TWELVE

Blood Service

“Charles! You’re back so soon,” Allegra said, when she returned to the apartment. She hadn’t expected to see him, and as she pulled off her coat and scarf, she hoped that he would not notice her hands were shaking.

“Everything finished up earlier than expected.” His eyes lit up upon seeing her walk into the room. “Where’ve you been?”

“Looking at paintings,” she said. Since they could read each other’s thoughts—up to a certain point—it was easier to conceal lies with half-truths.

“Did you buy anything else?” He knew about the purchase she’d made the day before, but not who the artist was, or what the subject of the painting was.

“Not today.”

“It’s nice that you’ve taken an interest in art again,” he said, smiling affectionately at her. Charles had come into his own the last few years, shooting up to his full height. He had finally lost the awkward formality and stiffness he’d had as a teenager. These days he moved with confidence and grace. At twenty-one he had gotten hold of the substantial Van Alen trusts that made up the bulk of their inheritance, and he talked about building a media company, making a difference in the world. Recently tapped as one of New York’s most eligible bachelors in a popular society magazine, Charles Van Alen was handsome and striking, with his dark blue-black hair and strong Roman features. He did not have Bendix Chase’s affable geniality, but instead displayed a kingly benevolence that had earned him respect and fear beyond the vampire community.

He patted the space on the couch next to him, and Allegra cuddled up beside him, his arm curled over her shoulder. They fit together—they always had—it had just taken her too long to see it in this lifetime. She began to relax, feeling the distress of the day’s revelations beginning to fade in his presence. What happened with Ben had been a mistake from the beginning, a schoolgirl crush, unworthy of her attention. She felt bad for Ben, of course. A familiar’s mark was hard to bear, but Ben would be all right. He had money and comfort, and in time he would forget about her. If only she hadn’t walked into that gallery.

“Everything all right with the Elders?” she asked. “What did they want?”

A dark shadow passed over Charles’s face, but it cleared without Allegra noticing. “Just the usual Transformation issues. I don’t even know why they wanted me here. They’re just wasting my time.”

“Mr. Van Alen? Your car is here,” the butler said, noise-lessly entering the room.

“You’re going out?” Allegra asked, leaning away from him. Charles knew she had plans that evening with her old field hockey teammates, and it was only natural that he would make plans of his own. “Dede is it?”

Charles nodded. He had started taking familiars, and looked robust, flush with blood and life, power and invincibil-ity. As leader of the Coven, he was allowed certain privileges, and kept a retinue of familiars in every city, a girl in every port. He was good to them, showering gifts, attention, and the occasional bauble from Cartier or Buccellati. Allegra had seen the bills; she was the one who paid them: a rose-gold watch with a diamond bezel, its heavy weight like a comfort; sparkling bracelets finely wrought with sapphires and emeralds; delicate petal earrings from Van Cleef.

“Did she like that watch you gave her for her birthday?”

she asked, thinking that thirty thousand dollars bought a very generous gift. But then again, the Red Bloods gave them something much more precious.

Charles looked concerned at the sharpness of her tone.

“You can’t be jealous, Allegra.” He sounded confused, as if she had changed the rules.

“I’m not,” she said, giving him an easy smile and reaching to ruffle his hair. This was the way it was. The way they had always lived. The Blue Blood way. There was the bond and then there were human familiars. One provided nourishment for the soul, the other fed the immortal blood.

Charles rested his warm hands on her face. “You look pale and you feel cold,” he said, rubbing her cheeks. “You need a bite. And I don’t mean dinner.”

“I know.” She hung her head. It was an unspoken disagreement between them. She knew Charles did not like that she had not taken a familiar since that first doomed disaster in high school. They never spoke of Ben, but she knew Charles would be relieved once she took a new familiar. She had been putting it off, hesitating, afraid of falling in love with the wrong person all over again—a ridiculous fear, surely. She had had thousands of human familiars in her multiple lifetimes and had only fallen that one time. There was another reason, of course—one she did not even want to admit to herself—but she didn’t want to forget about Ben, and taking another’s blood would wash away some of the memory of their joining.

Charles frowned. “If you don’t want to go through the trouble, there is always the service. Let the Conduits take care of you. You’ll feel much better.”

Allegra nodded. Blue Bloods whose familiars were not available or had passed away had the option of using a blood service founded by the Conduits, wherein screened humans were offered to the vampires at their discretion. The service did not have the seedy undertone of the blood houses. They were clinical transactions, not unlike ordering a steak from room service. “I’ll think about it,” she promised.

Charles kissed her on the forehead. “I know you’re still worried about what happened last time, but you need to move on.”

There were no secrets between them. Not anymore.

Charles knew she had been in love with Ben, that her relationship with her human familiar had almost jeopardized everything, including the bond that was the foundation of the Coven and tied them to the earth and to each other. That he forgave her, that he still loved her, was something Allegra had to live with every day.

She sank down on the couch, relieved that she had left Ben’s studio as quickly as she had. There had been no temptation to stay. She was home and safe. She would meet her friends for a quick dinner and maybe dial up the service, as Charles had suggested. It was time.

“Good. Charge it to my account,” Charles said. He had read her mind as usual.

When Allegra returned from a raucous night with her old teammates, she found a note on her bedside table. It was a business card with the name of the service and a phone number. The Conduits could be trusted to provide a good familiar, maybe someone they could send to New York with her afterward. She picked up the phone to dial, when there was a knock on the door and the butler appeared. “A letter arrived for you, miss Van Alen.”

Allegra opened the envelope. Inside was a note hastily scribbled on an embossed monogrammed card. SBC. Stephen Bendix Chase.

Meet me in the Redwood Room at the Clift. Please.

It’s important.

—Ben