Page 8 of The Vampire Trap

“What’s up there?” I ask, interrupting whatever he was going to say next.

The vampire turns and follows my line of sight. “Oh, uh, that….” I glance at him from the corner of my eye to find his ears turning red as he struggles to answer. “That is, the, umm, the… lavatory.”

I think I just found the excuse I’ve been looking for.

Feigning embarrassment to match his, I excuse myself. He seems relieved to see me go. That encounter felt oddly human. Unexpectedly so. I chalk it up to the assumption that he was only turned within the last few years, then shove it from my mind.

Slipping through the crowd, I keep my head down to avoid making eye contact with other guests. I make it to the stairs without being asked to dance or explain why someone hasn’t seen me before. It’s almost as if people forget there are others outside their own social circles.

Casually, I climb the stairs. The mezzanine is nearly deserted except for one couple on the opposite end, speaking quietly within the shadows. I pause to catch my breath and look down at the crowd. I’m not used to such a tight-fitting bodice. The dancers are mesmerizing to watch, moving in and out, and weaving across the floor. Another time I would love to stay longer.

Just as I shift to turn away, my gaze snags on a lone man near the threshold where I entered. Time seems to slow down until there is a lifetime between heartbeats. The viscount’s dark eyes hold me in place.

My mind races. I hadn’t intended to try to catch his attention until the end of the night.

Does he suspect me? Does he know what I’m up to?

I hold my breath, half expecting him to use his vampire speed to block me before I can take more than three steps.

Then the spell is broken as a couple approaches him. All the air in my lungs rushes out. He smiles and nods to me before facing his guests.

I take the opportunity to hurry through the narrow doorway and into another hall beyond the ballroom.

Less than half the gas lamps are lit, leaving the corridor swathed in shadows. The temporary decor for the party ends at the door halfway down the hall. I assume it signals the boundary where guests should wander.

I stride forward, slowing, then stopping three steps beyond. No one steps out from hiding to stop me or calls out. I take another step, then another, and then two more. Still, there doesn’t seem to be anyone guarding this area.

With a quick glance over my shoulder to ensure I don’t have a vampire for a shadow, I keep going. Each door I pass is locked. By the fourth, I let out a sigh of exasperation.

It’s the same to the end, where another staircase awaits. I hurry up the steps, once more stopping to listen for anyone following. For the time being, it seems I am alone.

The first door I try is a linen cupboard. The next is a sitting area, lit only by the moonlight through the open window. And the two after that are bedrooms, both empty of all personal items, the beds stripped down.

The next is a music room with several laps lit, as though someone had left for only a moment. Several paintings are hung on the wall, and a large gilt mirror with a heavy frame sits over the fireplace mantel. A grand piano in the center glistens like black ice under the flickering lights. A coffee table is situated between two plush sofas that are each long enough for a tall man to lie down and stretch out. In the corner, next to the window, are two chairs and a small round table.

Without a desk or something similar, it’s obvious nothing in this room will have what I need. I back out and try the second to last door.

I find myself just inside the master bedroom, surprised that such a private room is unlocked. All the furniture is made of dark cherry wood with forest green upholstery to match the color of the comforter. Thick area rugs are strewn over the hardwood floors between the bed and a chair and side table near the fireplace. Before I can think better of it, I’m moving deeper into the room.

Past a dresser and armoire is an alcove set up as a charming office. A smile pulls on my lips. Atop an elegant yet simple writing desk is a worn leather journal and a stack of messy papers. Best of all, the drawers that have keyholes are slightly ajar. My fingers itch to search through it all. I have no doubt that I will find something here that will lead me to the night-forged silver weapon or a piece of evidence to prove the viscount’s guilt.

“I wondered where you ran off to,” the viscount’s voice is silky and rich. “Though I must say, I hardly expected to find you in my bedroom of all places.”

I whirl. Lord Morgan stands in the doorway, then in the blink of an eye, he is less than an arm’s length away from me. The movement of his unnatural vampire speed is dizzying. I take half a step back to regain my balance.

My heel catches on the edge of a rug. Time seems to slow as the world tilts. All I can do is squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself.

There’s a soft brush of air. The scent of freshly cut wood and smoke, with a hint of something sweet that I can’t place.

Slowly, I peel my eyes open. The vampire’s face hovers over mine, his strong arms holding me nearly horizontal as if we are mid-dance.

“Well, I can’t say a woman has ever attempted to seduce me quite this way.” His perfect mouth crooks up on one side.

My heart leaps and sticks in my throat. I struggle to understand how everything managed to go so utterly wrong, so quickly.

I can’t breathe.

Instead of letting me go, the viscount moves in a little closer as if he might kiss me… or feed.