Chapter 24
Sweat dripped down Bella’s neck as her phone glared back at her from the sink top. She re-read the text again and again, her ears roaring with jet engines of dread.
I need to warn Yasmine.
She packed her makeup haphazardly back into her bag, then steamrolled into the hallway. In an effort to put as much distance between her and Yasmine as possible, she’d walked herself to the bathroom on the third floor.
A decision she was regretting deeply now, as her heels padded across the floor of the insurmountably long corridor, her hand hugging the railing as she looked down at the foyer.
Unlike the hallways on the lower floors, this one was open on one side, so she had a full view of the winding driveway leading into the compound’s courtyard.
Five cars sat parked out front, all unmistakably high-end: long, glossy bodies with deep-tinted glass, wide grilles, and oversized wheels.
Status symbols of the modern epoch. While still obviously expensive, there was one vehicle that looked slightly out of place—or rather out of era. It was a long black limousine.
It looks like it could belong to the nomenklatura. Her mother had desperately wanted to be a part of that flashy Soviet bureaucracy.
The doorbell rang. From her perch over the railing, Bella watched Bruce open it with a grin.
Her adrenaline spiked, then calmed, when a family of four entered.
A father dressed in a tuxedo, his wife in a plain blue dress.
Their two children were fully grown but more energetic, anywhere in age between twenty-five and a thousand.
“Good evening, Mr. Wang,” Bruce said, taking the man’s jacket. “Drinks are being served in the salon. The Kumars, the Garfields, the Kennedys and the Com?necis have all arrived and are excited to catch up with you.”
The Wang patriarch paused as the rest of his family eagerly vanished out of view, heading somewhere under the view of Bella’s railing. “The Com?necis? I’m unfamiliar with a family by that name. Are they from out of town?”
“Very perceptive, Mr. Wang,” Bruce said, slapping the man’s shoulder. Wang grimaced. “It seems the Smiths couldn’t make it, so they gave their invitation to a European vampire family that has been staying with them. They seem like some very upstanding ladies. Maybe one of your sons…”
Bella’s fingers tightened around the railing, splintering the wood. She didn’t wait around to hear the rest of the introduction. She trembled as she sped down the spiral staircase, her mind assaulting her with vivid, grotesque pictures.
She imagined Yasmine’s face melting under the palm of her mother’s hand. She imagined the compound up in flames, Hieronymus Bosch paintings liquefied to tar and dripping across the concrete driveway. Why had she thought she could get away with this? Why had she been so naive and stupid?
All the stress made her skin itch terribly. She felt like she did back at the bar, before Yasmine had rescued her. She couldn’t afford to deal with her body right now.
“Ms. Dragomir!” Bruce greeted warmly once she finally made it to the foyer. “Ms. Sokolov is eagerly waiting for you in the—”
Bella was already stalking into the salon before Bruce could finish his well-rehearsed script. She was forced to cover her eyes as she crossed into the room, blinded briefly by the chandelier light reflecting off someone’s crystal champagne flute.
It felt as if she’d tripped and fallen back into the eighteenth century; the room was long and needlessly formal, with tall sash windows and heavy velvet drapes. Everything smelled perfumed: the napkins, the tables, the silverware.
It was a good imitation. Yasmine had intended to design a place that matched the average age of the vampires attending—a classic nostalgia-inducing technique that, combined with overflowing booze, was wonderful at getting people to open up—and she’d executed it beautifully (well, Rebecca had).
But it made Bella viscerally uncomfortable. She had no desire to travel back in time.
Hugging her arms around her chest, she scanned the room more deliberately.
Small circular tables had been arranged throughout, each draped in white cloth and crowded by clusters of guests.
It was a pretty small gathering so far. About twenty people.
She internally matched faces to the family names she’d heard Bruce mention by the door.
She prayed her sisters were busy flirting with some inconsequential vampire bachelor.
At least no one looked dead or disintegrated yet. Which meant her family was behaving so far. A small miracle.
“Oh, there she is now,” Yasmine shouted. “Bella! Come here. Do you know the Com?necis?”
Yasmine’s voice had never curdled dread inside of Bella until then.
It was the one corner of the room she hadn’t examined yet. Tucked away behind the door to the kitchen, three figures were standing with their backs to her.
She didn’t need to see their faces to recognize them.
