Mermaids And The Vampires Who Love Them

31. TRAPPED IN A LIMO WITH A LUNATIC

The interior of the limousine is really tacky, but because it's bathed in aqua light, it reminds me of the ocean so much I feel a pang of longing. The blue leather seats have a wave design stitched into them, and there is a shallow elongated fish tank on the ceiling of the limo. On closer inspection, I notice the fish are actually jagged-toothed piranha, their malignant red eyes like tiny pools of blood. Darkins also had a fish tank in his office, not to mention the hideous holding tank where he's keeping the merfolk. Why does this guy seem to have such a weird obsession with fish?

"Do you like my limousine, Miss Spring? I had it custom made." He pours us each a glass of champagne from that bottle and hands one to me and inches closer. Holy crab! My heart races, and I suppress a gag that is threatening to gurgle from my throat. I scoot away from him as far as I can until I'm scrunched up against the window. "I'm glad we have this time alone. We can get to know one another better. Much better." His mouth contorts into a grin as slimy as mozuku seaweed. The creep creeps closer to me. I now press my cheek against the cool glass window.

The car unexpectedly screeches to a stop. Champagne sloshes over the edge of the glass onto his tuxedo and my dress.

"Hades!" he says, pulling his hand away. He pulls a cloth from his pocket and dabs his suit.

The champagne that spilled on the thin fabric of my dress clings to my skin. Oh, no, the dress! What if Aphrodite gets angry with me for ruining her gown and turns me into a shellfish the way she did with poor Nerites? You never know how a goddess will react.

Darkins presses a button on a panel, and the darkly tinted privacy glass lowers a few inches. "Driver!" Darkins' face is flushed as a red tide. "Do that again, and you'll be out of a job."

The driver doesn't turn from the road. He grunts what must be an apology. I'm sure he must be annoyed, but I can't see his face.

Darkins raises the privacy screen. Once again, I'm alone with this jerk. I shiver.

"May I refill your champagne?" he says, topping off our glasses. "I apologize for my driver, Miss Spring. Or shall I call you Kelly? It's so hard to find good servants these days." Servants? This guy is an utter snob besides being a horrific polluting creep! He grabs some napkins from the bar, and it looks like he's planning to use them to wipe my dress.

Urgh! I take the wad of napkins. "I'll do that!" I say, perhaps a little too emphatically. "I mean, uh, thank you."

"Of course, Kelly," he says, frowning.

He looks at me as if he expects me to say something. What had he asked me before? I really need to pay attention! Oh, I remember, he asked whether I liked his gaudy car. "It's the first limousine I've ever been in," I say. "I've nothing to compare it to." I am being so tactful!

Mr. Darkins raises an eyebrow. My neck prickles. I've made a mistake. I can tell.

"You are a party planner, and you've never been in a limousine? Odd." He stares into my eyes.

For an excuse to look away, I take a huge gulp of the champagne. It burns my mouth and throat, and I spew what I haven't yet swallowed on Mr. Darkins' lap. "I'm so sorry!"

Mr. Darkins yanks more napkins from the bar and blots the liquid from his pants. "I guess you don't care for my champagne? It's Dom Perignon."

I know better than to admit I don't know who Dom Perignon is or that I've never had champagne before. I assume drinking champagne, like driving in a limousine, must be part of a party planner's job. Why didn't I read up on this beforehand? Note to self: in the future, do research before getting into a car alone with a deranged criminal. I brace myself; now I know what to expect and pretend to take a sip. "It's delicious," I lie. "Thank you."