Testimony of Children (Alice Gray Book 2)

33

We drove slowly up to the house, stuck behind an obnoxious tank-like SUV. With an annoying amount of awe, Stephen informed the party that it was a Mercedes AMG G65, one of the most exclusive vehicles of its type. I guess that was to be expected.

Finally we reached the end of the access road. The house looked even more impressive up close. The lights that covered the façade glittered, reflecting off the building's white walls like a million tiny stars, or the life-force of a powerful witch. Its brilliance was spectacular.

Cold fear crept through my veins making my skin cold and rubbery. I had to keep reminding myself that only I could see magic like this. It wasn't a message or a warning. It couldn't be.

The Merc came to a stop in front of the house, and a valet emerged to open the door for its occupants. A middle-aged woman descended from the passenger side wearing what looked like a bright fuchsia wedding dress paired with four inch green stilettos. The gown had a tight low-cut corset bodice and a voluminous skirt, extended to an unnatural width with a hooped underskirt.

Surprise washed away one niggling doubt. There was no way that I was going to be considered over-dressed tonight.

The woman turned to our car and glared. Looks like Stephen's Prius didn't quite meet her expectations. Well her gaudy dress met mine and then some, and that was nothing compared to her powdered wig and painted face.

If it wasn't for the purple haze that identified her as a witch, I would have guessed that she was a vampire, stuck in the fashions of the eighteenth century.

When her escort joined her, I realised that he was probably the one that had chosen their outfits. The short man's thigh length silk jacket was green with fuchsia flowers embroidered all over it. It was an unattractively tight fit, with his belly straining against the unyielding silk fabric. Knee length green silk breeches and fuchsia tights finished his showy outfit.

The man's powdered wig was so high that even though he was far shorter than his companion, he surpassed her height by several inches. Thick pancake covered his face, but couldn't disguise the disfiguring scars.

That wig and makeup came in handy for covering his symptoms of syphilis. Bad luck to be turned when you'd already been mangled by such a corrosive STD. The sickly tinge to his power was probably another result of his unfortunate condition, for the dull swampy throbs of energy were definitely vampiric.

Vampire power always felt oppressive to me, but this guy was riddled with decay. The waves of power reached me in fits and starts, an irregularity that I had never sensed in Thomas or James.

Underneath his flamboyance, this vampire hid a terrible secret. His magical spark was failing, he wouldn't be around for long, vampire or not.

Emily kicked the back of my seat. He'd caught me staring. A look of displeasure crossed his face. I hoped to God that he hadn't guessed my thoughts. Did vamps even know that their magic could fail?

I was keeping that little snippet to myself, at least until I could look into it.

Taking me completely by surprise the sickly vamp winked, the movement exposing the missing piece of flesh from his cheek that had been artfully covered with makeup.

Yuk, definitely syphilis, but at least he had a sense of humour.

Dropping my eyes, I caught Stephen giving the vampire a small salute. "Edward Turner, head of the vampire think tank in the DPA," he prompted.

"That is not what I was expecting from your description earlier, and who is the witch?"

"Really, Rachel, a witch? I thought she was just a human hanger on. She's a secretary in the records department. Although I nearly didn't recognise her tonight either," Emily said with a wry smile.