Waiting in the Wings

Chapter Eight

Kiki raced after the butterflies, chasing them up the hill. At the crest, she halted and stared at the verdant valley below. The sun danced low on the horizon, not quite setting. But the shadow of clouds overhead kept the light at bay. She loved the isle, the tropical breezes, the white sands, the warm water and the colorful villages nestled into the hills. The natives were sweet, always welcoming and they didn’t bar their doors against the strangers. Richard took over the island easily upon their arrival, and they welcomed the European lord with great fanfare.

She considered the position of the sun, the fingertips of light stretching over the valley below. She could outrun them, dance between the beams or she could sit here and wait patiently for the sun to completely sink below the horizon. But if she did that, she would be late for supper, and Richard would know for certain she’d snuck out to play in the rain. Her damp clothing clung to her, but she didn’t care. The best part of the isle was the heavy storms that rolled in every afternoon and provided her a respite from their manor house. She could play in the woods and dance in the rain.

Decided, she raced down the hill. Her bare feet slipping and sliding on the damp earth didn’t cause her to slow her pace. She played with the sun, chasing around its burning edges, hugging village huts and darting from shadow to shadow. Over the high walls she leapt, hissing only once as the sun scorched the back of her neck. The burn hurt, but she made it, and the scalded skin would heal.

Still giggling, she skipped up the thick, tree-lined drive to the main house, but her laughter failed as Richard stepped out onto the porch. His dark and forbidding expression chastised her more loudly than any words.

“I know.” She trailed mud up onto the porch as she padded toward him. “But it was so beautiful, and you should have seen the rainbows after the storm.” She threw her arms around him, uncaring of the water dripping off of her or the expense of his billowy shirt and fine linens. “And I would have waited for full sunset, but there’s a party tonight…”

“We have to go to London, my love.” Her happiness deflated in one single instant.

“No.” She pulled back and scowled. “I don’t want to go to London. It’s crowded and noisy and dirty…”

“And the Prince of the City is fading. He’s requested that I come.” Richard tucked her damp hair behind her ears. “It is a wonderful opportunity. I will be able to expand our holdings tenfold, and you will have access to the finest of European dressmakers and parties.”

Kristina rolled her eyes and pushed him away, walking into the house and trailing mud with her. She might have cared except for the news. “You promised when we came here we would be here for a few decades. It’s been ten years, that’s it. One decade is not a few.”

“I know, darling. And I promise to make it up to you. But you love London. It rains all the time, which means never having to be trapped inside.”

She walked over to the bar and poured herself a drink. Richard slid his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. “We’ll be closer to our friends—”

“Your friends. The Reynolds, the Coulsons, the Whitehusts—they are your friends, Richard. They only tolerate me, the little bourgeois-turned-vampire who traded up for a blue blood.”

He growled against her throat, and the light pinch of his teeth scraped at her. “Do not talk about yourself that way, Kristina. They love you. They cannot wait for you to join them again. And they’re even going to throw a party in your honor.”

She shrugged. “Fine. But we have a party tonight.”

“We do, unfortunately with the change in plans—”

Kristina threw the drink across the room and it shattered. “You can’t go.” Disappointment flooded her. It was their very first party in a year, and she hadn’t wanted to throw it, but Richard insisted. And she’d worked for weeks to plan their anniversary into it, and now he wouldn’t even be showing up. She pushed away from him and strode toward the stairs. She would show him.

“Kristina…I will make it up to you—later. I promise.”

She ignored the censure in his voice and didn’t stop until she reached their suite and slammed the door for good measure. She knew he meant it. He always meant it, but if he saw another route, he would take it. But the London offer—it was too good to turn down. She padded over to the wide veranda doors and pulled them open.

She would miss her paradise…and dancing in the rain.

The world snapped back into place, and Kiki gasped. Her eyes went wide as she looked around her cell. She’d returned to her cell and sat down on her bed before the sun rose and went into her gray oblivion peaceably—only it hadn’t been oblivion this time.

She’d dreamed. She never dreamed. Standing up, she glanced down and half expected to find her clothes damp and clinging to her or her feet covered in mud. But she’d had enough time to change into her pajamas when she came in and to hang up her dress. She’d even put away the crystal shoes Roseâtre gave her. They winked from the light cast by the single bulb. The air was a little musty, tasting of perfume, feminine deodorants and recycled air conditioning.

Padding out of her room, she walked over to a phone and dialed the front desk. They connected her to Richard’s suite.

“Kristina?” He answered the phone, his voice gruff with concern and no small amount of tired.

