Vamps and the City

  He also had the address for Raleigh Place. He’d go there during the day and install hidden cameras and bugs. He removed a computer disk from his jacket pocket. He’d managed to download the DVN employee records from Darcy’s old dinosaur computer before he’d heard her approaching the office. He set the disk on the table next to his list of vampires.

  He stretched and glanced at the television. Darcy was beginning a report. Oh, this was one of his favorites. He grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

  “I’m here in the South Bronx at the dedication of a new park.” Darcy smiled at the camera as she walked down a path. “It’s not a park for children. It’s not for basketball players, roller skaters, or even chess players. This park is for the dogs.”

  The cameramen zoomed in on a woman in the distance who was walking her fluffy white poodle. Then, he panned back to Darcy.

  “As you can see, the park is divided into sections, depending on the size of your—aagh!” She skidded forward about five feet, her arms windmilling in the air. After a valiant struggle, she regained her balance. She glanced down at her shoes, wrinkled her nose, and gave the camera a wry grin. “Obviously, this section is for the extremely large dogs.”

  Austin chuckled. No matter what happened in her reports, Darcy always made it work. She was brave, funny, clever, and beautiful. Nothing could get her down.

  But something had. He tightened his grip on the remote. Something had happened to wrench her out of this sunny, happy life and imprison her in a world of dark demonic creatures. And it was hurting her. He could see it. The sorrow in her eyes. The tense way she clenched her hands together. The fear that caused her right eye to twitch. That nervous twitch never occurred in any of these tapes. It was something new. And most likely, it had started on Halloween four years ago.

  Chapter 10

  The penthouse at Raleigh Place boasted two floors of opulent décor, including Italian marble floors and columns and Baccarat crystal chandeliers. Darcy figured you could fit a small chamber orchestra into the master bathtub. Or you could feed the entire population of Liechtenstein from the huge pantry in the kitchen.

  Even so, she preferred the roof. Maybe it was a result of her forced confinement, but she loved being under the open sky. She loved the evening breeze on her face and the scent of roses that wafted from the glass greenhouse in the corner. She loved how the swimming pool glimmered in the moonlight and cast dancing reflections along the white-painted walls surrounding the roof. A mist hovered over the hot tub, inviting her to indulge in its glorious heat. Huge clay pots sat every five feet along the chest-high walls, each pot containing a green leafy plant that soared high over her head. Some plants were trimmed into huge cones, while others were shaped into fanciful animals. Each topiary was covered with white twinkle lights that glittered like the stars overhead.

  In the opposite corner from the greenhouse, there was a tiny pool house. The two rooms contained the bare essentials, in sharp contrast to the grandeur of the penthouse. But Darcy was so enthralled with the roof, she’d decided to make the pool house her office and special retreat.

  She paced around the swimming pool, tense with excitement. She was wearing the sparkly maroon dress she’d bought for Shanna’s wedding, because tonight, she’d spend some time in front of the camera. Tonight, they would begin filming The Sexiest Man on Earth. And after a separation of two long weeks, she would see Adam again.

  “Here they come,” Gregori announced from the north edge of the roof. Next to him, Bernie aimed his camera at the street twelve floors below.

  Darcy rushed to the wall and peered over. A black limousine was slowly coming down the street. Maggie and the ex-harem judges were arriving. The second cameraman, Bart, was in the limo, so he could record their reactions to their new home. Darcy would combine the footage from both cameramen during the editing stage. The limo rolled to a stop at the red-carpeted entrance to Raleigh Place.

  Gregori touched the earphones he was wearing. “Audio’s coming in. I can hear them talking.”

  Darcy slipped her earphones on. At once, she could hear the excited voices of the ladies inside the limo.

  “Land sakes!” Cora Lee exclaimed. “This place is grand!”

  “Look,” Lady Pamela said. “A footman is coming to open the door for us.”

  “That’s a doorman,” Vanda muttered.

  “He’s still a servant,” Lady Pamela huffed. “Though I must say, it is appalling how servants these days neglect to wear their powdered wigs.”

  “Or proper livery,” Princess Joanna declared. “It is impossible to tell which lord he is serving.”

