5. Never Off the Job
Chapter 5
Never Off the Job
Rolf and Karen’s estate—Shortly after the ceremony
T ig lagged behind as Abigale herded the other guests into the enormous living room. The receiving line would come later, and then dinner. For now, appetizers were being served to the mortals as the photographer took staged photos of the wedding party on the mandapa .
Jayden had already gone indoors with his friends to get a drink and hit the appetizer buffet.
“Come along.” Abigale motioned to the doors, herding everyone inside. One of the original founders and a close friend of Henry’s, she wore a stunning gold and black figure-skimming mermaid dress, with her blond hair in a lacquered bouffant, and pointed at Tig. “You too. All guests are supposed to go inside.”
Tig raised a finger to signal she’d join them shortly. Her foremost responsibility was the safety of the bride and groom. Since a heinous threat hung over their heads, she’d maintain a watchful eye.
Splitting off from the wedding party, Ari traipsed over to her. “Go ahead. The dome will keep them safe, or I wouldn’t be standing out here myself.”
She frowned at him, wondering—not for the first time—whether the Lux could read minds.
“No, I don’t read minds.” He laughed. “I can tell by your tense posture. Relax. Enjoy yourself. I’ve got this.”
The photographer called him back for a group shot, and he jogged over to the mandapa . The photographer’s strobe light fired again and Tig’s frown eased. Everything seemed fine outside, and she could always trust Ari to act in his own self-interest.
Not to mention Abigale was giving the stragglers some serious side-eye. The dominatrix was accustomed to being obeyed. Tasked with getting everyone inside the house for the reception, she seemed ready to break out a whip to enforce her will.
Tig gracefully accepted Abigale’s directive and caught up with Agathe—the Lux leader—who’d finished her role in the family photos. Tig still wasn’t sure if she believed Agathe had been born in Mombassa, a town in Kenya about four hundred miles from the savannah range lands where Tig had grown into adulthood. Still, she couldn’t dismiss the possibility Agathe had appeared as a sister country member to set Tig more at ease when they first met and continued to do so now to preserve the pretense.
With the Lux ability to shapeshift, appearances could be deceiving. Literally.
Tig exchanged nods with Agathe, then scanned the room. It reminded her once again how much like a mini-United Nations the Hill seemed. People from around the globe filled the room. She took her place at table six next to Jayden, an overflowing appetizer plate and glass of white wine in front of him. He looked so handsome in his sharply fitted navy suit, with his head and face freshly shaved. She leaned in to kiss him—she couldn’t be on duty all the time.
Jayden gave her a cocky grin. “That dress is gorgeous on you.”
“So you said back at the house.” After checking on the bridesmaid’s color scheme, she’d picked out a full-length sleeveless plum-colored formal gown, satin with a matching velvet band under her breasts. More importantly, the color didn’t clash with Jayden’s suit. She hadn’t done anything too fancy to her hair. Her maker turned her when her afro was short, leaving little to work with, so she’d spritzed on some argan oil. She didn’t have time to waste getting hair extensions. Instead, she wore dangling earrings. The stacked purple kunzite gemstones emphasized her long neck.
Jayden’s smile widened. “It’s worth repeating.”
Tig smiled at the compliment and took his hand, twining her fingers with his. “I’ve never been to a Hindu wedding before. That was a lovely service. I liked the vows.”
With his other hand, he trailed his fingertips over hers. “You rarely notice anything at weddings. Other than the security precautions or lack thereof.”
“Well, I noticed this time.” She had. This time, something about announcing the permanence of one’s mate so openly to the community appealed to her in a way it hadn’t since she’d become vampire.
He sent her a teasing smile. “Getting sentimental on me?”
“No, not sentimental. More like opening a discussion with you.”
Jayden’s fingers paused, and a serious expression overtook his face. “A discussion?”
“Yes.”
“On marriage?”
She tilted her head. “You seem surprised.”
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to get married, given…”
“I was once one of five wives when I was mortal?”
“Yeah.” Jayden’s lips quirked into a grin again. “Your previous experience with marriage was, well, different from the present day.”
Tig chuckled at the polite way he framed his observation. When she was mortal, her husband had chosen her to add to his line. They hadn’t dated—she’d known all the men in their village for as long as she could remember, and her husband had been one of them.
Because of her previous experience, had she been waiting for Jayden to raise the subject and guide them along? But she’d chosen Jayden, and he’d chosen her. Their relationship was already different from her first marriage.
