H.T. Night's 8-Book Vampire Box Set (42 page)

Helen told me she has a limo picking us up
out front. I could avoid the sun until I knew the limousine was
there.

Helen and I walked through Heathrow terminal
and, luckily, it was a windowless airport. As we approached the
front entrance, I knew I was bound to see glass doors and windows.
Sure enough, as we rounded the corner there they were, like blades
of gamma rays attacking my skin.

Holy shit! It felt like I was on the
sun.

I looked over at Helen and she was walking
exceptionally fast and that was good thing. She was wearing a
rather large hat and a very long fur coat. That was her third
outfit! She must spend hours a day picking outfits and changing
them, like a human Barbie doll.

Helen rushed through the sliding glass doors
and went straight to her limousine that was right at the entrance.
I followed close behind and was very pleased how this was working
out. I noticed that the limousine had extremely dark windows. They
were darkest windows I had ever seen. The chauffeur already had the
door open for us and we both rushed into the limousine. As we did
so, something unusual started happening. Paparazzi were flashing
light bulbs at us! There was pack of them! They were taking
pictures and yelling all sorts of things. At one point I swore one
of them yelled the name Ginger.

We eventually settled into the limousine and
the chauffeur slammed the door behind us..

“Was that for you?” I asked.

Helen grinned.

Who was this famous record producer that has
paparazzi following her?

“Helen, who are you?”

“I’m Helen,” she said, obviously being
coy.

“Helen who?”

“Helen Martin.”

“Are you famous in England?”

“What do you think? Do the paparazzi follow
regular people around in America?”

“Aren’t you American?”

“No.”

“But you had no hint of a British accent,” I
said.

Helen decided to change her voice into a
thick Cockney accent and she said, “Really, Guv’nor, do all Brits
need to sound like Harry Potter or Oliver?”

“Very funny, but any Brit I know has an
accent. Look at Simon Cowell or Pierce Morgan. Both those guys
couldn’t hide their accent if they tried.”

“I spend a lot of time in the States and had
a lot of voice training. I can do whatever accent fits the
situation.”

“Okay, that’s cool. But again... who are
you? We established you’re British, but tell me why the paparazzi
treated you as if you are the love child of Lindsay Lohan and
Justin Bieber.”

“Oh, Josiah,” she laughed. “I’m the Duchess
of Windsor.”

“You’re royalty?” I asked.

“Most Duchesses are.”

Holy crap! I was really taken aback. “Does
the paparazzi treat all royalty like that?”

“No, unfortunately, I have made headlines as
of late.”

“How?”

“Well, I dated Mario Moses.”

“The sports billionaire, Mario Moses? The
guy who owns the Knicks and the Bears? Are you kidding me?” I had
no idea I was sitting next to the Paris Hilton of England.

“No, I wish I was. He was old enough to be
my dad.”

“Why did you date him?”

“Cause he’s richer than God.” She settled in
and said, “He moved down here for a while and we had a few ugly
fights in public. The photos and gossip were splayed all over the
tabloids in both England and the United States. I’m actually
shocked that you have no idea who I am.”

“Don’t be. I have never watched TMZ and I
just don’t keep up on the gossip on your side of the pond.” I kept
up with pop culture about as much as I did with women’s fashion. It
just didn’t happen. Some of my Nikes sneaker were from the last
century. Collector items.

Helen smiled at me. “It’s actually
refreshing to not have someone recognize me. It is nice to know
that there is someone out in the world that has no idea who I
am.”

“Well, dear, I’ve been a little busy the
last couple of months, saving the world.”

She smiled and poured me in a drink. “I bet
you have.” Helen had no idea how true of a statement that actually
was.

“That explains why there was no one sitting
in the last eight rows. That was for your benefit. How was I able
to get a seat in your row?”

Helen grinned. “Some things are left to
fate. I asked them to allow any 18- to 24-year-old male who was by
himself to buy a window ticket in my row. Little did I know he was
going to be one of the hottest guys I’ve had the pleasure of
meeting in quite some time.”

Her comment made me blush, or whatever
vampires do when they get embarrassed. I doubt blood rushed to my
face, but then, who knew?

