brocaded vest; the other hand rested on the top of a jewel-headed cane.
Before she’d turned, Savannah had told me breathlessly that he’d been the model for Louis in Interview with the Vampire. Personally, I think he was just hamming it up, and it made him look like a bad copy of Lucius Malfoy.
“You called,” he said, his deep voice sounding more like Lurch from the Addams Family than the whine of everyone’s favorite angst-ridden gothy vampire. “I trust it was urgent.”
Delancaster lived in the Little Five Points District—not far from me in Candler Park, actually—but not as Savannah’s subject; as her ruler. Officially his full title was Lord of the Vampires for Georgia, making Savannah kind of like a mayor in the world of vampire politics.
“Lord Delancaster,” Savannah said, smiling, bowing deferentially to the vampire. I wondered how smart giving her a court was: ‘Saffron’ was extremely powerful for a such young vampire, and history was filled with empires toppled because the heirs were eager to inherit. Vampire nepotism might make it just as hard to hold onto power.
But, watching her bowing… I remembered this was Savannah. For all of her supposed power, she was still a wet-behind-the-ears twenty-seven-year-old with a submissive streak. She was obviously treating this like some kind of grand game where she was the star player, and by letting her ham it up Delancaster had no doubt wrapped her round his finger.
Savannah was up and talking again. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”
“That is… quite the outfit. Going out for Halloween?” Lord Delancaster asked, kissing her hand. As he did so, he caught sight of Doug’s cage and flinched. “Oh my. Hello, Douglas. I take it you are not going out tonight.”
“Hello, RJ,” Doug responded, nodding briefly. “Not like this, no.”
“Well, my Lady Saffron,” the Lord Delancaster said, with a forced smile. “Your court is always a show.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered. “The sight of a three hundred year old vampire flinching alone was worth the price of admission.”
“Be nice,” Savannah said icily. “I’m sorry, my Lord Delancaster. My supplicant here interrupted the Lady Darkrose and me during our play.”
Lord Delancaster looked at me.
I’ve heard you’re not supposed to look vampires in the eyes, but I’ve never had any patience for that, so I just stared straight back at him. His eyes were fine amber; they would probably glow gold if he exerted his power, giving me a chance to flinch if I needed to; but apparently he had far too much control for that. “You must be Miss Frost,” he said. “The young lady who almost kept my Lady Saffron from me.”
“The one and only,” I said, tilting my head. I had a whole list of other things I had always wanted to say to the bloodsucker who stole Savannah from me, but I gritted my teeth and kept it to, “Best magical tattooist in the Southeast.”
But Delancaster caught some of what I had not said from the look in my eyes. “You have a fire in you,” he said. “I can see why she nearly turned down my offer of eternal life—”
“You don’t have that to offer,” Savannah said coldly.
“Bodily immortality, if you prefer,” the Lord Delancaster said, bowing. “Or agelessness. I meant no offense to your religious beliefs—”
“Fine, fine, fine,” I said, before he could get Savannah started on that again. “We’re all one big happy vampire family, respecting each other’s beliefs, and even managing to pretend Doug’s whing-whang isn’t hanging out. All that still leaves me wearing this stupid collar just so I don’t have to worry about other vampires gnawing on me while I go consult with a graphomancer they’re guarding. So whatever you’re here to do, let’s do it, so I can get on with it. I am on the clock.”
Lord Delancaster looked at me, face oddly blank. “Very well,” he said, his mask of humanity seeming to filter away, leaving something cold, ancient and impersonal. “Please tell me this one is willing to give blood—”
“No, and no on other bodily fluids,” I snapped.
He looked at Savannah, humanity flooding back into his features. “Then how is this going to work—”
“We’re going to use a finger stick,” she said, stepping behind the wet bar.
“Of course,” Lord Delancaster said, tapping his fingers to his forehead. “This is the twenty-first century. But that will only grant a partial protection. I will still need to taste—”
“No,” I repeated.
“Your aura,” he said pointedly. “Your aura will do—”
“And what precisely is the purpose