After Dark (5 page)

C
ally sees herself walking barefoot across the beach, watching the tide come in. She is wearing a colorful sarong, a hibiscus tucked behind one ear. The light from the full moon makes the gently lapping waves breaking against the shore look black and silver. Towering palm trees sway their heads in the balmy breeze, marking the start of the jungle that covers the rest of the island.

She looks down and spots a conch shell washed up onto the shore. Smiling, she plucks her prize from the foam and puts its pink curving rim to her ear. Instead of hearing the ocean, however, she hears someone calling to her as if from a great distance. Cally frowns and lets the conch drop back onto the sand.

She looks up the beach and sees a male figure standing atop a dune, silhouetted against the night sky. As she watches, he motions for her to join him. Although she cannot make out his features, she somehow knows that he is Peter. She waves to him as she runs across the wet sand, hurrying to catch up.

As Cally draws closer to Peter, she hears someone calling her name again, only this time it is coming from the ocean. She turns to look and is alarmed to see her mother floundering in the surf, fifty feet from shore. She starts toward the water, only to be brought up short when Peter grabs her.

Cally looks at Peter, trying to figure out why he wants to stop her from rescuing her mother, only to realize that the person holding her back isn’t him at all. Standing in his place is a thing made of living shadow, with swirling knots of nothing where a face should be. Although it has no eyes, somehow she knows it can see her.

Cally watches helplessly as the current takes her frantically struggling mother somewhere she can never follow. She tries to wrench herself free of the shadow thing’s grip but is unable to break its hold. She looks down at her wrist and is startled to see rivulets of darkness twining their way up her arm, like vines climbing a trellis.

Cally, where are you?
her mother calls out forlornly.
Why aren’t you here?

Cally woke up gasping, tangled in her bedclothes, her body slick with sweat. Her heart was pounding in her chest as if she’d just run a marathon. She didn’t recognize her surroundings at first and looked around in vain for the familiar touchstones of her old bedroom: the armoire, her sewing machine, and the tailor’s dummy.

As she struggled to banish the fear that had followed her into the waking world, she wasn’t sure if she was still dreaming or not. Her left arm felt ice-cold and fire-hot at the same time. Looking down, she could see that her forearm was covered in shadow, as if she had dipped it up to the elbow in a bucket of tar.

Fighting back the urge to panic, she remembered what her grandmother, Sina, had said about controlling her stormgathering powers:
Ride
with
the power; don’t let the power ride
you.

Cally took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as she deliberately lowered her heartbeat. All she needed to do was calm down. When she reopened her eyes, she was relieved to see that the darkness had drained away, returning to wherever it had come from.

She lifted her hand, wiggling her fingers as she studied them for any trace of lingering shadow.

In the names of the Founders, what am I turning into?

Lilith frowned at the digital clock next to her bed. Where in sweet hell was Esmeralda? Lilith had been waiting almost twenty minutes for her dresser, which was virtually unheard of. Esmeralda
knew
she couldn’t start her evening without having her makeup and hair done.

The little gypsy tart better have a good excuse for keeping her waiting. Strike that: there was no such thing as an excuse when it came to the undead. It’s not like they had busy social calendars to keep track of or family emergencies.

Things would be so much easier if she could simply apply her own makeup and style her own hair. But since mirrors were forbidden in vampire homes, she had no choice but to rely on her dresser to make her look presentable. Assuming she ever showed up.

Lilith picked up the telephone on her bedside table and punched the in-house line. A second later the Todds’ head butler answered.

“Yes, Miss Lilith?”

“Curtis, I’ve been waiting
forever
for Esmeralda to dress me! Where is she?”

“I’m sorry, Miss Lilith,” Curtis replied in his cultured British voice. “Esmeralda is no longer with us.”

Lilith frowned. “Huh? Where did she go?”

“Esmeralda was one of Madame Irina’s undead,” the butler explained. “She no longer exists, I’m afraid.”

Lilith scowled. “Then get me another dresser—immediately!”

“One has already been withdrawn from cold storage, Miss Lilith. She should be on the way up as we speak.”