  Darcy sighed as she watched from the roof. The ex-harem was so stuck in the past. She’d insisted that they update their wardrobe for the show, but now, she had a dreadful feeling they had completely ignored her. Bart climbed out first with his camera so he could record the ladies exiting the car. Vanda climbed out and strode down the red carpet. She was striking with her purple hair and dress. So far, so good.

  Lady Pamela exited next. She adjusted the bodice on her Regency-style gown of pale blue silk. Her matching reticule hung from a ribbon around her wrist. Darcy groaned.

  Maria Consuela and Princess Joanna moved onto the red carpet, both wearing long medieval gowns with veils covering their hair.

  “I thought you bought them new clothes,” Gregori muttered.

  Darcy sighed. “You know what they say about old dogs.”

  Cora Lee struggled to get out of the car, but her hoop skirt jammed in the narrow door opening. Maggie shoved her from behind, and she popped out onto the sidewalk. Then Maggie jumped out and closed the door.

  They filed into the building, murmuring their appreciation of the marble floor and gilded ceiling.

  “I do declare,” Cora Lee exclaimed. “That elevator is so shiny!”

  “Yes,” Maggie agreed. “That’s the elevator for the penthouse. The doors are solid brass.”

  “How lovely,” Lady Pamela’s snooty voice could be heard over the others. “Be a dear and push the button for us.”

  “Ah, actually, I need you to follow me,” Maggie said. “This way, please.”

  “Where are you taking us?” Princess Joanna demanded.

  “To another elevator,” Maggie explained.

  “But this hallway is so plain and dreary,” Cora Lee whined.

  “Why are we not going to the penthouse?” the princess asked sharply. “Where does this other elevator go?”

  “Oh, it goes to the penthouse,” Maggie assured them. “It just goes to the…kitchen and servants’ floor. It’s very nice and private.”

  “Servants’ floor?” the princess shrieked.

  Darcy and Gregori both winced as her strident voice grated over the headphones.

  “Yes,” Maggie responded. “We’ll have very nice bedrooms all to ourselves on…the servants’ floor.”

  “The servants’ floor?” Lady Pamela’s voice shook. “I’m the daughter of a baron, the widow of a viscount. I cannot live amongst servants!”

  “There will only be the six of us,” Maggie assured her. “And we’ll each have our own bedroom. Here we are. This is the service elevator.”

  “This is horrid, simply horrid,” Lady Pamela sounded shrill. “I—I’m coming down with the vapors!”

  “Silly child,” Princess Joanna growled. “Where are your smelling salts?”

  Darcy rolled her eyes. Lady Pamela’s so-called smelling salts consisted of a vial filled with Chocolood.

  “I’d better help Maggie.” Darcy headed for the stairwell located close to the greenhouse. She glanced back at Gregori and Bernie. “I’ll see you in the foyer at ten o’clock.”

  Gregori nodded. “We’ll be there.”

  Darcy paused at the stairwell door. “Bernie, can you make arrangements for a helicopter? I’d like to get an aerial shot of this roof. It’s so lovely.”

  “No problem.” Bernie set down his camera and pulled out a cell phone.

  D
arcy opened the door to the stairwell. The reception on her earphones was faint now, but she could still hear the sound of screeching voices. Poor Maggie. Darcy rushed down three flights of stairs, then exited on the servants’ floor. She could hear the ex-harem in the service elevator.

  “Please calm down,” Maggie pleaded. “There are six bedrooms on the servants’ floor. They’re small, but very nice. You’ll each have your own room with a lovely view of Central Park.”

  “The view is of no consequence,” Princess Joanna snapped. “It is a floor for peasants. I will not sleep in that hovel.”

  “It’s not a hovel,” Maggie insisted.

  “This is quite beyond the pale,” Lady Pamela declared. “We should be living in the penthouse.”

  “There are only five bedrooms in the penthouse,” Maggie explained. “We need those for all the male contestants. As it is, they’re going to have to share rooms.”

  “They could share the rooms on the servants’ floor,” Cora Lee offered.

