Chapter Thirteen

The next night, Mason insisted he had recovered from his run-in with Vanessa.

“I can assure you that Vanessa has left Las Vegas, and Nevada, for that matter, and won’t return,” he told me when I voiced my concerns.

“I don’t trust her,” I said. “If she’s desperate enough to attack the head of the Paranormal Activities Committee, she’s not going to give up.”

“I’m grateful to you, Tansy,” Mason said.

“Promise me you won’t kill her,” I said. “Not unless you have to.”

He studied my face. “I’ll try. But we can’t let it get out that Vanessa attacked me. I need to be seen at a concert tonight. And I hope you and your friends will join me. It’s important that the supernatural world sees that I’m as strong as ever.”

“Why wouldn’t they think that?” I asked. “You wouldn’t let me tell anyone what happened. You wouldn’t even let me call a doctor.”

“I’m fine,” he said, chuckling a little. “Thanks to you. Just a slight headache from where she tried to cave in my skull. Good thing I’m hard-headed.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. Was my father making a joke?

He sobered. “It’s important that we go.”

I gave in, which was why we were packed in tight in the limo that Mason had sent.

Mason and Mr. Sheridan were going to meet us at the venue. There was a kitchen supply store they wanted to check out. It seemed the beginning of an unlikely bromance, but the two dads seemed to enjoy each other’s company.

“Fancy,” Beckett said, bouncing on the seat. “Daddy’s got dollas.”

Thorn snorted. “I’d like to see you try to call him that to his face.”

Beckett smiled at her. “Maybe I should introduce myself as your new boyfriend.”

She glared back. “Maybe you shouldn’t.”

I looked away from them and focused on the other twin. “Did you spend your whole childhood like this, Rose?” I asked. “Club openings and limo rides?”

Thorn snorted, but I waited for Rose’s response.

“We spent most of our time studying,” she replied.

“We saw more of the nanny than we did of our own father,” Thorn added.

“He was busy,” Rose said loyally.

Thorn snorted again. “Busy.” She injected a lot of innuendo into that one word.

“Our dad makes a lot of promises,” Rose said softly. I glanced at her. My sweet surprise sister was warning me.

“But does he keep them?” I asked her.

We both knew the answer to that, but Rose probably more than me.

“When it suits him,” she finally answered.

Time to change the subject. I peered over Rose’s shoulder. “Who are we seeing again?”

“Some boy band,” she said.

When we pulled up at the front of the venue, the marquee read Bleeding Hearts. Oh jeez. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

We took our seats in the front row and were soon joined by one of Mason’s staff members. We’d barely sat down before a waiter brought out a huge platter of food. It was piled high with lobster, steak, and every imaginable side dish.

“What did he do?” I asked. “Order an entire buffet brought to us?”

“He is aware of werewolf appetites,” Rose said.

Lucas smiled at her. I stared at him. Was his face going to crack? He noticed me staring and snarled at me.

I giggled. “That’s more like it.”

“What?”

“Lucas smiled,” I replied. “I’ve never seen that before.”

“I have,” Rose said softly. “He has a nice smile.”

He kissed the top of her head. Lucas was the quietest member of the bunch, mostly snarly and sullen, but he was so gentle with my sister.

Vaughn squeezed my hand. “Want anything?” The server had returned, so I asked for a glass of ice, and when she brought it, I poured my tonic over it.

I chugged it and then made a face. “I was hoping the ice would make it taste better.”

“No luck?” Skyler asked sympathetically.

“The taste seems to be getting worse,” I admitted. “When we get back, I’ll ask Granny if she can modify it again.”

A Cher impersonator came onstage, and the audience started to clap and shout. “I’d like to introduce Mr. Alicante’s latest discovery. Please give a big Vegas welcome for the Bleeding Hearts.”

The air smelled of vampire, of graveyard dirt, dried blood and decaying flesh.

I sighed. “The Drainers are here.”

“In Vegas?” Vaughn asked.

“Onstage.”

The stage lights went on, illuminating the vampires in a rosy glow. There were a few whistles and applause, but from the back, a high-pitched scream of excitement sounded.

I knew even before the spotlight went on and three guys took the stage. My sixth sense about a band called Bleeding Hearts was correct. I’d had the misfortune to meet the vampire band when they were an emo group calling themselves The Drainers, and then again when they’d reinvented themselves as a country-and-western band called The Thirsty Thieves. This time, they’d traded in their cowboy hats and Wrangler jeans for three-piece suits and Italian leather shoes.

Whether they called themselves The Drainers or the Bleeding Hearts, they meant trouble. I searched the audience, looking for girls dressed in white or men in cowboy hats, but the audience seemed consist of a mix of tourists and Vegas supernatural creatures.

“I love you, Armando,” someone screamed.

He smiled, his fangs flashing white under the stage lights. “I love you, too,” he replied. Armando was in the center with Travis and Ozzie on either side of him.

When they started to play, I realized The Drainers had switched sounds again, and their latest version was a pop trio.

