Free Forsaken by the Others by Jess Haines Page A

“mildly impressive and not a little intimidating”
     mansions and were now drifting past the “are people even allowed to live in these
     places” estates. The limo turned into a short driveway and pulled up to a manned security
     station. The driver said something to a guy in a uniform with a clipboard, and then
     we were beyond the huge, metal gates and prowling past a few fairytale homes that
     should have been—scratch that—probably were regularly featured on the covers of magazines
     like We Have Better Homes & Gardens Than You.
    Thus, it was not a little disconcerting when we reached one that had a slew of expensive
     import and sports cars jamming the streets around it and sat somewhat above the others
     on a rise.
    It was enormous. It looked more like it should be housing a slew of families, not
     a coven of vampires. Though there were curtains drawn behind all of the many windows,
     there were occasional flashes of what I thought might be a strobe light filtering
     around the edges on the first floor. Even from within the limo and half a block away,
     a heavy bass thump rhythmically vibrated under my feet.
    Still, something about the place made it seem as if it were standing in silent judgment
     over the other homes, and finding them wanting.
    The driver spoke up, drawing my attention off the small but carefully sculpted water
     gardens on either side of the long, winding driveway. Funny, I thought I’d heard somewhere
     that this part of California was in a drought.
    “Your bags will be delivered to the guest house.”
    Guess that meant I had to leave the duffel in the limo. Not a bad idea. It would probably
     look pretty tacky lugging it around, and I didn’t like the idea of wandering the halls
     of this particular master vampire’s house with a cheap department store knock-off
     instead of a designer travel bag. I already felt out of place. No need to add to the
     raging insecurities I was already dealing with.
    “Oh, and a word of advice, ladies.”
    Sara and I both gave the driver our full attention. I had the feeling we were going
     to need all the help we could get to fit in here. Clearly Clyde was not above flaunting
     his money.
    Our chauffeur wasn’t looking at us as he brought the limo to a smooth stop in front
     of the path leading to the brightly lit French double doors. One of the trio of armed
     security guards at the door came down the steps and opened the car door for us as
     the driver left us with some parting words of wisdom.
    “Don’t mention the hair.”
    With that cryptic statement, the two of us were left to face the security guard, who
     was doing a decent impression of a brick wall while he held the door and waited for
     us to decide if we were going to come out. Sara edged her way out first, accepting
     the guy’s hand as he helped her to the curb. If he thought her “Yes, I Run Like A
     Girl—Try To Keep Up” T-shirt was a bit much, he didn’t give any sign.
    Once I was on my feet, I followed Sara up the steps and tried not to wince when the
     doors opened and blasted us in the face with electronica music. Yet another security
     guard roughly the size and dimensions of Mount Everest met us just inside. It was
     too loud for us to hear much of anything, but he gestured for us to follow him.
    The place was just as grand and imposing on the inside as it was outside, though the
     furniture and artwork had more of that tacky-but-expensive look of red velvet and
     black satin rather than the carefully maintained Barbie’s Dreamhouse architecture
     and landscaping outside. Like some exclusive S&M club, except with a bunch of famous
     people hanging out in the latest Hollywood chic instead of leather and chains.
    Somehow, I managed not to stare. It helped that the strobe lights made it too disorienting
     to keep track of the security guard if I didn’t keep my eyes locked on him, for the
     most part. Though I did take a peek when Sara tapped my shoulder and jerked her chin