Just then there was a knock at her door. Lilith opened the bedroom door and found herself looking at a woman wearing a low-waisted slip dress and a cloche hat, carrying the telltale makeup valise of a dresser.

“Hello. My name is Josette.” The new servant squinted at Lilith, a confused look on her face. “Is that
you
, Madame Irina?”

“No!” Lilith said sharply. “Madame Irina is no more. I’m her daughter.”

“Daughter?” Josette’s plucked eyebrows climbed in surprise. “Then the master finally succeeded in producing an heir?”

“Well,
duh
,” Lilith said, rolling her eyes as she headed back into the bathroom. “Let’s get on with it—I’ve got places to be, and I’ve been kept waiting long enough as it is.”

“As you wish, mistress.” Josette bowed her head.

Lilith turned and stared at her dresser with a startled look on her face. “
What
did you just call me?”

“I called you ‘mistress,’ that is all,” Josette replied. “You said Madame Irina is dead. That makes you the mistress of the Todd family, does it not?”

“Yeah, I guess it does,” Lilith said thoughtfully. “It’s just that I never really thought of it in those terms before now.”

As Lilith sat down in her makeup chair, Josette took out a black silk barber’s drape and gave it a brisk snap before fixing it around her mistress’s neck.

“So—what movie star do you want to look like? Theda Bara? Gloria Swanson? Ooh! I know! How about Lillian Gish?”

Lilith found her father seated at the head of the dining room table with his BlackBerry pressed to his ear and a disconcerted look on his face.

“This is
very
short notice! You know what my situation is. Are you certain something like this is really
necessary?
Yes, yes, I realize the potential danger—it’s just that I don’t see
how
you can compare this situation to what happened before.” Victor closed his eyes and heaved a sigh of resignation. “Very well. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Who was that?” Lilith asked as she poured herself a goblet of AB neg from the plasma warmer mounted atop the buffet.

“Just someone at HemoGlobe,” Victor replied, quickly sliding the BlackBerry into the breast pocket of his jacket. “We have to restructure in order to cover the unexpected losses to the workforce. Your mother controlled many of them.”

“You’re not going to go out of business because of this, are you?” Lilith asked anxiously.

“Don’t be silly,” Victor replied. “As I told you last night, I still have plenty of undead in cold storage, spread throughout this country and Europe, to make up the difference. But I won’t lie to you—the transition phase is bound to be a bit bumpy. The older undead have to get up to speed on the current technology and culture.”

“I know what you mean,” Lilith said as she finished the last of her blood. “It took me nearly a half hour to talk the dresser Curtis picked to replace Esmeralda from tricking me out like some old movie star. I gave her a stack of fashion magazines to study before tomorrow night.” Having finished her waking meal, she turned to address the butler. “Curtis, ring up Bruno and have him bring my car around.”

“Yes, mistress,” Curtis replied automatically, bowing at the waist.

“Not so fast,” Victor said, staying Curtis with a motion of his hand. He fixed his daughter with a baffled frown. “Where do you think
you’re
going?”

“To the club,” Lilith replied as she casually reached for her coat.

“You’re not doing anything of the sort!” Victor barked. “Just because your mother was slain last night doesn’t mean I’ve changed my mind! Until you pass your Basic Alchemy class, the only places you’re allowed to go outside of school are the Central Scrivenery and your tutor’s laboratory.”

“You’re not being fair!” Lilith protested, angrily hurling her Nanette Lepore coat onto the floor.

“I’m not in the mood tonight, Lilith!” Victor warned her. “It’s bad enough I have to spread myself thin trying to keep HemoGlobe afloat while arranging for your mother’s totentanz. The last thing I need from you right now is
attitude
!”

Lilith glowered at her father, her hands balled into fists. Although she and Irina had never been close, at that moment she wished her mother were still alive so she could run and tell her everything about Victor and his little half-human bastard just to spite him.

But Irina was dead and Lilith’s trump card was now worthless. It seemed she couldn’t win for losing—but that didn’t stop a girl from having plans.

From the outside, Xander’s laboratory looked like any of the other aging office buildings that lined the streets of the Flatiron District.