The last time they’d visited his parents in Stanton, his mother hinted that they’d been dating long enough. His father shushed her. Tig couldn’t always read present-day social situations correctly, but suspected Jayden’s mother expected them to wed soon.
Not that she felt pressured by his mother. Still, Jayden hadn’t raised the topic yet, so it was up to her. “I’m willing to give Western-style marriage a try, if you are.”
Jayden’s eyes widened. “Tig, did you just ask me to marry you?”
“Uh, not—well, not formally. I’m just saying that we should talk about the idea—if you want to.”
“Hell yeah, I do,” he said, his smile growing larger. “But not here. Let’s set aside time to discuss what we want from marriage. And then, if we figure it would work for us, I want to make it romantic, you know?”
She kissed his cheek. “I do.”
He laughed. “Enough serious talk. Why don’t you relax and get some alcohol-enhanced, er, dark wine?”
He stopped himself before saying blood .
She groaned. “I hate having to disguise it as a Bloody Mary with a celery stick.”
He bit off a piece of skewered grilled chicken in a tikka marinade. A little placard on the serving table identified the six Indian appetizers.
Hmm . If he was going to eat, maybe he was right, and she should feed now, too. She rose to her feet but didn’t get far.
Marcus Collings clicked on a wireless microphone. The town’s attorney resembled a young Bradley Cooper with a stylishly trimmed mustache, his dishwater-blond hair slightly long and combed back. “Greetings, everyone! The bride and groom asked me to thank you for attending.”
Well, so much for going to the bar . She couldn’t walk away now with the festivities starting.
“While the wedding party takes a few more photos outside, we have a special surprise. A little entertainment for your enjoyment. Many of you know Petar Petrov. He’s a world-class magician and resident master performer at the Magic Mansion. Please join me in giving a warm welcome to Petar the Great.”
Tig raised her eyebrows almost to the ceiling. Why had Henry invited his bookie to perform a magic act at his reception? Although she had to admit, watching the tricks was better than making small talk with other guests. Anything was better than making small talk, and Petar was an accomplished magician.
But he was also Henry’s bookie.
She couldn’t wrap her mind around the two roles.
Petar stepped forward to applause and bowed, standing at the head of the room with his back to the marble fireplace and wearing a modern tuxedo with a bright red tie. His shaggy brown hair ran in waves from his part and his vivid green eyes shone.
According to the brochure on the table, which she had only just noticed, his performance included the complete linking rings routine designed by the renowned magician Dai Vernon. Starting with two eighteen-inch-diameter rings, he showed they were solid by the sharp clink they made when banged against each other, proving the tubular steel was unbroken, then linked and unlinked the oversized rings without giving away how he performed the sleight-of-hand. Petar held four more rings hooked in the crook of his elbow. He slid them down and magically linked the six solid rings into a long chain, and then, with a flip of his wrists, modified the chain into a pyramid and back to separate rings again.
Tig applauded politely. She preferred his close-up magic rather than stage illusions—she’d seen him perform when she visited his private club to discuss confidential information he’d unearthed for a prior police investigation.
An assistant stepped forward and handed him a shiny brass pan, taking the rings from him. She wore a black satin corset over a frilly, high-necked white shirt with a ruffled black damask skirt, which was long in back and short in front, revealing her fishnet-covered legs. Thigh-high boots and a steampunk top hat completed the outfit.
Petar lifted the pan’s brass lid and tipped it so the audience could see the base was empty, then the assistant ignited a paper on fire in the base, and he slammed on the lid—and when he removed the lid, instead of fire, a brown and white rabbit with long, floppy ears appeared and stood up on its haunches. He then placed the rabbit in a small cage on a stand and covered it with an opaque cloth. When he whipped the cloth aside, the rabbit and cage had vanished. The assistant moved the empty stand aside.
After a few more tricks, the performance finished, and the vampires seemed to clap more enthusiastically than the mortals —probably because the mortals had viewed all those online videos revealing how the tricks were done, which took the mystery out of it, whereas the vamps remembered magic from the vaudeville days. For them, Petar’s performance was a bit of happy nostalgia.
Yeah, maybe she understood after all why Henry had asked Petar to perform.
With the entertainment over and the guests mingling again, Tig rose to her feet. “I’m going to get that drink.”
Jayden scooted back his chair, his plate in hand. “And I’m getting seconds on shrimp chat and samosas. They were fantastic.”
She laughed. “Leave room for dinner. Knowing Cerissa, there will be plenty of authentic entrees to choose from.”
He patted his flat stomach. “Oh, I’ll have room. I spent the afternoon in the gym.”
