Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble, a Paranormal Romance Page 8

  I couldn’t picture Rand talking about me with anyone let alone Poison Ivy. What was this woman to Rand, I wondered.

  “Does Rand know you’ve invited me?”

  She rolled her eyes in exasperation.

  “No, I’ve already told you he doesn’t know I’ve come here.”

  Well she wasn’t a warm witch, but if Rand would be at the party, I felt safer.

  “Okay, I’ll be there.”

  “Oh, and wear a costume. It’s a masquerade,” she added before turning on her stiletto heel, frowning at Christa and throwing open the front door with a great show of indifference.

  Once the door closed behind her, Christa faced me with wide eyes and I just shook my head.

  “Christa, I have a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”

  #

  I glanced at the clock on the dash of my car. Crap. It was five minutes to ten, and I remembered Bella had been very specific about being on time. I narrowed my eyes and leaned forward, peering through the dirty windshield. As luck would have it, I was out of window washer fluid, and the dirt road kicked up a cloud of dust that obscured my view. Maybe this was a bad omen. I shirked off the feeling, knowing full well that my washer fluid is never full. I’m not a very responsible car owner.

  My attention returned to the anxious humming in my stomach and I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of idiot drives out to the middle of nowhere, alone, to a party full of witches and vampires? I didn’t want to answer the question…

  Well, idiot or no idiot, I was lost and running out of time. If I didn’t see the house in five minutes, I’d take it as fate telling me not to go. Something along the lines of the fox trying to get the grapes and upon not reaching them, deciding they would’ve been sour anyway.

  I rounded a bend, and a twinkle of lights in the distance interrupted the dark night. Depressing my foot from the accelerator, I turned onto a gravel drive. The house before me wasn’t old or impressive like I’d imagined it would be. Instead, it was just a ranch house probably built in the seventies. The driveway was long, and attendants were parking cars. Jags, BMWs, and Porsches littered the driveway, making my little Jetta look like scrap metal. But I reminded myself that material things didn’t impress me.

  The valet opened the door and held out his hand.

  “Thanks,” I murmured, dropping my keys into his open palm. As fate would have it, the wings of my fairy costume caught in my seatbelt, and I had to battle with both in order to free myself as the valet looked on, trying to choke back a laugh.

  About my fairy costume—Tinker Bell would’ve been proud with my mint green wings and strawberry pink dress, which I will admit, was on the exceedingly short side. Most of the time I’m not too keen about showing off the ol’ bod, but when have you ever heard of a fairy in a long dress?

  With an exasperated sigh, I jerked on my wings, but they refused to budge. This only further amused the attendant, who openly chuckled. I glared at him and when his attention shifted to my lap, I pulled down on my dress and gave him a scowl. Before I could straighten my wings, another valet appeared.

  He reached inside and unhooked my wing from the seatbelt, giving his coworker a this-girl-is-an-idiot smile. I was so pissed off, I refused to take his offered arm and instead, followed him down the steep drive, wobbling in my four-inch pink hooker shoes.

  He paused before a set of double oak doors then opened one of the doors and bowed low. I ignored him.

  With a sigh, I turned to face the foyer, and my mouth dropped open. It wasn’t the great expanse of white marble floor or the Corinthian columns lining the walls or even the ornate tapestries that caused my disquietude. It was the fact that inside, this was a three-story mansion, and upon seeing it from the street, it appeared to be a one-story ranch house.

  I forced myself forward, the tapping of my heels against the marble echoing the palpitations of my heart. The vestibule flared into a giant receiving room where jackets and other unnecessary pieces of clothing were strewn this way and that, some lucky enough to have found a hanger. I continued to follow the sounds of music and laughter, wondering what in the hell I’d managed to get myself into this time.

  The hallway stopped at a wide set of stairs. Swallowing hard, I started up the steps. At the top of the staircase, I faced the grandest ballroom I’d ever seen—a white baby grand piano played itself, and Louis XIV armchairs and love seats decorated the perimeter of the room, the white marble floor paling against the ornate gold work of the furniture.