Then my jaw dropped. The vampires were doing a dance routine that would make the Backstreet Boys blush. There were a lot of synchronized turns and a few groin thrusts I could have done without seeing.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Lucas moaned.

“That is the worst dance routine I’ve ever seen,” Skyler said. “And I went on tour with The Drainers for the whole summer.”

“They don’t sound so bad, though,” Vaughn said. I realized it was true. Travis couldn’t sing, but he was able to compel people into thinking he could. Were we being compelled?

Then I realized why I didn’t feel any compulsion. “Armando’s singing, not Travis.”

“Thank god,” Skyler said.

“Not only do we not have to put up with Travis’s pitchy voice, but Armando also can’t compel through song,” I said.

I searched Skyler’s face for any sign of pain or discomfort. She caught me and put a hand on my arm. “I’m okay,” she said. “Really.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “We can leave.”

“Believe me,” she replied, amusement bubbling in her voice. “There is no way I’ll ever let Travis compel me again. Especially not after I witnessed this,” she added, gesturing to the stage, where the vampires were doing a synchronized dance routine, Travis two steps behind the other guys.

She touched her charm necklace. “Besides, Granny put some extra strength magic in a few new charms.” My grandmother was a witch, not just any old witch, but a Mariotti witch. She practiced healing magic and I’d learned everything I knew about the craft from her.

“And I’ll rip that guy apart with my bare hands if he even looks at you,” Connor added.

Armando was probably in heaven, as all three of the original band members were dressed in suits—his favorite—which gave them a deceptively sophisticated air.

“They’re your father’s newest proteges,” our server said. “They’re even living at The Bran.” For a second, she looked at me with total disdain. It was an expression I was familiar with, since I’d seen it on Vanessa’s face so many times.

I caught a whiff of strawberries, but when I tried to pinpoint where it was coming from, there were too many other scents flooding my nostrils. I turned back to ask the server for some ice, but she was gone.

I was fuming. My own father was mentoring Travis, of all people. He and the rest of the band were living at The Bran. My headache was back.

The scar on my face, the one caused by vampire fire, tingled as I watched the band. Did Mason know what Travis was capable of? Did he care? Suddenly, it didn’t seem like such a good idea to put my trust in the Serpent King.

“Armando has a good voice,” I said. “That’s a plus.” Travis Grando could do a lot of things but keeping in tune wasn’t one of them.

Armando’s voice was strong but with a husky note that I could tell his fans found appealing. And he was indisputably the best-looking Drainer—er, Bleeding Heart—in a band full of good-looking guys.

It was too bad that Armando was just as callous to his fans as Travis was. He winked at a blond woman, and she screamed with excitement when Gary, their roadie-slash-familiar, handed her something. It was most likely either the key to his hotel room or a backstage pass.

“Travis doesn’t look too happy to have lost his lead singer status,” Vaughn observed. “Armando loves the attention, though.” He would know, since he’d toured with them as their replacement drummer.

Skyler was silent as she watched the band. Connor put his arm around her and whispered to her. Even with my better hearing through vampirism, I couldn’t quite make out what he was saying.

“New drummer,” Vaughn said.

“Let’s hope I don’t have to kill this one,” I said in a low voice. I sort of had a track record at this point.

“He’s human,” Vaughn replied. “At least he is right now.” We both knew Travis and the guys were capable of turning someone into a vampire on a whim.

I glanced around the club and caught sight of Mr. Sheridan and my father at the bar. Mason was watching the band, his arms crossed, tension radiating from him. His eyes were cold.

“I’ll be right back,” I said and cut through the crowd to reach my father.

“Why is he here?” I asked.

My father raised an eyebrow. “Travis Grando?”

“Yes,” I bit out. Mason had to know that Travis was the vampire who’d bitten me and turned me into a striga vie.

He looked me in the eye. “Do you think I don’t know what he did to you? He’s here because I have plans for him.”

Before I could reply and ask him what kind of plans, the band announced they were taking a break.

“Excuse me,” Mason said. “I’ll join you soon.”

I went back to the table. What exactly did Mason have planned for Travis? Judging by the look in his eyes, not anything good.

When Connor noticed Travis staring at Skyler, he let out a menacing growl, loud enough that Travis heard him, even over the music.

I turned to Thorn, who was sitting on the other side of me. “Did you know?” I hissed.

“Of course not,” she said. “I would have stabbed them by now if I’d known.”

The look on her face convinced me. She was not a fan of The Drainers, even though they were her father’s new proteges.

The band announced they were taking a break, and I watched Gary the Roadie as he escorted the blond woman backstage. She hadn’t been compelled yet, but I was still going to have a little chat with the band soon.

My eyes narrowed. “Interesting, isn’t it?” I leaned across the table and asked Rose, who seemed to be our father’s favorite child. “Did you know they were working with Mason?”

She shook her head. “He never tells us anything.”

“That was weird,” Thorn said.

I gave her an inquiring look.

“The woman waiting on us. I’ve never seen her before,” she said. “Are you sure she works for Mason?”

