TWO
The vampire drove a black Porsche. And what’s more, he looked like the kind of vampire who’d drive a black Porsche.
Kat eyed Ridge Champion in the dashboard lights as he drove with speed and skill. Hair that looked as darkly silky as Russian sable, thick brows slashing over cat-green eyes. A profile that could have been chiseled by Michelangelo. Lips a little sulky, a strong cleft chin, nose a Greco-Roman sweep. And, God help her, dimples that flashed when he smiled. What the hell kind of grown man had dimples? If he hadn’t been a vampire, she’d have figured he was g*y.
Gay? Kat winced. Apparently, being really nervous brought out the catty bitch in her.
Her mouth tasted as if she’d eaten a bag of cotton balls. Animated cotton balls, currently tumbling around in her lurching stomach. She tried to work up enough spit to swallow.
He whipped the Porsche between a pair of stone columns. Kat blinked at the houses that rolled past.
Middle-class suburbia, nice but decidedly down-market from the Porsche. “You live here?”
“Not exactly.”
He pulled into the driveway of a bland brick split-level. Garage doors opened and then closed again behind the car’s sleek taillights as he braked to a silken stop. Kat started to reach for the door handle. . .
.
The universe twisted itself inside out, taking her stomach along for the ride. A hot white starburst exploded in front of her eyes, blinding her. Kat clung to the door, blinking furiously, as the world settled into some kind of weird new configuration. Her stomach settled with it. “What the hell was that?”
The vampire looked at her and smiled. “Magic.”
“Yeah, I kind of figured that from the psychic sucker punch.” Kat gazed out the windshield and her jaw dropped in astonishment.
They were now outside, surrounded by expensive cars in a rainbow of colors. Porches, BMWs, Cadillacs, Rolls-Royces. The only thing that kept the lot from looking like valet parking at the Academy Awards was three beaters: a rusting VW bug, a panel van that appeared to date from 1972, and an ancient Model T in serious need of a paint job.
Light exploded in the corner of her eye. She jerked around to look out the passenger window. A 1957
cherry red Thunderbird had appeared in the parking space next to them. The well-dressed driver got out and went around to open the door for his date.
Kat was still gaping when Ridge opened her own door and extended a hand to help her out. Cautious of her skirt’s silken train, she took his hand. It felt broad and warm under hers as he tugged her from her seat and threaded her fingers into the crook of his arm.
“Where are we?” Tilting her head back, Kat gazed upward. She couldn’t recall a sky quite so beautiful, so incredibly black, or strewn with so many glittering stars.
Ridge followed her dazzled stare, and a slight smile curved his absurdly beautiful mouth. “This is the Mageverse.”
“The what?” She searched the magical memories she’d acquired from Grace. Unfortunately, her knowledge apparently had some very large holes.
“The Mageverse. It’s a parallel universe where magic is a natural force, like gravity or magnetism back home.” He started down the row of cars, guiding her along. “This is where we live, where we draw on the magic that we use on Earth.”
His biceps felt round and firm under the warm wool of his coat sleeve. She looked up into his elegant profile, frowning. “But how did we get here?”
Ridge lifted one broad shoulder in a half shrug. “That house we stopped at. There’s a spell gate on the floor of the garage. When a car drives into it equipped with the trigger spell, it transports the car to the Mageverse.”
“Oh.” She tilted her head, eyeing him curiously. Her fingers stole unconsciously to her locket, absently rasped it back and forth over its chain. “I thought you did it.”
“Me?” He shot her a surprised look. “Vampires can’t do magic. Well, not that kind of magic. I can turn myself into a wolf or heal some really ugly gunshot wounds, but nothing outside my own body. You need a Maja for that.”
“Why? I mean, if you could turn yourself into an animal—which sounds pretty damn major to me—
why not other kinds of magic?”
“Why does gravity pull down instead of push up? That’s just the way it works.” They joined a stream of richly clad people leaving the parking lot. Kat hunched inside her overcoat and studied the crowd as they walked. About half wore tuxedos or gowns in some shade of white, from eggshell to cream. The remaining women were dressed in a rainbow of vivid colors in silk and velvet, the men in black tuxes. Come to think of it, Grace had provided her with the white gown she wore.
Some kind of color coding?
They clipped around a stand of trees with the rest of the well-heeled herd. The sight that greeted them stopped Kat in her tracks.
The five-story castle looked as if it had been transported directly from medieval England, complete with moat and thick stone walls. She could almost see Merlin standing on the ramparts, magic pouring from his hands.
Ridge gave her arm a little tug to get her moving again. As they walked across the wooden drawbridge, Kat looked over the edge at the moat below. A reflection of the full moon danced on the water’s mirrored surface.
They passed under a portcullis into a courtyard decorated with rosebushes and topiary. Statues of medieval knights and ladies gleamed in the moonlight like graceful ghosts. A keep towered in the center of it all, soaring against the black sky, spotlights illuminating its massive cream stone walls.
Heart hammering with nervous excitement, Kat let the vampire lead her through the keep’s towering oak doors.
They gave up their coats to a lovely young woman manning a coat check in the foyer, then wandered into the huge ballroom beyond.
The first thing Kat saw when they entered was a Christmas tree that had to be fifty feet tall, a massive, noble fir draped in thousands of white lights. The ornaments—a glittering collection of balls in white, silver, and gold—were easily the size of Kat’s head. It was so damned impressive, she barely noticed the usual stab of Christmas agony.
Dancers swirled around the huge tree, to the strains of some hidden orchestra. Kat was instantly grateful for the magical knowledge of waltzing Grace had given her at the same time as the dress.
“Would you like something to drink?” Ridge asked over the buzz of voices and laughter.
Kat licked dry lips. “Yes, please.” Something with alcohol, if she was really lucky. She needed to numb her fluttering nervousness.