Caitlyn hesitated just outside the doorway to the ballroom. She knew that she was terribly late—it looked like most of the guests had already arrived and the ball was well under way. She had purposefully dawdled in her room, fiddling with her costume and hair and
make-up, telling herself that she needed to get the details “just right”. But if she were being honest, she had to admit that she’d just been finding an excuse to delay coming down. Then she straightened her shoulders. She wasn’t a shy little girl or a tongue-tied teenager anymore, she reminded herself.
Taking a deep breath, Caitlyn stepped through the double doors to join the throng. Instantly, she felt herself caught up in the vibrant atmosphere as she looked around the spectacular ballroom. Sparkling crystal chandeliers graced the high, vaulted ceilings, and a series of gold embellishments and mirrored panels decorated the walls. A small chamber orchestra was ensconced at one end,
its members enthusiastically playing a Viennese waltz. On the other side of the room, there was a sumptuous buffet next to an impressive five-tiered caramel fountain. Crowds of people milled about, talking, laughing, and drinking, as white-gloved waiters glided past, refilling champagne glasses and offering canapés from silver trays. There was a mind-boggling array of costume types, and it looked like everyone had made a huge effort to take part in the masquerade—from sinister demons to ethereal
fairies, wild monsters of myth to mysterious beauties of legend.
Caitlyn drifted to the edge of the dance floor and watched wistfully as couples whirled past in perfect time to the dreamy music being played by the orchestra. She wondered where James was, then almost instantly spotted him on the other side of the dance floor. He looked breathtakingly handsome, with the stark elegance of his black-and-gold brocade jacket and silk cape highlighting his
tall, muscular figure, and the silver half-mask lending an almost sinister edge to his aristocratic features. He was dancing with a slender blonde woman, whirling her expertly between the other couples, and they looked stunning together. Caitlyn saw several eyebrows waggling and meaningful looks exchanged as other guests watched them, and she was reminded uncomfortably of the fact that James Fitzroy was considered one of the most eligible bachelors in England. Was she crazy to think that the
master of Huntingdon Manor would choose her above all the other beautiful, sophisticated women surrounding him?
She was pulled out of her forlorn thoughts by the sound of a familiar crotchety voice enquiring:
“Have you seen my teeth?”
Caitlyn whirled to see a stooped old man dressed in a black suit and tails that looked like it had been unearthed from the wardrobe department of a historical drama. In fact, he himself looked like something that had been dug out from an ancient attic, with his rheumy eyes, sunken mouth, and few wispy hairs carefully combed across his balding head. He carried himself with a certain
dignity, though, and would have looked perfectly respectable—were it not for the fact that he was leaning over the shoulder of a startled woman, peering hopefully into her champagne glass.
“Porcelain amalgamate, pointed ends, more alabaster than ivory, I think… about yea long,” the old man told her, demonstrating with a bony thumb and forefinger. “Not a bad replica of my original fangs, actually, although you don’t get the same overbite, of course.”
“I… I beg your pardon?” stammered the woman, staring at him.
“Are you saying that you’ve dropped your dentures in my wife’s drink?” demanded the woman’s companion.
“Not very likely, but you never know where teeth can turn up, do you? It’s the confounded dentist. Told him vampire fangs need extra finesse in attachment, but he dismissed my concerns,” grumbled the old man. “I thought he would be better than the last chap, but he turned out just as useless!” He sniffed. “Still, what do you expect from someone who did most of their training on ogre
teeth?”
“Oh… that’s a good one, mate,” said the husband, laughing suddenly and raising his glass in a toast to the old man. “You’re really getting into character, aren’t you? Word of advice, though…” He cast a disparaging look at the old man’s suit. “I’d get a better costume next time, if I were you. You don’t look anything like a vampire.”
“What? How dare you!” spluttered the old man. “I do not need a costume to look like a vampire—I am a vampire!”
The husband burst out laughing. Before he could respond, Caitlyn grabbed the old man’s arm and hastily hauled him away from the couple.
“Viktor! What are you doing here?” she demanded.
The old man gave her a grumpy look. “Looking for my fangs, of course. What else?”
“No, no, I mean, what are you doing here at the ball? How did you sneak in?”
Viktor looked affronted. “Sneak in? I do not sneak! As it happens, I had an invitation—from the lord of the manor himself,” he added huffily.
