Blood Candy Page 15

  If heaven existed, it would surely be in the form of an amazing shower.

  Candy washed with flowery scented body foam then relaxed beneath the hot sprays for at least an hour. Her skin steamed when she was done. She strained out her hair and tied a towel around herself. When she stepped around the corner of the bathroom she saw several bags on the bed. The door was closed; Renaldo must have dropped the bags in. She hoped he wasn’t perverted enough to have tried to look in on her.

  The bags contained a plethora of clothing in her size. One was filled with shoes. She pulled out a plain blue dress and found a brush and toiletries in another bag. One of several clocks in the room showed it was a little after midnight. She wasn’t the least bit tired.

  She sat on the bed and pulled on a pair of socks. Then she looked through the bag of shoes for anything that didn’t have heels to find there weren’t any. Lying back on the bed, she thought it should be illegal for anything to be this comfortable. She must have been more tired than she thought. It only took a few seconds to fall asleep.

  Chapter Sixteen

  A knock at the door woke Candy up.

  She scrambled out of bed, surprised she had fallen asleep and even more surprised to find it was well past morning. The sun blazed through one of the bedroom windows and the digital clock on the nightstand read 10:33.

  Candy shuffled over to the door. Then she turned around to face the bed. No one was there. She could have sworn Blake had been lying next to her. “What’s with these dreams?” She was content that it hadn’t been Rupert.

  Renaldo waited on the other side of the door with his hands held politely in front of himself. “Your breakfast is ready, Miss Candy.”

  “Oh, okay.” Candy ran a hand through her hair, which was super messy because she had fallen asleep with it still somewhat wet. She looked down at her crumpled dress and felt a little stupid. She thought about changing, and then decided she didn’t care. The handsome manservant escorted her down to the kitchen with messy hair, crumpled dress and all.

  “I didn’t know how long you wanted to sleep,” Renaldo said in an apologetic tone. “I hope I didn’t wake you too late. Or too early.”

  Candy rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “It’s fine.”

  Several maids were busy in the kitchen, which smelled of fresh bread and coffee. Renaldo led her to a table off to the side where they could see everyone hard at work. As the manservant stood there ready to wait on her, Candy thought she could get used to this.

  “What would you like to eat?”

  “What are they cooking?” Candy asked.

  “They’re making their breakfast at the moment. They’ll make you anything you want.”

  “Anything?”

  “Anything.”

  Candy thought it over for a moment. She remembered the simple breakfasts her mother used to make before school when she was a little girl—the simple comfort food she always desired. Those were the days before her mother fell off the wagon after her father ditched them for a younger woman.

  “Can I suggest something?” Renaldo said. “The eggs Benedict are very good and we have bacon and sausage, unless you’re a vegetarian, in which case they can cut up some fresh fruit.”

  “Can I get a bowl of hot cinnamon raisin oatmeal with a touch of milk?”

  Renaldo’s brows scrunched. “Cinnamon raisin oatmeal? You can have anything you want, Miss Candy. Are you sure you don’t want something else?”

  “Call me Candy, without the ‘miss,’ and yes that’s what I want. Cinnamon raisin oatmeal with a touch of milk. Hot.”

  “Very well, Candy. What would you like to drink?”

  “Orange juice is fine.”

  Renaldo joined the other four servants in the kitchen. They all looked confused when he told them what Candy wanted. He had to argue with them before they set about making her breakfast. After about ten minutes, he returned with her food on a silver tray.

  “I took the liberty of adding some toasted muffins with butter and jam,” he said. “I hope you enjoy it, Candy.”

  “Thank you.”

  The servants took their breakfast into another room at the back of the kitchen. Candy ate alone, hoping she hadn’t held up everyone else from eating at a normal time. Renaldo had also included the morning paper on the silver tray. Candy dug out the funnies. Before she was done eating, Renaldo returned.

  “Is everything well, Miss Candy?”

  “Just Candy.”

