Blood Courtesan Hooked, page 6
The brunette looked up at him through her sooty lashes, speculative. “Qui es-tu?”
“Ulrich von Helgrim.” If his penetrating gaze hadn’t been enough to decide her, his name clearly was. She hurried away, telling us to wait there in the foyer until she returned.
“Not very friendly, are they?” I crossed my arms and leaned back against the wall. My feet were already killing me in heels.
“She’ll want to see me alone.” Ulrich held a hand up when I protested. “I won’t keep anything from you, Poppy. I’ve known her a long time. Besides, she’ll be more honest with me if we’re alone.”
“Why, so you can compel her?” I scowled.
“Let me do my vampire-thing, as you’d say.” He chuckled when my scowl deepened. “There’s a bar you can sit at, through those doors.”
He pointed to a set of tall, wide double doors, black with gold trim.
“Order something non-alcoholic,” he instructed. “Nurse your drink. Wait for me. And don’t talk to anyone.”
“I can’t order a drink without talking to anyone.”
He sighed. “You know what I mean.”
“Viens avec moi.” The brunette appeared again from down the dark hallway. I straightened, ready to follow her and ignore Ulrich’s instructions. Lily was my sister, after all. I wanted to be privy to any information we could glean about her whereabouts.
“Non.” The woman frowned and shook her head at me. Then she crooked her finger at Ulrich. Clearly, she only wanted him, not me. He’d been right. Damnit. “Viens.”
“Through these doors.” He guided me toward them, almost whispering. “Remember what I said.”
“Yes, Sir.” I snapped him a salute, which made the brunette’s eyebrows rise.
I knew I wasn’t acting like the typical blood courtesan, but I ignored the dark look on Ulrich’s face as I opened one of the heavy black doors. The knobs were in the middle, also gold, and it wasn’t until I pushed my way into the room that I realized how soundproof it really was.
There was a party going on behind those doors, but you never would have known it, standing in the hallway.
CHAPTER SIX
A few heads turned when I entered the room, their attention drawn by my presence, but most were too busy lounging on settees and drinking wine to notice. I felt incredibly conspicuous even though I was dressed similarly to every other woman in the room. Ulrich had been right—I would have felt more awkward wearing jeans and a t-shirt, even if it would have been more physically comfortable.
I managed to walk in a straight line toward the bar—I probably look like a drunk in these damned heels, I thought—where I wiggled myself up onto a bar stool. The bar itself was an oblong affair in the middle of the room, clearly the centerpiece. There were two bartenders working on either end, one woman and one man, but they both wore white shirts, black vests, and burgundy-colored bow-ties.
The male bartender with the Flock of Seagulls haircut—for being the center of fashion, French vampires seemed a little behind the times—came over and asked me what I wanted to drink.
“Coke,” I said, wondering how I was going to pay him. I didn’t have a purse. Everything I owned was back at the hotel. The bartender stared at me blankly for a moment and I prompted him again. “Le Coke?”
“Oui.” He was still looking at me funny as he filled a glass with soda from the nozzle. “Le rhum et le Coke?”
“No.” I shook my head, remembering Ulrich’s admonition to order something non-alcoholic. For all I knew, they put something in the alcohol to make the courtesans more compliant. “Just the Coke, thanks.”
“You speak English.”
“Yes.” I sipped my Coke through a thin red straw. I didn’t taste any alcohol.
“American?” the bartender asked.
I nodded.
“Is it you?” The voice beside me was soft, incredulous, and I turned to look at a woman about my age, her dark, curly hair a cloud around her head, her dress a form-fitting white velvet with fur trim. “Poppy, is it really you?”
I stared at her, searching my mind for any recognition. She spoke clear English with no accent—clearly American. Where did I know her from? I had to be from my former life—before I’d taken the boring name “Sarah,” which was now on my driver’s license.
She slid up onto the bar stool beside me, leaning over to whisper, “Cora.”
Cora. It rang a distant bell.
Then, she whispered something else that got that bell clanging in my head, penetrating my memory like nothing else could have. “Hell House.”
