Excerpt from
Christabel

© Karin Kallmaker, 1998, 2008

No portion of this work may be reproduced by any means without express written consent of the publisher.

From Chapter 2

“Yes to all,” Dina said to Goranson. “It’s how B and H does business. I’ll also have to personally see your assets that you’re pledging as security—I know you’re not securitizing the entire investment, but what assets you are going to pledge I’ll need to examine myself.”

For some reason, this statement made Goranson smile. Dina repressed a shudder. “I think I can arrange that.”

“Great,” Dina said with what she hoped came across as enthusiasm. “Just get me a list of the assets and I’ll arrange to verify them.”

“Make a note, Gerrard.” Goranson gestured at his assistant, who did make a note, all the while giving Dina a look that said the effort he was going to was all her fault.

“Thank you. I intend to make this transaction my number one priority. George Berkeley will personally review everything I produce, as well.”

Very good, then.” Goranson glanced at the heavy gold watch on his wrist. “I’ve got an engagement to run to. It just came up this afternoon.”

“Leo?”

Everyone turned to the soft voice behind them. For the third time in the last hour, Dina was stricken with vertigo. Surely it was just hunger and fatigue. PMS, maybe. Through the shoulders of the men she saw a woman, or a girl, no, a woman. Her dark eyes were huge and her skin alabaster with rose-stained cheeks and lips. She seemed like a mist, almost as if she wasn’t there. But as she moved down the stairs with a flowing grace that mesmerized Dina, she solidified in Dina’s mind. She had to be a model, but unlike most models, there was nothing boyish or waiflike about her. She was all woman, lushly female.

“You wanted to examine my assets?” Goranson gestured at the newcomer, who stood at the bottom of stairs. “This is my chief asset, la Christabel.”

Dina looked at Goranson and knew that he understood assets were something you owned. That was when she began to hate him.

* * *

Leo looked at me speculatively, trying to figure out how to best make use of me. Not for gain, but for idle amusement during what he called a deadly dull trip. He glanced at the woman next to him. Ah, I was to be used for her distress.

I looked at her for the first time.

It was as if a million candles flashed in my eyes. It took all my strength not to flinch. I never let Leo see me flinch anymore. But my eyes could hardly bear to look at her, she was so bright.

I am used to fog. In a world of gray only dark and light are visible. I am draped in dark shadows. But then I saw her. Saw her with more than my eyes, with senses I hadn’t known I possessed.

By her light I could see so many things clearly for the first time: Gerrard’s sharp little teeth, his twitching nose. And Leo—in her light I could barely stand to look at him. So charming on the surface, but his flesh was pulled tight over a hungry and insatiable darkness.

She was looking at me now. I saw why Leo was so pleased with himself. He saw her light, and I was going to be used to bend the light to his way. If her light wouldn’t bend, he would extinguish it. Darkness was his specialty.

She was walking toward me, Leo having said something about not being able to show me around the town tonight and putting her in the awkward position of agreeing to show me the sights. We'd been here several days; I hardly needed an escort. Our schedule was also very tight and none of the models had much in the way of social time. Apparently, I was expected to make time for Ms. Rowland.

I didn't protest. It was pointless—Leo would have his way. And I found myself wanting her light closer to me.

I don’t believe in holy things anymore. I don’t think I ever did, but if I’d clung to any belief in divine aid, Leo had driven it out of me.

Leo had proven to me how powerless holy things are. And she was not a holy being; it was not a saint who asked me if I liked museums. But her light came from some source that Leo could never tap, a place I would never go. I could only nourish the hope that she wasn't harmed by my selfish desire to warm myself near her.

I turned from the dark cold of the building, from Leo’s disdain and Gerrard’s disgust, and followed her into the watery light of early evening.

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Christabel is a gothic lesbian romance with supernatural elements. Available from: