Waiting in the Wings (Soulgirls) (14 page)

Trading the bad eyeliner for the fresher one, Kiki chewed her lip. “Some, little pieces, but I know I know him—or knew him.”

“Do you love him?” Minion picked through the powders, choosing the one with the most glitter.

“Yes.” No hesitation or doubt marred the answer. She quivered thinking about him and, for the first time in fifty years, she didn’t want to bother with a show, much less star in one.

Minion nodded glumly and started patting Kiki’s cheek with the powder, moving in slow circles the way she’d taught her. Kiki stood still for the attention.

“Who will you give the shoes to?” The imp nodded to the shimmering pair of crystal and glitter pumps. The shoes had passed from Pandora to Roseâtre and finally to Kiki. Regret tugged inside her tummy. The girls joked they were magic—gifting them lead dancer to lead dancer—and maybe they were. Kiki had inherited them, and Heidi’d given her the lead. Taking them with her would be wrong and giving up the shoes really meant she planned to go—but she wanted to leave didn’t she?

“I don’t know. I’m sure I’ll think of someone.” It wasn’t a longing to leave the theatre so much as just to be with Richard. He didn’t live in Las Vegas or at the Arcana, so that meant going to where he did live. The trembling in her soul ceased. It had made leaving the island paradise bearable and probably why she hadn’t minded leaving London or any of the other places they’d lived. She could love a place—like this theatre—she could adore spending time there, but without Richard, it was just a place.

An empty place.

“Ladies! We need to get this show going! Move it!” Heidi’s voice boomed through the dressing room, and Kiki rose from the chair and checked her makeup. It wasn’t perfect, but the glitter combined with the flush of her cheeks gave her an oddly ethereal look—fire and ice in one. She liked it.

Setting the cosmetics aside, she scooped Minion up and gave her a hug. “No matter where I go, we’re still buds, and if you want to visit me in New York, you can totally do it. Okay?”

The imp’s wrinkled face bloomed into a smile. “Really?”

“Absolutely. We can shop. Go see shows. Anything you want.” Richard had his friends. She wouldn’t abandon hers.

“Ooh! We could visit Pandora!” Minion bounced and hugged her tight.

“Yes, we could.”

The imp squealed, and Kiki shared an indulgent grin with Peppermint as she reached around to scratch Minion’s ears. The imp almost purred and then disappeared in a poof of smoke and light sulfur.

“Show time!” The friendly nudge encouraged her to get moving. She grabbed her black dress and the heels—but she hesitated. “Hey, Peppermint?”

“Yeah?” The petite dancer glanced at her while touching up her hair with some glitter spritz.

“Catch.” She tossed her one shoe and the other. “All yours.”

“Thank you!” Peppermint stared at the beautifully bedazzled shoes. They’d all envied Pandora’s pair, even if no one knew where they came from. Kiki thought she would experience sadness at saying goodbye to them. The dress slipped over her, and she hummed as she trailed after the others racing up the stairs to the stage. The concrete was cold against her bare feet, but she didn’t mind. Glancing back at the empty dressing room, she smiled.

She wouldn’t forget a moment she spent with her girls—never them. But her playful sojourn was over, and it was time to get back to real life.
Real.

Fear punched her in the stomach. What if she couldn’t leave? She assumed a lot, but she was still cursed, still bound. And she still didn’t know who held the lease. Sucking in a breath, she forced her legs to keep moving. They were on stage in less than two minutes. Picking up her skirt, she dashed up the stairs and slid to a stop at the edge of the darkened stage.

The spotlight came up and struck her, dazzling her eyes and sending out a kaleidoscope of rainbows. The music cued and she lifted an arm, striding forward the eight-count from the wings to center stage. Mock glaring at the audience, she planned to give them the show of their life. The next bars brought the other dancers prowling onto stage.

The music repeated, but instead of letting her frenetic energy go, her soul froze. She missed her mark.

The other dancers hesitated. The audience stirred. The refrain echoed through the theatre.

Still, she didn’t move.

“Kiki.” Britta hissed from her left.

But she couldn’t move.

Memories poured in, storming through her like a flash flood.

Kristina arrived at McCarran Airport and strode through row upon tacky row of slot machines and hard, ugly plastic chairs. She took a commercial flight, paying for her whim with a cabin full of sweaty bodies, too much perfume and screaming children. Of all of them, the screaming children bothered her least. They at least didn’t choose to be on that flight. She couldn’t say the same for her—or the others.

A limousine waited in the slip in front of the airport doors. Black-suited guards stood just inside the airport doors and another at the door to the vehicle. The sun peeked across the desert, and she scooted quickly across the sidewalk and into the open door.

“Hello, beautiful.” Andrew leaned forward to catch her hand and press a cool kiss to her knuckles.

She let him give her the perfunctory greeting, but when he added a caress of his thumb to her pulse point, she pulled away. “Thank you for overlooking the haste of my request, Your Highness. You honor me with the personal greeting.” His personal touch surprised her, but in retrospect—it shouldn’t. She knew Andrew and Richard had had their differences through the years. Her suspicious last-minute request and arrival sans her mate without observing any of the proper protocols undoubtedly rang more than a few bells.

“My lady, you are always welcome in my city, you must know that. I have arranged for a private suite at my villa—”

Oh hell no.
Kristina shook her head gently. “Andrew, you honor me with the kindness in your gesture, but I just want to go spend some time at the Arcana Royale. I’ve heard such fascinating stories about the casino and the clientele—and the
shows
!” She played off her distrust of his offer with her very real interest in the world famous casino.

Richard had refused her entreaties nearly two decades before to visit and every year since. He didn’t trust anything about the operation and the location—
the location more than the casino, I imagine. His problems with Andrew go all the way back to London.