“Cora.” I leaned back, searching her face. The same upturned nose with a spattering of freckles, in spite of the make-up, the same bright hazel eyes. “It’s you. It’s really you?”
“That’s my line.” She laughed, crooking her finger at the bartender. When he came over, she ordered wine, holding it up when he handed her the glass. “To us. We made it.”
I held my Coke up, clinking glasses with her, although I was doubtful about the toast.
“Once a blood courtesan, always a blood courtesan, huh?” She took a sip of her wine, putting the glass down on the bar. “It gets in your blood. So to speak.”
I sipped my Coke, so I didn’t have to reply.
“But it’s different now.” She turned to face me, her eyes bright. “Now, I get to choose. And there’s nothing better than the life of a blood courtesan, am I right?”
I just nodded, playing along. I was dressed the part, after all.
“I mean, seriously.” Cora shook her dark head, looking distant. “We went through hell. But we came out the other side. And here we are. This is the life!”
I didn’t know how much more rah-rah I could take about the life of blood courtesans. Granted, they were all around us—women dressed to the nines, lounging on settees, sitting with vampires, laughing and chatting and looking like they were all having a good time—but I wasn’t part of their group. I had never been a blood courtesan—I’d been a blood slave. I’d had no choice in the matter. And once I did have a choice, I’d made the choice to leave. I couldn’t imagine making a different one. Why in the world would Cora make the choice to continue?
“I’m so glad to see you.” Cora reached over and squeezed my knee. “How’s Lily?”
I didn’t say anything, using my Coke as an excuse to regain my composure. The mention of my sister’s name had my heart racing.
“I saw her a few years ago, but I didn’t get a chance to talk to her,” she told me. “I assume you keep in touch?”
“We… uh… who was she with?” I asked, swirling the straw in my Coke. “When you saw her?”
“She was just visiting.” Cora shrugged. “She never worked here, with Madame Darrieux. If she’d been one of our girls, I’d know her Master.”
Her Master. That phrase made the tiny hairs on my forearms and the back of my neck stand up.
“Who’s your Master?” she asked, looking at me curiously. Then she perked up, asking excitedly, “Or… are you going to be working here?”
“No.” I shook my head, putting a quick kibosh on her sudden enthusiasm. “I uh… I won’t be working here. I’m here looking for Lily, actually.”
“Oh.” She blinked, surprised. “Well, she’s not here. At least, not tonight, anyway.”
“And you don’t remember who she was with?” I asked. “When you saw her?”
“Sorry.” She frowned, shaking her head. “But I can ask my Master. He knows all the Paris vamps. He might know who she’s with?”
There was that word again. Master. I swallowed my own bile just thinking about calling someone Master. But I looked to where Cora was pointing, at a vampire who was surrounded by quite a little harem of women, all blood courtesans. They were drinking wine, all of them listening with rapt attention to the vampire at the center of their circle. He was clearly telling some dramatic story, using big hand gestures, and all of the girls were smiling, laughing, hanging onto his every word.
“That’s Simon.” Cora sounded so proud, I wanted to cringe. Instead, I kept my face impassive. “We all serve many masters here, but Simon has taken quite a few of us under his wing.”
“I can see that.” I smiled when Cora gave me a strange look, hoping to soften the tone of my words with the gesture. “Has he been in contact with Lily, do you think?”
“If he hasn’t, he’ll know who has.” Cora sounded so sure, I wanted to believe her. She slid off the bar stool. “I’ll be right back.
I watched her approach the vampire she’d called Simon, glancing around, trying to remain situationally aware. I was in a room surrounded by vampires, which made me nervous, but playing the role of a blood courtesan made me even more anxious.
This is for Lily. I kept reminding myself of that fact as I observed Cora. She seemed perfectly comfortable sidling in and getting right up next to the vampire at the center of the circle.
