Vampire - Deep Midnight Part 7

The comment was said jokingly, but it gave Jordan a sense of unease. She shook it off.

"Good, as long as I can be in the midst of you all, I'll be just fine. I'll just run and change."

"I'll walk you back," Raphael offered. "The Square will be crazy now, so crowded."

"I'll be all right-"

"I don't mind, and I have a costume to deliver to the Danieli."

"Thank you then."

In the dressing room, she wondered if she shouldn't have taken the tall blond man's advice.

"Hooker," she told her reflection in the mirror. "But a high-priced one, at that."

She changed into her street clothing. Downstairs, she found Raphael carrying a garment bag bigger than he was. "Andiamo!" he told her cheerfully.

"Have no fear; we'll find you right away!" Lynn called as she left the shop.

"Stay close behind me; we'll bulldog our way through!" Raphael said.

She smiled, following close behind. He did know how to move. "Scusi, scusi, scusi!" he said, creating a pathway through those still in streetwear, as well as the mult.i.tude of historical personages, monsters, creatures, suns, moons, and more. Following him, she again found herself amazed by the elaborate and intricate beauty of so many of the costumes, amused and awed by all that she saw, and once more in love with the city of Venice.

They pa.s.sed the basilica, and crossed the bridge from the Doge's Palace to the Danieli, where they parted in the busy lobby. Raphael kissed her on the cheek. "You will outs.h.i.+ne them all tonight," he promised.

"Grazie, ciao," she told him, and she wondered if Jared was back at the hotel.

He gave her a thumbs up sign. "Good accent," he said soberly, then grinned. "You will truly be splendid. My work of art."

"I'll try to make you proud," she teased and started up the stairs.

Ragnor arrived at the palazzo in a hired launch, telling the boatman to wait, even if he were inside for an hour.

He stepped carefully from the launch to the contessa's dock, listening as the seawater lapped against the piling. Long, determined strides brought him quickly to the contessa's door. When his knock wasn't immediately answered, he thrust the door open, heedless of the groaning hinges and the snap as lock and bolt gave. As he had expected, the contessa's servants, a tall, skinny man of about sixty in black livery and a sour-looking woman of the same age with iron gray hair, were standing just inside. They had been more than aware of his arrival, but why they had ignored his knock he didn't know. They must have expected him to enter, whether or not they opened the door.

"Where is she?" Ragnor demanded.

"She is not at home," the man said, looking at the door with disapproval. "And you have recklessly broken into this palazzo, destroying the contessa's private property-"

"Call the police," Ragnor suggested. Ignoring the pair, he started across the marble floor of the entry to reach the landing. Halfway up the stairs, he swung around. The servant had foolishly seized a sword from the arms display on the wall of the foyer and was attempting to lift the heavy metal in a wild swing. The fool. He'd have never reached Ragnor's neck, being nearly a foot shorter, down a number of steps, and absurdly out of his league.

He avoided the first hapless swing, ducking low and sweeping back up to catch the weapon at the hilt. He tossed it to the floor below, where the clatter against marble seemed to echo with a shattering recall. He pushed the fellow against the banister and continued up the stairs. Reaching the entrance to the contessa's bedchamber, he thrust it open.

Apparently, however, the servants had not lied. The contessa was not in. Ragnor strode into the room, throwing open the wardrobe. He stepped into the dressing room and bath, but there was no sign of his quarry.

In disgust, he turned, left her bedchamber, and strode down the hallway to the second- floor ballroom. His eyes swept the scene where her "merrymaking" had taken place the night before. They had scoured the scrubbed, gleaming marble flooring and columns, the grandly carved great hearth, and the stained gla.s.s doors to the terrace, now closed. He walked on into the room, eyes still sharp, senses keen. He knelt down to touch the floor.

The heavy scents of bleach and disinfectant filled his nostrils.

He rose and turned in a sudden fluid motion. The disarmed servant had gone for backup.

The two men now glaring at him from the ballroom entry were near his own height. Bulky as freighters.

And well armed. Where had she found these two?

He swept out a hand. "Gentlemen, come and get me." He glanced at his watch. "And do it quickly, please."

If the contessa wasn't here, where was she?

CHAPTER 4.

Unlike the invitation-only party the contessa had thrown, the artist's ball was open to everyone, and it seemed that half the population of Venice had decided to attend. Just walking through the streets, Jordan felt the charged atmosphere of laughter and expectation. Groups of friends rambled through the streets, laughter was continuous, and those beings more reserved due to the character of their costumes and masks greeted one another with silent, polite bows and gestures.

Jordan had linked arms with Cindy on the way to the ball, ignoring Jared who continued to be obstinate. He had tried to dissuade her from coming. "Jordan, I don't think this is a good idea. After last night-"

"I'm not going to embarra.s.s you in front of your friends." "Jordan, you overreact-"

"Are you worried about me, Jared, or your own appearance?"

Despite the dottore mask he was wearing again, she knew he was scowling. "Does it matter? If you're going to go running out screaming about blood and monsters and cults- ".

"Jared, guess what? I won't even be with you at the ball."

That seemed to disturb him. Poor Cindy was torn, at a loss with Jared's harsh manner, trying to be loyal to him and concerned about Jordan at the same time.

Jordan was sorry about what her argument with Jared was doing to Cindy.

She also wished Jared would jump in a ca.n.a.l.

"You're going to go walking around by yourself? In that costume? You think you were scared last night; you'll have every stray dog in Venice at your heels-"

"Thank you, Jared."

"Jared, stop it, she looks terrific, and it's a costume party-"

"She might as well have just painted her skin-"

"She can wear it! She looks beautiful, be proud of her!" Cindy insisted.

