Real Vampires Get Lucky

"So you see, Gloriana, something simply must be done about these vampires who are refusing to be discreet. There's a real movement in Eastern Europe that's attracting young radicals."

"There are always a few like that in America too, Igor." He had given me permission to call him that. "But it sounds like your part of the world is in crisis." I stifled a yawn. Yes, even vampire politics can turn into a bore. And I could hear the music from the terrace calling me.

"In crisis. Very well put, my dear." Igor picked up my hand, ignoring Mag's sound of disapproval. "These renegades endanger us all, of course. Vampires such as you, working hard to make a living with your little shop and trying to stay undetected." Igor smiled.

"I shudder to remember the days of vampire hunters with their torches and stakes."

"Igor, really, this is a party, is it not?" Mag rose and shook out her skirts. "I want to dance."

"Of course, my dear. I'm being a dead bore. You're right to chastise me." Igor held on to my hand and helped me to my feet. "Shall we all go out to where the band is playing? I wouldn't mind dancing myself."

I couldn't believe Mag had come to my rescue. I'd be damned if I'd smile at her though. I looked longingly to where I'd tossed my cloak. It was gone. A maid had silently collected it a half hour before. I guess I was going to have to keep an eye on my sliding and slithering top. Certainly Igor was.

We all trooped down the hall just as a maid began hitting a little gold xylophone to chime a warning that the entertainment was going to begin in ten minutes. We could hear the band before we got there. Someone had requested a Glenn Miller medley. World War II jitterbug. Obviously those immortals who'd been around back then were out on the floor working it. Including . . . Jerry and Mara.

I stood next to Mag and felt her claws sink into my arm when I started to step forward.

"Aren't they a handsome couple?" Mag turned to Igor. "Mara's been giving Jeremiah dance lessons. He's just a natural, isn't he?"

"Do you know this dance, Gloriana?" Igor smiled down at me. "I learned from the American nurses in England during the war. I had an interesting time then."

"I'll just bet you did." I took his arm, wrenching my other arm free from Mag. "I'd love to dance." Thank God for my part in a fifties revue in Vegas. Of course Mara's dress was perfect for the jitterbug, while I looked like I Dream of Jeannie on speed. That wasn't about to stop me though.

Igor could have taken the trophy on Dancing With the Stars. We soon left Blade, who, sorry, was not a natural on the dance floor, and Mara, who'd worn one too many petticoats, in our dust. The fact that every man in the audience was waiting to see if my top could contain my bouncing boobs obviously helped our popularity. Igor threw me over his shoulders, through his legs and finally we shimmied off into the night when I was afraid I'd tested my bra straps to the max. I hurriedly jerked up my top. Yep, the girls were showing but hopefully I'd moved fast enough to make them a blur.

We laughed and collapsed into each others arms as the band segued into a slower big band number.

"That was fun!" I took the handkerchief Igor handed me and carefully blotted my makeup. "I hope I didn't embarrass you. You're a terrific dancer! You could have given Fred Astaire lessons!"

"I did!" Igor was grinning while he led us around the back of the crowd to the silver drinks fountain in the living room. He handed me a cup of synthetic. "Drink. You look like you could use it. You were great. But if you want a few private lessons . . ."

"Thanks. You know, for a while I was hooked on your Bloodthirsty." I sipped the B negative, then sat on a chair nearby. I looked around for Jerry and saw him in deep discussion with his mother and Mara. "I hate to tell you this, but there was something wrong with it. It just didn't do it for me. Energywise." I took another sip. "This is much better. I'll have to ask Damian the brand. Sorry, Igor, but I'm switching again."

Jerry strolled up. "She's right, Igor. What's wrong with your quality control? After a week or so of your stuff, she was so weak she almost fell off a cliff." He took a cup and filled it. "This is more like it."

"This is Bloodthirsty too, Gloriana, Jeremiah." Igor ran a hand through his dark hair, looked around and gestured toward the front door. "Please. Will you come with me for a moment? Both of you?"

"What?" I looked at Jerry, but we followed Igor, who shooed a startled maid out of the small powder room that had been turned into an auxiliary cloak room and shut us inside.

I leaned against a sable stole and wished I had it in my shop to sell. It was worth big bucks.

"Okay, Igor, what's the big mystery?" Jerry didn't appreciate being wedged between a toilet and a black marble pedestal sink. Igor shook his head. "I have done a terrible thing, a terrible thing."

"What have you done, Igor?" Jerry tried to adjust his sword and the toilet flushed.

