Into the Spotlight (17 page)

“What lady?” Surprise crouched inside of him. He’d been circumspect about Jeannie to his family, particularly until he himself was absolutely certain.

Frederick flung himself down in a chair and kicked his ankles up onto the table. “You’ve been Mr. Serious my whole life. You walked in here smiling. It’s gotta be a lady.”

Malcolm surprised himself with a laugh. Maybe there was hope for the younger vampire after all.

“Her name is Jeannie.”

It was only after they won that Malcolm told her about his cousin. They left the private room for a restaurant, dining on hot lobster and cold shrimp. Malcolm’s cousin would serve out his penance in the Arcana Royale, not for the loss of funds, but because he cheated. It bothered Malcolm, but he refused to coddle his cousin any longer, and he refused to let Jeannie’s giddiness falter.

Halfway through the meal, he’d wrapped a silver chain around her left ankle. “Silver will keep your feet on the path,” he reminded her and laughter surged up again. Freedom.

When it came time to see his cousin, Jeannie pressed him to go without her. She didn’t want his cousin to see her elation, since Malcolm had chosen her. It wouldn’t be fair. He’d argued it, but relented when she said she had goodbyes of her own to make.

Jeannie stood in the lobby, watching as the elevator doors closed behind Malcolm. Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes and they would be leaving the Arcana Royale.

Forever.

Nerves fluttered inside her stomach. Nothing in the lobby seemed to have changed. The waterfall continued to pour down. The Sphinx kept a watchful gaze. Visitors came and went, some carousing in celebration, others tight with loss. It was just another day at the Arcana Royale, another day where gamblers came to pit their skills against the house.

Not all of them would be going home.

Jeannie turned away from the lobby and headed deeper into the resort, seeking the entrance to the Midnight Mystery Lounge. It was still closed.

She paused at the poster in the front. Pandora’s name was gone.

Roseâtre’s name shined in the center of a starry field. Her friend’s face was canted in profile, eyes on the heavens and a hint of a grotto in the shadows behind her.

The Midnight Mystery Lounge had a new lead.

Sadness tempered her joy.

The quiet lounge echoed with her steps as she crossed to the door leading to the Pit. The stone staircase had never seemed so long. Jeannie peeled off her heels, descending barefoot. The silver on her ankle was as warm as Malcolm’s caress.

Heidi appeared at the bottom of the steps, the woman’s gaze knowing.

“Hi,” Jeannie murmured, uncertainty roughing her voice.

“Congratulations.” Heidi grinned, seemingly unaffected by the same difficulty. She hugged Jeannie, hard and tight. “I am so happy for you.”

“Really?” Doubt fled at the woman’s wide, confident grin.

“Really. You’ve had a remarkable run here. But you will do so much more out there in the world with your Lord Markham.”

Jeannie laughed. “I’m not sure he’s my Lord Markham.” She pulled away from Heidi, padding barefoot down the alley between the mirrors. Her mirror was dark, empty.

“Oh, he’s definitely your Lord Markham.”

Meeting Heidi’s gaze in the mirror, Jeannie frowned. “Why are you so sure?”

“Fifty years ago, you planned to go to Hollywood. You were going to make movies. You would have worked as a waitress, for a year, until one night, a producer met you and cast you in his film. A year after that, you would have been invited to a film festival in Monaco, an esteemed guest of the prince and you would have met Lord Markham on the dance floor.”

“What?” Jeannie twisted, turning to face Heidi full on. The woman’s ageless features smoothed into a sad smile.

“You were always destined for Lord Markham. He would have seen you first on the screen, become fascinated by your beauty and your grace. When the opportunity to meet you presented itself, he would not have been able to stay away—a love story for the ages.”

“But I didn’t go to Hollywood.”

“No,” Heidi agreed. “You didn’t.”

“I’ve been here.”

“Yes, here. Until Lord Markham saw you perform and became fascinated by your grace and your beauty.”

