Sophie had never before possessed a dazzling smile.

Mr. Deveraux made fun of her when she said she had not had sex because she had saved herself. Sophie realized he probably knew the truth. No opportunities had ever presented themselves. She had never had a boyfriend.

“We’re going to do something about that.”

Mr. Deveraux was back. His tone this time was not caustic but actually cheerful. “I’ve been taking a test drive thorough the neighborhood,” he said brightly. “It’s not too bad in here. You’ve got a brain, a fairly good one for a female. Business sense. A knockout body. Sophie, you’ve got potential.”

Sophie was almost afraid to ask. “Potential for what?”

“Why, for just about anything. This night cream, for instance. Great idea. We can do something with it.”

Sophie shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about that. Look what happened to me—to us. If we started going around setting vampires on fire, it would certainly attract unwelcome attention from the community. Once or twice is an accident; more than that is war.”

He clucked his tongue. “No. You don’t understand. We’re not going to use ash.”

“What then?”

“We’re going to use blood.”

“Blood?”

“Yes. I’ve been thinking about it, too. You were correct in assuming the ash was the concentrated essence of a vampire. Concentrated being the key word. You got the whole enchilada. Something else I’d like to try, by the way. Blood, on the other hand, is a vampire’s source of physical energy. Blood keeps a vampire strong and controls the outward signs of aging. Get it?”

Sophie nodded. The way Mr. Deveraux explained it made perfect sense. If they added blood to her cream, the user would get the benefit of youthful beauty without—

What was she thinking?

Sophie squeaked in protest. “If we thought setting vampires on fire would be a problem,” she said, “what do you think will happen if we start bleeding them?”

“Well, I admit there are some wrinkles to iron out.”

He said it in an offhand, casual way that made Sophie wary. “What are you up to?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Well, conjoined less than a day and you have me figured out. All right. I’ll confess. We need a test subject, right?”

Sophie nodded.

“I have the perfect person in mind.”

Since it happened to be her mind, too, Sophie knew exactly who that perfect person was. “How do you expect to get Mrs. Deveraux to agree?”

A hush settled deep in Sophie’s consciousness. It was neither peaceful nor serene but heavy with foreboding. She shivered involuntarily.

“I cannot be a party to evil,” she said, for what seemed the thousandth time.

A flare of indignation burned through her. “You have already been a party to evil,” Mr. Deveraux answered with contempt. “You made the damned cake that murdered me.”

Sophie squirmed in the heat of his accusation. “Well, we won’t have to kill her, will we?”

In a flash the indignation was gone. “Of course not. What good would it do to kill her? We need to keep her alive to use her blood, don’t we? And if it works, we’ll pick only the most wicked vampires to drain. The gods know there are plenty of them around. Think about it, Sophie. We’ll be performing a public service. Ridding the world of bad vampires and offering mortal women the gift of beauty. It’s perfect.”

Sophie sighed. She couldn’t believe she was actually considering Mr. Deveraux’s plan. But some of what he said made sense. Mrs. Deveraux was not exactly an innocent. She had murdered her husband. On his birthday, no less. And there were lots of bad vampires around wreaking havoc and taking innocent lives. This would get them out of circulation.

Besides, she was a partner in this enterprise. She would use her good influence to counterbalance any evil Mr. Deveraux tried to sneak by her. Like exacting revenge on the guests at his party who carried on as if nothing had happened after his death.

Sophie knew Mr. Deveraux was sensing the shift in her thinking. She could feel it in the shifting of his own disposition. Warmth flooded her system.

“How are we going to approach her?” Sophie asked at last.

Mr. Deveraux greeted her question with a mental clap of approval. “That’s my girl. Sophie, this is going to be the start of a great adventure, I promise. Now go get dressed and throw some things in a suitcase.”

“Suitcase?”

“I told you we would be moving to the mansion.”

Sophie stood up slowly from the counter and looked around. “I’ve lived here a long time. Do we have to move?”

He released a snort of impatience. “You’ve seen the mansion. You can’t possibly expect me to live here.”

But when he sensed the spark of anger his remark provoked in Sophie, he added, “But we’ll keep this place. You can come visit anytime you want. How’s that?”

Sophie thought about it a minute. She had seen the mansion. And the grounds. And the cars. What would it hurt to experience them, too?

She moved toward her bedroom. “You didn’t answer my question,” she said. “How are we going to approach Mrs. Deveraux?”

Mr. Deveraux remained silent for the time it took Sophie to throw some things into a battered valise. She felt timid, at first, getting dressed with Mr. Deveraux here. But she did it by standing away from mirrors and only stepping in front of one to comb her hair. Seeing her reflection sent a thrill once more along her spine. She was truly, wonderfully beautiful.

Her dress, however, looked like a rag on her youthful frame.

Mr. Deveraux clucked his tongue. “We need to go shopping. Your taste in clothes runs to the archaic.”

Sophie didn’t argue. He was right.

She smiled at her reflection. She couldn’t help it. Just as she couldn’t help the thrill of anticipation coursing through her. Mr. Deveraux had said they were embarking on a great adventure. She’d never had a great adventure.

She turned away from the mirror and snatched up the suitcase. “Okay. What’s the plan?”

Mr. Deveraux was smiling, Sophie could feel it. “You promised my wife a party, right?”

Sophie nodded.

“Well, it just so happens that Mrs. Deveraux has a birthday of her own coming up. Next week, in fact.”

“Do you think she’ll recognize me?” Sophie asked, casting another approving glance at her reflection.

“Doesn’t matter. You can tell her you’re Sophie’s granddaughter. Her business manager.”

Sophie smiled. It could work.

“Of course it will work, Sophie,” Mr. Deveraux said. “It’s all going to work. Now let’s go see a woman about a party.”

Blood Wrapped

Tanya Huff

Tanya Huff lives and writes in the wilds of Southern Ontario. Her twenty-two books run the gamut from heroic fantasy to space opera although she is probably best known for the Vicki Nelson Blood books—recently adapted for television as Blood Ties and showing on Lifetime in the United States and a CHUM affiliate in Canada. Her twenty-third book, The Heart of Valor, was a July 2007 release, and the sequel, Valor’s Trial, will be out in the spring of 2008. The following story is in the world of the Smoke books—Smoke and Shadows, Smoke and Mirrors, and Smoke and Ashes.

“What do you think of that?”

“The window display?”

“The shawl!”

Henry stepped closer to the Treasures of Thailand window and examined the lime green silk shawl draped more-or-less artistically over a papier-mâché mountain. “Nice,” he said after a moment, “but not your color. If I were you, I’d wear the turquoise.” A wave of his hand indicated a similar shawl hanging in the window’s “sky.”

“It’s not for me!” Tony Foster shot a scathing look at his companion.

“Ah, for Lee then. In that case, you need a deeper green.”