Authors: Emma Holly
Tags: #Ghost stories, #Vampires, #Horror, #Paranormal, #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal romance stories, #Motion picture producers and directors, #Occult fiction, #Ghosts, #Occult & Supernatural, #Love stories
Angel at Dawn (4 page)
“And this is your answer? To make some idiot movie about vampires?”
She shrugged, a fey gold amusement glinting out from under her down-swept lashes. “It’s entertaining to hide among the humans, to beat them at their own games.”
“Some victory that is when you’re making up the rules.”
“I’m only cheating a little.”
“If one of your subjects wanted to do this, you’d never permit it.”
“Maybe I need to express myself.”
She threw this off like a joke, but he didn’t doubt it was true. Though she excelled at hiding her true nature from mortal eyes, she’d always had a flamboyant streak. Considering the newly prosperous humans around her were so busy “expressing” themselves by buying yellow refrigerators and green bathtubs, why should she be immune?
“Come on,” she said coaxingly. “It can’t hurt to share a drink with the two of us. Grace is adorable when she’s tipsy. Makes her cheeks all yummy and pink.”
The growl that trickled from his throat was as dark as it was unplanned. Normally, he gave nothing of his interior life away. Laughing, Nim Wei poked his chest with a pink-frosted fingernail.
“Take your motorcycle,” she advised. “Grace will love watching your big strong thighs straddle that. Especially if you have one of those biker jackets with the zippers all over it.”
She turned away before he could form his curse into words.
“Grace,” she called. “Start the car. Christian has agreed to hear out our pitch.”
T
he primal roar of Christian’s motorcycle led Grace through the town of Two Forks. The Fury’s headlights, their only illumination once they left the main street behind, lit up their mounted guide. Something in the way his strong young body leaned into the turns, in how his booted foot strafed the loose dirt for balance, had Grace swallowing hard. She didn’t doubt Christian could sit a horse—or whatever the proper term was—but watching him maneuver that growling monster around the curves made him seem both an ancient and modern beast.
he primal roar of Christian’s motorcycle led Grace through the town of Two Forks. The Fury’s headlights, their only illumination once they left the main street behind, lit up their mounted guide. Something in the way his strong young body leaned into the turns, in how his booted foot strafed the loose dirt for balance, had Grace swallowing hard. She didn’t doubt Christian could sit a horse—or whatever the proper term was—but watching him maneuver that growling monster around the curves made him seem both an ancient and modern beast.
A centaur, she thought, whose lower half was a big machine.
That image was more suggestive than she’d intended. Blushing, she squirmed in the driver’s seat.
“Handy he rides so well,” Miss Wei observed above the rush of the September wind. Her slender hand held her scarf in place. “Almost makes one think he was born to play Joe Pryor.”
“Yes,” Grace agreed, then cleared her froggy throat. “We won’t have to hire a stunt double for those scenes.”
Christian’s thighs bunched as he turned into a flat, dusty parking lot. His butt clenched, too, but Grace tore her eyes from that before she clipped the rear of someone’s parked Ford pickup. It was cool now that dark had fallen, but her sweaty hands nearly slipped on the steering wheel. She had to pull herself together, and she had to do it now.
She’d met handsome men before, plenty of them in LA. Betraying an interest wasn’t compatible with being taken seriously—hard enough for females at the best of times. In this case, she saw a reason for prejudice. How could you appear authoritative if you behaved like a love-starved fan? Grace didn’t need to be vulnerable, not in any part of her life. Watching her mother abandon all integrity to appease her father had taught Grace that hard lesson.
The reminder issued, she parked the car and got out.
Christian had led them to a rustic bar called Buck’s on the edge of town. It didn’t look like much to her, but it must have been a popular watering hole. Vehicles as old as the pickup she’d parked next to filled the slots near the door. Christian waited there for them, tall and expressionless, while twangy hillbilly music spit through the cracks in the worn building. He was tall enough that the hems of his jeans weren’t rolled up.
“Charming place,” Miss Wei observed as they reached him.
“You’re the one who wanted a drink.” Christian’s gaze slid to Grace’s and locked there. Though the look he gave her was neither friendly nor flirtatious, heat cruised through her like a Russian rocket. His eyes were thick-lashed and dark—unreadable, she would say. His thin lips tightened as if he disapproved of her in some way.