Cora pressed against his side, leaning in to whisper something into the vampire’s ear. I worried my lower lip between my teeth as I watched them, feeling hope rising in my chest. Was it possible that he knew where my sister was? Finding her couldn’t be this easy, I thought. But if Simon had information about Lily, if he even had some lead on her location, all of this would be worth it. And I couldn’t help feeling a little proud that it would be me, and not Ulrich, who had found her.
Simon turned his head to look at me—Cora had pointed me out in the crowd—and I felt the vampire’s gaze moving up and down as he looked at me, laser-focused. He was handsome, wearing a dark blue suit. His eyes, now lifting to meet mine, were a shade lighter than his jacket, his hair a slicked-back, dirty-blond. His goatee was trimmed neatly and the smile he flashed me didn’t hide his fangs. He had no need to hide them here, among all these courtesans.
I felt my stomach clench when the vampire stood and came toward me, remembering Ulrich’s admonition to sit quietly and not talk to anyone. Speaking to Cora was different—we’d known each other, way back when. But letting a vampire approach and start a conversation was something else altogether. Especially considering that I was dressed as a blood courtesan. What was he going to expect of me in return for information about my sister? And was I ready to pay that price?
“Simon, this is Poppy,” Cora said by way of introduction as they approached. “Poppy, Simon. As I said, Poppy’s looking for her sister, Lily.”
“She’s a blood courtesan?” Simon asked. His English was good, but his accent was very pronounced.
“She… was.” I stopped myself from saying ‘blood slave’ out loud. “She may still be. I’m not sure. I… we’ve lost touch.”
He gave me a nod, reaching out to wrap a hand around my wrist. I felt my spine stiffen at his touch, but I didn’t resist as he leaned in closer, dipping his head so his mouth was near my ear. I heard him breathe in deeply and it took everything in me not to move away.
“You have the most enticing scent,” he whispered. “Quite… unique.”
“Thank you.” It was all I could manage to say.
I reminded myself that this vampire could have useful information about my sister, and I needed to do whatever I could to get it. If that meant playing the part of a blood courtesan, well—I knew how to do that. So what if what I wanted to do was put a knee in his crotch and splash him with holy water from the vial I had stashed in my cleavage? That would only draw undue attention to myself and get me thrown out the front door.
I was going to have to be subtle, even submissive, the way a vampire would like. But it wasn’t going to be easy because the blond vampire was now leaning in close enough that his lips brushed the back of my exposed neck as he breathed in my scent. My breath caught but I was pretty proud of myself for not punching him in the throat.
“There’s something so familiar about it.” He leaned back to look at me again, his gaze sweeping over the tight-fitting dress, hovering at my cleavage. “But I know I’ve never seen you before. I would remember a courtesan like you.”
“It could be you’ve tasted my sister.” That thought gave me goosebumps, but I managed to keep any animosity from my voice. I didn’t even move away when he slid up onto the bar stool beside mine.
Lily. Do it for Lily. Did this vampire really know her?
For the first time since I’d heard her call, I had some real hope that she was in Paris and this wouldn’t be a wasted trip. The thought of Lily made me push on, despite the way my skin crawled, being seated next to this blood-drinker.
“Who are you with tonight?” Simon inquired, ordering a whiskey from the bartender.
“I… uh…” I couldn’t tell him I was with Ulrich. But if I didn’t, wouldn’t he think I was free? I didn’t want that either.
“She’s just visiting, looking for her sister,” Cora interjected as she slid up on a stool on my other side. I smiled a surreptitious thanks as she ordered herself another glass of wine, but her next comment let me know that she hadn’t spoken entirely altruistically. “Don’t you have enough women yet, Simon?”
“I can never taste enough women.” Simon grinned, his fangs gleaming.
“But have you tasted my sister?” I asked again, turning toward him on the bar stool. This forced the slit in my dress to widen, revealing a very long, pale stretch of leg, which looked even longer with my feet in heels. Thankfully, most of my thigh was covered in black stocking and topped with lace. I saw his gaze linger there.
“Perhaps.” He nodded, his face thoughtful as his gaze moved up. Our eyes met, and I saw the hunger there. “Lily… Lily… and you’re Poppy?”
