33

We drove slowly up to the house, stuck behind an obnoxious tank-like SUV. With an annoying amount of awe, Stephen informed the party that it was a Mercedes AMG G65, one of the most exclusive vehicles of its type. I guess that was to be expected.

Finally we reached the end of the access road. The house looked even more impressive up close. The lights that covered the façade glittered, reflecting off the building's white walls like a million tiny stars, or the life-force of a powerful witch. Its brilliance was spectacular.

Cold fear crept through my veins making my skin cold and rubbery. I had to keep reminding myself that only I could see magic like this. It wasn't a message or a warning. It couldn't be.

The Merc came to a stop in front of the house, and a valet emerged to open the door for its occupants. A middle-aged woman descended from the passenger side wearing what looked like a bright fuchsia wedding dress paired with four inch green stilettos. The gown had a tight low-cut corset bodice and a voluminous skirt, extended to an unnatural width with a hooped underskirt.

Surprise washed away one niggling doubt. There was no way that I was going to be considered over-dressed tonight.

The woman turned to our car and glared. Looks like Stephen's Prius didn't quite meet her expectations. Well her gaudy dress met mine and then some, and that was nothing compared to her powdered wig and painted face.

If it wasn't for the purple haze that identified her as a witch, I would have guessed that she was a vampire, stuck in the fashions of the eighteenth century.

When her escort joined her, I realised that he was probably the one that had chosen their outfits. The short man's thigh length silk jacket was green with fuchsia flowers embroidered all over it. It was an unattractively tight fit, with his belly straining against the unyielding silk fabric. Knee length green silk breeches and fuchsia tights finished his showy outfit.

The man's powdered wig was so high that even though he was far shorter than his companion, he surpassed her height by several inches. Thick pancake covered his face, but couldn't disguise the disfiguring scars.

That wig and makeup came in handy for covering his symptoms of syphilis. Bad luck to be turned when you'd already been mangled by such a corrosive STD. The sickly tinge to his power was probably another result of his unfortunate condition, for the dull swampy throbs of energy were definitely vampiric.

Vampire power always felt oppressive to me, but this guy was riddled with decay. The waves of power reached me in fits and starts, an irregularity that I had never sensed in Thomas or James.

Underneath his flamboyance, this vampire hid a terrible secret. His magical spark was failing, he wouldn't be around for long, vampire or not.

Emily kicked the back of my seat. He'd caught me staring. A look of displeasure crossed his face. I hoped to God that he hadn't guessed my thoughts. Did vamps even know that their magic could fail?

I was keeping that little snippet to myself, at least until I could look into it.

Taking me completely by surprise the sickly vamp winked, the movement exposing the missing piece of flesh from his cheek that had been artfully covered with makeup.

Yuk, definitely syphilis, but at least he had a sense of humour.

Dropping my eyes, I caught Stephen giving the vampire a small salute. "Edward Turner, head of the vampire think tank in the DPA," he prompted.

"That is not what I was expecting from your description earlier, and who is the witch?"

"Really, Rachel, a witch? I thought she was just a human hanger on. She's a secretary in the records department. Although I nearly didn't recognise her tonight either," Emily said with a wry smile.

As we discussed the colourful pair, the Merc rolled smoothly away from the drop off point. For an uncomfortable minute, it looked like the valet was going to overlook us – probably thinking we were service staff rather than guests. When Stephen didn't move the car on, they eventually opened the passenger door and I emerged from my chariot with as much grace as I could manage.

Which wasn't much.

The others exited the car without waiting for assistance, and flanked me. It was show time.

As we approached the entrance the weight of the magic inside staggered me. Bracing myself on one of the faux columns that stood either side of the door, I tried to get my head together.

It wasn't easy, not when the power inside that room was singing a beautiful but raucous symphony, calling to me, desperate to make itself heard.

My life-force surged, the magic recognising each note, acknowledging the individuality of each strain, and knowing how to tweak it just so, to converge with the sequence of my silver energy.