  There were people (the word people used lightly as they were not your average humans) everywhere, and all were in costume. I tried not to stare as a woman walked by, her entire body painted as if she were a snake. I couldn’t help my gaze as it followed her…yep, she was only wearing paint.

  I pulled my attention back to the main ballroom, my blood rushing through my head, pounding in my ears. Most of the people in the ballroom were dancing and not the type of dancing I’m accustomed to—they were dancing on air, swaying as if an invisible floor were beneath their toes. Others stood along the sidelines, watching the dancers, and no one seemed to be in the least alarmed—as if this was an everyday occurrence and for all I knew, it probably was.

  My shock turned to fear.

  I slipped behind a marble column, trying to catch my breath. This was unreal, like nothing I’d ever seen before. The entire room seemed to be alive, vibrating with a foreign energy. There was a magic here that astounded me as much as it terrified me.

  I forced myself to inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth until my heart started cooperating. Peeking out from behind the column, I noted the various costumes in an attempt to change the direction of my wayward thoughts. There were plenty of vampire costumes, some pirates, witches everywhere and other beings I couldn’t even begin to categorize. I didn’t see any fairy costumes, though, and worried I’d stand out.

  I took a deep breath, settled myself, and started down the stairs. Searching the crowd for a familiar face, even that of Bella’s would’ve been welcome at this point. Many eyes followed me, and I wondered if everyone knew I was a stranger and didn’t belong. As I met the gazes of those in the room, not one person smiled. A dart of apprehension plunged through me. With their frowns and narrowed eyes, they looked downright hostile.

  “Hello, Poppet.”

  The voice next to my ear nearly made my heart stop. I whirled around, nearly losing my balance, courtesy of my ridiculous shoes, and found a vampire smiling at me—that is, a man dressed as a mpire. And a damn good-looking one at that. My hand went to my heart to calm its sporadic beating, and he laughed at my reaction.

  “I didn’t intend to frighten you,” he said with an English accent. My stomach flopped--I could honestly say I’d be happy never to meet another Englishman.

  He was tall, maybe six-four or so and narrow other than a pair of decently broad shoulders. His black hair was gelled back and almost looked blue when the light hit it at a certain angle. His face was well-defined—high cheekbones and largish eyes that were so light they almost appeared to be white. Upon further inspection, though, they were ice blue. He’d drawn a widow’s peak on himself, doing quite the good job of assuming the persona of a vampire.

  I collected myself. “You didn’t frighten me.”

  He reached for my hand, smiled as he took it in his, and brought it to his lips. I hadn’t noticed until now that he had no aura. His hand was as cold as his eyes. Hmmm…very strange.

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss?”

  “Wilkins.”

  He swept his black cloak forward and bowed theatrically.

  “Ah, Miss Wilkins, you are ravishing, if I may say so.”

  “You can call me Jolie.”

  His expression changed then, and what appeared to be recognition flashed through his predatory eyes. He arched a dark brow and regarded me as if I was a Twinkie and he, a fat kid.

  “Ah, the witch Jolie, now I’m even more pleased to make your acqua
intance.”

  Unsettled by the fact that he knew who I was, my voice was shaky.

  “And, who might you be?”

  He bowed again. “You may call me the Count.”

  I laughed. “Nice costume. You look the part.”

  He grinned, and his canines lengthened before my eyes. I took a step back as my breath caught, seemingly too frightened to come out of my mouth. So, vampires were real—Rand hadn’t been fibbing.

  I guess I looked frightened because he recoiled his fangs, attempting to set me at ease. His lips turned up in a grin, and warmth crawled up my neck. He was a feast to my eyes and judging by the arc of his brows, he knew it.

  “Don’t be frightened, I mean you no harm. I’ve heard of your incredible…talent. I hadn’t heard of your incredible beauty. Although, I must say your frock is quite…brave.”

