdered wigs and shoes with buckles. Otherwise, their clothes were just old-fashioned and flouncy enough to give off that rich, excessive vibe, and their teeth extended at the sight of the scrumptious menu spread out before them.

The human menu.

The couple looked to be about forty, but my gut told me they were much, much older. How many victims had they sucked dry over the centuries?

The blood drained from my cheeks when the vampiress made a beeline for Rob, while the man headed straight for Kelly. Astoundingly, the two escorts looked delighted. Maybe they were big tippers? That, or the vampires were so powerful, they could enthrall from a distance.

More guests entered until over a dozen were scattered throughout the huge living room. I glued a smile on my face as a distinguished Latino man approached with a dangerous gleam in his eye.

My heart rate tripled, then slowed down as he took a glass of wine and turned his back, more interested in surveying options other than me or Delaney. Whew.

But I wasn’t accomplishing anything from behind the drinks table. Not when the nanny cam was blocked. Working up my courage, I grabbed two glasses of wine and headed across the room.

I could sense Deirdre’s eyes on me as I moved in the direction of the wide-screen TV. I made it over to the shelves, but John Lennon was already there — and he turned to me expectantly.

“Wine?” I offered, handing him one.

And, dammit. The escort he’d hooked up with — wouldn’t you know it, a cute Asian girl — grabbed the second glass. That meant I had to make a second trip.

And a third and a fourth, as it turned out, with Deirdre tracking me the whole way. Then, halfway across the room on my fifth try, I jerked my elbow at the fireplace.

Whoosh! The flames doubled in size, leaping and crackling.

Deirdre turned to look. I ducked behind the TV screen and snatched the nanny cam down from the shelf. Sliding back into the open, I made a stretching motion and stuck it on a different shelf, then grabbed the wineglass just as Deirdre’s seeking eyes found me.

So, whew. Camera repositioning, check. Now I could work on getting my ass out of there.

A guest came over to me. A tuxedoed John Jacob Astor type, with the manners and elegance of a bygone age, if the Titanic movie was anything to go by.

“A beautiful evening, isn’t it?” He gave me a slow look-over.

I inched away, forcing a smile. “Beautiful. Victor sure knows how to throw a party.”

“He certainly does.”

Minutes ticked by in agonizing small talk. I didn’t have much choice, with Deirdre pinning me with a stern look the whole time.

I gulped and did my best to play along, though I made myself as unappealing as possible.

“New to Arizona? No,” I said in answer to his question. “I’ve spent most of my life here. Small-town girl,” I chuckled loudly to underscore the not your type message.

Unfortunately, that didn’t deter him.

“College? Yes, I studied as a veterinary assistant specializing in bovines,” I lied. “I love cattle.”

His interest waned, so I pressed on.

“Just this week, I got to run rectal checks.” I mimicked working on a shoulder-length plastic glove. “I got to reach all the way in and everything!”

His nose wrinkled. “All the way?”

“All the way.” Nodding happily, I sniffed my arm, then chuckled. “Whew. It takes days to shake the smell sometimes.”

He set aside his glass and scurried off. “If you’ll excuse me, I meant to get back to Victor on some important business…”

My flash of triumph died an instant later, because Marie Antoinette and Rob were making out by then. Kissing, touching… Her long hair hid the details, but I could swear she was homing in on his neck. His eyes were closed, his head tipped back with an expression of sublime expectation.

I was pretty sure I’d looked like that last night with Ingo. But, ugh. The suck my blood variation was so not appealing.

Saanvi was in a similar position with a guy best described as John Travolta gone wrong, and she raked her fingers over his back in Feast, baby, feast mode.

I made for the relative safety of the drinks table but froze a moment later. Another vampire — a rakish guy who brought the Prohibition era to mind — was across the room, talking to Delaney. Make that, crowding Delaney. Running his finger over her shoulder, then along her collarbone.

He tipped her chin up, exposing her throat. She clenched her fists as he leaned in to sniff, then kiss her cheek. A moment later, he took her hand, whispered seductively, and led her away.

Alarms shrieked in my mind, and I took a step to follow — but Deirdre stepped in first.

“She’s doing her job. You do yours,” she barked, pointing to the drinks table. “Serve and mingle.”

I’d never wondered how it felt to be a slave at a Roman orgy, but now I knew. And it turned my stomach.

I took one slow step, then another, thinking frantically. How to stop Al Capone before he bit Delaney? How to get the hell out of there?

I slid behind the drinks table and fiddled with bottles, trapped by Deirdre’s icy stare. The only comfort to be found in that cold, heartless space was the fireplace, though the flames had gone low, as if they, too, were ashamed to play any part in this.

