Macey rolled her eyes and gave her a nudge. "Silly. Not in the powder room. Let's go before it gets too crowded. " She adjusted her wrap, still a little chilled even though they'd come inside.
Dottie was already leading the way. "Come on. "
They found the powder room, which was a work of art unto itself. It was a Z shape with a row of private stalls to the left and the counter to the right. Past the sinks was another small wing with two large stalls, presumably for those who needed more room. The lounge was decorated in black enamel with gold and dark red trim. Vases of red roses sat on the gold and white marbled counters. The attendant sat in a chair offering hand towels, lotions, and perfume to each woman as she finished washing.
To Macey's surprise and interest, Dottie walked past the sinks and turned into the row of the larger stalls. She went into the farthest one, situated in the far corner of the small alcove. When Macey and Chelle hesitated, Dottie poked her head back out and beckoned.
They exchanged amused glances and ducked in after her. The door, which, unlike most stall doors, went from floor to ce sooner rather than later. , and 7Viling and swung closed behind them. Inside the small space was a sink with a mirror over it, and a commode.
Dottie looked in the mirror and Macey was just about to poke her to get the show on the road when she raised both hands next to her ears and gave the mirror a pair of thumbs up.
All at once, the empty wall in the stall moved, swinging back into nothingness.
Dottie stepped through, and Macey and Chelle were right behind her. Only a week ago, Macey might have been more hesitant to walk through a secret door into darkness, but she was very conscious of how things had changed. Despite the lingering soreness of her muscles, she knew she had the power of the vis bulla with her-as well as having learned some potent self-defense moves from Temple. They would be just as effective on mortals as they would be on the undead.
Chapter NINE
~ The Difference Between Hawks and Hounds ~
Macey followed Chelle and Dottie down the steps from the balcony, all the while staring out over the crowded room. She held tightly to the railing so she wouldn't trip, for her attention was not on her descent. Despite her intense observation, it would be impossible for her to tell who was a vampire, unless she was standing next to them.
Which meant, she realized with a sudden unpleasant quiver in her belly, that she should probably figure out what to do if she did find one.
Had she brought a stake?
No. She didn't have room for one in her tiny pocketbook, and frankly, she hadn't thought about it. She didn't plan on seeing any vampires tonight. It was her day off. Her evening out.
Heart pounding, lips pressed together tightly, Macey wove her way through the crowd in Dottie and Chelle's wake. There wasn't anything she could do at the moment. She'd have to play it by ear.
The woman in the blue dress had finished her song and, after accepting an enthusiastic but random smatter of applause, left the stage. Moments later, a group of seven young women in shocking, skintight outfits that showed most of their legs and a deep vee of cleavage on each one, took the singer's place. Around the crown of the head each of them wore a headband with tall, graceful feathers and a great number of sequins. A small band to the side began to play loudly, with an emphasis on brass and percussion, and the ensemble launched into their act: a singing and dancing routine that seemed to capture the full attention of every male in the place.
Including Al Capone.
Macey couldn't help but notice the gangster, who'd taken a seat at a round, high-walled booth next to the stage. He seemed to be enjoying the performance, along with the others in his group. savior who carries the deepest taintH5lap
Just after receiving her vis bulla, she'd heard Sebastian and Chas talking about Capone and Count Alvisi, who was a powerful and dangerous vampire. From what she'd gleaned, they were concerned Alvisi would get to Capone-who was his mortal equal when it came to violence and power-and turn him into a vampire.
Being turned undead required some participation on the part of the victim. After being drained of most of his blood, the mortal must then drink the blood of the siring vampire. Then he or she would slip into a state of unconsciousness, and upon awakening, would be turned.
The other fear expressed by Sebastian was if Capone wasn't made undead, then he might be enticed into becoming involved with the Tutela.
"What's the Tutela?" She figured she had the right to know what they knew, being a new Venator and heir to Il Gardella-whatever that meant. She'd read a little about the secret group in The Venators, but Macey had already learned there was much information missing or misconstrued in Mr. Starcasset's book. Thus she took none of it at face value.
"The Tutela is a secret society of mortals-men and women-who like to be around vampires. They are usually interested in becoming immortal undead themselves-or at least think they are," Sebastian added with a grim smile. "They have a particular fondness for being fed upon by the undead, and are often obsessed with the lifestyle they crave for themselves. The vampires use them as servants or associates, for, of course, the undead can't move about in direct sunlight. Having a loyal group of mortal followers who can do so, thus affording protection and conducting any business during the daylight hours, is a benefit to the vampires. And the mortals are lured by the benefits of power, protection, and-once having proven themselves-immortality, by pledging their service to the Tutela. "
"There are people who actually enjoy being fed upon? Being mutilated like that?" Macey couldn't comprehend that concept. She still remembered with revulsion the violation of her own flesh and blood when the vampire bit into her neck. "One would have to be insane to enjoy such a horrible thing. It's no wonder feeding on a mortal is the point of no return for an undead. "
"It's not your place to judge. The same has been said for those who shoot their veins with heroin or smoke opium," said Chas flatly. "Or even imbibe in spirits. Hence the Temperance movement, imposing its own morality on an entire nation. "
Sebastian looked as if he were about to say something, then merely shook his head.
Macey got the impression she was missing some undercurrent, but before she could probe further, Sebastian continued on a different topic. "Your ancestor Victoria attended a Tutela meeting in Venice as Count Alvisi's guest. Back in 1819, I believe it was. Or thereabouts. He wasn't undead at the time, but he was already wearing that abominable lavender after-shave cologne. It left a bloody damn cloud behind him everywhere he went. At least one always knew when he was in the vicinity. "
"And so he is a vampire now?"
"One of the most powerful ones. He and Nicholas Iscariot are particularly close minions of Lucifer. And both of them are here in Chicago. I'm certain it can't be a coincidence. " Chas looked from Macey to Sebastian.
"Iscariot. A relation of Judas, I suppose. "