"Of course. The son of the Betrayer and brother of Lilith the Dark. Nicholas was imprisoned by his sister, and only upon her death did he gain release. He's been wreaking havoc in Romania, Turkey, and Moscow for the last century. But what on earth has brought him here, I cannot fathom. He and Alvisi are fierce rivals and mortal enemies. " Chas looked pointedly at Sebastian. "Unless he's realized the rings are here. "
That was when Macey learned about the Rings of Jubai, the five copper bands fused to Sebastian's fingers. "There is a magical pool in Romania to which these rings will give access. Inside the pool is, according to legend, a pyramid-shaped object that can yield great power to mortal and immortal alike. One can only suspect Iscariot has tried every manner of dipping his hand safely into the pool, and has finally decided to attempt the one sure way of breaching the magic shield. " He brandished his ringed hand.
"That puts you in danger, then," Macey said.
Sebastian's eyes glowed with humor, and his beautiful lips twitched. "Indeed it does. As it has done for decades. But I thank you for your concern. "
Now, as Macey watched Al Capone and felt the telltale iciness at the back of her neck, it occurred to her that perhaps Count Alvisi had already accomplished his goal of turning the gangster into a vampire. Her mouth went dry and her organs turned into blocks of ice.
I can't stake Al Capone. I wouldn't get within a foot of him before those goons shot me. But then again, that could be the reason no one had been able to kill him yet. He was impervious to bullets.
"I thought you didn't go into speakeasies. "
Macey nearly jumped out of her skin at the low voice in her ear. She stifled her surprise, however, and turned to find Grady at her elbow. The ice inside her melted into something much warmer and friendlier.
"What are you doing here? Covering the cabaret's entertainment for the Tribune, I presume?" She looked up at him-all blue eyes, unruly dark hair, and broad shoulders. His square jaw and cleft chin were clean-shaven, and he smelled like something masculine and fresh. Her heart stuttered. He sure cleans up nice.
"Something like that. " Grady stood close enough she could feel his warmth against her bare arm. "What are you doing here? Hoping to find a vampire?"
Macey nearly choked. "What?" Her heart thudded harshly, the last vestiges of warmth fritter directions blooding away.
He took her arm, leaning in closer. "Don't tell me you have a stake in that pocketbook of yours. "
"Hey, Macey! Who's this?" All of a sudden, Dottie and Chelle were standing there expectantly. Chelle's eyes danced as she looked from one to the other, and she wagged her brows at Macey. Fortunately, Grady wasn't looking.
Macey made introductions, reminded again she didn't know his full name. She felt odd about it, but her friends didn't seem to notice. She was relieved when they launched into an animated conversation with Grady, who responded to their nosy questions (how do you know Macey, what do you do for a living, do you come to these places often) with charmi
ng aplomb.
It gave Macey time to collect herself. Grady's questions weren't jokes; he'd been completely serious. But what did that mean? And how should she respond? Yes, as a matter of fact, I am a vampire hunter. But I forgot to bring a stake tonight. And I'm stalking Al Capone because I think he's an undead. Call me crazy.
Macey came back into the conversation just in time to hear Grady say, "Now, ladies-a word of warning. Don't be drinking the whiskey here. Or anywhere cheap. The beer is usually all right if you really must imbibe, but anything stronger than that-whiskey, rum, or gin-is too dangerous. "
"You mean illegal. " Was Chelle actually fluttering her eyelashes at him?
"That too. But unless you're about knowing where it came from, lass-where and how it was distilled-don't drink it. " He turned sober eyes on Macey. "Too many poisoning deaths from liquor distilled from methyl and wood alcohol. Even a small amount can be lethal. But it's easy and cheap, and it's what the low-level bootleggers are using all too often. I've seen the results. "
"Surely the Palmer would pay for good booze," Dottie said.
Grady lifted a brow. "Surely the Palmer wouldn't admit to paying for any booze. "
"Oh. Right. " She blinked and smiled.
"Thank you for the warning," Macey replied. "Although I wasn't intending to partake tonight. "
"Want to keep your mind clear because you're on the job, lass?" he murmured, his voice rumbling just below the cacophony around them and somehow going straight to her ears.
She merely lifted her brows and tried what she hoped was a mysterious smile. "Speaking of jobs. . . don't you have a story to investigate? People to interview? I'm going to visit the powder room and. . . powder my nose. "
Before he could respond, she ducked away into the crowd.
In the powder room, she found a place between two other gals in front of the mirror and checked her ref flew openpa bloodlection. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright, but her hair still looked good. The wide headband with the velvet roses on it kept her wild mass of curls under some control, and they tumbled pleasantly around her jaw and the nape of her neck. Her velvet wrap was a little warm now that she was in a crowded space, but there was nothing else she could do with it. And her pocketbook. . .
She glared at it, and at the memory of Grady's interrogation. The bag wasn't large enough to hold a damned stake and he knew it. And what was he thinking, asking her something like that anyway?
Surely he couldn't know. Surely he was just trying to figure out what he could. And she supposed she couldn't blame him. After all, he knew she'd staked a vampire. And. . . hell. He'd spent the night in her flat. Stake in hand. A little quiver of pleasure reminded her how he'd looked that morning, all rumpled and fierce, with his weapon in hand.
Macey refreshed her rose-tinted lipstick and, last of all, powdered her nose. And then, figuring she'd wasted enough time and hoping Grady was involved with something else, she left the mirror to return to the cabaret. On the way out, she noticed an umbrella stand by the door. There were two umbrellas and a walking stick in it. All had wooden handles.