"Obviously you know that I own the company that makes Bloodthirsty, Jeremiah." Igor was almost chest to chest with me, his hand planted in sable next to my head. "I own many companies, I support many charities. This is what I do. I'm always looking for ways to help the helpless. And I hate those who take advantage . . ." He looked away.

"The point, Igor?" Jerry wasn't bothering to be tactful. Maybe it was the fact that Igor's chest had just brushed mine that made him testy. I was okay with that.

"A man came to me. He wanted to give me a lot of money to have access to my computer records in one of my companies. And I'd just found out about those poor were-kittens! They needed so much!" Igor made eye contact with me. "So I listened to him. He wanted to know when you, Gloriana, ordered a blood substitute from me. You never had, so he sent you a coupon and made sure a friend of yours got one too." Igor sighed. "I'm sorry, Gloriana, but I had no reason to care what happened to you. Magdalena has complained about you for years. She says you are a, excuse me, slut, who wants Jeremiah's money and his status. Claims you are lower class-"

"That's enough, Igor." Jerry's face was red, his sword rattled and the toilet flushed again. "What the hell did you do?"

"This man, this Westwood-"

"Westwood, Brent Westwood?" I knew I looked as astonished as Jerry did. "He's the man who gave you money?"

"Yes, he sent the Bloodthirsty you got. I hope," Igor shuddered. "I hope it wasn't poisoned."

"No. But it could have been. Brent Westwood is a big-game hunter, Igor. He thinks vampires are a trophy. He collects fangs and has a necklace made out of them. Even MacTavish's." I looked at Jerry and saw his pain. "He's tried to take Jerry and me out more than once and has a real hate on for me because I made a fool out of him. Right here, actually. At Damian's Halloween party."

"I didn't know. Please understand, Gloriana. Mag had convinced me you were evil. A bad influence on her son. I thought I was helping a good friend."

"My mother simply refuses to see Glory as she really is." Jerry managed to take my hand. "I'm sorry, Gloriana. I'll talk to her-"

"Don't bother, Jerry. Tell us more, Igor. What else did Westwood do?"

"I don't know. You've been drinking the Bloodthirsty he sent you and nothing happened?" Igor looked sick. I thought about it for a moment. "Nothing. Including none of the energy I need to survive. Killing me long distance wouldn't give Westwood much satisfaction. I guess he wanted me weak. He likes to hunt with a special bow and arrow. He was probably planning to come back and stalk me again. This time I wouldn't be able to fight back."

"Son of a bitch." Jerry looked like he wanted to punch Igor out. Unfortunately the close quarters didn't leave room for much more than a head butt.

"I'm sorry, so sorry." Igor thrust out his chin, like he was willing to give Jerry a shot.

"Wait. Let's think about this. How to use this information to our advantage. Jerry, when you head over to Europe to look for Lily, maybe you can launch a surprise attack." I admit I hated to see Jerry go, especially with Mara by his side, but if they could rid the world of the bastard Westwood . . . "Igor, don't let Westwood know you're on to him yet. Okay?"

"Yes, I can help you with that, Jeremiah. I am renting this Westwood a villa near my factory in Transylvania."

"By God, Igor. Next you'll tell me you've arranged security for him."

"Well . . ."

I wedged myself between the two men when I heard a clang and a flush. Oh, great. Jerry was going for the broadsword. "Cool it, Jerry. Igor couldn't know our history with Westwood. Blame your mother. She's the one who made him think I'm the moneygrubbing slut of all time."

"Now that I've met you, Gloriana, I see Magdalena is so wrong. You're charming. Not at all as she's painted you." Igor backed up until he must have been way too cozy with the door knob, and I figured Jerry had managed to show his sword. "Truth be told, I never met this man Westwood. We communicated through e-mail, phone and intermediaries." Jerry growled. "I'll bet. Pretty tight with your own security, aren't you? You just didn't give a damn what happened to Glory."

"What's done is done, Jerry. At least now we know where Westwood is hiding out. I'm sure you'll be able to finally get to him there and take him out permanently." More sword rattling.

"And I'll help you, Jeremiah. Any way I can. Also I have to make this up to you, Gloriana." Igor looked thoughtful. "I'll send you free Bloodthirsty. Any type you want. Just not the type Westwood's been sending you. Then you'll know it's safe, full strength. I'm so sorry, Gloriana."

"Hey, that's a nice start, Igor. Thanks." I wasn't about to turn that down.

"Free synthetic is not nearly enough, Igor." Jerry obviously had a lot more to say. "You're damned lucky Glory wasn't seriously injured. You realize that if I let other vampires know what you've done, your business is finished; don't you?"