  I knew it was short, but there were costumes here that were easily more revealing than mine. As soon as the thought entered my head, a woman walked by sporting nothing more than two black pasties in the shape of witch hats covering her nipples and a pair of black thong underwear. I was dressed like a nun compared to her.

  “Braveples and laughed.

  He shook his head and made a tsking sort of noise.

  “It appears our hostess did quite a lousy job of explaining, Poppet.”

  Why the hell did he keep calling me Poppet? If I were correct, it was a pet name in style hundreds of years ago. Well, I guess that answered the question of his age.

  I returned to the subject of my costume and Bella’s lousy job in preparing me for the party.

  “Maybe you can fill in where she failed?”

  He chuckled and nodded, reaching for my arm to guide me to a vacant settee not far from where we stood. His hand was void of heat and felt odd against my skin—cold. I had to fight the urge to pull away.

  “Well, where to begin…this party was given by Isabella, as I imagine you already know. It’s in congratulations for the vampires who have now joined ranks with the witches.”

  I was confused already, and he’d only spoken two sentences.

  “What?” I managed unceremoniously. Hats off to the Count for not losing his cool.

  I took a seat beside him, and he rested his arm behind me, stretching out his long legs and crossing them at the ankles.

  “Well, you’re quite ill informed. Bella has been trying to unite all the night creatures—all vampires, wolves, demons, fairies—the whole lot of them. The vampires decided it was a good idea, so we joined her union and this party is in honor of that. Bella is hoping word will spread and eventually we’ll all join her cause.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “Ah…well in the words of your honorable president, a house divided against itself cannot stand.”

  So, the good Count knew of Abe Lincoln—maybe knew him personally. I wondered what all of this could mean—why Bella would even want to unite all the other creatures.

  My attention returned to the friendly vampire, and I had to laugh—he was quite the cliché, being everything you’d picture a vampire to be—tall, good-looking, dark hair, light skin and a riddler at that.

  “That’s why I was saying your frock, er, costume was brave,” the vampire finished and looked down at me in expectation.

  I’d lost the train of thought and didn’t want to appear dimwitted or slow, but it seemed such would be the case.

  “What was why you said my costume was brave?”

  “Well, the vampires are the only ones to have joined ranks with the witches. The fairies have undoubtedly given the union the most difficult time, so it goes without saying your costume requires a certain level of…courage.”

  Great, so I’d been here for less than ten minutes and I’d already managed to offend everyone. Off to a great start.

  I forced my attention back to the subject of the fairies while I thought this night couldn’t get any weirder. Not only did fairies exist, but they wanted nothing to do with vampires or witches. I couldn’t say I blamed them.

  “Well, that would explain the unfriendly gestures in my direction.”

  “Indeed it would. I would not let it chagrin you, though, as I said before, you’re quite easy on the eyes.”

  So, now he was flattering me…well flattery would get him nowhere. I might be slow when it came to the interests of the fairies and the unionized vampires and witches, but I was no idiot when it came to people with hidden agendas, and this vampire had one.

  “Well, thanks, but your charm won’t work on me.”

  “I know it won’t. You’re as immune to my charm as I am to your witchcraft.” He laughed, the sound deep and rumbling. “I can’t bewitch you, so anything you feel toward me is purely your own desire.”

  Well, he certainly wasn’t lacking in the vanity department.

  “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “I can’t use my vampire powers of persuasion on you, Love, so whatever you’re feeling is genuine.”

  “How do you know I’m feeling anything toward you?” I asked, my tone biting.

  He leaned closer to me, and I held my ground, not wanting him to think I couldn’t. He came inches from my throat and inhaled deeply. It took all my gumption to sit there and allow him to do so.

  “I can smell the desire coming off you, my pet, it is the headiest of all perfumes.” He inhaled again as if to prove his point.

  I pulled away from him. “Unless you would rather grace someone else with your less-than-thrilling company, lay off.”

  “No need to grow angry, Love.”

