Venom in the Veins Read online

  I wasn’t surprised, but frustration still surged through me. The answer was probably right under my nose, so close and obvious that I just couldn’t see it. That was the way these things always went.

  But even more worrisome, I felt like I knew the answer to my questions—who had hired the muggers, who was targeting Mosley, and why this party seemed identical to Amelia’s bash.

  I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that I was forgetting something extremely important, something I should have remembered the second I’d found that photo of Mosley and Amelia in Fletcher’s file. Once again, I racked my brain, but I couldn’t quite grab hold of the memories that were buried in the muck of my mind.

  But I wasn’t ready to give up, so I looked at Finn again. “Did anything out of the ordinary happen today? Anyone suspicious come by the bank? Any threats at all?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. We worked all morning and through lunch reviewing several accounts, then came over here this afternoon to oversee the auction setup. We’ve been here ever since.”

  “So you actually haven’t been beset by deadly assassins at every turn,” Owen drawled.

  Finn took a sip from his glass, then made a face. “Not unless you think that drinking flat champagne qualifies as mortal danger. But with this cheap swill, that may very well be the case.”

  Although I hope you have something down there that’s better than that cheap champagne the waiters are serving. It’s already lost all of its bubbles.

  The sound of my own voice whispered in my mind as I thought about that snide remark I’d made to Amelia. On impulse, I grabbed Finn’s glass out of his hand and took a drink.

  “Hey!” he protested.

  I ignored him and swished the liquid around in my mouth, really tasting it. I couldn’t be certain, since it had been so long ago, but it seemed just like the champagne that had been served that night, right down to how flat it was. This was rapidly going from weird to downright creepy.

  The few bubbles in the champagne still tickled my sinuses, and I had to swallow and wrinkle my nose to keep from sneezing. Finn, Bria, and Owen all stared at me with puzzled expressions, so I handed the glass off to a passing waiter and forced myself to smile at them.

  “Sorry. I was thirsty.”

  They all kept staring at me, clearly wondering what was going on, but luckily for me, Mosley walked over to us, along with Mallory and Lorelei. Mosley grabbed Bria’s hand and bowed to her, before doing the same to me.

  “Bria, Gin,” he rumbled. “You both look wonderful. I hope that Finn and Owen realize how lucky they are.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Owen wrapped his arm around my waist and hugged me close.

  I reached up and tweaked his bow tie. “And I know it too.”

  He grinned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

  I grinned back at him for a second, then tipped my head to Mosley. “And you’re looking quite dashing yourself. Especially given what happened last night.”

  Mosley harrumphed and waved his hand. “I’ve already moved past that nasty incident, and you should too, Gin. Despite what you might think, I highly doubt that anyone is after me.”

  Mallory elbowed him in the side. “And Gin is the professional here, not you, Stuey. If you won’t listen to me, then you should at least listen to her.”

  Stuey? I mouthed to Lorelei. She grinned and shrugged back at me.

  “Well, I’ll be a lot better once this whole circus is over with,” Mosley grumbled. “Seriously, what did we need with ice-skaters? What do they have to do with the auction? But that’s what the board members wanted. One of them, anyway.”

  “Just one of them?” Bria asked.

  He sighed. “Yes, the proverbial thorn in my side.”

  Mallory patted his arm in understanding. “Don’t feel bad, Stuey. That woman would drive anyone plumb crazy with all of her demands.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  Mosley had started to answer me when a series of whispers rippled through the crowd, indicating that someone particularly rich, powerful, scandalous, or all three had arrived.

  The crowd parted as a woman strode across the terrace toward us. She was stunningly beautiful, with long black hair wound up into an elaborate braided bun, green eyes, and flawless skin. Her sequined emerald-green evening gown clung to her body like a second skin, while a slit up the side accentuated her long, lean legs.

  She strutted over to us with all the confidence of a supermodel working the catwalk, knowing that everyone was watching her and her alone. Her smooth, sinuous movements were the epitome of grace, beauty, and elegance, but they also reminded me of the way a panther might stalk its prey for the night.

