Chasing Midnight. Susan Krinard
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yawned as they left their tenements for a day’s work at the docks. Ragged boys lingered on street corners hoping to gain employment, legal or otherwise, for a few hours or a day. Gunsels on mysterious errands patrolled the sidewalk, their coat collars turned up about their ears, and bootleggers’ vehicles idled in alleyways.
This was Allie’s world—more than the cold, beautiful mansions owned by Raoul and his most favored vassals, far more than the gilded, exclusive milieu of the Hamptons. It was, as Mal had said, miles away from anything Griffin Durant judged desirable for himself or his sister.
“Here we are,” Griffin said, interrupting Allie’s reflections. He indicated a handsome limousine, whose uniformed driver stood beside the passenger door awaiting his employer’s instructions.
“Ladies,” Griffin said, gesturing Gemma and Allie into the backseat.Gemmaclimbed in first.Allie slid onto the seat beside her, not bothering to adjust the hem of her dress when it inched well above her knee. She knew Griffin noticed; he stared for a dozen heartbeats, then hastily looked away. Mal joined her and Gemma in the rear, while Griffin took a seat beside his driver in the front.
Whatever Griffin might think of certain parts of Manhattan, he employed a driver with an obvious talent for finding the most direct routes through the city. They stopped first at a street off Washington Square, where Mal took his leave and promised to attend Gemma’s party. In a remarkably short time—just as the first streaks of sunlight were beginning to sift among the buildings—the limousine pulled up in front of Allie’s apartment.
Griffin jumped out and asked Gemma for the return of his overcoat. He removed his hat and offered it and the coat to Allie as he helped her from the car.
“The fit is hardly ideal,” he said, “but they should provide adequate protection for a few moments.”
She placed the overlarge hat on her head and wrapped the coat around herself, enveloped in Griffin’s masculine, earthy scent.
“Can she come to my party?” Gemma said, leaning out of the car. “Please, Grif. I promise I’ll behave.”
Griffin looked as if he’d been cold-cocked by an invisible fist. He stared past Allie’s shoulder, muscles flexing under the skin of his jaw.
“Doubtless a woman of experience like Miss Chase would find a Long Island party extremely uninteresting,” he said.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Allie said. “After all, you’d be there. What more fascinating entertainment could a girl ask for?”
He cast her a dark glance. “In that case,” he said flatly, “we would be pleased if you would join us.”
Allie performed a mocking curtsy. “I would be delighted to accept your generous invitation, kind sir.”
Griffin bowed like a heel-clicking aristocrat out of a moving picture. “May I escort you to your door, Miss Chase?” He offered his arm, and Allie accepted it. The night doorman, about ready to surrender his duties to his daytime counterpart, hardly blinked at her masculine attire.
Griffin accompanied her into the lobby and stopped beside the elevator. “I…hope the night’s events have not proven too troubling for you, Miss Chase,” he said.
“Troubling? Because of Ivar? Or because I saw you turn into a wolf?”
“I regret that you were compelled to witness such unpleasantness.”
“I’ve seen plenty of that on the vampire side of things.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
“You are, aren’t you?” She removed the hat and twirled it around on the tip of her finger. “Do you really think I’ll go wild and attack all your boring human friends?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“At the party. Is it because of Gemma that you don’t want me there, or because I’m a leech?”
If he was taken aback by her bluntness, he managed to hide it. “You obviously have excellent control over your…needs, Miss Chase.”
“At least you must admire that quality in me.” She chuckled at his expression. “We don’t exactly go around assaulting humans in public places. If we were that indiscreet, we’d hardly survive in a human world…any more than your kind would if you changed shape in the middle of Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.”
He flushed and glanced at his shoes. “I apologize. My personal experience of vampire behavior is somewhat limited.”
“And what knowledge you do have is tainted by prejudice.”
“You’ve expressed some pride in being unlike other vampires, Miss Chase.”
“You just said you didn’t know much about vampires. Anyway, I didn’t say I approve of everything my fellow strigoi do. I don’t take responsibility for them, only myself.”
A glimmer of some emotion she couldn’t identify flickered in Griffin’s eyes. “In that case, perhaps we should call a truce.”
“I’m all for that, bub.”
His shoulders relaxed as if he’d just released an intolerable burden. “The party will be held out of doors, in the afternoon…but you may certainly remain inside the house without attracting undo attention. If you dress for travel in daylight, I’ll send Fitzsimmons to collect you on Saturday at 1:00 p.m.”
“That’s most convenient, thank you.” She touched her finger to his chin. “Very gallant of you to worry so much about my safety.”
“You didn’t seem to welcome it before.”
“Maybe I changed my mind.”
“Why do I find it difficult to believe you?”
“You mean, you still don’t trust me, after all we’ve been through together?”
He looked away. “Miss Chase—”
“Don’t you think we should be on a first-name basis by now…Griffin?” She reached up and set his hat on his head, remaining on tiptoe so that her face was very close to his. “Say my name,” she whispered. “Say it.”
“Miss—”
“Why are you so afraid of a little word?”
His gaze met hers, embarrassed and angry. “Allegra.”
“My friends call me Allie.”
He stepped back abruptly, looking for all the world like a man who had nearly tumbled over a precipice. “I must take my sister home,” he said. “Saturday, Miss Chase.”
“I’ll be there.” She tossed him the coat and laughed as the elevator doors opened.
He hesitated, pulled his hat lower on his head and strode briskly toward the door. Allie stepped into the elevator as the attendant gaped at her sleepily.
“He should know by now that he’s no match for Allie Chase,” she said to the boy.
He grinned at the bills she pressed into his hand. “Yes, ma’am!”
Chapter Five
“I HOPE YOU LIKE IT,” Griffin said, presenting the beribboned box to Gemma.
She examined the box with excitement she did her best to conceal, convinced—as were so many girls her age—that any outward sign of enthusiasm would betray a lingering attachment to childish things. She untied the ribbons with deliberate slowness, then slipped them off the box and laid them in a neat pile on the sofa. Her eyes sparkled as she lifted the lid.
“Oh,” she whispered, stroking the soft yellow georgette with her fingertips. Abruptly she removed the dress from the box and stood, letting the silk tumble down over her body.
There was a moment of silence