"It's a tux," I said. "And a very nice one."
"But what are you supposed to be?" Cassandra said. "A cocktail waiter?"
"I was going to say James Bond," Jaime said.
"Don't look at me," Aaron said. "I was pushing for a knight costume, but these two"—he gestured at Lucas and Clay—"shut me down."
"And I wisely decided to keep my mouth shut," Jeremy said.
"If he doesn't want to wear a costume, he doesn't have to wear a costume," Clay said. "Hell, he's got a mask. Good enough."
Lucas held up a plain black eye-mask.
"They don't come in colors?" Savannah sighed. "At least you put in your contacts." She looked out the balcony window. "So do you get a limo?"
Lucas shook his head. "A chauffeured car, but not a limousine. My father finds them too ostentatious, even for formal occasions."
"Limos are for high school graduations," Cassandra said.
"And weddings," Jaime said.
"Not good ones," Cassandra said.
"I like limos," Savannah said.
"So do I," I said, sneaking a grin at Lucas. "Lots of room to . . . stretch out."
He paused, then the corners of his mouth twitched and he reached for his cell phone. "I believe we still have time to request a change of vehicle."
"Uh-uh," Jaime said. "I just spent an hour doing Paige's hair. No limos. Tell you what, though. You guys finish this and I'll rent you a limo for the whole trip back to Portland."
"Cool," Savannah said.
"Uh, right," Jaime said. "Okay, scrap that idea. How about a shorter limo ride and free baby-sitting?"
"Car's here," Clay said from his spot at the window.
"You guys scoot, then," Jaime said. "We'll meet you there."
Masquerade
The charity ball organizers had chosen a masquerade because of the event's timing—the night before Halloween. The party planners, though, had avoided the usual Halloween fare in favor of something more whimsical, accentuating the fantastical rather than the frightening. The ballroom was ringed with mannequins in incredibly elaborate costumes from children's fiction, from the Queen of Hearts to Puss-in-Boots to the Swan Princess. Paper dragons guarded the door, heads dipping and swaying in an invisible breeze. The buffet tables were floating magic carpets, the food forming the patterns of the rugs. Punch flowed from the mouth of an ice-sculpture phoenix, backlit by a small fire that melted the bird, only to have a fresh one arise from the bowl below. It was a glorious paean to everything magical, and I would have loved it . . . had I not spent every minute worrying about a certain murderous vampire. Mythical creatures make lovely ice sculptures, but far less enchanting enemies.
Most people wore costumes even less definable than mine—rainbow-hued designer dresses and tuxes, intricate body makeup and gorgeous masks—that didn't transform them into any recognizable character or creature. But hey, they looked great, and that, I think, was the point.
Like Lucas, Benicio had opted for the basic black tux. His mask, though, was anything but basic—it was an elaborate red hand-painted devil's face that extended to his upper lip, leaving only his mouth and chin bare. It was gorgeous, and the devil/CEO metaphor was wryly clever, but hardly matched Benicio's normal understated style. After a momentary burst of surprise, Lucas and I had to agree the disguise was good thinking on Benicio's part. Between the simple black tux and the brilliant red mask, there was little chance he'd get lost in the crowd tonight. Keeping an eye on him would be a snap.
Of the Cortez family, the only other members in attendance were William and William's wife. I have no idea what William's wife's name was, because I never met her. From the time we arrived, William found it convenient to be elsewhere, and kept his wife with him, so I know only that she was short, plump, and Hispanic.
As for Benicio's wife, Delores, our invitation apparently revoked hers. Delores was forbidden to attend any function where Lucas might be present. I bet that went over well, informing her this morning that she couldn't come to the event of the season. According to Lucas, Benicio and Delores's marriage had long since become a union of formality. Both lived in their own homes and appeared together only at public events. And if I felt sorry for Delores missing the charity gala, I only had to remind myself that Benicio had instituted the no-shared-events rule eight years ago when Delores tried to poison Lucas at his high school graduation dinner.
Speaking of wishing Lucas dead, the eldest Cortez son, Hector, had been detained in New York, and was expected to miss tonight's event. A damned shame, really. I knew someday I'd have to face Hector but, in this case, sooner was definitely not better. I had enough to worry about without that.
One thing we
didn't
need to worry about was letting Benicio out of our sight. As I expected, he wasn't letting Lucas out of his. We spent the first half hour being escorted around the room, introduced to what seemed like every politician and business leader in the state. I know I should have been impressed, but I couldn't help thinking that I was in the same room with quite possibly every person responsible for the Florida election snafu, and the subsequent election of George W. Bush, and somehow I couldn't muster a proper feeling of awe.
As Benicio led us about the room, I kept sneaking glances at Lucas, knowing how much he must have hated this. Given the choice between facing down a gun-toting vampire again and attending a charity ball with his father, I suspect he'd pick the near-death experience. After roughly fifty rounds of being introduced as the next CEO of the Cortez Corporation, he was probably cursing me for bringing him back from the ghost world. Yet he never showed it. Instead he only deflected questions about his future with a smile and a deft change of subject. Finally, when the constant introductions threatened to start us both yawning, Lucas begged leave to take me onto the dance floor.
"Thought you couldn't dance," I murmured as he led me out among the other couples.
"I can't." A small smile. "But I can fake it for a few minutes."
He positioned us where we could both see Benicio and could be easily seen by anyone watching the dance floor.
"Seems you're learning the steps of another dance, too," I said.
"Hmmm?"