It was obvious in the ways their shoulder blades flared at an unnatural angle, threatening to rip out of the back of their satin gowns; their handbags (Gucci, Gucci, and her mother’s treasured Dior); Teodora’s fidgeting foot tapping under the table; the scar running down Sabina’s neck that she covered with the wrong color foundation; and of course, her mother’s long, black wig, the same wig for centuries.
The sentimental attachment she had to it would be sweet, if it was anyone else.
They turned around all at once, heads swiveling like a trio of owls.
Yasmine’s expression faltered when she saw Bella’s face drain of color.
She must have looked as desperate and helpless as she felt.
What was she supposed to do? She couldn’t fight her family all at once, especially with her powers repressed like this.
Could Yasmine handle them? She couldn’t imagine something as weak as a nightmare deterring her mother. Her mother was haunted by nothing.
I won’t let them hurt her. That was the only thought Bella had as she stalked towards them, undeterred by their startled expressions.
She circled the table and stood next to Yasmine, immediately grasping her wrist with her gloved hand.
It did nothing—it protected her in no way—but she couldn’t stop herself.
Sabina, as always, was the first one to speak. “How did you…” she began. She probably would have finished with …get here so quickly, but their mother cut her off mid-sentence, extending her hand across the table.
“How nice to meet you, Bella,” she said, the very picture of a graceful stranger. “I’m Ileana Com?neci. These are my daughters, Vivianna and Cessi.”
Vivianna and Cessi. It seems her mother hadn’t even opted for new aliases—she’d reached in the laundry bag and upcycled last century’s names. Sabina and Teodora looked up at Ileana in complete confusion. Sabina was at least semi-decent at hiding it, but Teodora looked like a lost baby bird.
“Do you not recognize her, Mother?” Teodora said. “That’s—”
Ileana smacked Teodora’s side with her purse. “Your facial recognition skills are concerningly bad, dear. We’ve never met this lovely girl. Have we, Vivianna?”
Sabina’s mouth opened and closed. She looked like she was panicking. If it wasn’t for the situation at hand, Bella would have found that amusing.
“I find it crazy that you all haven’t met before.
Are there really that many vampire clans from Romania?
” Yasmine said, frowning endearingly as she looked between them.
It was both adorable and deeply concerning how little subtext she had just picked up on.
“Then again, I guess it’s like subject zero for vampirism out there, with Dracula and everything. Did you all know Dracula?”
“Of course,” Ileana said, taking a sip of champagne. Bella noted the long black gloves she was wearing on both hands—both her sisters wore the same. “We dated for a small time. Those were desperate days.”
Yasmine gasped, absolutely delighted. Bella had no idea she was such a gossip. Another thing she’d love to find out under different conditions.
“And were the rumors true?” Yasmine asked conspiratorily.
“That he was all-powerful? Please. Not at all. He was a total sham. In reality, his power was that he could turn really small. Like, palm-of-your-hand tiny. It was completely useless, unless you enjoy living life through the perspective of a sewer rat. He couldn’t even eavesdrop effectively because his power made his eardrums too tiny.
All the impressive rumors he spread about himself were just him overcompensating. ”
Yasmine laughed so hard she choked on her champagne. It stung, how much Bella loved that laugh—and then knowing who had caused it. The thought that there was a universe where her mother and Yasmine might really get along hurt more.
Allowing herself to play in that nonexistent universe for a moment, just like she did as a child, she shyly lifted her eyes to meet her mother’s.
Maybe this doesn’t have to end in disaster.
There was a possibility that Ileana was here to barter with Yasmine in earnest for the contract.
Ileana knew how deadly Yasmine could be—maybe she’d be wiser than to try and steal from her.
But then, if that were true, why was she lying now?
Her mother was as unpredictable as the weather in April.
She was a cunning woman, but she was also an overconfident one, and her pride was her sore spot.
A sore spot that apparently hadn’t faded in their time apart.
This became abundantly clear as Yasmine bent down to clear her throat, and Ileana’s eyes met hers with a cold severity.
“You lied to us,” she mouthed. She didn’t look angry, which was even scarier than the alternative. “You said she’d be in Los Angeles.”
Bella visibly winced. It would have been a fine lie, if not for fucking Charlie Smith.
“I didn’t…” Bella began, but then Yasmine was already standing back up, having successfully gotten her drink down her throat.