Grace’s panties redampened, which they really should not have done.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice too breathy as he held the door for her.
Inside, the drinking spot was dark, swirling with tobacco smoke, and stuck in a style that harkened back to when Two Forks had still been
North
. Yellowed WPA posters hung on the walls, reminders of a depression that had been wiped out by the prosperous aftermath of the last world war. Unimpressed by the improvement, a Lone Star beer sign flickered moodily behind the bar.
North
. Yellowed WPA posters hung on the walls, reminders of a depression that had been wiped out by the prosperous aftermath of the last world war. Unimpressed by the improvement, a Lone Star beer sign flickered moodily behind the bar.
At Christian’s approach, two men vacated a booth:
his
booth, apparently. Young though he was, Christian must have been a big wheel in Two Forks. The bartender walked over almost before they sat down.
his
booth, apparently. Young though he was, Christian must have been a big wheel in Two Forks. The bartender walked over almost before they sat down.
Grace didn’t know if it was better or worse that Christian had placed himself across from Miss Wei and her. She wouldn’t have wanted to sit next to him, but he really was too good-looking to confront comfortably.
“Mr. Durand,” the bartender said, his manner as respectful as if Christian were a much older man. “What can I get you and your guests tonight?”
Christian narrowed his eyes at Grace. “You sure you’re old enough to drink?”
“You’re asking
me
that?” Grace retorted in surprise, because he looked younger than she did.
me
that?” Grace retorted in surprise, because he looked younger than she did.
“Grace is under the impression that she’s a twenty-four-year-old crone,” Miss Wei put in helpfully.
Christian grunted. “Even if she were, she wouldn’t stay one hanging around you.”
This sounded like an insult, but Grace wasn’t sure to whom. When she glanced at her employer, Miss Wei was pursing her mouth in some sort of tease at their terse companion. Concluding her boss could take care of herself, Grace turned to the bartender.
“I’ll have a beer,” she said firmly. “Whatever’s cold.”
“The usual,” Christian said, “and the same for
Naomi
here.”
Naomi
here.”
The currents between the pair were making her uneasy, which might have explained why she spoke less cautiously than normal when the glasses were set down.
“
Wine
is your usual?” she exclaimed.
Wine
is your usual?” she exclaimed.
Christian raised one eyebrow. “You have some objection?”
“Beer would be better. Or bourbon with branch water.”
“Better for what?”
She refused to let his tone cow her. “Better for your image. It’s fine to be sensitive. James Dean proved girls go for that, but you don’t want to take it too far. I’m afraid we’ll have to cut your hair as well. Your clothes are fine, and the motorcycle’s great, but if you had one of those black leather biker jackets to wear with it, that would be wonderful.”
For some reason, Miss Wei snickered into her wine.
Whatever the joke, Christian didn’t share her amusement. “I didn’t realize you were going to be
coaching
me on how to pull on my pants.”
coaching
me on how to pull on my pants.”
“It’s just how the game is played,” Grace said, leaning forward earnestly. If Christian didn’t get this, they’d be stuck in the mud right here. “All the studios manage their stars’ images. You’ll be an artist, sure, but moviegoers want a fantasy they can latch onto. Men have to be
men
. I don’t mean to insult you. You really are close to our ideal.”
men
. I don’t mean to insult you. You really are close to our ideal.”
“How nice to hear,” Christian drawled icily.
He’d leaned back as she leaned forward, his body screaming annoyance even as his face remained studiously blank. Grace would have been grateful for Miss Wei’s aid, but her employer seemed content to leave the talking to her. Determined not to disappoint her, Grace drew a bolstering breath.
“Take Vivian Lavelle,” she said, “the actress we cast to star opposite you. She’s been playing juvenile characters for years. Fresh-faced. Puppies and gingham bows. Now that she’s eighteen, she wants to make the transition to adult roles.”
“Don’t tell me she’ll be tossing back bourbon, too.”
Grace laughed in spite of her nerves. “No, but we did arrange for her to be seen dating older leading men. If you act like a grown-up, it’s easier to be considered one.”
“And you arranged this.”
Grace shrugged. “We called the actors’ agents to set it up. It makes the older men seem younger. Everyone benefits.”
