36

James's power surged, enveloping us all.

The web of my magic stayed coiled around my insides. It was obvious that this show was for the benefit of the Baron, or, more specifically, for his wife. At first I didn't understand. It was Baron Knyvet that had turned both James and Thomas.

Yet it was obvious that James considered the Baroness the primary threat. If she was the one to fear, then it was her that I needed to focus on.

Her thick, long dark hair was fashioned in an intricate ensemble of rolls and plaits with ringlets falling around her creamy shoulders. Dark arched brows gave her face a severe look, but that didn't detract from her appeal. Crimson lips were pulled into a charming smile that was at odds with the cold look in her eyes.

Her dress was an impressive Victorian style gown. The fabric looked authentic, a deep blue silk brocade that fell over a hooped underskirt in the voluminous pleats of mid-nineteenth-century fashion. The low neckline and short lace sleeves showed the Baroness's creamy white skin off to perfection. A tiny waist suggested that she'd seen a corset or two in her time, but I guess that was to be expected in a four hundred or plus year old vamp.

Her height, around five feet and five inches, made her shorter than me, but she still seemed statuesque with the silky sea-blue fabric falling in waves around her feet. This was a woman who knew how to present herself.

The Baron moved closer to his wife as James's power swelled around us. At first I thought he meant to protect her, but one glance at his face told me that it was the other way around. The Baroness wore the trousers in this relationship.

Stepping forward, she performed a small curtsey, her eyes never leaving the face of the small but powerful vampire. "James, my dear. It's been so long since we came to a party like this. It's all such fun." A flirtatious tinkling laugh, sweet and high, finished the sentence. She had flicked open a fan, and the flurry of movement drew my eyes away from her beautiful face.

I don't know what it was: the dress, the accessories, those coquettish actions and even her voice, but it struck me all at once. It was all part of a disguise. She mimicked dress and behaviour from a period in which women were disenfranchised. It was easy to see her like that when she fit the role to perfection.

I had almost fallen for it, but her husband had given her true position away. She realised as much as soon as the thought flitted through my head. The flash of crimson fury that flickered to my hand joined with James's told me that she had hoped to get to me first. The Baroness was at a disadvantage and she didn't like it.

It was only a moment before she recovered her composure, her eyes returning to deep brown and her features smoothing back to a calm composure that fitted her assumed character of Victorian Lady.

It was then I realised that the disadvantage was really mine. I'd only heard half the history. Even though there was no way that the Baroness could know that, I couldn't detect her power. I had no way of assessing her reactions. I had become far too reliant on my witch senses.

The harsh knowledge of my folly descended, leaving me to struggle with a helplessness that I thought I'd left behind.

Maybe that was the point.

The Baroness and her husband may have no power, but I was the vulnerable party. And so was James I realised, as I felt him bristle by my side, his hand gripping mine with a strength that was more than uncomfortable. Cold, clammy fear washed through our connection, chased by another stream of James's hot dense power as he tried to banish his instinctive reaction to the Baroness.

Thomas was behind us, the electric buzz of his presence increasing in frequency. It was impossible to know if he was responding to the fear that was streaming through James's energy, or if the mere presence of the Baroness was enough to set him off too.

It took someone intensely frightening to have this effect on other vampires. Especially these vampires. The Baroness was evil, I was sure of it.

Silence descended.

The only movement came from my eyes, which darted between the Baroness and James, unable to rest on either one for more than a second. As the tension worked its way into my brain, a snort somewhere between amusement and hilarity erupted from my nose.

The vamps' frozen features and waxy skin made them look so much like the models at Madame Tussauds that I had to stop myself reaching out to poke someone's face. I was clinging onto sanity by the thinnest of threads, and as the music swelled around us in dizzying waves of complex symphony, my head swam with the overload of sensations.

I glanced at Roger to be met with sharp, angry beams of acid green, the same colour as his bitter magic. He had invited these people and now he was being pushed out of the drama. He didn't realise how far he was in over his head with this lot. It was impossible for a witch to comprehend the complexity of the relationships between vampires who had known each other for hundreds of years.

One thing I was certain of, I couldn't take much more of this. Thomas's vicinity was calling to my power, urging it to break free and wrap itself around him, preferably along with my physical body. On top of the push and pull of James's power surges and fear, I was either going to pass out or hurl.

"Nice to meet you," I spat out, before I could think better of it.

The Baroness raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. My own poor version of a curtsey followed, the results predictable. James pulled me backwards just before I face planted into the Baroness's impressive cleavage.

Nice, Alice. Real smooth.

As I was turning, I caught sight of the Baron, Thomas Knyvet. His brow was drawn into an identical quizzical expression to match his wife. Two birds of prey surveying their quarry.

Shuddering, I grabbed the first arm that came into view that didn't belong to a vampire or my date, and dragged its owner onto the dance floor – my only means of escape.

Only realising what I'd done when a pair of enormous arms circled me and started moving to the music in a decidedly un-ballroom style, I looked up to find one of Roger's bodyguards with an amused grin on his gorgeous face.

"Hi," his deep voice rumbled the word, as he tried to hold in his laughter.

"Um, hi, I really can't dance you know. Maybe we could just go. I was just trying to...er,"

"Escape?" he offered, putting an end to my babbled mess of a sentence. There was a friendly twinkle in his bright green eyes, which I had to crane my neck to meet. Caramel skin contrasted with those striking eyes so beautifully that the breath caught in my throat causing me to splutter in response.

Somehow, my friend here managed to lead me in a slow dance, despite the waltz that the live orchestra was playing. I was too caught up in the fuzzy heat of his life-force to even notice the reactions of the other dancers, who were still spinning around in their ballroom formations.

It was nothing like the energy that I picked-up from other witches. As the silver particles of my life-force floated over his skin I realised that they weren't multiplying.

There was none of the dense pressure that I got off the vampires either, just an all-enveloping warmth, and a feeling of amused contentment.

What the hell?

I was most certainly not amused or contented. These were his emotions creeping into me, making me feel all relaxed and safe and fuzzy. Something was not right with that.

I halted abruptly when we reached the far side of the ballroom. Trying to disengage myself was harder than it should have been. His massive arms just did not want to let me go.

"Look, I know you work for Roger, but there's no need to detain me. I just need to get some air."

Instead of an answer, a derisive snort was aimed in my direction as he pulled me out of the room.

"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Taking you to get some air," he said, as though I was missing some important mental faculties.

"I've already said, you don't have to shadow me. I won't run away. I've got to see this date through to repay my favour."

That snort again, and then a bit of undecipherable mumbling.

"What was that?" I asked, sharply.

"Who the hell takes a favour from a power-hungry idiot like Roger Bingham?" he said, seeming to be angry at my predicament even though it had absolutely nothing to do with him.

"Who the hell works for him?" I said, taken aback.

"Touché."

We stood, regarding each other for a moment. Our faces cracked at the same time, my laughter bubbling out in an unstoppable torrent.

Taking a deep breath, I reined my hilarity in before it overtook me and I fell into full-on hysterics. A complete psychological melt down was on my horizon if I didn't get things under control.

And soon.

Well, she's certainly in over her head, but can this friendly stranger help?