"With your father. I saw what you were doing. He introduces you as his heir, you say nothing. You don't deny it, but nor do you say anything that would confirm it."
"I think I've realized that the harder I protest, the harder he pushes."
"And while that might not wear down your resolve, it does wear you down."
Lucas pulled me closer and brushed his lips across the top of my head. "Yes, I've noticed that. With you here, I've been seeing it though your eyes, imagining how it must look to you, and I haven't been too pleased with the image I saw reflected."
"Well, the image I see is fine. Always has been."
A soft laugh. "That's good to hear. But I can't continue that way, running away, avoiding him, hoping he'll leave me alone. He won't. I'm his son. He wants some kind of relationship with me, and I think I want the same thing. I need to learn to deal with him on his terms, because he isn't going to change. Yes, if I associate with my father, some people will take that as a sign of backsliding, but I can't worry about that.
I
know I'm not taking over the Cabal. And if you know it, too, then that's all that matters. Which leads me to another area of resolve. Regarding you. Or, I should say, us."
"I hope it's along the same lines," I said. "Standing firm instead of running."
"I've been resolved on that point for four months. Since the first flicker of interest on your part, I knew I wasn't going anywhere without a fight." He paused and frowned, eyes scanning the crowd.
"Talking to two women near the bar," I said. "Can't miss that mask."
"Ah, yes, I see him. Now, what was I . . . ? Resolve. It relates to your participation in my investigations."
"You don't want me there. I understand—"
He pressed his forefinger to my lips. "No, my resolve is to see this conversation through to the end, saying what I want to say without backing down for fear of frightening you off with a proposal that may impose upon your need for independence."
"Uh-huh. Once more, please . . . in translation."
He leaned down to my ear. "I'd like . . . no, I would
love
for you to be my partner, Paige. In my work, in my life, everything. I know you have your own aspirations, and if you don't wish to share my life quite so completely, I understand. But if you do, you are more than welcome to play as large a role in my investigations as you want."
I smiled up at him. "You may regret saying that."
"No, I don't think I will. Is that a yes?"
"It's a 'we need to discuss this more, but I'm definitely interested.'"
He grinned then, a grin so broad Benicio did a double take from across the room.
Lucas noticed his father's reaction and laughed softly. "He probably thinks I just proposed."
I tried to glance over at Benicio, but another couple blocked my view.
"We'd better hurry over and set him straight," I said. "Before he has a coronary."
"No, he looks quite pleased," Lucas said. "I believe he'll be disappointed when he learns I
didn't
propose. He'll have to wait for that. I know better than to push my luck. I'll give it some time before I take that plunge," His grin broadened. "At least a week."
I laughed, but before I could respond, he checked his watch.
"Speaking of time, we're late for our rendezvous with the others. We should go—"
"I'll go. Your dad's not letting you out of his sight tonight. Don't worry, I'll be careful."
"Then I'll track down a couple glasses of champagne for your return."
We disengaged and I slipped from the dance floor.
***
I found Jaime alone in our agreed meeting place, a nook between the kitchen and the bathroom hall.
"Sorry I'm late," I said. "The others get tired of waiting?"
"More worried than impatient," she said. "Elena didn't like us all hanging out here where we can't see what's going on, so I nominated myself for the job. Not like I can do much else. If I try following them around, I just get in the way. I've
had
stalkers, but never quite developed a talent for it myself, and all four of them are pros."
"Hunters."
She shivered. "Yeah, well, I try not to think about that. Werewolves, uh, they only hunt animals, right? The four-legged variety?"
"Pack wolves, yes. Other werewolves . . . you take your chances."
"Uh-huh. Well, there's nothing to report. No sign of Edward. No Natasha, either. I think I've seen the last of her. Which leads me to something else. I'm really not doing any good here, Paige. If you think I'm helping, I'll stay, but if not—"
"If you want to leave, that's fine."
"No, no. Well, yes, I want to leave, but for a reason. I'm thinking I might be more help if I keep looking into this ritual, call some more people, see whether I missed something. I could go back to the hotel room with Jeremy and Savannah, make my calls, and help them man the control center."
"Manning the control center, hmm?" I said with a grin. "Sure, that sounds like a plan. Go for it."
"I didn't mean that," she said, reddening. "Seriously, I think I'd be more use checking out this lead, don't you? Okay, the control center probably doesn't need extra manning. Maybe I should make the calls from our hotel instead—"
"No, go stay with Jeremy. That's safer all around, and you can bounce ideas off him. He might not know much about necromantic ritual, but he's a smart guy and he's very easy to talk to."
"He is, isn't he? I mean, for a werewolf, and an Alpha werewolf at that, you'd expect the guy to be all high-and-mighty, brawn-over-brains, but he's not, and he just seems like such a—" She buried her hands in her face with a moan. "Oh, God, I'm too old for this shit." She peeked up at me. "Lack of sleep. It's lack of sleep . . . and emotional trauma. I've been traumatized by this vamp-spook, and I'm not thinking straight."
"Exactly."
"Right. So, I'll just go over there and start making my calls. If Jeremy can help, that's great, but otherwise, I'll just do my thing, and he can keep Savannah company. He's great with Savannah, isn't he? I mean, other guys would tell her to go off and play a video game or watch TV, but he pays attention to her and—" She inhaled and exhaled. "Okay. Fine now. Leaving now. If you need me, I'm heading straight to the hotel." She paused. "Well, after I swing by my hotel room for a quick shower—I think I spritzed myself with your hairspray earlier and I'm all sticky. So I'll shower, change my clothes, and then head to their hotel."