“Oh, believe me, it was,” Damon said. “But more important, tel me about you. What have I missed?” This was Damon’s plan for the evening? To flirt his way back into society?
But Charlotte smiled, oblivious to me and my frustration as she turned al her womanly charms on Damon. “Wel , I just opened a new play. It’s cal ed The Temptress, and you can only imagine what my part is,” she said suggestively, arching a blond eyebrow.
“Perfect casting,” Damon said, smoothly taking Charlotte’s hand in his. But before he could kiss it, Charlotte snatched it away.
“You’l have to get me a drink first,” she demanded. “You have a lot of apologizing to do for disappearing on me like that.”
“I’m at your service,” Damon said, wiggling his eyebrows.
I turned away, disgusted, even though I shouldn’t have been surprised. Damon’s reaction to death and destruction was always to dance through the ashes. Instead of dwel ing on it, I took in my surroundings. In the center of the room, the band struck up one of the current music hal favorites.
I stopped when I saw the curving staircase that led up to the hotel. Ordinarily, white-gloved butlers would be guarding the stairs to ensure partygoers without hotel keys didn’t slip past. Tonight, however, there were none. In fact, despite the bustling atmosphere, the evening seemed odd. Dancers were half a step behind the music, conversations sounded stilted, and hardly anyone had touched the sumptuous buffet table, laden with éclairs, oysters from the Atlantic, and cheeses and meats from France. But although there wasn’t anything on the buffet table that I wanted, it was strange that the other partygoers felt the same. Could they al be thirsting for blood?
I heard a sound coming from the upper landing. It could have merely been a butler moving a piece of furniture, or two lovers who’d found a quieter spot to entertain each other. But I decided to investigate. After al , if my suspicions were correct, someone might be in trouble.
I stole quietly up the staircase. When I reached the landing, it was just what I’d feared. One of the wel -dressed men from downstairs was holding a servant girl in an embrace. But the servant girl wasn’t reciprocating. Instead, she’d fal en over his arms in a faint, and he was sucking blood from her neck.
Before I knew what I was doing, I raced toward them. I didn’t have vervain or a stake. But I had Power. I hoped that would be enough.
The vampire turned toward me, his eyes blazing in surprise as he dropped the girl to the ground. I could tel he was a brand-new vampire. His feeding had been manic and forceful, his chin at an awkward angle to her throat.
I bared my fangs and emitted a low, guttural growl that sent the vampire beating a hasty retreat. As he vanished down the staircase, the servant girl sat up, rubbing her head.
“What happened?” she asked in confusion, unaware of the two smal wounds stil dripping blood down her neck.
“You passed out. You must have been exhausted.” I compel ed her to believe it. “You should head home.” I felt the lining of my pocket, surprised when my fingertips grazed several heavy coins. The owner of this pair of pants was obviously wealthy. I pul ed them out.
“Here,” I said, dropping the change into the girl’s hand.
“This should pay you for tonight.”
The girl smiled a slow, sleepy smile. “Thank you, sir. I feel like you’re my guardian angel.”
“Trust me, I’m not,” I said roughly.
I escorted the girl down the stairs, making sure she safely left the building. Then, I turned to survey the scene. I had to find the vampire before he did more damage.
My heart dropped. How had I not noticed before?
Because even though Samuel wasn’t here, he was everywhere: stamped on the blank faces of the men eschewing the buffet table, in the hol ow gestures of women adjusting their neck scarves, and in the somber, funereal atmosphere. It wasn’t as if the partygoers were doing anything unusual or out of place. Rather, their movements were studied and deliberate, as if they were performing on a stage. Mostly, it was their vacant stares that made it obvious.
They were al vampires. And they were al compel ed.
I saw Cora weave her way through the crowd toward me.
At least she was safe. “Stefan, where were you?” Cora asked, placing her hands on her hips. “I’ve been looking for you. Lord Ainsley’s right over there.”
Ahead of us was a ginger-haired man I’d met several times, back when Damon was part of Samuel’s elite social circle. He was heir to a British banking fortune and had always seemed to be one of Samuel’s closest confidants.
“Lord Ainsley!” I cal ed loudly. I needed to see for myself if he was compel ed, too. A few people, including Cora, turned to stare. Lord Ainsley nodded briefly, ended his conversation, and began picking his way toward me. He was only a few feet away when a short man in a suit, top hat, and bow tie lurched in front of me. I held out my arm to keep him from fal ing. As I steadied him, his glazed eyes turned up toward me and he blinked in confusion.
“Are you al right?” I asked in annoyance.
He nodded, then his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Do I know you?”
“Friend of Samuel’s,” I lied as Cora squeezed my hand.
“Is he coming tonight?”
The man shook his head. “We know how busy Samuel is. He’s got business at Ten Downing Street. Say, wil you be going tomorrow? I hear he’s only picking a few of his best soldiers to join him.”
“Downing Street?” The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. There was no response; the man had already faded back into the crowd.