Chapter 1

Hundreds of candles glowed from the ballroom’s gothic chandeliers, casting soft amber light onto the guests below. The lack of modern illumination wasn’t because this house used to be a medieval stronghold. The owner was a pyrokinetic vampire, so he was rather fond of fire.

I was perched on one of the ceiling’s corner rafters, taking a brief rest from my evening’s covert activities. A few stories below, all the guests wore masks and costumes, but even without seeing fangs or glowing green eyes, it was easy to determine who was human and who wasn’t. Vampires had an inherent grace, making their movements appear as seamless as water rushing over stones. Their mortal counterparts—well, let’s just say they lacked that finesse. Not that it was their fault. Unlike vampires, humans didn’t have supernatural control over every muscle in their bodies.

Until several weeks ago, neither did I. Changing into a vampire had had some unexpected side effects in addition to the now-I-drink-blood stuff. Before, I also didn’t have my new ability to briefly hold in the electrical currents that had surged through me since touching a downed power line when I was thirteen.

The candles in the chandeliers suddenly blazed brighter, coinciding with a man striding up to the balcony that overlooked the ballroom. If that wasn’t enough to announce his presence, his aura flared, too, sending invisible currents rippling through the room. When they hit me, it felt like being engulfed by an electrical field, which, considering my own inner voltage, was ironic. Only a handful of Master vampires in the world could manifest an aura big enough to encompass the gargantuan ballroom. Vlad’s was so powerful, it proclaimed his identity more clearly than if he’d been wearing a neon name tag.

That’s why his disguise was pointless. Beneath the mask made famous by the movie V for Vendetta was a darkly stubbled jaw, high cheekbones, winged eyebrows and burnished-copper eyes ringed with emerald. His black tuxedo elegantly covered Vlad’s lean, muscled body, almost daring onlookers to fantasize about what lay beneath that. When he held up a hand to silence the musicians, candlelight reflected off his wedding ring, making the twisting bands of gold briefly gleam.

“The unmasking is in one hour,” Vlad announced, his cultured voice tinged with a Slavic accent. Then he smiled, radiating charm and challenge at the same time. “Until then, enjoy the mystery of wondering who’s beside you, if you haven’t already guessed.”

Light laughter and applause greeted his statements, but I was alarmed. If the unmasking was an hour away, I was almost out of time.

A flick of Vlad’s hand had the musicians playing again, and the dance floor was once again filled with costumed, waltzing couples. I didn’t spare them a glance as I leapt onto a nearby ceiling beam, balancing myself instantly on the narrow plank of wood. I could’ve used reflexes like these back when I was a circus performer, not to mention when I was trying out for the Olympic gymnastics team. Supernatural agility was another perk of becoming a vampire.

Once I’d sprinted back to the network of organ pipes I’d climbed to reach the ceiling, I slid down, landing in the utility space between the walls. Music from the pipes swelled, almost deafening me, but that was the point. Not even vampires with their hyper-elevated senses could hear me above the racket. I crept around until I reached an air-conditioning filter, removing it before squeezing myself into the cramped air duct. Good thing I was wearing a formfitting costume. If I’d dressed as Marie Antoinette, I’d have never made it through.

Finally, I shimmied out of the duct into a closet. Once there, I replaced the filter, brushed the dust from my black costume, and headed into the ballroom to resume my spying. I hadn’t made it ten feet inside before a hand landed on my back.

“There you are,” a voice with a heavy Hungarian accent said.

I turned. The vampire behind me wore a much fancier version of the Joker’s trademark purple suit, and he’d covered what I could see of his naturally pale skin with white greasepaint. His mask came to his lower lip, and the twisted smile etched onto the ceramic upper one made his face look like it was stuck in a perpetually evil grin.

My mask didn’t cover any of my mouth, so the vampire could see it when I smiled.

“Here I am,” I agreed. I’d made sure to make the Joker’s acquaintance earlier because he’d been on my target list tonight, but he’d also been with another woman. That meant I couldn’t deploy my secret weapon since it required closer contact than his date would’ve put up with. She wasn’t with him now, though, so I seized my opportunity.

“I hope you’re here to ask me to dance,” I said, tilting my head invitingly. At least, I hoped it looked that way. The faux-horned headpiece I wore made me feel like a rabbit with two stiff, extended ears.

“But of course,” he said, linking his arm through mine.

My full-body suit kept him from feeling the electricity coursing through me. If not for the suit, he’d have known my real identity the moment he touched me. That’s why I’d chosen to attend the ball in a Maleficent costume, annoying pointy headpiece or not. The current-repelling rubber covered me from head to toe, leaving only my face bare. The mask took care of any currents radiating from that and my scent would be unfamiliar to anyone who hadn’t met me before, which was most of the people here.

Most. As the Joker—yes, I knew his real name, but this suited him better—led me onto the dance floor, I couldn’t stop from glancing up at the balcony. The place where Vlad had stood was now empty. Good. The only vampire I was worried about tonight was him.