  “Those rooms are too small to be shared,” Maggie argued.

  “Ridiculous,” Princess Joanna hissed. “The men should give us their bedchambers. Have they not heard of chivalry?”

  The elevator doors opened. The cameraman Bart turned toward Darcy.

  She greeted them with a smile. “Good evening. Welcome to your new home.”

  “This is an outrage!” Princess Joanna glared at her. “You said we would be living in the penthouse.”

  “The servants’ quarters are part of the penthouse, and you’ll each have your own room.” Darcy led the way to the servants’ parlor. “I believe you will find the accommodations quite comfortable.” She opened the door.

  The ladies trudged inside, grumbling. They stopped in the parlor and looked around. The couches and easy chairs were large and overstuffed; the television was as huge as the one they’d enjoyed at Roman’s house. Vanda strolled into the kitchen and checked out the refrigerator. Bottles of synthetic blood, Chocolood, and Bubbly Blood lined the shelves.

  “Not bad.” Vanda grabbed a bottle Chocolood and popped it into the microwave. “This is really nice.”

  Princess Joanna sniffed. “Peasants shouldn’t live this well. It’s ungodly.”

  Darcy smiled. “Please make yourselves comfortable. And choose which bedroom you prefer.”

  The doorman arrived with all their luggage. He hauled the trunks to the bedrooms while the women directed him. By the sound of their excited voices, Darcy figured they were adjusting quite nicely.

  Once the doorman was gone with a hefty tip, Darcy called all the women back into the parlor. “Before we get started on the show, I’d like to interview each of you. This will be your chance to tell the vampire world about yourself. Each segment will be edited into the show later.”

  One by one, the women sat for the camera and gave a brief account of their life stories. Afterward, Darcy took them up one floor on the elevator to the kitchen. As she led them to the foyer of the penthouse, she could hear their sighs and gasps of approval. Bart rushed ahead of them so he could catch their reactions.

  “It’s beautiful,” Lady Pamela whispered.

  “I just adore a wide staircase,” Cora Lee exclaimed. “Why, this one is wide enough for three women in proper ball gowns like mine.”

  Wide hallways led off the foyer to the east and west wings of the penthouse. The grand staircase swept up to an intermediate landing where it then divided in two. Then, the right and left portions of the staircase curved up to the second floor. An interior balcony ran the length of the second floor and overlooked the foyer. The polished marble floor reflected the lights from the massive chandelier overhead.

  “This way.” Darcy led them up the stairs to the landing. There, she positioned them in a row.

  “Hey, ladies,” Gregori called as he and Bernie entered the foyer. “Looks like you’re ready to go.”

  “Yes, we are.” Darcy ran down the steps and joined Maggie behind the cameramen. She signaled Gregori to begin.

  “Welcome, ladies, to The Sexiest Man on Earth,” Gregori announced in a clear voice. “There will be a total of fifteen men competing for the title. As the former harem of coven master Roman Draganesti, you five women hold the honor of being the most prestigious female Vamps in North America. Therefore, you are the most suited to judge this contest.”

  Darcy watched the women react to the compliment. They lifted their chins and stood a bit taller. It was good to see after the beating their egos had taken with Roman’s dismissal.

  “Princess Joanna Fortescue.” Gregori bowed. “I bid you welcome.”

  “Thank you, good sir.” The princess descended the stairs with her head held high.

  “Keep the camera on her,” Darcy whispered to Bart. This would be where she’d insert Princess Joanna’s bio—with a few careful edits. Darcy had cringed when the medieval woman had claimed all Scotsmen were barbarians. Obviously, the princess had grown up in a time when Scotland had presented a threat to England. But sheesh, that was eight hundred years ago! How long could someone hold a grudge? Apparently, a really long time. Now, it seemed clear that the ex-harem was clinging to more than their old clothes. Their old prejudices had survived the centuries intact.

  Princess Joanna stood proudly next to Gregori. In her medieval gown, she looked like a queen surveying her domain.

  Gregori bowed once again. “Señora Maria Consuela Montemayor, I bid you welcome.” As the second oldest lady Vamp, Maria Consuela was the second to descend the stairs.