“Okay. Meet you back here.” She sauntered through the open doorway leading to the exclusive bartender. Zeke was guarding the door so Cerissa’s relatives didn’t wander out there, thus maintaining the pretense that her family didn’t know about vampires, when in truth they did.
Carrie, a mixologist with killer dimples who was one of Abigale’s six mortal mates, worked at the bar by the pool specifically set aside for serving vampires their special drinks.
Tig was in luck. No one else was in line. “Hi, Carrie. One, please.”
“Coming right up.”
Petar joined her and smacked his lips. “Performing makes me thirsty.”
Carrie placed the tall frosted glass on the counter.
“Here, take mine.” Tig caught Carrie’s gaze. “Another, please.” Then she turned back to Petar. “How’s my favorite informant doing?”
He coughed, choking on his drink.
Last year, when she was investigating the assassination of Hill residents, she’d used Petar to feed her information—gossip, really—from his gambling club patrons and his online betting clients. Eventually, the details he gathered led her to the guilty person behind the attempted coup.
Could he do the same again? Keep his ears to the ground, listening for anything about a silver stake?
Tig patted his shoulder. “Sorry, didn’t mean to catch you off guard.” She accepted the second glass. “Thanks, Carrie. Petar, let’s step over here.” She moved them away from the bar and other partygoers until they were closer to the pool, which was lit with colored beams and floating candles. “I’m chumming for information. Have you heard about any threats delivered to other communities?”
“What kind of threats?”
Tig narrowed her eyes at him. “You must keep this confidential. It can’t go anywhere.”
“That’s what you pay me for. I’m now taking electronic money transfers, too. Any of the majors, PayPipe, Streak, whatever—just send payment to my email address.”
“Your usual fee?”
“The same.”
“Consider yourself bought.”
Petar took a swig of his drink. “Oh, that’s good.”
Tig sipped hers. He was right—the blood-alcohol ratio was perfect. “So here’s the four-one-one. Henry received a silver stake in the mail—have you learned of anyone else who has?”
His eyes widened. “Only what happened to Henry. Um, he mentioned the unique wedding present when he arrived for the ceremony.”
Yeah, everyone had heard about that. Too many people attended the party last night. She couldn’t squash the rumors.
Petar frowned, then swept his hair behind his ears.
The pinkie ring he wore glinted under the floodlights. The ring’s design was very distinctive, with a pattern of diamonds and rubies forming a double P. Every time Tig met him in person, he’d worn it. “What else did Henry tell you?”
“He didn’t know who was responsible. Have there been other deliveries?”
“Not that I’m aware of, which is where you come in. I need help to find out if the threat is specific to Henry, or if anyone else has received one. Keep your ears to the ground. But don’t ask your clients specifically about silver stakes.” She took another sip, stalling for time, not sure how much rope to give Petar. “Be cagey. Ask them if they’ve received any unusual items by mail or delivery service they weren’t expecting. If they answer no, then cover it with a lie about receiving something you didn’t order. Got it?”
“But of course.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “I think this is the continuation of a beautiful friendship.”
She snorted at his butchered quote from Casablanca . “As soon as you hear anything, call me.”
“My dear, that’s exactly what you pay me for.” He stirred his drink with the celery stick, took another sip, and scrunched his face. “Next time, no ice. Unless one chugs one’s beverage , they dilute the rich flavor. Anyway, were you impressed by my act?”
“You had me fooled. I never expected the rabbit to suddenly appear.”
“That’s because I control where you look. It’s a form of practiced deception. With misdirection, I manipulate you to look where I want you to look, so you don’t see what’s really happening. That’s why magic tricks are called illusions. All control is illusion.”
Practiced deception? She’d never heard magic called that before. Usually, she categorized criminals as liars. But in reality, the police used deception all the time to catch the bad guys.
“Hey, Tig.”
She looked up.
Jayden waved and strode across the patio with a woman at his shoulder.
Tig did her best not to cringe over what she spied. The woman had unfastened the top three buttons of her white shirt, revealing two blood trail tattoos on her neck. Tacky .
“This is Janey,” Jayden said. “She was searching for Petar.”
Janey snapped her gum. “Like, you left me all alone in there.”
Petar slid an arm around Janey’s waist. “My dearest heart, I’m sorry to be gone so long. The chief here needed to discuss a sensitive matter with me.”
“At a wedding?”
Didn’t Janey trust her mate? They had to be mated. Petar wouldn’t bring her to an event like this one if they didn’t share a blood bond that kept the mortal from speaking to outsiders about vampires.