The younger Lord Wolcott had never gotten over his uncle’s selection of Richard as the new Prince of London—he always believed it should have passed to him. Leaning back in the seat, she crossed one leg over the other and feigned curiosity at the passing landscape. The desert held a certain dangerous allure. But the lack of real cover and the all too threatening sunshine danced far too close to the edge for her tastes.

“Very well. I’ve some contacts there, let’s get you set up in style.” He tapped the glass separating them from the driver. “Arcana Royale, Jean”

“Yes, m’lord.”

Andrew studied her from across the car. The extra-wide compartment of his expensive limousine promised every luxury, but she was of half a mind to ask him to turn back to the airport. No sooner did the thought take purchase than she dismissed it immediately. Richard would expect her back, and it wouldn’t matter how he angered or disappointed her, he would expect her return.

And why shouldn’t he? I always come back. I always forgive him. Well, dammit, this time he can earn his forgiveness. He can come and find me.
Renewed anger blossomed in her chest, and she gave Andrew her attention once more. “So, how have you been?”

“Well enough. The local influx from back East has my city booming.” Now that he brought it up, she studied the hustle of construction. “This strip will be the most lucrative in the country. A fortune will flow into the city, and I will receive one percent from every transaction.”

“One percent?” Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. “That doesn’t seem like a large amount.”

“Not individually, no. But when you are discussing millions—yes, one percent will add up quite nicely.” He opened a bottle of Pinot Noir and poured two glasses. Hints of copper and a touch of gold filled the air. “Imagine, if you will, that one percent of every transaction from land sales to construction to gambling and taxes—one percent of every single dollar spent in this city will flow into my coffers.”

Basic math wasn’t sexy, no matter how his voice caressed the words. He handed her a glass and she swirled the wine. “For how long?”

“Forever.” Andrew smiled and touched his glass to hers with a clink. “So many laughed when I took this city—a former military base and a collection of houses in the middle of nowhere. But where others saw only emptiness, I saw potential.” He watched her expectantly, so she smiled and touched the glass to her lips.

The wine tickled her throat, the blood almost too fresh as though decanted that day. “Well, then allow me to offer my congratulations for your brilliant planning.”
And could we possibly change the subject from money and your plans?
The limousine swung into a dark garage and slid to a stop. Outside, a uniformed valet reached for the backdoor and opened it with a bow. The man’s uniform shone, brushed and cleaned to a fare-thee-well.

Grasping the excuse, she set her wine glass down and slid over to accept the valet’s hand. The desert heat wrapped its suffocating grip around her. For a moment, she was transported to Egypt and the long moonlit camel rides she’d taken with Richard—a lifetime ago. Her mouth tightened. She’d wanted to see the pyramids, and he’d indulged her. One of the last such indulgences before politics consumed so many years of their lives.

Politics and ruling—she married a noble, had been turned by a noble, a man who took on the burdens of others. She thought it heroically romantic when they first met. But after four hundred years of coming in second to his ambition and the duties associated with those ambitions—

“Welcome to the Arcana Royale, madam.” The valet bowed to her and she spared him a half-smile. Andrew exited close behind her and his hand came to rest against her waist. She couldn’t shake him off without giving possible offense, so she endured the intimate contact and entered the Arcana Royale proper.

The lobby took her breath away. The warm sandstone marble surrounded sweeping pale columns, fountains and lush foliage. A true oasis of splendor, but the crown jewel stood overlooking the whole of the lobby—a sphinx.

“The rumors are true…” She breathed out the words and hurried forward, head tilted back so she could gaze upon the enormity of it all.

“Yes, they did import a sphinx. It took enormous magic and coaxing.” Andrew shadowed her steps, his presence a buzzing irritation against the private satisfaction of the moment. “I helped.”

Helped what? Talk the workers to death?
Her skepticism must have showed on her face because he gave her a wry smile.

“I smoothed the memories of those who observed too much.”

“You compelled humans?” Her mouth fell open. It happened, they all did it, but few admitted it out loud—not after several Princes from around the world dictated that it may only be done in the most desperate of circumstances.

Richard had spearheaded the unpopular effort as early as the mid-1800s, when too many vampires took advantage of the European and American wars to feed with impunity. The savagery on the battlefield fed their natural instincts as predators—unfortunately—it also led to some inaccurate compulsions and left more than a few victims with permanent brain damage.

Noticeable brain damage. They used a variety of excuses to explain it, but the persistence of it—vampires couldn’t afford the war that outing could bring them. So the various princes met and decided that the ability to compel could no longer be used without just cause.

“Only as necessary, dear lady. Only as necessary.” Andrew stroked her arm. She slipped away from the overly familiar touch.

“Maybe we should avoid any further confidences. I’m not comfortable being put between you and Richard.” The decision to let Richard stew over her disappearance sat uneasily in her belly. She needed to check into a room and call him. Well, maybe not call him. She fought the urge to grumble and smiled at Andrew instead.

“Lady Kristina.” The Prince of Las Vegas captured her hand and kissed it lightly. “I swear to you that you are not between us, nor will I ask you to act against your conscience. Feel free to tell Richard anything you like.”

Not that she needed his permission, but…“Thank you. I appreciate that and everything you’ve done to make me welcome in Las Vegas. For now, I’m just going to arrange a room.”

“Allow me.” He smiled and strode away from her before she could protest. Kristina sighed, gaze wandering back to the sphinx. She walked toward the sphinx. Perhaps she could just blend into the crowd, and Andrew would forget her she was there.

At sunset, she’d sat at a table across from the Prince of Las Vegas and a dozen of his friends. At least she hoped they were friends. The bejeweled crowd all seemed to be vampires, born if she were to guess. They talked too loud, drank excessively and eagerly consumed large quantities of blood—most of it free-flowing from the offered veins of the wait staff and other questionable parties.