I nodded. Hearing her name spoken out loud made me want to tear up.
I’d tried calling her again a few times on that twin psychic hotline, but had received only silence. We were disconnected again, and I felt more alone than ever. I kept trying to keep hope alive, but it was hard when there had been no more communication from her.
I looked away from the vampire, using my drink as an excuse, taking a sip as the bartender set down the man’s shot of whiskey and Cora’s wine.
“Hm. Poppy and Lily.” The vampire drank his shot fast, silently, putting the glass back on the bar. He turned fully on his stool to peer at me. “Strange, it should be opposite, no? With her red hair, and your…”
The vampire’s fingers moved to brush a bit of my white-blonde hair from my forehead. I inwardly recoiled, but fought the urge to physically shrink away from his touch. I had to stay and find out what he knew. If he remembered that Lily was a redhead, then he had seen her before.
Hope beat at the hollow of my throat, fast as a hummingbird’s wings.
“Forgive me, Poppy.” His finger rounded my ear, touching the dangling diamonds hanging from the lobe, making the earring swing. “You’ve so enchanted me, I can’t seem to think of anything else...”
I didn’t speak or move. I really didn’t want to play the submissive, but if I could keep him on the hook, maybe I could squeeze some information about my sister from him.
“She’s got red hair,” I said, trying to jog his memory. “Green eyes. Taller than I am. More… curvy.”
“Mmm.” He nodded as I shifted on the stool, not protesting when his fingers trailed down my neck, playing over my collarbone—although I wanted to. Part of me wanted to run, as far and as fast as I could, away from him and this place filled with bloodsuckers. Fear clawed up my throat, threatening to choke me, making me want to gag. It was only the memory of my sister’s face, the last time I’d glimpsed it as I looked over my shoulder at her, that kept me from bolting. “She sounds lovely…”
“She has the same scent,” I told him helpfully. “Well… similar. Kind of like—”
“Black licorice.” His gaze took the same path as his fingers, eyes darkening as they settled on the pulse at the base of my throat. I swallowed. “Yes, I remember now.”
“So, you did taste her?”
He shook his head. “She was a tempting morsel, but too rich for me.”
“How long ago?” I didn’t want to seem too eager, even though I was.
“A month, maybe a little less?”
A month. They could still be in Paris, then.
“Too rich?” I mused. “How much was he charging for her?”
Had she been with Alaric? I wondered.
That would be my next line of inquiry.
“Half a million.” Simon let out a little laugh at the preposterous sum.
I gulped. “How much?”
“The rumors about her run rampant,” he said, meeting my eyes. There was a light there I didn’t much care for. His memory of my sister had clearly returned. “Something about her blood giving vampires the ability to stay awake during the day?”
My blood turned cold, like ice water moving through my veins, sending goosebumps down my arms. I worked hard not to let my fear show on my face, to not give Simon any indication that the rumors he’d heard were, in fact, true.
Alaric knew exactly how powerful Lily’s blood was—and he knew that mine was even more powerful still. I’d been afraid to come here, despite Lily’s desperate call, because while Lily was a prize—like winning ten thousand on a scratch-off ticket in the lottery—I was something else altogether. For a vampire, I was like winning the Powerball jackpot.
And Alaric knew it.
But I couldn’t let this vampire believe the rumors.
“Ridiculous,” I scoffed, adding an eye roll for emphasis, hoping he’d buy my ruse.
“Indeed.” Simon dropped me a wink and I breathed an inward sigh of relief. “I’m sure it’s just something he’s claiming so he can inflate her price.”
Thankfully, he believed me. It was a crazy idea, anyway, like the vampire holy grail—a woman whose blood could keep a vampire from falling asleep during the day. Vampires were a slave to the sun, and their bodies simply stopped when it rose, like computers powering down. It was probably a self-preserving mechanism, because going out into the sun fried them to a crisp.
If this vampire knew that he had a woman sitting beside him whose blood would not only keep him awake during the day, but would allow him to walk out into the sun without being harmed, what would he do?