“My God,” Christian murmured. “Since when have
you
been this cynical?”
you
been this cynical?”
Grace didn’t understand his emphasis, only that it made her feel defensive. “It’s not cynical; it’s pragmatic. It’s—”
“—how the game is played,” he finished. With long, agile fingers, he turned his wineglass slowly on the table. His gaze was fastened on hers again. Hot-faced beneath the scrutiny, Grace couldn’t keep her hand from creeping up to her hair. Its waves were smooth already, but she hadn’t felt this self-conscious since her days of being the perpetual new girl at school.
“It isn’t a bad game,” Miss Wei said into the pause. “In fact, making movies is exhilarating. All those people sitting in the dark, staring up at you on the screen. They’re in the cup of your palm, Christian, caught up in the story you’re telling. That’s a power so basic most of us have forgotten how magical it can be.”
“Most of
us
,” Christian repeated, thankfully shifting his attention away from Grace.
us
,” Christian repeated, thankfully shifting his attention away from Grace.
“Everyone needs to leave a mark,” Miss Wei said softly. “Maybe everyone deserves to.”
Christian’s dark eyes glittered and then turned down.
The small reaction humanized him. Prickly though he might be, he was like any young person: wondering what he’d been born for, why it mattered that he drew breath. The ability to see into people’s hearts and know what they longed for was one of the gifts Grace most admired in her employer. Though she’d never be anyone’s doormat, Miss Wei was a truly generous soul.
“Jesus,” Christian said for no reason she could think of, his startled gaze jerking up to hers. “That’s some bill of goods she sold you.”
“What?” Grace asked, wondering where she’d lost track of this conversation. Her confusion increased when Miss Wei rose.
“I think we should go now,” she said. “Christian needs more time to consider our proposal.”
Grace gawped at her. They’d barely started in on convincing him. It wasn’t like her mentor to cut short a pitch. That was too close to taking no for an answer.
“Now,” Miss Wei said, laying her hand rather firmly on Grace’s shoulder.
Grace got up as Christian slouched back on his bench and snorted derisively. “Better hurry. Before your house of cards collapses.”
Miss Wei had been guiding Grace away, but Christian’s comment stiffened and turned her back. “There is no house of cards. You’re the one who invaded Grace’s privacy. I’m simply protecting her.”
Christian’s sneer of response held more layers than Grace could see any basis for.
“Good night,” she said, because it seemed like one of them ought to be polite. “I hope you consider taking the role. I think you’d be swell in it.”
Christian’s eyes darkened dangerously. As she followed her employer out of the bar, Grace had the sensation that his gaze was boring into her neck.
Miss Wei didn’t say a word, not in apology or explanation, until they pulled into the spanking-new Best Western where they’d booked rooms. Per Miss Wei’s request, their accommodations were at opposite ends of the roadside motel. Though it wasn’t Grace’s place to judge, she imagined the separation was due to her employer’s fondness for picking up strange men. Shared walls might have made that fondness a little too obvious.
Not leaving the car just yet, Miss Wei turned to her on the front seat. Grace expected her to explain her recent behavior, but that wasn’t what happened.
“Do you trust me, Grace?” Miss Wei asked.
“Of course I do!” she exclaimed.
“I’d like you to look into my eyes,” she said. “I’d like you to think about the reasons you know you can rely on me.”
Grace blinked in surprise. The light from the motel sign cast a glow across Miss Wei’s face. Her features were so perfect, so smooth and unblemished, that they seemed unreal. Dizziness whirled through Grace as golden sparks appeared to spiral upward from the depths of Miss Wei’s black eyes. With a wistfulness Grace couldn’t fathom, her employer brushed Grace’s left cheek with cool knuckles.
“I hope I’m not going to regret this.”
“Regret what?” Grace asked, the question slurred.
Miss Wei put her hands on either side of Grace’s temples. “If Christian wants you, he should have to figure you out just like any man. So . . . your thoughts are your own, my friend, and your will. No one can violate them, not even me. As I speak these words, so may they come to be.”
Grace shook herself. She had the impression she’d missed something. “Are you okay, boss?”
“Fine,” she said. “Why don’t you pop the trunk, and we’ll get our bags? We’ll tackle our future movie star tomorrow.”
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