  My eyes widened, and my gaze darted from one thing to the next. Her hair, eyes, skin, dress, even the way she moved. Just like the party decorations and the white roses, everything about her was eerily, sickeningly familiar.

  The woman walking toward me looked exactly like Amelia Eaton.

  Chapter Ten

  The woman stopped right in front of me, put her hand on her hip, and struck a pose, as if inviting everyone to admire her. No, not inviting admiration, demanding it.

  I kept staring at her, but her features were the same as before. Black hair, green eyes, perfect skin. I even spotted the pearly flash of fangs in her mouth that marked her as a vampire.

  It was like Amelia Eaton had stepped right out of my worst nightmares and back into the real world to haunt me. The edges of my vision blurred, my heart hammered in my chest, and the champagne I’d drunk roiled around in my stomach, threatening to come back up.

  Dead, I reminded myself. Amelia was dead, and I was the one who’d made her that way.

  The cold, hard knowledge comforted me. Slowly, my vision cleared, my heart slowed, and the champagne stayed down in my stomach, where it belonged. I drew in a deep breath and let it out to further steady myself, although it took me another moment to shake off the last of my shock.

  When I was calm, I studied her again, much more carefully this time, and I finally started to notice the subtle differences between this woman and the one I’d killed.

  She looked to be in her mid-twenties, which made her younger than Amelia had been when she died. This woman was also a bit taller, with a strong, muscled body that still had plenty of curves in all the right places. Her nose was a touch longer, her cheekbones a bit higher, her eyes a lighter, brighter green. Still, the resemblance was uncanny. This woman wasn’t Amelia Eaton, but she was the next closest thing: her daughter.

  Amelia’s daughter. Of course. How could I have forgotten about her?

  Those memories buried in the muck of my mind immediately broke free and flooded my thoughts, each one bringing a fresh wave of pain with it—along with more than a little guilt, shame, and self-loathing.

  I hadn’t forgotten about Amelia’s daughter. Not really. It had just never occurred to me that she could be connected to the attack on Mosley, especially since I was the one who’d killed her mother. But even more than that, I hadn’t wanted to think about what I had done to her, especially since it was the same cruel, heartless, unforgivable thing that had been done to me once upon a time.

  She must have sensed my surprise, because she stared right back at me, her gaze flicking over me from top to bottom. Her mouth puckered in thought, but after a few seconds, she dismissed me as unimportant and turned to Mosley.

  “Stuart,” she said in a cool voice. “So lovely to see you.”

  She stepped forward and air-kissed both of his cheeks. Mosley didn’t move away, but he didn’t return the gesture either.

  “Everyone,” he said. “This is Alanna Eaton. She’s on the Briartop board of directors and has been very…involved in planning the auction.”

  Alanna.

  The name slammed into my heart like a knife, even as screams echoed in my ears—her screams. But no one else seemed to notice my misery, so I shoved my memories back down into the muck of my mind. There would be plenty of time lat
er to drag them out into the light, examine them, and catalog my many, many failings.

  Given Mosley’s hesitation in describing her, Alanna must be the person who’d been causing him so many headaches over the past few weeks. That meant she was most likely responsible for the ice-skaters on the frozen lake and the other decorations—the same kind of decorations that had been strung up here the night I killed her mother. Seemed as if I wasn’t the only one who was obsessed with the past.

  “Alanna,” Mosley said, “I want to thank you again for all your help. Everything turned out beautifully.”

  “Oh, no. Thank you, Stuart. I’m so glad you decided to take me up on my suggestion to hold the auction at my family’s home.”

  Alanna smiled, but the expression didn’t even come close to reaching her eyes, and her tone was anything but warm, despite her seemingly kind words. She reminded me of a marble statue—sleek and beautiful but utterly cold to the core.

  “After all,” she continued, “I don’t get to visit the family homestead nearly as much as I would like, given all the weddings, parties, and picnics that you book here year-round.”