“We lived on an island. A beautiful tropical island and it rained every afternoon and I loved to go dancing in it.” The words blurted out of her. Was it real? She had to know.

“Yes. For a few years, not as long as you wished…”

“Because the Prince of London summoned you.” She wound the phone’s cord around her finger and leaned on the wall. “I was so angry with you and I’m sorry.”

“Darling, you didn’t want to go to London, but you did. You were at my side and you fell in love with the city. You brought sunshine and joy with you to those dour and reserved nobles in the London court.” She could almost hear the smile in his voice. “And every decade, I took you back to the isle to try and make up for forgetting our anniversary that night.”

“Really?” Her heart squeezed at the words.

“Yes. We still own that isle.”

“Oh, Richard, I thought it was a dream—but I remembered it. I want to see it again.”

“You will. I swear it to you, my love. How long till your show?”

She bit her lip, wishing for the first time she’d asked Heidi to just skip the show, but she didn’t think the stage manager would go for it. Not after this week. “In a couple of hours. You will be there, won’t you?”

“I wouldn’t miss it. Now, ask for some blood. You need to feed.”

“Yes, sir.” She grinned. “But only if I get to bite you later.”

“You better.”

She laughed and would have lingered, but one by one the other dancers roused and stepped from their rooms. It wasn’t until she hung up the phone that she realized she woke before they did.

Huh. Well how about that?

Richard hung up the phone and glanced at the five men in his suite. “You have two hours. Go.” They rose as one and filed out. David and Anton waited for him at the door.

“Sir,” David motioned to the others. “They may not find the answers you want.”

“I don’t care what the answers are, David. I just need the details.” If she had fucked Andrew to get at him, then he deserved it. He would not allow anger and petty jealousy to take away from him the one person he found most precious in this world.

They rode the elevator up in silence. The Overseers agreement to meet with him had finally arrived five minutes before Kristina’s call. The doors opened on an upper level and the werewolf who’d interfered with Andrew’s assault the night before.

The man’s rough features would never be called handsome, but his dominance was not in question. He leaned against a wall in an over-bright corridor. He straightened from his slouch as Richard exited with his men.

He held out a thumb drive. “I found what you needed.”

Richard nodded and sent a text message to Malcolm. Transfer the funds to Brandt.

They waited in silence until Brandt’s phone chirped. He glanced at the message and handed the thumb drive over. “Do you need my testimony?”

“It won’t hurt.” He offered his hand to the wolf. “And I will owe you a favor.”

Brandt grinned. “I usually collect on those sooner rather than later.”

“Whenever you need it.” Richard didn’t care about the cost. Brandt nodded and motioned to the doors at the end of the hall.

The mysterious Overseers waited beyond the door. The recent sunset left him with a twitchy feeling. He had less than twenty hours left in the city of Las Vegas before he would have to board his private jet for New York. He wasn’t leaving without his bride.

With his men flanking him and the werewolf walking at his side, Richard approached the door ready to negotiate, bully, barter—trade his own damn soul if necessary—but he would have her freedom.

The door swung inward at his arrival. As expected, a gray room awaited him, along with five shrouded figures. Malcolm identified at least one vampire and one witch. But Richard didn’t give a damn about their origins or their life story. They wanted their secrecy intact. They could have it.

But he had three of their identities and he wasn’t afraid to use them.

“Richard, Prince of New York.” The first figure greeted him. The intonations were South American—Argentinean if he wasn’t mistaken.

He inclined his head. He had no idea what if any affectation they preferred and he would rather forgo the political pleasantries. “I will keep my audience brief, if it pleases you all. I am here to purchase the freedom of Kristina Casere.”

“And why should we negotiate with you, Prince Richard? This is neither your city nor your matter. Her debt is owed to the Royale direct.”

“I am her mate, her husband and her sire. She is my bride and the Princess of New York. The burden of her debt should have been brought to my attention.” He kept his emotions checked, his voice rigidly neutral and his gaze frank. “Such oversight could be considered a grave insult at best and an act of war at worst.”

“Perhaps, but the debt was covered, only the punishment remains. The punishment deemed by the wronged party.” This from the figure in the center, cool and feminine—the witch then.

Andrew’s fingerprints were all over this. “So now you are the messengers and minions of outsiders? Does this not violate your oath of neutrality in all political matters?”

“It wasn’t political. It was personal.” The second from the left added. This was the vampire. He should have known better than to speak with a Prince in the room. His identity remained hidden, but the Eastern European accent narrowed the possibilities.

“Personal matters with political underpinnings are even more delicate.”

“Yes, we are aware of your concerns, Prince Richard.” The witch in the center waved a gloved hand. “What is it that you propose?”