  “Candy,” he said in a drawn out huff, as if being informal was a burden.

  “Yes, it was fine. So what’s there to do around here?”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m at your disposal,” Renaldo said, looking both humble and less than enthusiastic. “Whatever you want, I am here.”

  Candy stared at him for a moment; did she really have a servant for the day? She didn’t know how she felt about that; it had been a long time since she wanted to be a princess with servants. She asked if they could go to the city.

  He said yes.

  She asked if they could go to the mall.

  He said yes.

  The amusement park?

  Yes.

  The zoo?

  Yes.

  Burrito Trumpet?

  “I will take you anywhere you want to go so long as we return for dinner.”

  Candy didn’t know what she wanted to do. The mall sounded promising.

  “Might I suggest a movie?” Renaldo said. “There’s a nearly endless selection in the viewing room. We even get the popular movies a week or two before they are released to the public. Master Chester is fond of cinema.”

  It had been a long time since she had seen a movie and she decided she could begin the day with one of her favorite animated movies from her childhood. Renaldo set up the viewing room, complete with snacks and drinks. After the movie started, he checked in to make sure she was comfortable. Candy insisted he watch with her. He did so reluctantly.

  They spent the whole afternoon watching animated movies together. Renaldo fell asleep during the best part of the third one, right when the bunnies rose up against their weasel overlords.

  “Perhaps we shouldn’t start another film since dinner will be ready shortly,” Renaldo said.

  “Okay.” Candy shrugged. “Am I going to sit there and watch them cook again?”

  “If you’d like.”

  “Will the Mullins be awake by then?”

  “Probably.”

  “So what’s the deal with them? Do they have to sleep during the day? Will the sun hurt them or something?”

  “I’m not sure,” Renaldo said, frowning. “And it’s not my place to reveal their secrets should I know any.”

  Candy rolled her eyes. On their way down to the kitchen she was surprised to see Anastasia sitting in one of the armchairs reading the paper. She was dressed in a black polyester skirt and a pink mesh half-shirt that revealed a more than appropriate amount of her flaming white skin. Flip flops and blue toenail polish completed the outfit. She folded the paper and set it on a table.

  “Good evening,” she said. “I hope you had a pleasant day.”

  “Yes, Madam,” Renaldo said with a touch of sarcasm. He scampered off after Anastasia excused him.

  “What did you do? Tell me about your day,” Anastasia said.

  Candy stared at the weird vampire girl wearing an outfit inappropriate for a grown woman. And yet, the way Anastasia sat there inquiring about how the day had gone reminded Candy of those pointless “fill the time and pretend I care” conversations with her mother after school. Though Anastasia scared Candy to her core, she found the situation so silly she had to suppress laughter.

  “Watched some movies,” Candy said.

  “Interesting. The game is tomorrow night, are you ready?”

  “I guess.” Candy thought about asking if they had to go through with it, if she couldn’t stay with them until the whole thing blew over. “Is
there something I’ll need to do?”

  “Aside from never leaving my sight? Nothing at all, my dear.”

  Chester came down to join them. “Hey, Mom,” he said. “Have you seen Blake around?”

  “No. I’ll be leaving for a business meeting shortly. Do me a favor and keep an eye on things while I’m away.”

  Candy wondered what kind of business meeting Anastasia was going to dressed like that, and furthermore what kind of business meetings vampires attended in general. Chester nodded his understanding then Anastasia exited the room. Candy couldn’t hold back her curiosity.

  “What kind of business does your mother have?”

  Chester thought a moment. “The boring kind,” he said, smiling. “Vampires need to make a living, too.”

  “Oh,” Candy said, frowning. It didn’t come as a surprise that vampires needed to make money, especially considering the Mullin’s lifestyle. She couldn’t imagine any kind of a business arrangement made with what appeared to be a fourteen year old girl, unless her partners knew she was a vampire.

  “It’s not interesting stuff at all,” Chester said. “I help Mother with some of our business ventures. I’m happy to have a few days away from it now.”