  She said weddings, parties, and picnics like she really meant invasions, epidemics, and plagues. Mosley winced, as though she’d just sliced open his guts with her verbal daggers.

  Everyone knew that the Eaton Estate could be rented out for weddings, anniversary dinners, and the like—for a hefty fee, of course. Among the society folks, having an event here was a status symbol that told everyone how much money you had. But the way Alanna was talking made it seem like Mosley was renting out the estate against her wishes. But how could he do that? Alanna owned the estate…didn’t she?

  She looked at Mosley a moment longer, then plucked one of the white roses out of a vase on the table next to her. She brought the flower up to her nose and inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent, before tucking it behind her right ear. “I think the roses are the perfect finishing touch, don’t you?”

  Mosley cleared his throat. “Yes. Just like you said they would be on the phone last night. I’m glad we were able to add them at the last minute.”

  “Mmm.” Once again, her tone was anything but warm, despite his compliment.

  So Alanna was the one who’d been repeatedly calling Mosley last night. She seemed like the kind of person who would incessantly quibble over the smallest detail until she got her way, but I wondered if she’d had an ulterior motive. All those calls would have also been an excellent way to track Mosley, especially if she’d ordered a couple of hired hands to kidnap the dwarf and bring him to her. That would make her smart and devious, as well as demanding. A dangerous combination.

  Mosley cleared his throat again. “Let me introduce you.”

  He made the introductions. Alanna inclined her head to everyone in turn, although she didn’t step forward and air-kiss anyone else’s cheeks.

  “And let me introduce my companions as well.” Alanna snapped her fingers, and a man separated himself from the crowd and strode over to us. He was a couple of inches over six feet tall, with spiky blond hair, hazel eyes, and a muscled body. “This is Terrence Phelps, my head of security.”

  Phelps smiled, showing off his fangs. So he was a vampire like his boss.

  “And now let me introduce my date,” Alanna purred, her voice taking on a note of sly satisfaction. “Darling! Over here!”

  She fluttered her hand, and another man broke free of the crowd and strode toward us. His black tuxedo highlighted his tall, strong body, and his black hair and eyes gleamed under the lights, as did the neatly trimmed black goatee that clung to his chin. He had one of those ageless faces, although I knew he was in his fifties, roughly the same age my mother would have been, if she had lived.

  If this man hadn’t been involved in her murder.

  Cold shock doused me from head to toe, like I was a figure skater who’d been unfortunate enough to crack open a hole in the elemental Ice and plunge into the chilly lake water below. I blinked and blinked, wondering if my mind was playing tricks on me the way it had with Alanna.

  But it wasn’t.

  He was here. At the auction. Walking toward me as though he weren’t my own personal nemesis.

  The man reached Alanna, and she gazed up at him a moment before turning her attention back to the rest of us.

  “Everyone, this is my date for the evening,” she purred again, that same sly, satisfied note in her voice. “Hugh Tucker.”

  * * *

  That cold shock intensified, like I had ice running through my veins instead of blood. My fingers, my toes, even the tip of my nose. Everything felt frozen right now, especially my heart, which somehow kept beating, despite the frigid fist that squeezed it tight.

  I just stood there, staring dumbfounded at the vampire. Even with my rampant paranoia about the Circle and their many plots, I’d never expected to see him here. Hugh Tucker kept to the shadows, where he could better carry out the Circle’s deadly schemes. This was the first time he had crawled out into the light of such a public event since Deirdre Shaw’s death.

  So why was he here? Why the charity auction? And what did he have going on with Alanna?

  The questions shattered my shock and swirled around in my mind like the white rose petals fluttering through the air. The flowers weren’t the only things here that were rotten.

  Owen and Finn both tensed, as stunned and wary as I was. So did Mosley, Mallory, and Lorelei. But Bria had a far more unexpected—and violent—reaction. My baby sister darted forward and slapped Hugh Tucker across the face as hard as she could.