“So, now that you know this bit of info, do
you still want to accompany me tonight at the dinner?”

I grinned. “I actually liked the fact that
you were a record producer. I thought I was going to meet Sir Paul
McCartney tonight.”

“Well, I burn songs on my computer and label
all my CD’s ‘Helen’s Mixes.’ I can give you one if you like. And, I
think Paul just might be showing up.”

“Paul? You just called one of the greatest
musicians by his first name only. Are you kidding me? He might be
showing up?”

“He usually comes to all the soirees put on
by the British elite.”

“Wow, I’m the hugest Beatles fan! Holy
crap!”

“Don’t get all star-struck, Josiah.”

“Are you kidding? We’re talking about the
greatest band of all time!”

“So, I take it you still want to come. Even
knowing that I’m a Duchess and we’ll probably be hounded by more
paparazzi?”

“Oh, I’m coming,” I said catching my breath.
“You can count on that. Romania can wait.”

The limo pulled into a special entrance at
the biggest and nicest hotel I had ever seen. It looked like a
palace.

“Oh, by the way,” Helen said, “If you’d like
to stay longer, I’ll set you up on a private plane to Romania
whenever you’re ready to go. So, you’re welcome to stay as long as
you like. Go check out Stonehenge, you Yanks seem to get off on
looking at those big monoliths!”

I was trying to wrap my mind around
everything Helen was telling me. This kind of thing didn’t happen
to me every day. As a matter of fact, this kind of thing didn’t
happen to anyone. “I just might do that,” I said.

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll accompany you, if you
choose to do some sight-seeing.”

“Maybe,” I said, still thinking about the
concept of seeing a Beatle in mere hours. It eclipsed my thoughts
of a possible Tower of London tour. Our eyes met and I looked away,
fast, seeing something in her eyes past friendliness. More
intimate.

Uh oh! Don’t get smitten at her power here,
Josiah. Don’t forget your goal. You have a lot of people depending
on you.

It was just nice to take a break. Life had
been going a hundred miles an hour. It was nice to talk to someone
who wasn’t a vampire or a werewolf and was just normal. I looked
over at Helen, her sleek, silky legs crossed on the cushy velvety
limousine seats. Well, maybe not too normal. For example, I didn’t
see a seatbelt in sight. It felt weird to worry about that when I
was the savior of the Mani world, but I liked seatbelts. I’d take
human at this point. She saw me looking at the seats.

“You don’t have a suitcase?” Helen asked.
“You took a trip halfway across the world and you didn’t bring
anything?”

“When I travel, I take half the clothes and
twice the money,” I joked. “I’m a man with simple needs,” I said
with a cool wink.

“That you are,” she said, knowing I was
kidding. Helen pulled a card out of her wallet. “Call this number,
and tell him your jacket and trouser measurements and I’ll take
care of the bill.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to do anything
like that. I’m pretty low maintenance,” I said.

“It’s one thing to be low maintenance and
it’s another to be no-maintenance. You will need some new threads
for tonight, as my escort. I know this James Dean, leather jacket,
tight jeans style works for you–I mean you definitely got me hot,
all you needed was the sideburns–but even James Dean couldn’t go to
Cinderella’s ball dressed like that.”

“Great, what did I get myself into?” I said,
smiling. I stepped out of the limo, and a bellhop was there to
greet me. “Your bags, sir?”

“No bags,” I said.

The bellhop looked at me with a bit of
disdain. Apparently, we were going to do the whole Pretty Woman
bit.

“Are we really going to play this game
Belvedere?” I said. “I don’t have a bag, the Duchess is putting me
up and I don’t tip. So, if we’re straight on the details, please
let me know where my room is, so I can actually shower before the
royal shindig.”

Helen peeked her head out of the limo,
“Well, Josiah, the shindig is in two hours. So, you’ll need to be
dressed to the nines in one.” She gave me a wink and the chauffer
shut the limo door.

Then Belvedere showed me up to my room. We
took the freight elevator. My room was on the top floor. I asked
him to show me how to make international calls from my bedside
phone. How positively archaic. A land line. I hadn’t used one for
years. He obliged me and then waited by the door, like a freaking
butler.

