Chapter Twenty-One

The soft, rapid clicking of a keyboard woke me, and I dragged my eyes open to stare at an unfamiliar ceiling. By now I was getting used to the running theme of fainting and waking up in an unexpected place. I’d gone through most of my life without fainting a single time, and yet somehow during the past few weeks I’d developed the constitution of a Victorian heroine suffering from the consumption. If I survived this whole ordeal, I was joining a gym and toughening myself up. And quitting smoking. Again. For real this time.

Lifting my head, I studied the room. Yup, definitely not my suite, or my apartment, and also not Castle Silverleaf, though the bed was nearly as large. The place was the definition of master bedroom-it was probably larger than my entire apartment. Antique wooden furniture decorated the space, and a familiar vampire hunched over a laptop in an easy chair across the room, a stack of newspapers on the table next to him. Though Zach’s hair was a bit mussed and the top buttons of his dress shirt were undone, it reminded me of when I’d arrived at his office here in the tower because he had the same intent expression as he studied whatever important work was plastered on the screen. The sight was somewhat of a relief. It was less embarrassing to wake up in Zach’s bed when he was fully clothed on the other side of the room, engrossed in some business dealing. Curious, I glanced down at myself, easing the covers aside to discover that I was wearing a set of boring cotton print pajamas I’d ordered from one of the catalogues. While it was a little mortifying that he’d probably dressed me, I was pretty positive he’d behaved himself.

Sensing my movement, Zach looked up from his laptop, seeming surprised. “You’re awake,” he said, setting his work aside. “How do you feel?”

“Like I got stomped on,” I replied, my voice rough and gravelly. Everything ached, thankfully not as terribly as it ought to considering how close to death I’d been. Crossing the room, he picked up a heavy earthenware mug from the bedside table and moved to help me sit up.

“Here, drink this.”

“No more blood,” I protested in a piteous whine.

“No more blood, it’s herbal tea. I added a potion to it that will help ease the pain and regain your strength more quickly.”

I nodded my thanks and took the mug, holding it with both hands as I sipped at it. The liquid was dark and lukewarm, and it smelled faintly of mint. If there was a potion stirred into it I couldn’t smell it, but then again alchemy is the most difficult magic for me to detect. Potions tend to smell like their ingredients, or whatever they’re added to.

“You were an alchemist?” I’d figured him for a sorcerer, since so many necromancers start out that way.

“Yes. I’m the first magician in the Harrison family.” He smiled dryly. “It was a bit of a surprise for my father.”

I looked down at the tea and froze. Zach was an alchemist. “You put potions in my food, didn’t you? To do the spell that bound us together.”

“Part of it,” he admitted. “Your weakness for sweets was very helpful. As was the fact that you’re a heavy sleeper.”

“You son of a-”

“Catherine, if I hadn’t cast the spell, you would be dead right now. I wouldn’t have known Laura attacked you until your body was found in the morning. Would that be better?”

“No.” He had a point, as much as it pissed me off to admit it. “Thank you. For saving me, I mean. How did you do it, I’m not-I mean, I’m still…?”

“Alive? Yes, you are. It takes more than that to become a necromancer, and a lot more to become a master. You should get used to the terminology, by the way. Many of the elder masters consider being called vampire a grave insult, and they don’t deal well with being insulted.”

“Uh-huh. Why did I have to drink from you?” I wrinkled my nose at the very idea of it. Yuck.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t heal you without it. Usually to heal a wound, like a bite for example, we use the magic within the person’s own blood to do it. You’d lost so much blood that you didn’t have the strength to repair that much damage. I had to give you mine so I would have something to work with. It won’t happen again, I’ll make sure you stay safe.”

“Really. Did Lovely Laura suffer some sort of unfortunate accident while I was asleep?”

“No, she didn’t, but she’s not getting anywhere near you again.”

“My hero. You know, I don’t think these bruises will match my dress for the party,” I joked half-heartedly.

“I’ll find a makeup artist to cover it for you. You should be well enough to make an appearance, but we won’t stay long at the opening.”

“Is Laura going to be there?” There was no way I could deal with her after this-she was number one on my hit list now. Maybe when I got out I could join up with the Silverleafs and we’d slay her mightily together, one big, happy, vengeful faerie family.

“Yes she is, but if she even looks in your direction, she’ll be asked to leave.”

“Asked with extreme prejudice?”

“Yes. I’m sorry she attacked you, this is entirely my fault.”

“You two were…” I paused, searching for a polite term, “…involved, huh?”

He shifted uncomfortably and then nodded. “I was one of her most prized pets, but that was years ago. Laura tends to go through men rather quickly.”

“Like she goes through shoes?”

The vampire chuckled, but it was a hollow sound. I could tell there was a story there, but he wasn’t going to discuss it. “Why’d she go after me like a jealous wife if you’re not involved anymore?”

“Aside from the fact that she doesn’t agree with my politics in this case, it’s one of Laura’s eccentricities. She has no problem moving on to a new pet, but she expects all of her former ones to pine for her for the rest of their lives. She hasn’t cared as long as I’ve had short, empty relationships with other women.”