  The solid, satisfying crack of her hand against his cheek echoed across the terrace, even louder than the classical music. Everyone stopped their conversations to stare at us. The society folks knew a juicy bit of intrigue when they saw it.

  “That was for my mother, you son of a bitch!” Bria hissed.

  Her blue eyes glittered with rage, and her fingers twitched, like she was thinking about slapping him again. My sister didn’t often lose her temper, but when she did, watch out. And I knew exactly what she was pissed about: Tucker’s failure to stop our mother’s murder, despite his claims that he’d loved her.

  Terrence Phelps stepped up beside Tucker, as if to protect the other vampire from any more slaps, but Alanna made no move to intervene. Instead, she stood off to the side, an amused expression on her face. It was the first bit of real emotion she’d shown this whole time.

  Several giant guards headed in our direction, but Mosley waved off his men, silently telling them that he had the situation under control. He also looked over at the orchestra members and made a circular motion with his finger, asking them to start playing again. After a few more seconds of shocked silence, music floated through the air again, and people slowly returned to their conversations, although all eyes were still focused on us.

  Tucker remained calm in the face of Bria’s anger. He lifted his hand to his cheek, massaging away the red, lingering sting of the slap, then smiled at her, showing off his white fangs.

  “Lovely Bria. You are the spitting image of your mother,” he murmured. “And even more important, you have Eira’s fighting spirit, just like your equally lovely sister does.”

  He’d meant it as a compliment, but rage stained Bria’s cheeks a dark pink. She lunged forward like she was going to slap him again, but Finn grabbed her arm, and she let him stop her.

  “You’re just lucky that I can’t shoot you in front of all these witnesses!” she hissed again.

  Tucker’s smile widened, revealing even more of his sharp, pointed fangs. “What can I say? I have always been exceptionally lucky that way.”

  “Oh, yes,” I said in a dry tone. “Cockroaches always find a way to survive.”

  Tucker turned his toothy smile to me. “Oh, be nice, Gin. Don’t insult the cockroaches like that.”

  Mosley crossed his arms over his chest. “I should have you removed, Tucker.”

  “Oh, but you won’t do that, Stuart,” Alan
na said. “You wouldn’t want to cause any more of a scene than your friends already have. After all, that might impact the success of the auction, and we just can’t have that. All those poor widows and orphans affected by the Briartop robbery deserve every single penny that we can raise for them.”

  She didn’t care about all those poor widows and orphans. Not one little bit. She was just twisting the situation around to her advantage. But as much as I hated to admit it, she was right about the drama distracting people. Everyone was still staring at us with open curiosity, and several people were on their phones, probably texting the gossip to their friends.

  “Why did you bring him here?” Mosley growled.

  Alanna’s eyes glittered with triumph, and a thin, satisfied smile curved her red lips. “Because this is my family’s home, and I have the right to bring whomever I want here. Despite your feelings to the contrary.”

  Mosley’s lips pinched into a tight line, but he didn’t respond to her taunt.

  Alanna snapped her fingers again. “Phelps, be a dear and fetch me a drink.”

  Phelps nodded, then walked over to a waiter.

  “Come now, Hugh, darling,” she said. “Let’s have a drink. All this boring conversation is making me terribly thirsty.”

  Tucker’s nostrils flared a bit, and a spark of annoyance flashed in his black eyes, as if he didn’t like being called her darling. But the emotion vanished as quickly as it had appeared, and he held his arm out, playing the part of the perfect gentleman to her elegant lady.

  Alanna threaded her arm through his. She gave Mosley one more satisfied smirk, and then the two of them strode away into the still-curious crowd.

  Chapter Eleven

  Alanna Eaton glided away like a shark swimming through the shallows, searching for her dinner for the night, with Hugh Tucker right by her side.

  Owen, Finn, Bria, Mosley, Mallory, Lorelei, and I watched them move from one person to the next, Alanna exchanging air kisses and cooing pleasantries to everyone, while Tucker stood silently by her side.