Page 5 of The Guardian's Curse

She gulped. “You’ll be able to immediately identify any vampire that is not connected to Mister Alazan through the Covenant. Furthermore, humans will not be able to enter without permission of an Auberon vampire. That should keep hunters out.”

Hugo’s expression eased ever so slightly. “What about dhampir?”

She eyed him warily. “Still working on that,” Shoshanna said. “It’s complex.”

“Perhaps we’ll find someone with more skill,” Hugo said.

“Perhaps you will,” she said evenly. “But not someone who can work on your timetable. I may not be the best, but I’m the best you’ve got right here and now.” His eyes narrowed at her. She raised her eyebrows back at him. “I’m designing another layer of protections to essentially fireproof the club. I could probably protect the glass, but you’d be better off just putting safety glass there.”

“That will do for a start,” Eduardo said, giving his advisor a nod. They spoke in rapid Spanish, and she could just make out hablamos. Whatever secrets they had, she didn’t want to know.

Well, she did. The nosy part of her that couldn’t resist celebrity gossip and behind-the-scenes drama definitely wanted to know what was going on in the vampire underworld that had prompted a quick and somewhat desperate search for a tisserand. They’d told her time was an issue, but money was not.

But the practical part of her that valued her safety and the normalcy of her life wanted nothing to do with it. Whatever tangled webs the Blade of Auberon was weaving, they could do it on their own.

The platinum-haired woman she’d met several nights ago nodded to her. “Miss York, I’ve already arranged for the wire transfer,” she said. Violette Baudelaire served as the Gilded Hand to Eduardo, handling all of his finances. Of all the vampires in the room, she was the one Shoshanna liked the most. The Gilded Hand delivered the cash, and she was both generous and prompt, qualities Shoshanna found most appealing in an employer.

“Thank you,” she said. She quickly packed her things, taking care to seal the containers of precious reagents. Though the vampires were paying her close to ten thousand dollars for her work, she had spent almost two grand on expensive ingredients, which had yielded several calls from her credit card company about suspected fraud. Next time, she’d bump up her quote. Still, she was coming out on top with seven thousand dollars for a week’s hard work.

“I’d like to make my offer once more,” Eduardo said. “We can discuss your fee to stay on retainer.”

Her throat clenched. Wasn’t that a serpent’s offer? Just one sweet bite. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Eduardo said, his gaze sharpening.

“Does it matter?”

His lips curved slightly. “Thank you for your time, Miss York.” He glanced at Dominic. “Dominic will escort you downstairs. Please enjoy drinks on us, if that doesn’t offend your sense of neutrality in vampire matters.”

She nodded to him. “Thank you for your business.”

Hefting her bag over her shoulder, she spared one last glance at the vampires in the room. At the door, a woman waited with a glass pitcher full of thick red blood. Shoshanna averted her gaze and followed Dominic to the lounge outside the office. He veered to the right as they descended to make room.

Coming up the spiraling staircase from the ground floor was a familiar man, one she’d missed this evening amidst the crowd of somber, serious men. The well-dressed vampire with bright blue eyes crested the stairs, talking over his shoulder to a man in a hooded coat. His eyes lit up with recognition.

“Dom,” Paris greeted. “You’re looking as dour and unpleasant as ever. That color brings really brings out your sullen attitude.” Blood speckled his otherwise pristine white collar. She gulped at the thought of how it had gotten there.

Dominic let out another snort of derision. “Paris.”

“Shoshanna!” Paris said with a burst of cheer. The handsome vampire stepped in, kissing her cheeks lightly. Along with Dominic, Paris had overseen her work on the club the last few nights. Unlike his comrade, Paris talked constantly, about everything from his favorite wines to his blood type preference to which Hollywood celebrities would make the best vampires. He was distracting but oddly comforting.

The hooded man brushed past her without sparing a glance. As he passed, she glimpsed a hint of eerie red light from beneath his hood, as if a low flame smoldered there. A bolt of fear twisted through her as she watched him go.

“Ali...” Paris sighed as the dark-clad man faded into the shadows down the hallway. “I’d introduce you, but my friend has the manners of a stone statue.” He tilted his head and grinned. “May I say that you look positively delicious tonight.”

“You may,” she said with a smile. Even knowing that he surely had ulterior motives, getting a compliment from a stone-cold hottie like Paris was a nice ego boost.

“Are you staying? Have a drink with me.”

“I really need to go home,” Shoshanna said. “Maybe another time.”

“I’m over two hundred years old,” Paris said. “I know a rejection when I hear one, Mademoiselle York. You wound me.”

She smirked at him. “Good night, Paris.”

He recovered from his heartbreak quickly. After giving her a jaunty nod, he hurried past, calling “Allie! Attends-moi!”

Dominic gave her an expectant look and gestured toward the stairs. She followed him, her steps silent on the thick crimson carpet. Though the upper floor was quiet, the lower floor was more typical of a nightclub. The music was loud enough to surround her in a heady atmosphere, but not deafening.

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