The silver particles started to multiply quickly on the exposed skin of my hands, floating into the atmosphere that was already resplendent with light.

Crap.

I had to stop that, and right now. There'd be no tweaking, no merging of power. This gala was a duty. I had to treat it as such without my magic consuming all the delicious energy swarming in that ballroom.

Not for the first time, I wondered why the hell I was lumbered with this 'gift'. It wasn't like I could even defend myself against magic. I could feel the diverse threads of power seeking me out from Roger's guests, and the only impulse I had was to open up and consume it all.

I was so screwed.

An exaggerated tut from the butler waiting at the top of the steps distracted me from the magic straining against the closed doors of the ballroom.

The man was impossibly tall and thin, with a bald head and skin that shone red like it had been scrubbed repeatedly with coal tar soap and cold water. His impeccable black suit further elongated his form, giving the impression that to bring himself to our level for the purpose of communication was to do us a great favour.

I bet he didn't greet the other guests this way.

The thought that I was here to fulfil a different favour, to this guy's employer, no less, was a timely reminder that I needed to comport myself with more care. I couldn't afford to show weakness here.

Scowling at the impolite servant, I tutted right back. I bet he wouldn't have shown us so much disrespect if we had arrived in an expensive vehicle, like the gaudy pair ahead of us. Didn't he know that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover?

Even if life hadn't taught him that lesson, my dress cost more than four thousand pounds. What the hell did this guy want, golden thread and diamond buttons?

Realising it was his job to announce the guests, I fished around in my clutch bag for my invitation. How could something so big be so difficult to find in such a small space?

Finally I yanked it out, crumpled and covered in dirty marks that looked suspiciously like chocolate.

With a condescending sniff, the butler took the piece of card, and then repeatedly smoothed it out, feigning difficulty in deciphering the words.

Bastard.

The next vehicle had already pulled up. It was a limo.

How original.

Important looking security people were converging on the rear passenger door.

Returning my attention to the butler, I plastered what I hoped was a beseeching expression on my face. I really didn't want to draw attention to myself by holding up the queue right from the outset.

The butler pointed at Stephen and shook his head. He didn't even try to hide his satisfied smirk. I glanced back to see Emily speaking on her mobile. She hung up and joined us again at the door.

The butler wouldn't budge. My invitation stated my name only. There was no allocation for a security detail.

"I thought you guys had arranged something?" I hissed.

Just as my embarrassment was fizzling to the very tips of my ears, bringing with it a burning glow that was going to clash spectacularly with my silver gown, the door opened and a head of bouncing strawberry blond curls emerged.

Lizzie, dressed in a simple floor length satin slip the colour of blood. No-one said subtlety was a virtue.

The small vampire embraced Emily, with a kiss on the mouth that lingered for a moment longer than appropriate. Emily returned the embrace, trailing her hand down Lizzie's back, which was naked due to the cut-away style of her gown.

Pulling away from Emily, the vampire then turned to the butler and beckoned him down to her level with a coquettish smile. To my intense surprise, he not only obliged, but did so with a blush. I hadn't thought his skin could get any redder.

A few whispered words were all it took for Lizzie to convince the previously implacable butler to relent. His demeanour returned to one of professional inscrutability. Yet when I passed him, I couldn't help but notice the glare of disdain that flashed in his eyes.

What the hell had I ever done to him?

Before entering the mansion, curiosity got the better of me, and I sneaked a quick glance over my shoulder to see who the VIP was that had arrived just after us with so much pomp and ceremony.

A man and woman stood at the bottom of the steps, waiting for us to clear the way before they approached. Both were dark haired. The man had a broad but trim figure, and the woman was voluptuous but with a tiny waist that gave her an hourglass figure to die for.

They had politely averted their attention as our party sorted out our invitation difficulties. Now it was their turn to approach, the man and woman turned in unison, their movements weirdly synchronised.

Four scarlet eyes met mine, hungry and cruel.

I couldn't prevent the gasp that escaped.

It was pure terror.

Uh oh! Who are these alarming newcomers?