Page 6 of The Shade of Things
There was no back door in this hidden space, so Eli and I went out the way we’d come in—through the front.
It was night here, of course, with a bright moon hanging cheerfully in a cloud-free sky. The focal point of the front yard was a stone fountain with a devil statue. Water sprouted from his pitchfork, splashing gently back into the basin, and moonbeams reflected off the droplets. It was actually quite lovely.
Other than that, there was nothing remarkable about the front or side grounds, so we followed the sound of music around back, pulling up short at the sight of the yard.
It was magical. Okay, yes, as a hidden space it was literally magic, but the oversize rosebushes and rhododendrons in saturated jewel tones were like something out of Wonderland. A magnolia tree exploded with fat silver flowers, wavy gold sunflowers that looked painted by Van Gogh stood seven feet high, and a hedge maze rustled as if continually changing its layout.
No wait. That last part was only cool in a hypothetical way.
Light spilled out from the open glass doors onto a terrace where dark figures mingled to the beat of Latin-flavored electronica. I couldn’t see inside the ballroom yet, but I heard a woman tell her companion that if he liked a bit of spice, he should sample Rex’s redheaded twins.
What the hell did that mean? Then the cold realization crept over me.
Were the vamps holding a tasting party of each other’s donors?
I clenched my fists and Delilah shot up in the shadows behind me, scythe in hand. Eli and I had to rescue these poor people. They weren’t being paid to be passed around like appetizers. Even if they were, did that make it okay? Did they have any real say in the matter?
Eli squeezed my shoulder, shaking his head sharply, and I sighed.
This sucked, but I couldn’t let my emotions get the better of me. We were no match for multiple vamps. No matter how abominably they were treating the humans, I couldn’t go after them, nor would the Lonestars do anything, since vamp behavior was outside the scope of their jurisdiction.
I wrestled my animated shadow down.
For now.
It would be harder to find Ian unobtrusively in this gathering of the undead, but every second Teresa was missing was a second too long.
Howls from somewhere by the maze kicked us into action.
Avoiding the revelers on the terrace, we crept inside the ballroom and froze, overwhelmed by the stench of blood, the pounding bass, and the astounding sight before us.
There were vamps everywhere, some dressed in all-black goth attire with heavy eyeliner, others in steampunk gowns and tiny hats. Black tie, bowling shirts, tight dresses, flouncy dresses, suits in all colors of the rainbow, and one memorable partygoer in white pants and a shirt made of balloons—every age, shape, and ethnicity was represented.
In contrast, the Ohrists were all clad in identical loose-fitting beige tunics and wide-legged trousers. They looked like they belonged in a cult, but they weren’t physically imprisoned.
A DJ wearing fat headphones over one ear nodded along to the records she spun. “Do you want to go higher?” she cried.
The Ohrists and vamps dancing roared their approval, and the DJ’s fangs glinted in the swirling disco lights when she grinned back at them.
Eli let out a whispered “Fuuuuck.”
It was impossible to see past the dancers to whatever was happening at the back. We skirted the wall, heading left instead.
A group of vamps played cards around an enormous poker table. The center was piled high with ridiculous amounts of cash, jewels, and one chubby woman with wispy hair who stood there with a sign around her neck reading, “High acidity. Tart and zesty with vanilla notes.”
She trash-talked a young vamp while a familiar androgynous bloodsucker laughed uproariously, encouraging her.
I blinked because I’d seen her audition to become a donor for that vampire.
Drops of water hit us from behind and we turned, skittering out of the way of two dripping-wet coyotes carrying six-packs in their mouths. Were these the ones we’d heard earlier?
My pulse spiked, but no one batted an eye at their presence.
They shifted into a young male and female. Unconcerned with their nudity, they both retrieved signs describing their blood (buttery and smooth; chewy black currant undertone) from a chair and dropped them over their heads.
The woman tugged a beer can free then tossed the rest of the six-pack to a group of donors with similar signs. “Told you there was more booze out at the creek.”
What the hell was happening here? Where were the poor abused and shackled humans? I planted my hands on my hips.