  For some reason, Candy had a feeling he wasn’t being completely honest and all sorts of things started running through her head. She’d make a point to ask Blake about it, maybe he would be more revealing. Just then Blake came downstairs, dressed casually in a plain blue shirt and jeans, and also wearing a wide grin. He went to her side and looked her up and down.

  “I like that dress on you,” he said. “But why is it so wrinkled and why are you wearing tennis shoes?”

  Candy shrugged. She didn’t really care for the heels in the bags upstairs. “These are comfortable.”

  Blake reluctantly accepted her answer. “Are you hungry? There’s still some time before sundown. We’re going to get some practice in.”

  They went to the kitchen together while Chester headed off to the den. Candy hadn’t noticed the lack of windows in the kitchen before. As a matter of fact, there weren’t any windows in the antechamber, though she had noticed the frames and shutters on the outside. They must have been bricked over on the inside.

  Renaldo waited on her again, asking what she wanted to eat as if he was her personal waiter. She didn’t know and didn’t much care, so she told him she’d have whatever the servants were having. Blake sat with her and not long later the manservant returned with a silver tray—steak with a mushroom and onion sauce, spiced potatoes and buttered bread. He also put a bottle of red wine and two glasses on the table.

  “You’re not eating anything?” Candy asked Blake.

  “No,” he said, glancing distastefully at her food. “I don’t need to eat.”

  The food smelled good. Candy cut into the medium-rare steak while Blake poured wine into each of their glasses.

  “That’s not blood, is it?”

  Blake laughed. “No.”

  “I really don’t like wine.”

  “You’ll like this. You can’t eat a fine meal like that without wine. It would be a travesty.”

  Candy sipped it. Blake was right, it was better than she had expected. She took another bite of steak and then washed it down with a huge gulp of the earthen wine. It was without a doubt the best thing she had ever tasted. She pulled off a piece of warm bread to clean her plate with, paying little attention to Blake though she felt his eyes on her the whole time. She finished her wine and tipped the glass. Blake refilled it.

  “How do you like it here so far?” he said.

  “Are you kidding me? It’s perfect and you know it.”

  “It can all be yours, you know. My family thinks you’re wonderful, me most of all.”

  Candy gazed at him for a long moment. “What are you saying?”

  “Stay here a while. Renaldo will take you to the city tomorrow and you can buy whatever you want. There are two huge closets to fill.”

  That obviously sounded awesome. Like any other American girl, the offer to go on a spending spree was pretty much irresistible. Candy could get lost thinking about all of the things she could fill two closets with.

  “Think about it,” Blake said.

  Candy put her fork down and sat in thought. For the life of her, she wished Blake wasn’t a vampire, then this would be so much easier. She told herself this was exactly what she always wanted, and who wouldn’t? But that word clung in her mind, along with Tinch and the Misfit’s voices of warning: vampire.

  Blake wasn’t anything like those British vampires. He was handsome and kind and rich. And he had saved her, Jimmy, and Medium Dave. Even still, she knew there was more to him than she could see. She barely knew him.

  “What happened the other night with Rupert?” she asked him.

  “He’s mostly all talk. Rupert and Vivian saw the writing on the wall; four against two weren’t odds they cared for and he knew a fight in my domain would look bad with the Magister. They took off.”

  Candy thought about the night before when Blake said the Brits are faster and stronger. Blake seemed concerned, more than just a little worried, as if the Brits had been an ongoing problem for him and his brothers.

  “Why don’t you come watch us practice?” Blake suggested.

  Candy agreed. On their way to the backyard, they found Chester talking with Nigel over a game of pool in the den; there was four hundred dollars sitting on a side rail. Nigel didn’t appear to know his way around the pool table and the billiard he hit didn’t go anywhere near a pocket.

  “I never did get the hang of this bloody game.” He looked up when Candy and Blake came in. “Hello, Blake. Hello, Candy. Feeling good about the game tomorrow?”