“She was wearing a uniform,” I said, suddenly not so sure.

“Did you see her employee badge?”

“Employee badge?” I gaped at her. “She didn’t have one on.”

“I know almost everyone who works for my father,” Thorn said. “And I’ve never seen that woman before.”

“Then who was she?” Vaughn asked.

Before I could reply to a question I didn’t have an answer for, Mason and Adam finally joined our table.

Vaughn’s dad repeatedly asked me to call him Adam, but not only was he my boyfriend’s dad, he was also my boss. Although it seemed like forever since I’d worked a normal, uneventful shift at his catering company.

“Thank you again,” Mr. Sheridan told my father. “I’ve already called my GM and told him to place an order.”

“I knew you’d love it,” Mason replied. “Sorry we’re late,” Mason said to the rest of us. “We were unavoidably detained.” He was accompanied by men in black suits. Typical bodyguard types, except I could smell the vampire on them.

Who else would you want to guard you after you’d almost been taken out by The Executioner?

“Places to go, people to kill,” Thorn muttered, but Mason heard her and glared before clearing his throat.

“I hope you are enjoying your time at The Bran,” Mason said to Vaughn.

“Yes, thank you for your hospitality,” he replied. “And for the limo. That was too much, but we appreciated it.”

“I wouldn’t want anything to happen to the queen of California,” Mason said. “Or her friends.” We barely knew each other, but it still irked me that he sometimes used my title instead of my name, as if that was the only thing that was important about me.

Maybe for Mason, it was. He certainly had never bothered about me until my path crossed with his daughters.

After the concert was over, I stood. “I’m going to go talk to the band.” My drumstick was clutched in one hand.

Vaughn stood, too. “I’m going with you.”

But before we could head backstage, the band found us at our table. Travis strutted up, followed by Ozzie and Armando. Travis was unaccompanied, but the other guys each had a girl hanging off their arm. One of the girls was Natasha, the head of their fan club. She was wearing a short silvery dress that reminded me of a disco ball, and her skin was so pale I could see the bruised-looking veins.

“What are you doing here, Tansy?” Travis asked.

“Queen Tansy,” I reminded him.

His fangs flashed, but something—probably the threat of what would happen if he tried to kill Mason Alicante’s daughter—stopped him from lunging at me. His expression let me know he really wanted to take a bite out of me, though.

“We haven’t done anything wrong,” he said. He noticed the werewolves with us and scowled. “Puppies.”

“Sucker,” Connor replied in a growl.

“That’s not why I’m here,” I said. But I made a note to circle back to the band later. What was the band doing in Vegas?

Travis grinned at me. “We’ll be spending a lot of time together,” he crooned. “Now that I’m your pop’s favorite singer.”

“I doubt you’re Mason’s favorite anything.” I said, rolling my eyes. “And isn’t Armando the lead singer now?”

I didn’t have time to play games with Travis. I had more urgent questions for them.

“Have you seen The Executioner?” I asked.

“The Executioner?” Travis asked. “Your mom?”

“Vanessa Mariotti,” I said. “I want to know if you’ve seen her here.”

“She’s banned from Vegas,” Travis said with complete assurance.

“And you’re banned from California,” I reminded him. “And banned or not, she’s here,” I replied.

“She’s a dead woman walking, if Mason Alicante finds out,” Armando said. It had bugged me at the time, but Mason had been smart to keep it quiet that Vanessa had knocked him out. If Vanessa bragged about jumping the Serpent King, no one would believe her.

“I noticed that no one has actually answered my question,” I replied. “Have you seen The Executioner? Answer me.” I put some compulsion into it.

Travis winced. “She came to our rehearsal a few days ago,” he said.

“Was she alone?”

“She had some woman with her,” Ozzie said.

“Do you know where they went after your gig?” Vaughn asked.

“No idea,” Ozzie replied.

“What did she want?” I asked Travis.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“Vanessa Mariotti didn’t sit through a band rehearsal because she’s a fan. What did she want?”

“She wanted to know if my dad still had this place in the desert?”

“Is that a question or an answer?” I asked him.

“An a-answer,” Travis replied.

“You mean a place I now own as queen?” I asked.

He nodded.

“And did you tell her where it was?”

He nodded again.

I sighed. “Give me the address.”

He smirked at me. “I thought you said it was your place.”

“Travis,” I said. “Quit messing around.”

But he was enjoying screwing with me too much, so I added, “Did Vanessa ever tell you who my dad was?”

He shook his head, his brows furrowed. “Why do I need to know that?”

Now it was my turn to smirk. I gestured to Mason, who was at the bar, talking to one of the bartenders. “He’s right over there.”

His face went pale, which was really pale, for a vampire. “Your father is the Serpent King?”

“Yup,” I replied. “Now tell me what I want to know.”

After they left, I said, “I think Travis just coughed up where Vanessa’s hiding.”

“Or it’s a trap,” Lucas said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Or it’s a trap,” I agreed.