  “I’m not angry,” I said, and the lie sounded stupid to my own ears. The vampire just smiled.

  “So, my powers won’t work on any otherwordly creatures?” I asked, ignoring him and the fact that he was right, I was lusting after him.

  He shook his head, a deep chuckle resonating through him.

  “You’re quite a new witch, aren’t you? All of this should have been explained to you. No, your powers will work on others, just not on vampires. We’re immune to one another.”

  I nodded and decided to pay attention to my first mental note, that being trying to find out why Count Dracula had such an interest in me. First things first, find out his real name.

  “Your name can’t really be Count?” I said, hoping he wouldn’t riddle with me on that front.

  He cocked an elusive brow. “It’s not every day I get to act the part of ount Dracula. What do you think of the costume?”

  “I think it’s pretty good but not very original.”

  He pressed his pale hand to his heart, feigning heartache, and I had to give it to him, he’d make a good actor. For all I knew, maybe he’d been one.

  If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re avoiding the question,” I continued.

  “Excuse my poor manners, Poppet, Sinjin Sinclair at your service,” he said with an orchestrated bow.

  SIX

  My heart fell to the floor. I’d thought there was something familiar about his face. This was the man Rand had warned me about! I didn’t know what to do, so I smiled meekly.

  “Pleased to meet you.”

  He cocked an elegant brow. “Ah, don’t look so disappointed. I suppose my reputation precedes me.” He grinned with fangs again.

  I was quick to respond, trying to conceal my disquietude.

  “So it would seem.”

  “Is the motto of this country not innocent until proven guilty?”

  I had to give it to him, he was quick witted and…well, sexy as a son of a bitch. This Sinjin character didn’t at all seem the dangerous man Rand had warned of.

  Speak of the devil, no sooner had the thought crossed my mind than I spotted Rand across the ballroom. He was dressed as a pirate—patch over one eye, red and white striped and ripped pants, short beard, the complete package.

  Our eyes met and surprise registered in his before he plowed through the room, looking like every woman’s fantasy come to life. Sinjin, apparently noticing my
attention was no longer his captive, turned to face Rand. I didn’t miss the sigh that escaped his lips or the sag of his shoulders.

  “Sod it, here comes the hero,” he muttered, sounding like a child who’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  With each step Rand took, the thumping in my chest increased. When he stopped in front of me, I had to catch my breath. He was taller and broader than I remembered.

  God, I was a lovesick dumbass.

  Ignoring Sinjin, he clasped onto my arm and yanked me to my feet.

  “Jolie, what the hell are you doing here?” He pulled the patch away, so he could glare at me with both eyes.

  “Hello Randall, how are you?” Sinjin asked with the same smile the serpent must have given Eve.

  Rand didn’t smile in turn. “You know quite wel Randall isn’t my name,” he snarled between gritted teeth.

  Sinjin shrugged, studying his fingernails.

  “Rand, Randall...what difference does it make?”

  Rand’s color went from a very attractive tan to a pinkish to an out and out red. His aura vacillated, the tips glowing purple.

  “For the life of me, Sinjin, I can’t figure out what business you have to discuss with Jolie. She isn’t a full-fledged witch yet, you know that.”

  Sinjin grinned at me as a cat would a mouse. Maybe he was dangerous, certainly dangerously sexy.

  “Don’t be a todger, Randall. I have heard she’s a new witch, yes, but I’ve also heard of her incredible…abilities.” He eyed me up and down. “But Bella failed to mention how blessed she is…physically.”

  Even though he was smooth, I couldn’t keep the warmth from seeping through me. I wasn’t accustomed to such attention from the opposite sex, and I had to admit it felt good—especially since Sinjin Sinclair was a babe and a half.

  Rand stepped in front of me, blocking Sinjin from view.

  “She’s not interested in you, Sinjin, so go find another witch.”

  I peeked around Rand’s back to find Sinjin frowning. It was funny actually—like I was in the midst of the best dream of my life—being fought over by a pirate and a vampire.