  “No doubts whatsoever,” Blake said. “As a matter of fact, we’re about to go out back to practice.”

  “Jolly good. I was just telling your brother here about the time these two chaps dueled over a young plantation girl down in Georgia. A bloody good show it was. They opened up with pistols and shot each other in the heart, but it didn’t end there.”

  Chester sunk three billiards in quick succession and was lining up his last shot on the nine-ball. He made the shot and pocketed the money. Nigel didn’t look pleased at all.

  “Cheeky bastard,” he said, forgetting about his story. “You led me to believe you weren’t any good at this game.”

  “I did no such thing, Sir Nigel,” Chester said. “Rematch?”

  “Another time.” Nigel placed his pool stick on the table and faced Blake. “As much as I’d like to remain impartial, I do hope you whoop the trousers off those scallywags. Disgusts me the way they run around as if they own the place.”

  “What’s their deal anyway?” Candy said. “No disrespect to you Nigel, but why are British families here in the first place?”

  “Those buggers are still bitter about The War,” Nigel said.

  “The war?” said Candy. “You mean the Iraq War?”

  Nigel gave her a quizzical look. “What? No.”

  “The Vietnam War?”

  “No,” Nigel said with a stupefied shake of his head. “I’m talking about The War—The War for American Independence. Or, as the English called it, The Rebellion of the Greedy, Tax Evading Yanks.”

  “Wait. They are bitter about a war that took place like a hundred years ago?” Candy said.

  “It was well over two hundred years ago,” Nigel said. “And yes, they are still bitter.”

  Chester stepped in to derail the current conversation. “The sun will be down in about fifteen,” he said. “The jerseys are in the garage and I’m looking forward to practicing with them. Let’s round everyone up so we can get started.”

  Nigel wandered off while Candy went with Chester and Blake to the garage, which easily fit two town cars, the red Ferrari, as well as a few other expensive vehicles. Chester laid out five blue jerseys on the hood of his Ferrari, expecting everyone to marvel over them, which Blake did like a kid on Christmas morning
. Each jersey had “BALLS DEEP” on the front in red lettering, and on the back the name of a Mullin. They even had blue trunks with a red stripe down each side to match. After a few minutes, Cooper and Chip came in. They grabbed their jerseys and trunks then went back into the house to change.

  Candy watched Blake practice basketball with his three brothers on the outdoor court behind the mansion. Tall stadium lights illuminated nearly the whole back yard and there were even aluminum bleachers on each side of the court. Blake had brought out a boom box and one of his mixed CD’s. The first song started up.

  It’s a cruel summer.

  The Mullin boys began their practice routine. Their abnormally white arms and legs made them look a little ridiculous as they passed the ball around, and Blake’s music didn’t help. A few eighties hits later, Candy was incredibly bored. She had forgotten how much she hated basketball. In the eleventh grade, she dated a guy on the varsity team. She ended up dumping him three weeks later because she couldn’t take sitting through the games anymore. She changed her mind once she saw the things the Mullins could do, terribly outdated soundtrack or not.

  Chester’s accuracy was amazing as he easily sunk baskets from half-court. Candy had never seen anything like it before. Blake practiced alley-oops. She didn’t believe her eyes when he easily jumped above the ten foot rim, since he was only about five foot ten, and usually only really tall white guys could dunk. Blake had no problem jumping from the top of the key to catch a pass and slam it in the basket.

  Watching the Mullins at work, Candy felt good about their chances. With the way they were playing, she didn’t know why they had ever doubted themselves. After some time, Wendi showed up in sweat pants and a white sports shirt. The boys gave her grief for being late and for not having her jersey. She went immediately over to the boom box and took out Blake’s CD.

  “I don’t need to wear the jersey for practice,” she said snidely. “And Balls Deep? Are you serious? You four are seriously retarded.”

  Chester waved her off. “Everyone else likes it. What’s the big deal?”