  “Lady Pamela Smythe-Worthing, I bid you welcome.” Gregori bowed to the female Vamp from the Regency period. She lifted the hem of her gown to come down the stairs.

  “Miss Cora Lee Primrose, I bid you welcome.”

  Cora Lee skipped down the stairs, her hoop skirt bouncing.

  Gregori bowed to the final and youngest judge. “Vanda Barkowski, I bid you welcome.”

  “Thanks, dude.” Vanda aimed a sly grin at the camera as she came down the stairs.

  “This way, ladies.” Gregori led them to the west wing and a pair of double doors. They filed in and sat on two leather couches facing him.

  “This is the portrait room.” Gregori motioned to the wall behind him.

  Darcy flipped on the lights and all fifteen portraits were illuminated by track lighting on the ceiling. She’d hung the portraits herself, seven on the top row and eight on the bottom. Her eyes automatically sought out her favorite portrait.

  The artist had done a decent job, though she thought Adam’s eyes were a deeper blue. For some reason, he hadn’t smiled so his dimples weren’t showing. But even with a serious expression, his portrait made her breath catch and her heart flutter. For the last two weeks, she’d fallen asleep remembering the feel of his mouth, the taste of his lips, and the heat of his body. She would have to be strong and keep her distance. Otherwise, he presented a temptation that was too hard to resist.

  “The Sexiest Man on Earth will be selected according to your own list of criteria,” Gregori explained. “The most important qualification was that he be rich. By the end of this show, the winner will be rich. The second qualification was that he be fair of face. So tonight, using these portraits, you will judge these men by their looks. Maggie will give each of you five black orchids. Below each portrait is a narrow shelf. You will place an orchid by the portrait of each man you wish to eliminate. Five men must be eliminated tonight.”

  Cora Lee frowned at the black orchids that Maggie dropped in her lap. “We have to make a decision tonight? Five decisions?”

  “Yes,” Gregori replied. “Who would like to go first?”

  The ladies glanced at each other.

  Princess Joanna stood slowly, gathering her five black orchids in her hands. “As the eldest, I will go first.”

  Darcy had never seen the princess look so flustered. The medieval Vamp wandered down the double row of portraits. She clenched her hands together, crushing the flowers. She glanced toward the other ladies for
guidance.

  “Well,” Cora Lee ventured. “It seems fairly obvious that we should eliminate the African. I couldn’t possibly have a black master. My dear papa would roll over in his grave.”

  “And we must be rid of any Moors,” Maria Consuela added.

  “Cut!” Darcy strode over to the women. “Ladies, I will not allow racial bias on this show. Please set aside your old prejudices. For Pete’s sake, this is the twenty-first century!”

  “It is?” Cora Lee tilted her head. “It seems like only yesterday I turned a hundred. Where does all the time go?”

  “Your numbers are meaningless to us.” Princess Joanna looked down her nose at Darcy. “Only a mortal would count time because he has so little of it.”

  “I cannot do as you say,” Maria Consuela told Darcy. “You do not understand how much we Spaniards suffered to rid our country of those dreadful Moors.”

  “I sympathize with the hardships you must have endured in the past, but that was a long time ago,” Darcy insisted. “And frankly, it’s time to get over it. I will not have you selecting these men by race or religion. You are to make your decision tonight based solely on good looks. Any remarks I don’t like will be edited from the show. Do you understand?”

  Cora Lee snorted. “And I thought we had freedom of speech.”

  Darcy sighed. “Just be careful what you say.”

  Maria Consuela glared at her. “That’s what they told us during the Spanish Inquisition.”

  Darcy shook her head in frustration as she walked back behind the camera. “Roll ’em.”

  Bart turned the camera back on. Princess Joanna glanced back at Darcy with a defiant look, then placed her five black orchids in front of five portrait frames. Darcy groaned.

  Maggie leaned close. “You can’t expect to wipe out centuries of hatred in one night.”

  “I guess not.” Darcy watched in dismay as each of the judges used their black orchids to reject five men. Vanda was the only one who didn’t take race into account, but she was outnumbered four to one.