Drink, Slay, Love

by Sarah Beth Durst

  “I am fine,” Pearl said.

  Mother fixed her with a stare.

  “I am perhaps in dire need of a snack,” she amended. She’d lost everything she’d absorbed from her ice-cream boy and from her meal before him.

  Pearl saw Jadrien glide into the living room. His shoes were silent on the wood floor, but his entrance was, for a vampire, loud. Like Pearl, he was young enough to breathe, and the sound of his breath drew the attention of everyone in the room. Each vampire noted his entrance, mentally cataloged him as safe, and then lost interest in him. Pearl, though, continued to admire him. His shirt was unbuttoned, and she could see the rise and fall of his chest.

  “You found me before dawn?” she asked him. He must have. She hadn’t burned to a cinder, and she would have if she’d lain in that parking lot for another ten minutes. She was rather surprised that he’d stuck around the Dairy Hut to wait for her. She’d thought he’d already hightailed it home. He never liked to cut it as close as she did.

  “Nope,” he said. “You know I’m not the hero type. I prefer to personify the brooding, mysterious, and inherently unreliable archetype.”

  Pearl rolled her eyes at him. “You need to quit those night lit classes.”

  “But coeds are so tasty.”

  “We found you at sundown,” Mother said, interrupting, “tucked up against our front door.” She pursed her scarlet lips in a thin line, as if Pearl had been caught naked out in public.

  “Very close call,” Uncle Felix said. He sounded enthused, but then he always perked up whenever anything new happened. Daddy said Uncle Felix was easily bored, a hallmark of his vast intellect. Uncle Pascha said it was a hallmark of a small mind. “Given the angle of the porch, your fingers must have been three inches from direct sunlight at the sun’s zenith. You could have lost your hand.”

  “You could have lost everything,” Mother said, pacing. “We could still lose everything. You may have been left as a message.”

  “Told you we need voice mail,” Pearl said. She touched the dried blood on her blouse. It flaked under her fingernails. She didn’t think her voice betrayed how disturbing all of this was.

  “Search your memory, Pearl: Does the hunter think you are rogue, or does he know about the Family? We must know how great the danger is.” Mother punched her fist into her hand for emphasis, and all the younger vampires flinched.

  “I am not moving,” Aunt Rose said. “Stake me where I sit. I like it here.” She added another stitch to her embroidery, another tiny rose to a silken counterpane that was already covered in so many minuscule flowers that it looked as if it were infested with ants. “If the child wants to bring destruction on us, so be it.”

  As the youngest vampire in the Family by a full century and the only one who had yet to attend the Fealty Ceremony that marked vampire adulthood, Pearl was often “the child.” Normally, she protested the title, but these weren’t normal circumstances.

  “It wasn’t a hunter,” Pearl said. “It was a unicorn. I know, I know, mythical. But I remember everything right up until the moment after the stupid horse skewered me.” If Jadrien hadn’t brought her home (and now that she thought about it, it was obvious that he hadn’t—he would have taken her inside and downstairs to the “safe” rooms, not left her on the porch), then who had? It couldn’t have been the unicorn. Logistically, it wasn’t possible. No hands. So who was her knight in shining armor? (She dismissed the idea of Brad the ice cream kid. The bite should have erased his memory—and even if it hadn’t, her dessert didn’t know where she lived.) Perhaps she’d dragged herself home and then forgotten.

  Cousin Jeremiah giggled. But then, Cousin Jeremiah always giggled. He wasn’t “right in the head,” as some of the older vamps put it. Unlike Pearl, he’d been made, not born, a vampire, and there had been a problem with the turning. Pearl had never known what. She knew better than to ask, especially since Uncle Stefan had performed the transformation. Nobody criticized Uncle Stefan.

  “Sorry, dearest,” Aunt Lianne said, “but did you say ‘unicorn’?”

  “Horse. Pointy horn. Kind of sparkly,” Pearl said. “Frankly, it was ridiculous. Mythical creature hanging out behind the Dairy Hut like it was on a smoke break.”

  Silence filled the room.

  Even Jadrien paused his breath.

  “Pearl,” Mother said, “exactly how much blood did you lose?”

  “I saw him,” Pearl said. Like all vampires, she had excellent eyesight, and it wasn’t as if the creature had been far away. “Unmistakably unicornish.”

  Mother nodded at Uncle Felix, who, with a sigh, handed over a half-full pint of thick red blood. “It’s AB-negative, so sip,” he said. “Don’t waste it with a chug.”

  “No, thanks,” Pearl said. She wasn’t that thirsty.

  “Drink,” Mother ordered, “and then tell me again what you saw.”

  “I told—”

  “Drink.”

  Pearl drank. She wrinkled her nose at the taste—stored blood was stale at best, moldy and sour at worst. Uncle Felix had developed a taste for it in the seventies when he’d worked the night shift at the hospital. He’d snacked from the blood bank. Aside from Uncle Felix, “dead” blood was reserved for the very ill and babies. She was neither. She couldn’t let herself be either.

  The Family watched her.

  After three gulps of the AB-negative, she said, “I saw a My Little Pony refugee. Horselike. Kind of glowy. Big sharp horn. It looked as if it had jumped off a poster from the bedroom of an eight-year-old girl. It walked toward me. I mocked it. It stabbed me. Chalk this one up as my most embarrassing moment ever.”

  Mother knelt beside her. “Pearl, sweetie.”

  Pearl tensed. Mother never said “sweetie.”