“I wasn’t kidding about the tip. I only have
American cash, and from what I can tell, my money is cents on the
dollar to your British currency.”

The bell hop calmly looked straight ahead,
as if he was a royal guard himself. “American money is just as good
to me, sir. I’m not a snob.”

I got up and pulled my wallet out. I had
five one-hundred dollar bills in my wallet. Hector had given me his
credit card that had a $100,000 limit on it. Money wasn’t going to
be a problem as long as places took credit cards and didn’t sneer
at my California driver’s license.

“It’s not your lucky day, Belvedere. I only
have hundred dollar bills. But, I do have a $25 Hard Rock Cafe gift
card that my roommate gave me for Christmas that I never used. I
saw one of those restaurants on the way in. So here you go.” I
handed him the Hard Rock gift card. “Twenty-five American dollars
gift card to a novelty restaurant.”

“Great,” he said, smugly, “I’ll get the
nachos.”

“I’d go with the steak fajitas myself, but
I’ve been told that you Brits are not one for taste. I mean please,
you eat kidneys for breakfast! So, if you don’t mind, Belvedere, I
need to shower up.”

I shook his hand, and something out of the
ordinary happened. I had flashes of light in my brain and images
were forming. I saw three men talking to Belvedere and giving him
money. I let go of his hand quickly, because the vision had shocked
my system. That had never happened before. I didn’t know how to use
my gifts correctly, and apparently that was another one I now had
at my disposal.

The bellhop left the room and I stood by the
door. That image freaked me out. I hadn’t expected anything like
that to happen. It was as if the Triat was trying to speak to me. I
got an unintentional vision and I didn’t know what to make of
it.

I flung open the door and Belvedere was at
the freight elevator, waiting for it to come back up.

“Hey,” I yelled down the hall. “Hold up.” I
ran up to him knowing that I somehow needed to touch him again. It
is unusual to a touch a man that you hardly knew, so I need to be
crafty. “Hey, I would like to apologize for being rude,” I said, in
my good-guy voice.

“No problem, sir.” He was clearly suspicious
of me.

“What is your real name?” I asked. “I
noticed you don’t have your employee badge.”

“It’s Maxwell, sir.”

“Okay, Maxwell, here is a better tip for
taking my abuse earlier.”

“You really don’t need to, sir.”

“I insist.” I reached back into my pocket
and pulled my wallet back out. I took out a hundred and handed it
to him. I made a point to hold his hand while we exchanged the
money. When our hands touched, I saw the same flash of light. I saw
the three men again. They were with Pudgy. I focused and saw they
were in a coffee shop. Someone was handing them a large sum of
money.

Maxwell let go of my hand, forcefully. He
probably thought I was making a pass at him. “Thank you, sir, you
are too kind,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Crap! I needed to know who was paying them.
Maxwell turned around and faced the elevator. I reached out my
hands and said, “Is this made of suede, Maxwell?” I placed both my
palms on his back tightly.

I, again, saw the three men and Maxwell. And
now, there was a woman in the picture. The woman said, “Don’t kill
him, but put him to the test.” Then the woman stood up and all I
could see was her back.

Maxwell pulled away and I grabbed his
shoulders. “Man, you’re toned, Maxwell!” I began massaging his
shoulders. The image appeared again and I saw who the woman was. It
was Helen.

Chapter Four

Crap! What did I get myself into tonight?
Duchess Schmuchess, I should have known this couldn’t be random.
Nothing random ever happens to me anymore.

I called the number on the card that Helen
had given me and gave them my measurements. Fighters always know
their measurements. The suit guy asked me if I preferred brown or
black.

“Oh, I can never have enough black in my
wardrobe, dear chap,” I said. And we hung up. No woman had bought
me clothes since my mother was alive. What was Helen up to in that
touchy-feely vision I had when I touched good old Belvedere in the
hallway?

Helen seemed normal and very sincere. Don’t
kill him? But put him to the test? Were they talking about me? I
remembered seeing the scrape on the back of her neck as we were
exiting the plane. Could she be a Mani, or a Carni? Was this all a
ruse, a set up? Was an ass kicking waiting for me at the end of the
evening with the whole royal fam damily. Maybe they were vampires
or werewolves? Or even ghosts…