Yet Roger was drawn to the fifth and final statue, to the left of the entrance as they were heading in.
Someone had decided to depicthim. Whether Seamus or Dmitri had insisted, or Candide chose him on her own, he wasn’t sure. But he was standing in an early nineteenth-century outfit, something he recalled wearing for a painting back in the day. Candide had always liked him in that outfit, enjoyed when he was the Gentleman Thief and she had been the Faux Damsel in a highway robbery. He had his hand around the throat of a nude man, several holes replicating vampire bite wounds in the figure’s neck, arms, and legs. His stone face had a pleased smile with a hint of fangs peeking out, made menacing by the red light thrown onto it.
“You’re not forgotten,” Takashi murmured in his ear as he stopped behind Roger.
Roger snapped out of his daze and glanced as subtly as he could to see the reactions of the others. Kit had been drawn closer to Candide’s statue, staring up at her with something close to awe, while Zack was standing between Roger’s and Seamus’s. He was trying to cover up the glare he had fixed on Seamus’s statue, but he hadn’t managed to wipe it clean from his face yet.
Carver looped his arm around Zack’s shoulders and tugged him to stand behind Roger and Takashi.
“Kit,” Zack called.
Kit jumped and then rubbed the back of their head as they hurried over to Zack’s side. “Sorry. And sorry, master. These statues are beautiful.”
Other patrons were filing in and out, and Roger was suddenly self-conscious that he was standing before his own. He nodded and headed for the main door. “They are that.”
“It certainly lives up to expectations,” Takashi said as he strolled alongside Roger. “I’d heard she was trying to match the Europeans for style and lavishness.”
“Ambition has always been one of Candide’s strongest qualities.” Roger pulled on a smile, his guise of the partying playboy.
On either side of the doors stood a man. Both wore black pants and a red jacket with a white collar on their throat. Without a word, they reached forward and opened the doors for Roger’s group.
The foyer had an amber hue to it, the gentle gold highlighting a glittery vein in the tiles. Large vases held bouquets of flowers that were in palettes of red and gold. Their aroma almost overpowered the distinct aroma of death that happened when groups of vampires congregated.
Two portraits hung in dominant places. One was of Seamus, standing with his arm out like he was welcoming guests further into the Chateau. He had the hint of a smile and a devilish gleam in his red eyes. His charm was on full display in the portrait, and Roger couldn’t help the way his heart tugged in longing thatthiswas the true Seamus always was. That was far from the truth, but he could be wonderful when it suited him. And the reminder stung.
The other portrait was of a group. It was from the founding of the Great Lakes Coven in 1872, when they had finally settled and decided they weren’t leaving a place. Roger stood alongside Dmitri and Candide. Anton sat in a chair, legs sprawled as if hesimply didn’t give a damn. Seamus sat in a chair slightly facing Anton but otherwise aimed toward the viewer. He had his hand in the hair of his favored pet of the time, a boy Roger couldn’t remember the name of. They were all a version of themselves for the painting. Seamus, the charming, magmatic master. Dmitri, the serious one, Candide the cunning one, even in painted form. Roger had a casual air to him, while Anton seemed to be bored. Viewing the painting too long gave Roger a chill as if somehow Anton knew when someone was examining it.
Four men dressed in black were doing their best to not look like security despite the silver stakes and handguns on their hips. They had tan collars with Candide’s crest tag, marking them as her employees and announcing that if one tried to eat them, they’d incur her wrath.
In the middle of the foyer was a reception desk, where a man and a woman were working. They wore a more revealing version of the uniform worn by the doormen. Instead of black slacks, they had shorts, and they had well-cut vests instead of blazers. Both wore white collars with the stag that was Candide’s crest.
The woman stepped around the reception desk and bowed in the way pets traditionally did, one wrist out as an offering, head slightly tilted to reveal the long line of her neck, other hand behind her back. “Master Roger, Mistress is pleased you’ve chosen to visit her humble establishment this evening.”
Humble. As if there was a single humble thing about the whole damn building. Upon hearing the word, he snapped out of his reverie for the place. It was what Candide had always wanted to build, but part of the problem had always been the price. Candide was frugal, but she’d been careful not to reveal to Seamus how much she was worth for fear he’d take that as an offense.
However, Roger’s fortune suddenly joining the coffers had either directly given her the money to build such a place, or she’dused it as cover.Probably the former. This is where my money went.
But losing his temper on a subordinate wasn’t only pointless but wrong. Roger pulled together his best charming vampire mask and said smoothly, “I’ve missed my dear friend. I assume that Takashi and I have feeding privileges?”
“Of course, master,” the woman said as she straightened. She kept her gaze on Roger’s feet. “What color chits would you like?”
“Two red apiece should do us,” Roger replied. Red meant they might have more fun than simply drinking, but Roger only cared that they’d be able to have longer drinks from their hosts. They probably weren’t going to have a chance to drink from anyone else that night except for Kit, Zack, and Carver, and Roger had already taken enough from Zack for the night.
“As you desire, master.” The woman went behind the counter and came back with four red coins. Her high heels clicked with every step. She offered two coins in each hand out toward Roger and Takashi, slightly bowing as she did.
Takashi took his two and ran his thumb across the design, a single blood drop with the wordsChateau de Vampirewritten around it. “No mistaking where we are.”
Roger nodded. He said to the woman, “Candide will want to know we’ve arrived.”
“My mistress is in on the property this evening. She planned on entertaining on the second floor. Allow me to give you a tour as you seek her out, master.”
“That would be lovely.”
“My pleasure, master.” The receptionist motioned to the doorway on the left side of the long foyer. “This way, please.”
Nell’s donor house was a wealthy but cozy place. In many ways, it was just a converted house where vampires and mortals happened to hang out and amuse each other.
Chateau de Vampire had all the warmth of a deep freezer in the Arctic. The click of their guide’s heels echoed down the hall. The first room they passed was a sitting room done up in reds and ambers. Patrons stood around, clustered in groups here and there, speaking softly to one another. Collared pets lounged together on one set of sofas while a few donors, denoted by their white collars and Candide’s crest tag, sat on the floor.
