Fire Nectar (5 page)

Stewart smiled on his end and he did as he was told but
added a little more information as he texted Anjelica: Dani wants to go stare
at that bartender again.
 
Anjelica
replied: You’re kidding.
 
Stewart
didn’t reply.
 
He waited.
 
Anjelica texted:
 
You’re not kidding. Stewart
responded:
 
She is going to eat him
alive.
 
Anjelica: God I hope so.

Dani emerged naked and dripping from the shower to grab
the white bath
sheet which
hung on a nearby hook.
Normally she put no effort into how she looked but this night was different.
 
She cleared out a spot of steam on the
mirror with her hand and looked at herself. Her complexion was perfect, clear
and very pale. She put Benetint blush liquid on her cheeks to make them more
rosy and human flesh colored then added a brownish mauve
lipstick
 
to
her full lips. Her eyes she
kept simple. Just a little liner and mascara to accent her long lashes. She
loved her nose. It wasn’t the little bat nose so many women in Hollywood had.
It had a bit more character.

She didn’t know why she was hurrying.
 
Anyone watching her would have seen she
was nervous. She smacked the black goopy mascara wand accidentally onto her
cheek in her haste and left a thick black clump. “Shit!” Impatient with the
clump and the delay, she tried to rub it off, but only managed to make it smear
even more. “Oh come on!” After some effort it finally came off and she threw
the mascara across the room as punishment. If Stewart and Anj had been there
they would have shared a knowing smile but would have been only partly right.
 
She was doing this for him, but more than
that, she was doing this for hope.

She left the bathroom but not before knocking over a
bottle of perfume. Her vampyric senses awoke and in slow motion she saw the
glass shatter on the cement loft floor, shards and liquid shooting in different
directions.
 
Time sped up as a
large, sharp, chunk of glass pitched itself into her leg and drew blood.
 
She reached for it but the skin healed
over the glass before she could grab it.
 
“Dammit!”
 
She rushed back
into the bathroom, grabbed tweezers, jabbed it into her skin and peeled. She
removed the glass and folded the skin onto it quickly. The sticky sweet odor of
so much perfume on the floor was nauseating as she watched her skin heal again.
 
Tossing the tweezers into the bathroom
in haste, she looked at the mess on the floor.
 
Screw it, she thought and stepped over
it. That smell – so awful.
 
She wouldn’t replace that bottle and would never buy that brand again.

From her closet she rejected outfit after outfit and finally
settled on one of all black: a pencil skirt, black bra and panties plus a silky
black sexy button-up shirt. She unbuttoned it low enough so that if you were at
the right angle, you could see a peek of her bra. Only a little peek. Sexy and
classy combined to a satisfactory effect.
 
She combed her long hair into a high ponytail, innocently high, to
balance the effect.
 
She slid her
feet into a pair of black four inch heels and surveyed herself in the mirror,
“Maybe I should wear the blue… No, this is more
me
.”
Forgetting to move at her practiced, slower more human pace, she hastily
snatched up a red handbag with lightning speed, grabbed her keys and rushed for
the front door.

It was lucky she’d had to stop to open the door or she
would have skidded right into Julian who stood outside about to knock, at
precisely that moment.
 
“Julian!”

 
“Ms.
Harcourt, hey.
 
Sorry – looks
like you’re… heading out,” he stammered, very taken aback by her sexy
outfit.
 
“Valerie called me and,”

 
“-And she
wanted you to check up on me because I didn’t return her message,” she calmly
finished for him.
 
He shrugged and
nodded.

Julian was her Assistant Photographer. He was a quiet man
of
twenty nine
or thirty.
 
She had lost track of his birthday. It
was hard enough not to get attached to her human relationships –
celebrating them with rituals would only deepen the bond, so she tended to
ignore birthdays and holidays.
 
A
talented photographer himself, Julian had graduated Brooks and had quickly
thereafter been published in GQ, plus two other smaller publications. When he
met Daniella Harcourt at a party, he was immediately struck by her presence and
looked her up as soon as he’d gotten home.
 

Her work spoke to him.
 
It was more advanced. The fact that he
couldn’t find any interviews or articles about Dani when he searched –
only her photographs in most of the top magazines, increased his respect. A
private person himself, he felt drawn to her, so he contacted her and offered
himself as an intern.
 
She met him
and gauged him to be honest and good.
 
She took him onto her team bypassing the intern stage and gave him a
healthy salary, and what had begun as a temporary arrangement was still going
strong seven years later. She treated him with the utmost respect and he
idolized her in silence.
 

Daniella asked, impatiently, “What did she want –
did she tell you? I didn’t listen to the message.”
 

He nodded again, his shaggy hair falling a bit over his
eyes. “She said that Elle loves the idea and wants to know when you can shoot
it.
 
They want to know if you can do
a spread – or if it’s going to be a one-pager.” He shuffled his weight
and she looked down at his feet because he was wiggling the toes on his right
foot. Dark plaid button up, dark brown skinny jeans, gray Laceless Converse (which
he always wore) and a wallet connected a chain on his thick black belt. Cute,
she thought with a smile.

 
“Julian. I
love how you wiggle your toes like that. You know you only ever do it with the
right foot. It’s going to be a one-pager probably.
 
I may send in some different shots,
close-ups of various body parts or facial aspects. I’m not sure.
 
I’ll know when I know. Tell them I want
to keep the option open but it’ll probably be a one off.
 
And thank you.
 
