Free The Maestro's Apprentice by Rhonda Leigh Jones Page A

actually left the premises, and having brochures all over the place touting a meeting place for vampires wasn’t the best way to be discreet.
    In spite of the lack of concrete information about the club or the management, however, Autumn found the brochure fascinating, and had to be elbowed out of her 67
    stupor by Adam when a man came through a door that led into the room via a round set of stairs, and remained on the pinnacle.
    He had pale skin and high cheekbones. He wore a top hat and a black leather jacket over a purple T-shirt, with more accessories than Autumn had ever seen on a guy in her life. He stood there a moment before speaking, hands clasped in front, looking at each person in the crowd, taking his time, nodding a little. Gradually, the talking stopped.
    Everyone turned to him.
    “Good afternoon,” he said, in a pleasant, yet no-nonsense, voice. “My name is Mick, and I am one of the managers of Biali House. If you have a problem during your stay here, or if you need something—anything at all—you just need to find me or one of my assistants…” He gestured around the room to about a dozen people, mostly men, posted around the perimeter of the room, dressed similarly to Mick. “…and we will take care of things for you.”
    Autumn thought they looked like a very large rock band that belonged in the eighties.
    Her stomach squirmed pleasantly.
    “In case any of you are wondering,” Mick said, “I am a vampire. My assistants are vampires, and I work directly with our host, Freddie Biali, whom many of you probably know is actually the officially ‘late’ Federico Biali. The official story we give to the outside world, of course, is that Freddie is Federico’s great-great nephew. Every few decades or so, he has to go into hiding, only to re-emerge in a different persona. We like to tease him about that. Our nickname for him is the Great Locust, but…” And here he lowered his voice to a whisper and put a finger near his lips. “Don’t tell him.” He gave the audience a conspiratorial nod. Many of them laughed. Autumn noticed he was 68
    wearing eyeliner. When he turned his head to the side, she could see he was wearing his sandy hair in a medium-length ponytail.
    “Here’s the deal,” he said, raising his hands to gesture with his fingers splayed, showing off black-polished nails. Before he could continue, however, someone interrupted.
    “How old are you?” called a woman from the crowd.
    He smiled. “Every single day at least one person asks me that question. And it just had to be you, didn’t it? Where are you from?”
    “San Antonio,” the woman said.
    “Have you been here before?” he asked.
    “No.”
    “Of course you haven’t, or you’d know all my secrets by now.” He pointed at an attractive Indian guy with curly hair wearing a pink shirt. “I know you’ve been here before. I don’t recognize anyone else out there. To answer your question, I’m five hundred and seventy-two years old, a little older than our host. Astounding, isn’t it? And yet I’ve managed to continue to fit in, as time passes. It’s why I managed to live this long. That, and vampires are really hard to kill. As for Freddie, he’s a good friend of mine and we’ve known each other practically forever. He addresses the guests twice a week at the common dinners in the Great Hall, to which everyone is invited, and of course enjoys speaking to our guests, so if you would like to meet him, the next one is…”
    He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a PDA. He turned it on and grinned at the crowd. “Technology and vampires, right? The next one is…tomorrow?”
    He poked around with the stylus.

    69
    “It’s tonight,” called out one of the assistants—a young-looking Asian man in a white suit.
    “Ah! Tonight,” Mick said, looking at the screen. “Ah, yes. Tonight. You think you feeders have a hard time keeping up with the days of the week. If you ever get to be my age,