“James? James invited you to the ball?” said Caitlyn disbelievingly.
“Yes, he happened to come upon me when I was hanging upside down, having a nap in my favourite corner of the Manor Library ceiling. Good cobwebs there, you know—keeps the draughts out. Anyway, he looked a bit startled to find me, but very decent chap. Impeccable manners. Asked me how I was, and we discussed the weather, of course, like any two civilised Englishmen… and when he heard of
my predilection for toffee apples, he invited me to come and sample them at the ball, seeing as they were to be one of the special treats offered in the buffet.” Viktor smacked his lips. “I must say, that old witch Mags knows what she’s doing with caramel sauce, I’ll give her that. Best toffee apples I’ve tasted in a century!”
The old man brightened suddenly as the exuberant notes of a new piece of music filled the ballroom. “Ah! The polka-mazurka! This was my favourite dance back in the 1850s. Dum…dum-dum…dum!” He gave a little sideways skip and a hop, then grabbed Caitlyn’s hand enthusiastically. “Come, I will show you, my dear—”
“Oh no, Viktor, I don’t think that’s a good idea…” Caitlyn started to protest, but Viktor was already dragging her into the centre of the room.
The next moment, Caitlyn found herself clutched in Viktor’s bony arms and whirled around the dance floor. For a six-hundred-year-old vampire, he sure is nimble on his feet, thought Caitlyn, struggling to keep up with Viktor’s fancy footwork.
“Dum…dum-dum…dum,” sang Viktor happily, swinging Caitlyn around with gusto.
She had to clutch at her skirts to stop herself tripping, and gave a yelp of surprise as Viktor suddenly twirled her outwards to the end of his arm.
“Oomph!” Caitlyn gasped as she collided with another couple. She turned in dismay and saw that she was facing an elderly matriarch in a sequined black gown, with enormous ostrich plumes in her hair and a scandalised expression on her face. “I’m terribly sorry—”
Before she could finish, she felt Viktor’s bony hand groping for her arm again. But unfortunately, he seemed to have trouble seeing clearly and he grabbed the arm of the matriarch instead. The woman gave a shriek of shock and outrage as the old vampire yanked her into his arms and twirled away with her.
“Wait! Viktor—” Caitlyn cried, trying to follow them, but her route was cut off by the swaying bodies of other dancing couples.
“It looks like you’ll have to accept me as a poor substitute,” came a smooth voice beside her.
Caitlyn turned to see that the old matriarch’s dance partner was sweeping her a mocking bow and offering his hand. He lifted his mask slightly to give her a wink and she realised with a sinking heart that it was Daniel Tremaine. He was the last person she wanted to dance with, but it seemed too rude to snub him, so Caitlyn reluctantly put her hand in his.
“So, Miss Le Fey, how are you enjoying the ball?”
Caitlyn jerked back in surprise. “How… how did you know who I am?” she asked.
Tremaine laughed. “In my line of work, you learn to recognise people’s true identities, no matter how good their disguises.” He looked at her pretty decorated mask with amused disdain. “And masquerade costumes are child’s play. In any case… there is more to a woman than simply her appearance. There is the way she holds herself, the lines of her body, the aura around her.” He gave her a
wolfish grin. “I enjoy women—enjoy looking at them, observing them, admiring them, and I never forget a woman I’ve seen. Besides, anyone really looking would have noticed a special quality about you. They would have seen that there’s more to you than meets the eye.”
Caitlyn drew back from him. “I… I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, I think you do. That shy wallflower act may fool others, but it won’t work with me. I think you’re very aware of the power you have, especially the power to lead men astray.”
“What—?” Caitlyn gasped an incredulous laugh. She didn’t know whether to be insulted by his heavy-handed innuendos or to laugh at his ridiculously melodramatic words.
Tremaine leaned suddenly closer, so that his lips were next to her ear. “You’re a beautiful woman, Caitlyn Le Fey, and beautiful women have to be careful. You know, in another age, you would have been branded a witch and burned at the stake just for enticing men with that glorious hair and those enchanting hazel eyes.”
Caitlyn flinched and would have pulled away from him, except that he tightened his hold on her, his arm like a band of steel around her.
Tremaine laughed. “Relax—I’m teasing. No one’s going to harm you. After all, you’re not really a witch… are you?”
