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"This had better be a damn good forgery," I said, as I took the invitation from the seat
beside me and rolled down the window.
"What," Vayl whispered, "are you finally nervous?"
Is the Pope Catholic? "Shh, it's our turn." I pulled up to the gate and handed the invite to
Arnold Jr. Up close he overwhelmed the eyeballs, built like a tractor with the confidence
that came from knowing he could mow us flat without breaking a sweat.
"Welcome to Alpine Meadows," he said in an American accent whew!
Vayl sat forward. "Thank you," he said, his voice more melodic than usual as his eyes met
those of the guard's. I felt the magic cross my skin on its way to Arnold Jr., a scented
breeze of power so purely Vayl, I would have recognized it in a perfume factory. "In five
minutes you will not remember our faces or the fact that you admitted us." Junior's jaw
went slack and his pupils dilated like he'd scored an instant high. He nodded, handed the
invitation back to me and stepped away from the car.
"Can you do that for me next time Pete wants to wring my neck?" I asked as I moved the
Lexus toward Assan's mini-castle. The rumble in Vayl's throat could've been anything from
a growl to a burp. I stole a look at his face, and from the way his lips were quivering
decided it was a chuckle.
The valet had a hard time understanding why any high society dame would want to park
her own car. Then Vayl spoke to him and made it all better. He directed us around the side
of the house, where I backed into the space closest to the front door. I sort of specialize in
quick getaways. Too bad I wasn't driving a Hummer, It would've been fun to pull straight
in and then mow over the perfectly trimmed hedges and gigantic urns on the way out.
Like a good little blueblood, I waited for Vayl to stroll around and open my door for me.
We took a path lined with Japanese lanterns around to the front of the house, uh, mansion,
um, pretentious freaking monstrosity posing as a home. Yeah, that's more like it. At the
top of white marble steps that led to doors the size of rocket silos, a barrel-chested, pock
marked man with the eyes of a scorpion took our invitation and added it to a lace-lined
basket at his feet. I had a sudden image of him skipping through the woods holding that
basket in front of him like Little Red Riding Hood, and laughed out loud. He and Vayl
both looked at me strangely. I patted Vayl's arm.
"Oh, honey, I finally got that joke you told me on the way here. Hilarious!"
Vayl nodded as if he understood and led me indoors. "You will explain that one to me
later, I hope?" he whispered out the side of his mouth.
"I'll explain it to you now." Then I forgot what I was going to say as we entered a
massive, marble-lined hall lit with five, count'em, five sparkling chandeliers. So many
candelabras lined the walls that even if the lights winked out you still could've seen well
enough to read the fine print on an iffy contract. And the art! I smiled up at Vayl as if I
belonged among people who thought nothing of owning paintings bigger than my
apartment. I had never felt so sorely out of place. Even my teeth felt fake.
"You are looking gorgeous tonight, my dear," Vayl said, squeezing my hand.
Somewhat reassured, I said, "Thank you darling. And may I say you grow more handsome
with each passing day?"
He nodded graciously, every bit the self-assured multimillionaire we wanted our host to
think he was. Speaking of the devil, here he came, greeting his guests with the slick
friendliness of a tiger shark at a daily feeding. His white tuxedo set off his dark hair and
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skin to perfection, and the gold rings on six out of ten of his fingers highlighted his
remarkably slender, blunt-nailed hands.
I managed not to flinch as he came at me, all teeth and glittering black eyes. Sometimes
things would be so much simpler if you could just pull out your gun and shoot the bad
guy. Reason number seventeen why Indiana Jones is my hero.
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