“Yes, dearest, at a wedding. A conversation of opportunity. Nothing for you to fret about.”
“Yeah, right.”
Petar released Janey’s waist and folded her hand around his forearm. “Now, have you had anything to eat or drink? When it comes to wine, I expect Henry to offer only the best.”
“Why don’t you two go on inside? The wedding party is coming back.” Tig opened her formal purse. The clutch was so small, her phone barely fit in it, but she found what she wanted. “Here’s my card, just in case you need it again.”
“Of course, my dear.” Petar saluted her with the business card. He walked away with Janey on his arm as he slipped the card into his pocket.
Jayden grinned cockily. “Did you tell Petar about the stake?”
“Yeah. With no fingerprints on it or the box, and no DNA, I figured he’s better than nothing. At least until Henry confesses why someone would target him.”
“You think he knows?”
“Possibly.” Tig tsked . “Remember when an assassin tried to kill him and shot Cerissa instead?”
“Not likely to forget that. I witnessed it.”
“Well, Henry gave us a real runaround when we asked for a suspect list that time. Last night, he may have stayed mum so he wouldn’t upset Cerissa.”
The patio doors opened, and the wedding party went inside, except for Ari, who peeled off and slumped over to her. “I’ve never been so glad to have a photographer dismiss me from a photoshoot. I’m getting something from the bar. Can I get anything for you two?”
Tig held up her glass. “I’m fine for now, thanks.” Then she reconsidered his words. “Are you sure drinking alcohol is a good idea? Don’t you have to oversee the protective dome?”
Ari laughed and loosened his bow tie. “Once it’s erected, it’s self-sustaining.” He tapped an app on his phone. “Look.”
Over his shoulder, she saw a bar graph display with everything in the green zone.
“See? All is well. If something bad happens, I’ll get a loud buzz. So far, so good.”
Gaea came striding toward them. “There you are, young man.”
“Hey, sweet stuff, I just finished with the photos. I was going to grab a drink and then grab you.” He wrapped an arm around Gaea’s waist. “Have you had anything?”
“Not yet.” She waved a graceful hand at Tig. “I see the Bloody Mary is popular.”
Tig toasted with her glass. “Cerissa has nailed alcohol-infused dark wine.”
“Well,” Gaea said, tapping a finger on the dimple in her chin, “one drink can’t hurt. Shall we?”
“Later, gator.” Ari waved goodbye over his shoulder as Gaea dragged him to the bar.
Once the pair were out of earshot, Tig leaned over to Jayden. “I’m still having trouble wrapping my mind around the defensive dome.”
“Uh, the Lux aren’t the first. Tons of comic book and sci-fi authors have used the idea—”
“Yeah, but there’s a difference between imagining something and bringing it to fruition.”
Over the past year, she’d gotten more relaxed about the Lux. But witnessing this kind of power displayed was different. She’d insisted on inspecting the dome before the wedding ceremony started. Ari gave her the tour, even allowed her to feel the smooth, glasslike barrier. She’d wanted to shoot the dome just to prove to herself a projectile wouldn’t crack the surface and unholstered her weapon.
“Don’t do that.” Ari had grabbed her hand, pushing the barrel to aim at the ground, and she let him. “The bullet would likely fragment and bounce back to hit you.”
“Are you sure it’ll work? The power source is so small—”
“A larger dome would take a larger backpack.” Ari shrugged. “This one is plenty big for Rolf’s estate and would run for years. Now put your gun away.”
She still couldn’t believe the tech was real.
Jayden, on the other hand, had immediately believed in the technology—the advantage of growing up in this era and having a comic book addiction. Instead, when he learned about the Lux, he reacted not with dismay, but with anger. Cerissa’s lie about her true nature had hurt him deeply. Over the past year, Tig had spoken with him about the issue, and he’d come around. Cerissa couldn’t reveal to the community that she was Lux without creating a global disaster, any more than the Hill could reveal to the world that it protected vampires. When she asked whether any superheroes he respected revealed their identity to their fictional public, he couldn’t name one and finally let go of his anger.
“You need another drink.” Jayden kissed her, bringing her mind back to the party. “Then it won’t bother you so much. The new AI programs scare me more than the dome. Artificial intelligence could replace half the jobs out there. The dome? It’s just protective technology.”
Tig wasn’t sure she agreed with his threat assessment. She mostly trusted the Lux, but so much power made her uncomfortable, no matter where it came from or who wielded it.
She cocked an eyebrow at Jayden. “Just remember: anything that can protect you by keeping someone out can also lock you in. Your freedom depends upon who holds the key.”