“Now, for the finishing touch.” Arabella lifts the lid from an old-fashioned garment box. “I bought this in Paris, but it doesn’t fit me. And since you’ve volunteered us all as the help and I’m stuck in these degrading polyester trousers … you may as well have it.”
Arabella unfurls a dress that leaves my jaw on the ground. It’s made of some kind of shimmering golden material that catches the light and reflects a rainbow of colours. It’s cut on the bias with sheer panels placed in the most scandalous arrangement, and as far as I can tell, there is no back to the garment at all – just a series of strings.
“What do you think?” She grins.
“Wh-wh-where’s the rest of it?”
Arabella shoves me and the dress into the bathroom. “If you don’t put that dress on, I will come in there and do it for you.”
My heart hammering, I shuck off my clothes and try to sort through the tangle of straps. Outside, I can hear the Nevermore Murder Club chatting away as they pull on their servers uniforms and check their spy cameras are concealed and working perfectly. Mina’s husband Morrie is hiding in a secret room off the library, monitoring all the equipment.
Everyone is here except for Celeste, who had to see her mother so couldn’t make it. They’re all excited to meet a room full of vampires who view them as snacks and unmask the murderer once and for all.
Please, don’t let this be a big mistake.
I manage to pull the dress over my head and get the straps laid mostly correctly. I smooth down the front and dare a peek at myself in the mirror.
Okay. The dress looks good.
Damn good.
The sheer panels run down the sides and pierce across my stomach, flowing and dipping in just the right places to show off my curves. I turn around, and the thin laces crisscross my back,giving glimpses of skin along a low slit that reaches nearly to my arse. If I bend over in the wrong company, I could give some poor old vampire a heart attack.
Can I really go to a vampire ball on the full moon in this?
“Are you ready to come out?” Mina calls.
“Yeah, we want to see!”
“If you are climbing out a window to escape wearing that dress, I’d like to point out that this tower is several stories above a shark-infested moat,” adds Arabella.
“There are no sharks,” says Dora. “Winnie, please don’t believe her. There areno sharks.”
“After you fall several stories into a moat, whether there are sharks or not is a moot point,” Arabella huffs.
“I’m not climbing out the window.” I grip the door handle. “I’m coming out. Please don’t laugh.”
I step into the bedroom. Seven heads turn to me. One by one, their mouths fall open.
“Winnie Preston, youfox,” Isis screeches.
“Alaric’s gonna wish he died again,” Komal purrs.
“I am a fashiongenius,” Arabella preens. “That dress was made for you.”
“I believe it was made foryou,” I point out. “Maybe I should change …”
“Don’t give her a moment to second-guess herself.” Komal shoves me towards the door. “Alaric is waiting downstairs. And we need to get to the kitchens and start making those blood cocktails. Isis, do you have the truth potion?”
“Dora’s got it. Apparently, I can’t be trusted with breakable vials.” Isis makes a face as she plonks down on the bed, knocking over her purse and sending an avalanche of makeup and crystal necklaces off the side of the bed.
Dora fishes around in her purse and pulls out the potion.
“I’ll take that.” Arabella holds out her hand. “Since I’mmixing the drinks.”
Arabella would only agree to help tonight if she could stay in the kitchens and mix the cocktails. She said she couldn’t have any of her clients in the room see her in a uniform or her business would be ruined.
Mina picks up Oscar’s lead. The ladies crowd around the mirror for one final fit check before herding me down the narrow tower staircase. Alaric waits at the bottom, Mirabelle simpering around his ankles. When I see him, the butterflies in my belly practise their Olympic diving routine.