"Cindy-"

"Jared, we're already on our way," Cindy said.

"Yes, and you know what, Jared?" Jordan said, not wanting Cindy to have to fight her battle. "I think I'll move on ahead, and then you won't have to worry about me doing anything gauche or ridiculous-such as claiming that people are being murdered-in front of your friends."

That said, she hurried on ahead, and was surprised when he came running up behind her.

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Jordan! I'm sorry. Don't go running off alone."

She hesitated. She couldn't see his face, only his eyes. He looked like the old Jared.

"You know, Jared, one of the cops came into the costume shop today and said that I wasn't an idiot. Bad things can happen anywhere."

"But you went so wild against the contessa. You don't know who she is. You don't understand-"

"I understand who she is, Jared, and what she means to you."

"No," he said. For that moment, he sounded truly miserable. "No, you really don't understand. You don't know who she is ..."

"I'm going to have fun, and I'm not going to think about your contessa. I'll avoid her all night."

"It's unlikely that she'd come to this," he said.

"Too common for her?"

"She doesn't like this much of a crowd."

"Well, then, we'll be fine, won't we?"

She was startled when he suddenly hugged her to him. "Yes, we'll be fine. But Jordan, please, please, for me .. ."

"I won't go around saying bad things about the contessa or her party. I'll simply tell people, if I'm asked, that I'm afraid it was a bit macabre for me."

He nodded, relieved. Cindy walked up, pleased to see them getting along so well. "We're almost there. The tent is in the square up ahead. Jordan, they had such great entertainment last year. The dancers . . . they're exquisite."

"Do they cut each other up?" she asked, then wished she could bite her tongue.

Cindy laughed-the sound just a little uneasy. "No ... they're s.e.xy. Erotic. They've practically nothing on and nearly perfect bodies ... you'll see. Ah, there, look at the crowd."

They had arrived at the square. Dozens of people were in line, handing their tickets for the event to the jester waiting at the entrance. His face was painted black and white. Jordan stared at the man carefully. She'd never seen him before.

Within the large tent, there were tables set around a stage. At the moment, a group was playing Italian cla.s.sics with a rock twist. Jared suggested they find a table while he went for drinks.

As they searched for empty s.p.a.ces, they were approached by a masked queen in an elaborate velvet costume that s.h.i.+mmered with glittery iridescence.

"h.e.l.lo, h.e.l.lo!"

"Raphael?" Jordan said incredulously.

He laughed with pleasure. "Si, si-come, we've a table over here. Cindy, ciao, bella, viene, yes?"

"Jared is coming," Cindy said. "He's getting drinks-"

"Fine, fine. We have wine for the table, too, and seats for you all."

Raphael slipped an arm through Jordan's leading them to the table. Anna Maria, stunning in a slinky Egyptian costume, complete with extraordinary headgear and lifelike asp, jumped up to greet them. Lynn, apparently dressed as a biblical fig fantasy, rose as well, kissing Jordan on both cheeks, then greeting Cindy. There were others there from the shop, all greeting them, and a number of the shop's clients and merchandisers, including Justine, the cute young French girl who designed Jordan's boots, and a couple from Wales who dealt strictly in leather. It was difficult to talk over the music; and there were a wide array of languages being spoken. Before Jared even returned with their drinks, Jordan found herself out on the dance floor with a sixteenth-century cavalier.

As other couples pa.s.sed them, she realized that she was being whispered about. She breathed a sigh of relief when a pretty young woman, obviously American, tapped her on the arm. "Excuse me, but that costume is fantastic! Where did you get it?"

Swinging beneath the cavalier's arm, Jordan was pleased to be able to tell her. "It's the most marvelous shop-"

"I'll be visiting them tomorrow."

A moment later, Raphael, heedless of the fact that he was an elegant queen, was cutting in on the cavalier. "Allora! Do I know my costumes! Everyone has asked about you, and the costume, and the shop. Now, are you pleased?"

"I am having a tremendous amount of fun."

"You'll have more fun if you come drink your champagne." He led her back to the table, producing a plastic flute for her. She had barely touched it when the band started playing an old Rolling Stones tune. "Come, come, salute! I love this song!"

She gulped the champagne, and found herself back on the dance floor.

An hour later, she had talked to dozens of people. She had walked around with Raphael to see some of the art displayed on the tent walls. She'd danced, she'd watched the first entertainment-a pianist with a delicately perfect woman on top of his baby grand, affixed to a tall glittering pole as if she were part of a music box. She was dressed in ruffly white and pink and carried a parasol, and her movements were as perfect as if she were indeed a wind-up doll. Jordan applauded strenuously, smiling as Raphael wolf-whistled by her side.

The master of ceremonies spoke, announcing the band again. Jared appeared, minus his mask now, asking Raphael if he could steal his cousin away for a minute. He seemed easy and relaxed, and Jordan smiled at him as the band switched to swing music. She had learned to dance to it from Jared and Cindy years ago, when they had first taken up ballroom dancing.

"Having fun?" he asked her.

"Yes, thank you, and you?"

His smile deepened. "Yeah, I am. A lot of fun. It's . . . just a good time."

"A very good time."

"I'm sorry, Jordan."

"And I'm sorry if I hurt you in any way, Jared. I won't say anything more, but .. . your contessa is weird."

"The contessa is-different."

"I won't say anything else unless a corpse lands at my feet."

"Jordan-"

"Jared." She frowned suddenly. "I know you think that I'm just.. . like gun-shy. But I do know-"

"Sh. Let's forget it. It's a party. And I'm sorry about insulting your costume. You're too s.e.xy. As your older male relative, I'm supposed to object."