The Ripple Effect (Rhiannon's Law #3)(59)
Sadly, there were more pressing issues at hand.
I followed Goose’s lead when the second limo arrived with the rest of the family—Sirah, Jonny, Nala, Adrian, Landon, Corey, and Peter—and fell into place behind them as they walked toward the door. Unlike the necromancers in the group—who looked like street sluts—they were wrapped from head to toe in designer duds. I cut a sideways peek at Disco and Paine, admiring the view. They matched in black Armani suits, the tailored fit displaying their broad, muscular shoulders.
The monstrosity of a home before of us was totally out of place. Whoever designed it obviously had a hard-on for all things Southern. I’d seen my share of antebellum mansions, and this one was a beauty with columns, wide windows, and an intricate terrace on the third floor. Goosebumps spread down my neck, warning me vampires were inside—vampires and necromancers. I couldn’t do a headcount. There were too many, their combined power too potent. Someone was waiting to open the front door as we started up the stairs. I couldn’t see inside, but I could hear music spilling from a piano, the key strokes haunting and eerie.
I took a deep breath, cursing the horrible stilettos Marius had given me. I wasn’t good in heels and it showed. Each step was slow and calculated, ensuring I didn’t bust my ass and make a fool of myself. They filtered in—Disco and his entire family—before Goose and I stepped past the threshold.
Holy shit.
The décor was a blast from the past. Tapestries adorned the walls, hardwood floors creaked beneath our feet, and the ceilings were adorned with crown molding and intricate designs. Large mirrors on each wall reflected our progression, making the large foyer appear endless.
I tried to shake off the hum that entered my body: a natural reaction from one necromancer to another. Dear God, how many were inside this place? A dozen? Possibly more? I knew several purveyors of the dead would accompany their masters, but I hadn’t anticipated just how many vampires had been invited to the soirée.
How many necromancers could you fit into a mansion? Apparently, a shitload.
My thoughts were redirected to something else, something that caused my eyes to bulge. It was a good thing I worked in a strip club, otherwise I might have been shocked. Nude men and women stood on either side of us, collared necks bent, eyes lowered. Some of them had devices over their private parts. Others were as bare as they day they were born. They didn’t move a muscle as we strode past, as though they were living, breathing statues.
Slaves, I realized. Each and every one. Jesus.
The temptation to reach out to Disco and ask what the f*ck was going on was strong, but I squelched the impulse. This was nothing. Not even a blip on the f*cking radar. My test was yet to come. If I failed here, screw advancing to the final exam.
Voices overcame the tones of the piano, coming closer as we walked beneath a double winding staircase. I called on all the courage I had left, reminding myself that I’d survived hell in the past and the future. Wimping out was not an option.
The family parted when we came to an entranceway. I hesitated until Disco motioned me forward. Together we went—me, Disco, Marius, and Paine. The room we entered was a formal dining room with a huge table in the shape of a horseshoe. Marius guided us to the center until we stood in the middle of the vampires seated at our sides. I glanced around, noting the necromancers standing at the walls—each of them at the back of who I assumed were their vampire masters—including Sonja. Vampires were clothed in the same fashion as Disco and the rest of his family, in modern and expensive designer duds. Doing a quick headcount, I discovered there were twenty vampires in attendance, minus the half-demons seated at the head of the table in front of us.
“The guest of honor has arrived.”
I peered past Marius and met the brilliant, emerald green eyes of the blond vampire who had spoken. The power coming from him nearly set me on my ass. Tangible even across the distance, I saw darkness and hell at a glance.
Oh, God. Revenald.
There was a connection between us, something that simmered in my blood—blood that had been passed down to Marius and his fledglings.
The blood I’d taken from Disco and Paine.
His gaze was consuming, filtering past my composure, searching for my deepest, darkest secrets. He was a version of Ray Bradshaw in half-demon form, something that never should have been brought into existence.
I thought I was prepared for this.
I was wrong.
“Yes, Sire,” Marius replied and moved aside. “Allow me to present the newest servant in your home, Rhiannon Murphy.”
“Servant?” Revenald laughed. “She’s not a servant. She quakes at the moment because she doesn’t know how to react, but if cornered she’d attack without question. A she-cat with claws sheathed until she has no choice but to defend herself.” He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, nostrils narrowing. After a moment, he released the breath, opened his brilliant green eyes—eyes that were clouded with ecstasy—and said, “Beneath her fear is anger and defiance. The most profound I’ve ever experienced in a familiar.”
“And you think you can control her?” the man seated next to Revenald asked. I glanced at the conversation intruder. He was dark where Revenald was light. His hair inky black, his eyes the same shade of green as Revenald’s. “Likely she’d cut your throat while you slept.”
“My house is the most powerful in New York for a reason, Anton,” Revenald replied in a manner that indicated Anton’s insult didn’t bother him in the slightest. “Before the night is over, Rhiannon Murphy will prove her loyalty to me and mine or perish for her insolence. This is the way I govern, the way I maintain control. You are a guest this evening, but if you continue in this manner, you threaten your welcome.”