Page 65 of Obsessed in Blood
Red snorted. “They say timing is everything. It just so happens, Lorenzo is throwing a huge fantasy ball next week. I hear he’s opened it up to all the aristocrats.”
“Was this unplanned?” Lyra asked. “Usually something like that has to be scheduled weeks in advance.”
“Oh, it has been,” Rachel responded. “The invitations went out a month ago.”
Lyra smiled at Simone. “I suppose ours got lost in the mail.”
The women laughed, but then Rachel got a wicked twinkle in her gaze that gave me goosebumps. I had a feeling we were going to get our payday. “I know several people who won’t be going. I’m pretty sure they still have their invitations.”
From what Anna had told me about these private balls and gatherings, invitations went out to specific Houses. The invitation was required for entrance, but the staff couldn’t possibly put faces to names, and it was rare for security to question the vamp holding the ticket.
“I know several Houses that won’t be going,” Naomi chimed in. “I’m pretty sure I could get my hands on however many you need.”
“And why would you do that for us?” Simone asked.
Red looked straight at Lyra. “If we had to bet on House Venizi or House Trelane as the last one standing—” she picked up her teacup as did Rachel and Naomi, “—our money is on the one led by powerful women.”
ChapterTwenty-Three
Devon’s office was dark.The only light glowed from four candles. I sat in a comfortable chair next to the cold fireplace. Colantha sat across from me, our knees almost touching. The candles had been placed in the standard pattern of north, south, east, and west. Jamison and Frederick were close for whatever Colantha might need.
We didn’t know if this would work. We didn’t know how long it might take. A bottle of juice cooled in a champagne bucket. We’d already drank one glass.
Devon and Lyra sat across the room. Lyra had wanted to be part of the dreamwalk, but Colantha refused. If this was Hamilton reaching out to me, Colantha was concerned that his early breaches into Lyra’s mind, purposely or not, might impact her in unknown ways. And while it did make sense to use Lyra as a focal point, it might create another problem. Additional emotions, brought on too soon, could fracture Hamilton’s grasp if he was unstable. His pleas for help aside—which anyone would be asking for if they’d been incarcerated for a hundred years—he could be mentally impaired and still harness great power that could end up damaging whoever was in the construct.
The simplest approach would be to reach out to him and attempt to pull him into a construct of our own making, but one that was somewhat familiar to him. It was best to take things one step at a time.
Since Hamilton had reached out to me on the island, I was someone familiar. Colantha, while unknown to Hamilton, had the power to maintain the construct and control Hamilton if needed.
To say I was a bit unnerved would be an understatement. There was a great deal riding on this. I didn’t want to disappoint Lyra, but most importantly, we needed to know if Lorenzo was aware Hamilton was a dreamwalker.
I breathed deeply, focusing on the candle that had been set on a stand behind Colantha and a few inches above her head. There was a similar stand behind me. We’d been meditating for the last ten minutes, and my mind was beginning to wander. Fortunately, with Devon and Lyra being vamps, they could hold still for hours without making a sound, which helped, but I still knew they were there, and it was unsettling being watched.
“Ready?” Colantha’s soft voice barely reached me.
“Yes.” My medallion, while comforting, rested heavily around my neck, and I was thankful to be wearing it again.
We decided to use Devon’s office, which used to be his father’s study. Devon provided the details of the study from his recollections, adding bits from Lyra’s memories. Hamilton spent many hours with Guildford in this room, so Colantha agreed it was our best option.
With nothing more difficult than the flick of a switch, the room changed. The fireplace was still to my right, but our chairs changed to something more appropriate for the 1920s, and a third chair had been added to our left rather than the sofa. The bar that Devon had added was gone, replaced with a side table that displayed an array of alcohol in decorative glass bottles. It was bordered on both sides by tall bookcases. Across the room where the espresso machine should be were more floor-to-ceiling bookcases.
With the construct in place, it was my turn to find Hamilton and bring him forth. I tried several times, but something unexpected happened. Other dreamwalkers reached out, none of them Hamilton. Almost all were imprisoned in some fashion—restrained in a family home, confined in psychiatric facilities, detained in human prison systems, or enslaved by others for reasons I’d rather not know.
I couldn’t help them, and I pushed them away.
We stopped after an hour to drink juice and walk around. Ten minutes later, we were back at it. Colantha wanted to attempt bringing Hamilton forth, but she didn’t have any better luck than I did. After a brief discussion with Colantha, who approved, I changed tactics.
Rather than bring him to us, I went to him. I focused on just the man and where he was located. The first image that came to mind was the building. A vamp guard stood outside the door. I moved past him into the building and immediately found myself in the room where I’d seen Hamilton.
The switch from moving into the building and then to Hamilton’s cell jarred me. Did it mean Hamilton wasn’t in the building but someplace else? Or did I jump directly to his room because I’d never seen what was beyond the front door?
On my fifth attempt to connect, exhausted and a severe headache threatening, something changed because he was right in front of me—haggard and wild-eyed.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “Why are you chasing me?”
“You called out to me. When I was on the island. Don’t you remember?”
The confusion in his gaze softened, but he was still suspicious. “I remember. You left me.”