“I’ll call you when I’m ready to go home, Bruno,” Lilith said as she stepped out onto the curb.

The lobby of the building was outfitted in marble and brass furnishings dating back to World War I. Hanging next to the elevator, locked inside a case of glass, was an alphabetical listing of the various businesses in the building. XOXperiments was on the top floor.

Lilith stepped inside the aged elevator car and punched the button for the sixth floor. When the doors opened, Xander Orlock was there to greet her.

“Wow, this is really some place you’ve got here, Exo,” she said. Several workbenches were placed throughout the large, open room, each set up with a different collection of alchemic instruments. An apothecary’s crocodile, such as those used in ancient Egyptian rituals, was suspended by wires from the pressed tin ceiling.

“My dad gave me this place after I accidentally blew a hole in my bedroom wall,” Xander said sheepishly. “It used to be a photography studio, so the neighbors are used to weird chemical smells. I also have private access to the roof, so I can come and go whenever I like.”

Lilith raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You fly a lot?”

Xander nodded. “I’m the sub-captain of my Aerial Combat team.”

“I should have known from the way you tackled that gargoyle!” she said, nodding appreciatively. “Thank you for saving me last night, by the way.”

“I didn’t really do that much—it was mostly Kayo.”

“Kayo?”

“That’s my nickname for my big brother, Klaus. He’s the one who attacked the gargoyle. I just happened to be there to catch you.”

“Yeah, but you went after that thing, too. That was pretty brave of you.”

“Well, I couldn’t let my brother tackle it by himself, could I?” A look of embarrassment abruptly crossed Xander’s face, as if he’d suddenly remembered something important. “Oh, yeah—I heard about your mom. Sorry.”

“Yeah, well. Things happen,” Lilith said with a shrug as she walked over to one of the workbenches. “Like your cousin cheating on me.”

“I don’t understand
why
Jules does things like that,” Xander said in exasperation. “You are
so
much prettier than Carmen!”

“You really think so?” Lilith placed her hands over her face, tracing the geometry of her features with her fingertips. “Everyone
tells
me I’m beautiful, but how can I know that for sure? I mean, people say things they don’t mean all the time.”

“Well, I meant
every
word,” Xander assured her.

At first Lilith thought he was being sarcastic, but when she looked into his clear blue eyes, she could tell he was sincere. “Thanks, Exo,” she said, blushing slightly. “That’s good to hear.” She paused for a second, thoughtfully tapping her chin. “Do you remember me asking you about whether or not it might be possible to create a means of allowing our kind to cast a reflection?”

“Of course.” He nodded. “It’s an intriguing proposition.”

“I’m glad you said that,” she said with a smile. “Tell me, Exo—what do you know about cosmetics?”

Cally wandered through Baron Metzger’s apartment, taking in the twenty-four-carat-gold bathroom faucets, the marble backsplashes in the kitchen, and the crystal chandeliers. She had been so overwhelmed when she first arrived that she had not really had a chance to fully appreciate the perks that came with living in the Plaza. Too bad Sheila wasn’t there to see it.

Cally closed her eyes and shook her head as the thought crossed her mind. The hurt was too new, too raw for her to tolerate for more than a few seconds. To dwell on it would only lead to tears—and that was the last thing she needed if she was going to survive in her new world.

As she wandered down the hallways back toward her bedroom, Cally noticed that the door to Baron Metzger’s office was standing ajar. Curious, she poked her head inside—just to check it out, she told herself.

The office resembled the den of a Victorian gentlemen’s club, with plenty of old leather and heavy wood furniture. An antique desk sat facing the door, its roll top raised to reveal a flat-screen computer monitor. The walls of the room were lined with barrister bookcases filled with canisters containing scrolls and manuscripts in chthonic script, the written language of the vampire race.

Hanging over the desk was an oil portrait of a man who bore a strong family resemblance to Baron Metzger, dressed in the style of the early seventeenth century, the lace cravat done to perfection. It was the kind of painting you’d expect to find hanging in a museum, not in someone’s house.