“And I’m different?”

“You are, yes.” Avoiding elaborating on that topic, he changed the subject. “Catherine, I know you must leave tomorrow, but you need to be careful when you do. Magicians who haven’t become necromancers don’t typically ingest our blood, and there can be dangerous side effects. Rare, but there is a risk.”

I frowned down into my mug and considered his words. “I’ll be careful.”

“Good. Now, I’d like to test how steady you are on your feet.”

For the next several minutes Zach let me lean on him as I tested my wobbly legs doing laps around the room. At first it was a struggle, but as we continued to move I realized most of the problem was in my head. Sure I had plenty of aches and pains, but he healed my injuries very well and they’d been reduced to bruises and sore muscles. Once he was convinced I wasn’t going to crumple like a wilting flower, Zach gave me free reign of the room and also the ginormous master bathroom and retreated with his laptop into the main room.

When I was clean and clothed-he’d brought a T-shirt and jeans from my suite in addition to the pajamas I was wearing-I emerged into the main area of his lair to discover a feast fit for ten people waiting for me. I’d always wondered what it would look like if someone ordered everything on a restaurant menu, and thanks to Harrison I had my answer.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted,” he offered as an explanation as I stared in amazement at the banquet.

“Right…”

Like a parent trying to keep an eye on his child without hovering constantly, he observed me from a distance for the rest of the day. While he took calls on his cell phone and worked on his computer, I lounged around and watched movies until evening began to draw near. True to his word, Harrison found not only a makeup artist for me but also a hair stylist, a manicurist, and a fashion consultant who brought enough clothing to fill the women’s section of a department store. The four of them swarmed around me like stylish bees and whisked me back into the bedroom. It was an effort to find something that I looked good and felt comfortable in. The experience was even more overwhelming than Portia’s stint as the Makeover Fairy. My hair was trimmed and warm red highlights were added, and my poor, neglected nails were molested in some acrylic fashion the girl called “French tips”.

The makeup artist was a woman named Willow, who was slightly older than me, with shocking purple hair and funky black rhinestone-studded eyeglasses. She clucked with disapproval as she examined the dark ring around my eye.

“Oh, honey, what happened?” she asked.

“The ex-girlfriend threw down with me. She won.” It was both a simple and accurate explanation, and Willow sighed and shook her head.

“She must be a real bitch.”

“You have no idea.”

“Well, it’s obvious you’re the one he loves now, or he wouldn’t be lavishing all this attention on you.” She winked conspiratorially. I fought the urge to frown in response, uncomfortable with that idea, and she took my hesitation as uncertainty. “Don’t worry, hon, we can see it in the way he looks at you. Right, Steph?”

The girl attacking my nails looked up and nodded. “Oh yeah, totally. You know we do weddings too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Great, a vampire wedding, just what every little girl dreams of. My stomach plummeted and hung out somewhere between my knees for the rest of the experience. By the time they were finished, I barely recognized myself in the mirror. My hair was curled and swept up into a million-and-one hairpins piled on top of my head, with a few soft, decorative ringlets cascading downward. The makeup was flawless, concealing my bruises and improving my features so I looked like a movie star. The consultant had chosen a long, draped dress made of an airy material that seemed to float around me as I moved. Shades of light, summery green that I probably never would have chosen actually looked fabulous with my highlighted hair and the spray-on tan Willow had assaulted me with.

I looked fabulous. I hoped it made Laura suffer.

When I emerged from the den of fashion and was free of the hovering stylists I found Zach waiting for me, dressed in an honest-to-goodness tailor-made designer tuxedo. I’d never seen a tux that wasn’t a rental before. He looked damn good. For a walking corpse, right? Right, I meant damn good for a walking corpse.

This could only end badly.

“You look stunning. Ready to go?” he asked, offering his arm.

“Yeah, just walk slow. I’m wobbly enough without balancing on these stilts.”

“Of course.” Zach smiled. “I must apologize, though.”

“For what?”

“Smudging your lipstick.” Gathering me into his arms, he kissed me. Unsteady from the shoes, I couldn’t do much other than cling to him. “I want you to stay here with me tonight.” I started to shake my head, but he cut me off before I could protest. “Nothing improper need happen, I only want to make sure that you’re safe and well.”

Though his words sounded sincere, there was an intensity in his eyes that promised much more. “I’ll think about it,” I replied weakly.

With me holding tight to his arm we made our way to the elevator. After a short ride we emerged onto the floor of the art gallery, arriving at his super-secret ninja back way in, which I was rather grateful for considering I didn’t want to make an awkward grand entrance from the main doors. Caterers, security and other random minions parted before us like the Red Sea as Harrison swept past them. We walked through a set of swinging doors into the gallery itself, and I was struck by the thick, roiling scent of mixed magic-some vampire, some shapeshifter, a little bit of everything but faerie.

“I thought this was a human party?” I asked between gritted teeth, a fake smile plastered onto my face as we gazed out at the crowd.

“What would you prefer, the rich and privileged or the fanged and furry?” he asked, guiding me into the fray.

“None of the above.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll do fine.”

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