Dance with Darkness - Red Masquerade

Chapter 1

“What do you want?”

I blinked, surprised at the sullen, blond-haired boy standing before me.  I suppose, in retrospect, that knocking on the door of a vampire at 3:30 in the afternoon wasn’t exactly the best time to come visiting.  The Blueblood was probably busy sulking in his crypt somewhere, away from the sunlight.

“Uh…is Matthieu here?” I stammered, frowning as I noticed how young the boy was—no older than fourteen, at the most.

The boy arrogantly leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms.  “Who’s asking?”  His long curly hair fell almost to his shoulders and was in desperate need of a cut, but his clothes were fairly well-maintained, so I guessed he wasn’t living badly.

“Lynnette Cromwell.  I was working with him on a case last week.”

The boy wrinkled his nose.  “You’re a hunter, aren’t you?”  The distaste evident in his expression carried over to his tone as well.

“Only a little…it’s complicated,” I said.  “Look, could I just speak with Matthieu for a moment?  It’s urgent, and I don’t have time to come back later.”

The boy gave a dramatic sigh.  “He won’t appreciate being woken up.  But I’ll tell him you’re here.”

Before I could reply, the door slammed shut in my face, and I huffed at his rudeness.  He could at least have invited me in.

It was a good fifteen minutes before the door creaked back open, and I was graced with the surly presence of the blond kid again.

“He says you can come in,” was the sullen response, accompanied by the door opening a fraction of an inch wider.

Well, thanks for the warm reception.

I stepped over the threshold and followed him into the dark interior of the house.  Like the only other vampire residence I had been to—that of a murder victim named Mortimer—the curtains were drawn, and I nearly ran into a side table in the hallway before my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting.

Matthieu Beaumont was reclining with half-closed eyes on a dark blue sofa when we entered the living room.  Somehow, he managed to look regal in only simple white flannel pajama bottoms and a dark-colored tee shirt that blended into the rest of the shadowy room.

“My dear,” he began, gesturing for me to take a seat opposite him.  “I do appreciate your company, but might I ask that the next time you decide to visit, you come when the sun is down?”

I winced.  “Sorry.”  My resolve had been fast-failing ever since I made up my mind this morning, and I was afraid that I wouldn’t have carried out my decision if I had waited much longer.

“Ne t'inquiète pas,” he said, sharp canines briefly glinting in a grin that somehow fell short of reassuring.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“Uh, thanks.”

“So what brings you to my home?” he asked, propping his slippered feet up on the ottoman before him.  He looked so normal—so human in that one moment that I was almost too surprised to catch his next question.  “It must be important, no?”

I hesitated for the briefest of moments before blurting out, “I heard the Red Masquerade is coming up and you might be looking for a geisha to present.”

From the corner of the room, Matthieu’s lackey, or whoever he was, gave a snort of derision.

The French vampire merely raised his eyebrows.  “Devin, please leave us for a moment.”