He held up the thumb drive and waited for her wave forward before walking to the dais they occupied and setting it down. “This is evidence of Kristina’s arrival at the Arcana Royale. The political enemy stalked her, set her up and was the subsequent cause of her incarceration. I expect you to rectify your decisions where she is concerned and release her from the curse holding her bound and starving.”

A low hum of muttering filled the air. They blocked his ears as they conferred and he allowed them their privacy. He retreated back only two steps and studied each of them. They carried no scent, no discernibly recognizable features, and magic obscured even the room itself. He could almost taste the power present on his tongue.

The white noise vibrating against his eardrums vanished, and the vampire leaned forward. “The debt to the Arcana Royale was paid. The vampire owes us no service.”

“Then why is she still here?”

Silence reverberated.

The witch shifted. “That would be a question for the stage manager of the…”

Richard withdrew a marker from his coat pocket and tossed it on the dais. “That is the chit of Heidi, the stage manager. She is bound by geas from providing answers, and the Midnight Mystery Lounge does not own the contract on Kristina, despite the curse associated with her incarceration. So what, were you lying?”

The temperature in the room plunged to frost. Richard waited. There was a deeper game, a longer game, being played here. Kristina was never the target. It had taken him hours to begin unraveling the twists and turns the clues led him through. But he understood it, now. Every action taken was meant to bring him here—to the Arcana Royale—and this room.

They wanted the Prince of New York.

They had him.

If they conferred this time, it wasn’t audible.

Finally, the vampire rose from his seat and turned to face the others. “The accusation against our neutrality is accepted.”

Two more figures rose and joined him, leaving only the witch and the silent fourth at her left hand seated. Richard expected that. The vampire turned toward him, the gray facelessness disturbing.

“We accept that charge and will make reparations. But we cannot interfere with the contract, as we did not enforce it.”

“Very well. It may interest you to know that Marguerite DuBois and the local Prince of the city were engaged in a long-term affair for nearly twenty-five years before DuBois vanished. A very skilled witch, DuBois specialized in the creation of trap charms—and they often fetched the highest price at auction. They could steal souls—or memories—and for a blood debt, they could replace them.”

The witch in the center jerked.

Gotcha.

“If the personal debt is being enforced and chains held within this casino and resort in violation of neutrality as a personal favor to the Prince of Las Vegas, you will have openly aligned yourselves with him, which means any contracts you hold with other cities will be null and void. As of fifteen minutes ago, information regarding the entire matter including all the evidence we have gathered was delivered to the Princes of Monte Carlo, Atlantic City, Reno, Singapore and Bangladesh. All cities I believe you have operating interests in—”

He didn’t hear anything else, the five figures vanished and the gray filter on the room dissipated. He stood alone in the white chamber. He glanced at his watch and waited.

One figure strode back into the room, the air around it blurring to hide any recognizable features.

“You have evidence of DuBois’ liaison with Prince Andrew?” The Argentinean—whatever the hell he was.

“I do.”

“And you will give us this information?”

“As soon as you free my wife.”

“What will you give up for her? You offer us money and information, but what sacrifice are you willing to make to engage the Overseers on your behalf?”

“Whatever you want.” Malcolm advised against such a gamble, but Richard would not leave her trapped here one hour longer than they’d already lost. “If you want my city, you can take it. If you want my soul, it’s yours. I just want Kristina free from obligation, from the memory loss, from the curse turning her to stone every day. I want her to have her life back.”

“You would give up everything for her?”

“If necessary and without reservation.” He wouldn’t leave her here, but if he remained—so be it. She gave up everything for him, time and again. He could do nothing less for her.

“Yet not without regret, I imagine. What would it be to reunite with your bride only to have to tell her goodbye again?”

“Painful.” He admitted. “But it is my sacrifice and choice to make. She will be safe and she will be free. She deserves so much more, but she will have that.”

“As you wish.” The man vanished.

It wasn’t an answer. But the offer had been made. He looked at his watch and reclaimed the thumb drive and Heidi’s chit. Minion had delivered the item just before the summons from the Overseers. She grumbled and complained, and even managed to wheedle a black opal ring from a collection of baubles he considered using for bribes before handing over the chit. She also delivered a frustrating message. Heidi can’t tell either of you what you want to know. But she can vouch for the evidence you have gathered and that the Midnight Mystery Lounge does not control Kiki’s contract. Don’t ask her for anything else.

In less than an hour Kristina would take the stage—for the last time, if he had his way. He paused on the thought. No, for the last time if it is her wish. If she is free and chooses to stay, then she may have her choice.

It was enough, for now.

It had to be.