I hate dealing with my agent. I’ll call
you later to schedule.”

 
“Sure. Yeah.
Okay.”
 
She walked swiftly away from
him and was down the hallway before he finished saying, “I’ll let her know.” As
she opted for the stairs over waiting for the elevator, he watched her. He
watched her until she was gone.
 
“Night,” he said, to the empty hallway.

14 June 1812

“Perhaps you could bring yourself to accept the Duke’s
offer, child.
 
He is a man of
considerable repute and circumstance and will no doubt treat you with the
highest consideration.” His hands wrung themselves in a most distracting manner
of which he was wholly unaware.

 
“Oh father,
you didn’t!” Daniella cried out.
 

The
honourable
Lord Henry
Harcourt had time and time again wagered more than was in his accounts. At
first and for
awhile
, it was just the money. Then he
lost the Phaeton and two horses that pulled it. He’d won it back only to lose
it again in only a fortnight. One night he’d mortgaged their property, the roof
over their heads, in a high stakes all-in card game. His luck was so infamously
bad that some bet against him “on tick” because they thought it would help them
win their losses back. Notes were thrown in. Breaths held. Sweat itself froze
mid air in anticipation.
 
And then…
he won.

The fear of losing the house that covered his only
child’s head had been very real in the moment before victory. He’d held his
breath harder than any of them and silently prayed, “If by chance luck should
shine on me Lord, I promise – never again. Never!” When his prayer was
answered, his promise vanished to the very place all his promises went. Another
man would have been shaken into submission and retreated – but another
man would not have bet his own home. For Lord Harcourt - his blood boiled for
the game. It sought a thrill that knew no satisfaction. That night’s
excitement, to
his own
heart, had been wondrous.

 
“Please
father,” she’d pleaded when she’d later heard what had nearly taken place. He
could not refuse her pleas. He’d promised her he wouldn’t play. And he meant
it. The promise held for three short nights.

In the next games he was up; the air was light and fun
again. Then he lost and lost yet again and before he knew it, they could no
longer afford servants. Then months later the house went into the pot again
– with tragic results. He was forced to return home and tell her that in
two days time they would move their things into an inn, one which belonged to a
kind and loyal friend of Henry’s, who was willing to charge the pair less than
the normal fee. After that Daniella sold her ancestors’ jewelry piece by piece
to pay the innkeeper and keep food in their mouths.

Luck would twist again and a good run would hit and
suddenly it was feasts and parties all over again. If only she’d thought ahead
during those times to pay the inn keeper not just back rent, but months in
advance as well.

 
“Oh please
tell me you did not.
 
Did you lose
me in a bet, father?
 
Did you sell
me to the highest bidder?” she flung the words at him in such a
fury
as he had never seen in her.

 
“—NO!
 
No
– no –
no.
I promise you! I did no such thing! I promise on your sweet mother’s
heart, Nell.”
 
He hadn’t called her
that since she was five. She’d forgotten the sound and it broke her heart to
hear it.
 

She crossed to him, ashamed, to ask, “Forgive me,
Father.
 
I’m tired today.
 
I didn’t mean to accuse you of such a
terrible crime. Please forget you ever heard such words from me.”

 
“Of
course!
 
Of course!
 
I’ve wiped it from my mind immediately.
My dear - I would not wager you away as a possession.
 
Indeed, I promise you this.
 
Believe me.
 
I will never do so. Not to my Nell.” He
pushed a strand of hair from her cheek with fatherly care. He would not dream
of harming her nor want to do that which put her in harm’s way. It was not in
his will to be the way he was, but he was powerless. She looked so like her
mother and she had such a big heart, as her mother had had. She smiled up at
him, her spirit tired.
 

He walked away from her, picked up a log and threw it in
the fireplace before continuing. “I only ask you to consider his offer.
 
It would calm my fears to know you were
taken care of.
 
I’ve been under the
hatches too many times and I can’t bear to think of my daughter without the
comfort of – “

 
“Stop,
please. I mean no disrespect, but listen to me this time for I don’t wish to
have this conversation again.” She hesitated and said in a softer but firm tone
as she watched him stoke the fire, “I’ll never marry a man I don’t love. It is
not within my abilities.
 
I would
rather stay with you and make sure you are cared for. This is the path I have
chosen. We are fine. I do still have mother’s rubies.”

He nearly dropped the poker on his foot as he turned and
blurted, “Do you, my dear?
 
Do you
indeed? I thought you’d sold those a month ago!” His eyes glittered.

Her heart froze cold at his expression, one she knew
well, and she countered quickly, “Oh you speak the truth.
 
But it was not a month but a fortnight.
I am such a silly goose to have forgotten,” she said lamely and sat on a chair
in an attempt to look all the more believably disappointed.
 
His eyes held suspicion so she knew she
must cover her lie more deeply and added, “They have been here my whole life
and the feeling of their absence was foreign to me.” To help sell the lie, she
forced a tear to fall upon her cheek. It was not hard to do, for the thought of
his getting his hands on her mother’s necklace, the last one she had, broke her
heart.

Upon seeing that tear his countenance transformed and he
was once again her kind father. Her heart beat hard in her chest but he could not
see her fear. This was the first time Daniella had been able to hide her true
feelings and the fact did not escape her notice.
 

He walked forward, tweaked her cheek lovingly and said,
“It’s okay dear.
 
I’ll win them
back. The luck will shift again; I am sure of it.” With that he left the room.