Free Even Vampires Get the Blues: A Deadly Angels Book by Sandra Hill Page A

She held out her hand to show the sparkling jewels at the wrist. “The necklace and pin seemed too much, though. What do you think?”
    “Perfect,” she said. “Grand-mère only wore the complete set on formal occasions, like Mardi Gras.”
    “You don’t mind my getting the set, do you?” Inez asked. “I could give you the bracelet.”
    Camille fisted her hands behind her back, reflexively. Transforming her overall appearance at the last minute had been easy-peasy, but there was nothing she could do for her rough skin and blunt nails, a casualty of special warfare. Besides, her grandmother would roll over in her raised tomb at Lafayette Cemetery at the thought of breaking up the parure. “No, no. I don’t mind. Not at all. And I wouldn’t think of breaking up the set. Besides, it wouldn’t match my camouflage suit.” Since neither Alain nor Inez got the joke, just staring at her blankly, Camille went on, “Besides, I get the pearls, and everyone knows they go better with drab green.” Again, no reaction.
    A slight coughing noise at her back rescued her. Harek.
    She turned to him and said, “Harek, I’d like you to meet my brother, Alain. Dr. Alain Dumaine. He’s was a rocket scientist at NASA.”
    “Tsk, tsk. Camille loves to say that,” he told Harek with a shake of his head. “I’m an aerospace engineer specializing in lunar atmospheric modules. I’m currently a professor at Princeton, on loan from NASA.”
    “Jeesh! That’s what I said. And this is my, um, friend, Harek Sigurdsson. He does hush-hush work for Wings International Security.”
    Harek shot her a scowl before extending a hand to her brother, “Pleased to meet you. Your sister has a warped sense of humor.”
    “You noticed that, did you?” Alain said with a laugh. “You won’t believe what Camille did for a Halloween costume when she was fifteen. About put our mother in cardiac arrest.”
    Here we go, already! It was Camille who was shooting scowls now. What she didn’t need was a family member reciting a litany of all her antics over the years. It usually started with “You won’t believe what Camille . . .”
    Before Alain could elaborate, Camille continued with the introductions, “And this is Alain’s fiancée, Dr. Inez Breaux, a professor of genetic research at Johns Hopkins.”
    Instead of shaking Inez’s hand, Harek lifted it and kissed the knuckles in the cosmopolitan style. The show-off! But Inez obviously liked the gesture, if her out-of-character giggle was any indication.
    “Perhaps you know my brother Sig . . . Dr. Sigurd Sigurdsson. He was a physician at Johns Hopkins until recently,” Harek said to Inez. “But then, it’s such a big place that—”
    “Actually, I do know Dr. Sigurdsson. We shared some research a few years back. He’s a brilliant physician. Where is he now?”
    “On some island off the Florida Keys, starting a pediatric oncology clinic, or some such thing.”
    “Really?” Inez was genuinely interested. “Perhaps you can give me his contact information later?”
    “Sure.”
    Alain and Inez moved on to mix with their other guests, and a waiter passing with a tray of stemmed glasses offered them a choice of red or white wine. Camille drank her dry Chablis down in one gulp when she saw her mother and father approaching.
    “Liquid courage?” Harek asked, sipping at his red Merlot.
    “You have no idea.” She plastered a big smile on her face and said, “Mother! Daddy!”
    “Darling!” her mother said, giving Camille an air kiss on either side of her head.
    Camille wasn’t offended by the lack of a maternal hug. Her mother’s face was impeccably made up with foundation, mascara, lip gloss, and rouge, and her short salt-and-pepper hair was styled perfectly. She wore a rose silk dress with a matching silver braid–trimmed jacket. There were diamond studs in her small shell-like ears and a ruby and diamond butterfly brooch on her jacket lapel. The subtle scent of Chanel No. 5