Isidoro angles his head to the side, his gaze moving up and down as he scans me. “It’s the kind of event where only perfection is acceptable, dear Thomas.” His incisors make an appearance. “Which I am glad to say, both of you now are.”
The lounge clears of people and vampires, leaving just the three of us. Isidoro gestures toward the corridor. “The plane is waiting.”
He leads us outside, through the luscious garden and to the gates, then down the overgrown path in the forest until we reach the landing strip. A jet plane sits at the near end, its sleek, white body gleaming under the bright sun. The doors swing open when we approach.
“Good afternoon and welcome onboard, Mr. Altamirano,” a man dressed in a white shirt and black pants welcomes us on the plane, bowing his head.
We follow him to the seating area with the table, where a selection of fruit, pastries and alcohol already awaits. I recognize the opulent interior around us, concluding this must be the same plane that picked us up from Doña Chela’s village.
“You’re coming with us?” I raise an eyebrow at Isidoro, who accepts a glass of wine from the steward.
“To the Gala? Oh, no.” He takes a small sip and shakes his head while the plane’s engines come to life. “I will be recognized immediately. But I will be nearby and waiting, in case… Well. Let’s hope there won’t be a need for backup.”
Right. There is that. Things might not go according to plan, and then Niko and I are fucked. Part of me wonders how we even got in this situation when Isidoro was the one who was supposed to help us get rid of our problem, but I guess it also makes sense that he can’t really take on an entire vampire clan for us on his own. Especially since he’s kind of in hiding after his parents were murdered and his crown was stolen.
My hand automatically goes to the pocket of my pants, where the red stone is safely tucked away. Icontemplated leaving it in Isidoro’s house, but didn’t want to risk him, or one of his servants, finding it. Now that I think about it, it’s also a bummer it takes time for it to bond with its new vampire master or whatever, because I’d probably have caved and given it to him if it meant Niko and I didn’t have to go into a den full of predators and pretend we belong there. Oh, well. At least Niko let me go with him. I’d have lost my mind if he had forced me to stay behind.
The plane starts moving. Before I have time to panic as the takeoff quickly approaches, Niko’s hand is already on my thigh, firm and grounding. I look up at him, finding only fondness in his expression as he leans his shoulder against mine.
My stomach still feels like it’s trying to eat itself from the inside out, but the sensation passes quicker than usual. I don’t freak out, I don’t feel like I’m about to plunge to the ground and splatter. It’s a start.
The flight itself is rather uneventful with no naughty encounters in the cramped bathroom this time around. We arrive in New York just after seven in the evening.
“We’ll swing by a couple of places before we head over,” Isidoro announces.
“Isn’t the Gala in like two hours?” I ask when we get off the plane, after I’ve made sure to thank the staff and pilots for the great service and steady cruise.
“It is,” Isidoro confirms, his long black coat billowing behind him. “But we need to pick up your invitations and stake out the venue as best as we can in the little time we have.”
Right. Of course. That makes sense. We don’t want to walk into this completely blind.
“You’ve already sourced the invitations?” Niko asks.
We enter the terminal building, but not through one of the usual gates. We use a staff-only access point, which then takes us straight to the street on the other side. A black SUV waits there.
“Yes. We extracted the information from the Crimson Crew individual we had in our captivity,” Isidoro explains, climbing into the back of the car. He has to mean the guy they had in that ritual room.
Once all three of us are settled comfortably, the vehicle starts moving.
“It’s only a matter of picking them up, don’t worry. And I have your credentials and IDs ready. We’ll grab them afterwards.”
We drive downtown while Niko and Isidoro discuss the logistics of fake identities and our disguises, whether they’ll hold up and whatnot. I’m not really worried. Maybe I should be, but now that the time has almost come to start our mission, I’m kind of buzzing with excitement.
Our first stop is a mechanic’s garage in Chelsea. A woman with tattooed arms and long braided hair hands the SUV’s driver a package, then taps on the car’s roof. We don’t linger, leaving as soon as the driver has handed the package to Isidoro.
He opens it. The invitations he takes out are luxurious black paper decorated with gold and dried flowers. “Here. Anthony and Charlie.”
I let Niko put away my invitation along with his own. They fit in the pocket of his coat, which is currently draped over the empty part of the seat.
After we collect the fake IDs from a jeweler in Lenox Hill, we drive south to Tribeca. Our destination is one of the high buildings near Washington Market Park.
“Let me make a phone call,” Isidoro says, dialing someone on his mobile as the car comes to a stop near some trees.
His conversation is quick and vague, and when he hangs up, tension filters into his features.
“Everything alright?” Niko tosses, facing his friend.
“The contact I had couldn’t make it inside. I’m afraid youwillhave to go in blind.”