On the TV screen, the opera singer belted out a song of pride and defiance.

Come on, Pippa. I tried pumping myself up. I had to do something, and fast.

When Deirdre glanced away, I flicked a hand at the fireplace.

Whoosh! The teepee of logs collapsed, and a flaming log rolled onto the rug.

“Put it out! Put it out!” John Lennon yelled frantically, but everyone jumped back.

Apparently, vampires didn’t like fire any more than humans did.

When Deirdre turned her back to deal with the chaos, I grabbed a bottle of champagne — the kind with the thickest, heaviest glass — and hurried out of the room. The minute I turned a corner, I ran.

My heart hammered as I rushed down the hall. Which room had the vampire taken Delaney to? I paused at one, then another, listening. Nothing. I jogged on. Still nothing. I held my breath and prayed for some clue.

A muffled cry came through a door across the hall, and I kicked it open.

“What the—” Al Capone protested.

“Run, Delaney!” I yelled, brandishing the champagne bottle.

I had no plan for what to do next. But even before I finished speaking, the vampire coughed and fell forward.

I jumped back, staring at the object protruding between his shoulder blades. A stake?

His outstretched hand went from pale to dull, and his skin shriveled in a time-lapse of a grape under a heat lamp. His clothes collapsed inward, and the smell of ash hit my nose.

“You staked him?” I sputtered, more at the body than Delaney.

“Bet your ass, I did,” she said.

My eyes shot to her — or maybe it was her stunt double, because shy, meek Delaney was gone, replaced by Uma Thurman in “Kill Bill.” She stood taller, stronger, and wow — she even spat on the rapidly disappearing body. “That was for Janet, asshole.”

I did a double take. “You mean Janet Sullivan?” The woman found dead at Gunnery Point?

She nodded. “My sister. I begged her to get out of this place. But she was hell-bent on finding something concrete to bring down Jananovich.”

I gulped. A little like me.

“He must have figured her out, because he killed her. Or had her killed,” Delaney finished bitterly.

My mouth hung open. Delaney wasn’t Bambi. She was pretty damned badass. She’d managed to work her way in with Jananovich’s escorts and onto the premises to avenge her sister.

Wow.

“We have to get out of here.”

I jerked my hand toward the door, but she shook her head. “Not going anywhere until I finish this.”

Finish Jananovich, she meant.

I was all for that…in principle. In practice, though…

I glanced at Al Capone’s body — or all that was left of it. Gingerly, I reached down and touched the stake. It crumbled instantly.

Delaney made a tsk sound and reached into her high, lacing boot. “There’s more where that came from.”

Holy shit. She was either a superhero or a lunatic. But, hell. She was certainly well-armed, and she seemed to have a plan, which was more than I could say.

So, great. I could turn things over to her and hustle my ass to safety, right?

But then I thought about Stacy, and my rubber nerves toughened up a little.

“What about you?” Delaney asked. “Did you lose someone too?”

I thought it over. “Not a sister.” Thank God, I could have added. “But Stacy…”

Delaney nodded sadly. “Every once in a while, one of the others mentioned her, but someone would shut them up.” She scoffed. “They had to have suspected, but somehow, they decided to kid themselves.”

Disgusted, I pointed to the door.

“We have to go. Now. I planted a camera. That should find enough evidence.”

Delaney scoffed. “The police won’t do anything. They thought I was crazy for believing in vampires.”

“Not the police. A supernatural law enforcement team.”

She still looked skeptical. “Somehow, the law doesn’t apply to Jananovich. He always gets away. The only way to end this is to end him. Permanently.”

I wanted to protest, but I knew she was right. Besides, the other escorts were still in danger.

My darker side yelled to forget about them and save myself. If they were stupid enough to get involved with — and stick with — the likes of Jananovich, they deserved whatever fate threw at them. No one was begging for me to be their hero.

But my good side reminded me that each was someone’s son, daughter, brother, or sister.

That last part resonated with me most. Sister. Where would I be without mine? Where would I be if fortune hadn’t given me a loving father, a decent job, opportunities — and, best of all, Ingo?

My heart swelled, and I squared my shoulders. He was somewhere close, but still too far. In any case, he wouldn’t stop until this was finished. Well and truly finished.

And I wouldn’t either.

“You go,” Delaney urged me, pulling a second stake from her boot. “I’ve got this.”

I shook my head, correcting her. “ We’ve got this.”

I held out my hand, and she grinned, handing me the stake. “All right, then. Let’s get those suckers.”