“But he didn’t come here for me.” Jeannie pressed a hand against her stomach, certain the fluttering would tear her apart.
Was it possible? Was Malcolm’s arrival destiny?

“Destiny doesn’t like to be messed with and the House doesn’t always win.” Heidi reached out and squeezed her arm. “You weren’t meant to stay here. You are meant to be with him. Trust in that.”

“How…?”

“It’s not important how I know. It’s only important that you know, now.” Even in goodbye, Heidi kept her own counsel.

“I’m going to miss you.” Unexpected tears slipped down Jeannie’s cheeks. Beneath the elation, the nerves and the fear was the innate sadness of saying goodbye to the only home she’d known all these decades.

“For a while. But then your Lord Markham will lay the world at your feet. You will glimmer and you will shine, and you will be mistress of his empire. And you will look back, smile fondly and then follow the road that was meant for you.”

Jeannie threw herself at Heidi and hugged the woman tight. “Thank you.”

The woman cleared her throat, nodded and gave Jeannie a little shove. “I’ve packed your things. Go say goodbye and then you go up those stairs and don’t look back.” Heidi didn’t wait for a response, leaving Jeannie alone in the shadowy dressing room.

She lingered at the mirror for a few seconds, before walking down the hall to the cells. The door to hers was open, two bags waiting next to it. Jeannie did a double take. The small green satchel had been missing since the bus broke down. The other was black leather and carried a chain with two quarters hanging from it.

Her knees weakened as she stared at them.

Destiny doesn’t like to be messed with and the House doesn’t always win
.

“Thank you,” Jeannie whispered to the air. She hesitated and then went down to the next cell. Inside, she found Roseâtre and Cerveau sprawled on their respective beds. Roseâtre would inherit Jeannie’s private suite when she awoke. The still waxen figures pulled at Jeannie’s heart.

They would not wake until the sun went down. She paused to press a hand to Roseâtre’s cheek, a light caress, and then set the diamond and gold shoes on the bed next to her.

“May you find prosperity in my steps,” she wished them. One by one, she visited the darkened cells, each occupied by slumbering dolls, lifeless and unaware, lost to the gray between night and day.

Returning to her cell, she found Stan holding her bags. “If my lady does not mind, I would escort her one final time.”

Jeannie’s sad smile warmed. “I would be honored.”

Stan carried her bags, leading her up the stairs, through the lounge and to the lobby. Jeannie didn’t look back as they crossed to the great doors leading outside. Pink light filtered through the glass and a burst of speed sent her running past Stan and out into the dawn.

Sunlight kissed her cheeks and joy exploded inside her heart.

Sunrise.

The beauty of it robbed her breath.

A darkened limousine slipped quietly into the bay in front of the hotel. The driver stepped out and took her bags from Stan. The man bowed deeply from the waist and retreated inside. Jeannie watched him go, one hand lifted in farewell.

The driver stowed her bags in the trunk and then moved around to the passenger door.

“Would my lady care for a ride?” Malcolm’s voice drifted out from the darkened interior. The last vestiges of sadness evaporated. Pandora had left the building.

Jeannie danced forward and dove into her destiny.

About the Author

Heather Long lives in Texas with her family and their menagerie of animals. As a child, Heather skipped picture books and enjoyed the Harlequin romance novels by Penny Jordan and Nora Roberts that her grandmother read to her. Heather believes that laughter is as important to life as breathing and that the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus are very real. In the meanwhile, she is hard at work on her next novel.

www.heatherlong.net

www.facebook.com/HeatherLongAuthor

www.twitter.com/HVLong

Look for these titles by Heather Long

Coming Soon:

Waiting in the Wings

Real vampires do musicals.

Biting Oz

© 2012 Mary Hughes

Biting Love, Book 5

Gunter Marie “Junior” Stieg is stuck selling sausage for her folks in small-town Meiers Corners. Until one day she’s offered a way out—the chance to play pit orchestra for a musical headed for Broadway:
Oz, Wonderful Oz
.
 

