Once again, it's Teaser Tuesday. I'm bringing you the different women in Vampire's Trill. This is Ilona Tremayne. She was Erik Tremayne's wife, and she isn't the nicest person in the room. Take a long look because this character is Sabrina's nemisis, and she meets her for the very first time here.
There was a flurry of movement and voices from the entry. Two women and three men composed Mrs. Tremayne's entourage, and all but one was human. They stepped along smartly behind the woman at the center of the bustling group. The entourage stopped before they reached the main area as though not allowed past a certain point.
A tall, svelte, beautiful woman strode from the center of the little clique. Back straight as a board, shoulders pronounced with the exaggerated shoulder pads on her shell-pink jacket. Ilona Tremayne — the most powerful female vampire in America. Her blond hair was up in some sort of complicated twist, with black tendrils running through it. Striking, sapphire blue eyes fringed in black lashes that looked too long and lush to be real, swept the room, and then latched onto me. If they had been lasers, I'd have been a crispy critter. Her expression had gone from cagey to unadulterated, absolute hate as two lines burrowed folds between her perfectly plucked eyebrows, on a face that had never seen the age of forty. Her strong presence was like that of a well-known actress' on stage. Everyone's breath abated as she strode slowly forward, all of us awaiting her opening line — or, in my case, dreading it.
I clutched the gold chain of my crucifix expectantly. There was about to be a showdown, and I had a feeling I was going to be sideswiped.
Suddenly, almost as though she'd thrown a switch, her hateful expression smoothed out, her eyes fell off me and onto Nicolas — as though I was the unwanted child and he the favored one. Her hands went out toward Nicolas in a greeting, trilling in dulcet tones, “Nicolas, darling. Why didn't your secretary let me at once? You should reprimand her severely.”
“She is new, but I shall, of course, explain that she erred.” Nicolas' gaze darted away from her and briefly lit on to me and said, “At any rate, may I present Ms. Strong.”
I didn’t miss her look of surprise. It didn't take much on my part to realize that she had not expected me to be there. Not tonight, and not any other night.
As though her emotions were like the color phases of a chameleon, Ilona swooped toward me, her long neck seemed to arch somewhat like a heron's about to snag a fish in its beak. “Ms. Strong.” She stared down her nose at me. A meticulously plucked brow curved.
Gaining my feet, I made a polite bow while biting my tongue. This was what she expected from a groveling human such as me.
“Ms. Strong, Mrs. Tremayne,” Nicolas made the introductions.
“Pleased to meet you ma'am, and my condolences,” I tried to sound sincere while doing my best not to meet her eyes. I, of course, wouldn't shake her hand with gloves on, whether she was a vampire or human. She wanted me dead, after all, and looked decidedly disappointed that I wasn't.
“Of course, Bjorn's trollop,” she sneered, a tight smile curved her red lips.
Anger struck me no less than if she'd slapped me. My glare rose to engage her gaze.
Ilona's eyes locked on mine, and, at nearly the same time, Nicolas' thrall froze me. I couldn't move. Double-teamed by two extremely dangerous vampires, I felt a definite invasion in my head. Unlike most other vampiric invasions, this one had a feel, a texture, almost like a sharp stick tracing patterns in the sand, and my brain was the sand. Then it became more invasive. It was more like fingers plunging in and sifting through the sand, looking for some hidden treasure buried just beneath the surface.
Mentally, I pushed the invader out.