Page 94 of Fire Dancer
I slid behind the drinks table and fiddled with bottles, trapped by Deirdre’s icy stare. The only comfort to be found in that cold, heartless space was the fireplace, though the flames had gone low, as if they, too, were ashamed to play any part in this.
On the TV screen, the opera singer belted out a song of pride and defiance.
Come on, Pippa.I tried pumping myself up. I had to do something, and fast.
When Deirdre glanced away, I flicked a hand at the fireplace.
Whoosh!The teepee of logs collapsed, and a flaming log rolled onto the rug.
“Put it out! Put it out!” John Lennon yelled frantically, but everyone jumped back.
Apparently, vampires didn’t like fire any more than humans did.
When Deirdre turned her back to deal with the chaos, I grabbed a bottle of champagne — the kind with the thickest, heaviest glass — and hurried out of the room. The minute I turned a corner, I ran.
My heart hammered as I rushed down the hall. Which room had the vampire taken Delaney to? I paused at one, then another, listening. Nothing. I jogged on. Still nothing. I held my breath and prayed for some clue.
A muffled cry came through a door across the hall, and I kicked it open.
“What the—” Al Capone protested.
“Run, Delaney!” I yelled, brandishing the champagne bottle.
I had no plan for what to do next. But even before I finished speaking, the vampire coughed and fell forward.
I jumped back, staring at the object protruding between his shoulder blades. A stake?
His outstretched hand went from pale to dull, and his skin shriveled in a time-lapse of a grape under a heat lamp. His clothes collapsed inward, and the smell of ash hit my nose.
“You staked him?” I sputtered, more at the body than Delaney.
“Bet your ass, I did,” she said.
My eyes shot to her — or maybe it was her stunt double, because shy, meek Delaney was gone, replaced by Uma Thurman in “Kill Bill.” She stood taller, stronger, and wow — she even spat on the rapidly disappearing body. “That was for Janet, asshole.”
I did a double take. “You mean Janet Sullivan?” The woman found dead at Gunnery Point?
She nodded. “My sister. I begged her to get out of this place. But she was hell-bent on finding something concrete to bring down Jananovich.”
I gulped. A little like me.
“He must have figured her out, because he killed her. Or had her killed,” Delaney finished bitterly.
My mouth hung open. Delaney wasn’t Bambi. She was pretty damned badass. She’d managed to work her way in with Jananovich’s escorts and onto the premises to avenge her sister.
Wow.
“We have to get out of here.”
I jerked my hand toward the door, but she shook her head. “Not going anywhere until I finish this.”
Finish Jananovich,she meant.
I was all for that…in principle. In practice, though…
I glanced at Al Capone’s body — or all that was left of it. Gingerly, I reached down and touched the stake. It crumbled instantly.
Delaney made a tsk sound and reached into her high, lacing boot. “There’s more where that came from.”