But someone is threatening the show’s young star. To save the production, Junior must join forces with the star’s dark, secretive bodyguard, whose sapphire eyes and lyrical Welsh accent thrill her. And whose hard, muscular body sets fire to her passions.

Fierce as a warrior, enigmatic as a druid, Glynn Rhys-Jenkins has searched eight hundred years for a home. Junior’s get-out-of-Dodge attitude burns him, but everything else about her inflames him, from her petite body and sharp mind to what she can do with her hip-length braid.

Then a sensuous, insidious evil threatens not only the show, but the very foundations of Meiers Corners. To fight it, Junior and Glynn must face the truth about themselves—and the true meaning of love and home.

Warning: Cue the music, click your heels together, make a wish and get ready for one steamy vampire romance. Contains biting, multiple climaxes, embarrassing innuendos, ka-click/ka-ching violence, sausage wars and—shudder—pistachio fluff.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Biting Oz:

I had just pulled black jeans and a black T-shirt over a lacy powder-blue thong and demi-bra (they were next in the underwear drawer—really) and was brushing my teeth when a knock came at the attic door.

“That’s weird.” No one ever knocked. Because of the setup, my parents were the only ones who had access to the attic, and they took unholy delight in bursting in on me unannounced. Especially (to my chagrin) when I was “going through puberty”, if you know what I mean. Curious, I spat and rinsed and headed for the far door. It took me across my “hallway”.

Picture a capital T. Turn it sideways and set it on our house, the top bar along Jefferson in the south. My room—bedroom and tiny bath—was at the intersection, sitting like a tree fort in the branches of the attic, the rest being bare rafters and blown insulation.

The stairwell door was at the foot of the T. A set of two-by-fours laid over the joists was my hall. I traveled it by instinct, ignoring the fact that one wrong step would put me through my parents’ ceiling. If I ever got out of here, I’d be a shoo-in for a high wire act.

I hurried to the door and opened it. Swallowed my tongue.

Filling the doorway and then some was Glynn, hands thrust in his black leather jacket pockets.

His jaw, freshly shaved, was more honed than I remembered, his skin almost dewy. His lips… I groaned. The upper begged for a nibble, the lower demanded a full tongue-swipe. Those edible lips parted, revealing strong white teeth. The tip of his tongue peeked through.

A storm of lust broke in my belly, drenched my thong.

Glynn’s nostrils flared, elegant yet animal. His eyes—smack me with a kielbasa, his eyes burned deep, hot purple.

“H…how’d you get in?” I croaked. More thong-dousing—apparently parts of me wanted to know how he’d “get in” too.

“Through the store. Your teenager wasn’t very attentive. I found my way into the house.”

“You penetrated the family abode?”
Penetrated
. Just club me. “Um, why have you come?”
Come
. “Here, I mean. Why have you come here…to the store? Yes, that’s what I meant.”
Shut
up
, Junior.

I heard a soft grunt, a stifled groan. Him or me, I didn’t know.

“I’ve come to pick you up.” His mouth barely moved, lips stiff. “We’ve Emerson’s limo.” He shifted his hands from his jacket to jam them into his jeans pockets.

“Limo?” My eyes automatically latched on to his hands, which framed a rising zipper. “You’re offering me a fast ride…?” Oh, thank you, Dr. Freud. I cleared my throat and pretended I wasn’t an ass. “You do know the PAC is only a block from here?”

“It’s on our way. I didn’t like the thought of you toting those heavy instruments when I could do something about it.”

“That was nice.” Trapped in a limo with Big Dark and Dangerous, porn flick fantasy number five. Maybe I should have refused, but lugging the headless-corpse sax
was
a pain. Besides, how much trouble could we get into in just one block? “Give me a sec to pack up.” I started to close the attic door. Manners took over. “Why don’t you come back? Be careful to stay on the walkway.” I started for my room.