  Uncle Felix reclaimed his pint. “What Mother is trying to say, prettiest Pearl, jewel of our hearts, is that you’re off your rocker. One bulb short of a lit chandelier. One kitten less than a litter. One—”

  “Enough,” Mother said.

  Uncle Felix stilled.

  Across the room, Uncle Pascha lifted a pawn and then placed it down again without moving it. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin. “Or rook could take knight,” he murmured. “‘And thou were the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever put spear in the rest.’” Aunt Rose added another stitch to her quilt. Cousin Jeremiah tapped on the hearth with his feet. It made Pearl want to tie his feet together so he’d hold them still.

  “Unicorns do not exist,” Mother said. “Either your memory is false, or else you are deliberately lying.” She caught Pearl’s chin in one hand. “Frankly, I do not care which it is, but it will cease. Here is the truth: You were beset by a vampire hunter. You let yourself be identified and nearly slain. Your carelessness may have exposed us all.” Mother released her, and Pearl felt crescent-moon indents on her cheeks from Mother’s nails. “We will summon Uncle Stefan. He will determine the degree of danger—and, if necessary, reply to this ‘message.’ None of us will speak of this to anyone.” Mother leveled a look at each of the aunts, uncles, and cousins, as well as Jadrien. “Rumors cannot be allowed to spread, not at this time.” She fixed her eyes on Pearl again. “As for you . . . for the next month, you will not participate in history lessons but instead will devote an extra hour each day to additional training. Jadrien will join you for failing to notice the hunter tracking you.”

  Pearl swallowed, and her throat felt dry. The blood she’d drunk tasted flat on her tongue. As punishments went, this was tame. In fact, she liked sparring with Jadrien, or at least she did when her internal organs weren’t feeling like shish kebab. She waited for more.

  “Good,” Mother said, rising to her feet. “Dinner is ready.”

  Pearl couldn’t hide her surprise. She was gratified to see that others registered the same emotion. Jocelyn halted typing. Uncle Pascha raised his head, interrupting his contemplation of the chessboard. Aunt Rose and Aunt Lianne did not react, but that meant nothing. Their clothes could
be lit on fire and at most that would elicit a “Hmmm” . . . before they slaughtered the arsonist, of course, and then burned to a crisp. (All vampires, no matter how unflappable, were inflammable.) No one ever brought in dinner, at least not in Pearl’s memory. These days most of the Family drank their meals in alleys and backyards and dark corners of movie theaters—a sip here and a sip there, leaving their prey like Brad, alive and memoryless. It was safer for the Family that way.

  Pearl racked her brain to figure out what had caused this special occasion. She couldn’t imagine Mother had brought in dinner to celebrate Pearl’s escaping extinction, but she couldn’t think of another reason. Pearl pushed herself off the couch. Her ankles wobbled, and she felt Aunt Lianne eyeing her posture. (Aunt Lianne believed civilizations rose and fell due to posture.) Pearl straightened her shoulders and forced herself to ignore the fresh jolt of pain.

  “Jadrien, you may join us,” Mother said.

  He bowed. “Thank you, ma’am.” Crooking his arm, he extended his elbow toward Pearl. “May I escort you, O Mythic Beauty of the Night?”

  Pearl flipped her hair. Even that movement made her want to double over and howl, but she felt Aunt Lianne’s eyes still on her. She fixed a smile on her face. “But of course, O Legendary Escort of Delight.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “Indeed. I am at your disposal.”

  Of course he is, she thought, except when I need saving from annihilation. She wished she knew who had saved her. If her savior was human, why not bring Pearl to a hospital? If he or she was vampire, why leave Pearl on the porch instead of taking her to the basement? The mystery of her savior was almost more alarming than the oddness of her would-be killer.

  Silently, all the vampires glided out of the living room and into the dining room. Their dinner had been presented on a bed of lettuce. Carrots had been stuck in candelabras on either side of the boy’s torso, and his hands had been positioned to hold a decorative cabbage as if it were a bride’s bouquet. He wore a bellhop uniform. Pearl smirked. Clearly, this was Daddy’s work. She loved his sense of humor. Craning her neck, she looked for him.

  The Family circled the table. Pearl and Jadrien, as the youngest, positioned themselves by the feet, while Mother and Uncle Felix chose the head. Stepping away from the shadows in the corner of the room, Daddy joined them.

  “Daddy!” Pearl said.

  Across the table, Daddy winked at her.

  He was dressed for his standard hunt: a pin-striped black suit and a silver hoop in one ear. His shirt was starched and pressed as stiff as paper. He never allowed an errant wrinkle. Mother forgave his frequent absences, and in return he ironed all her clothes. Judging from his outfit (and from the boy’s), he had recently returned from one of his favorite hotels. Typically, he frequented the Hartford airport hotels. No airport hotel bar ever raised an eyebrow at a slickly dressed man who picked up traveling businesswomen on a regular basis. Only once had a bartender warned off a woman, but Mother had taken care of the problem—or at least that was Cousin Jocelyn’s claim. She did like to embellish Family stories. She was fictionalizing her favorites, she claimed, for eventual publication. So far, Mother had prohibited her from submitting her stories anywhere, but Jocelyn still carted her laptop to Starbucks to write each night. She had developed a taste for coffee-laden blood. Pearl preferred to avoid the extra caffeine, but to each her own.

  Since Daddy had presumably selected their meal, Pearl could count on his not being overly caffeinated or having a high blood-alcohol level. Daddy had taste. The boy was young, twentyish, with dirty blond hair that had been combed neatly across his forehead. In the dim light, the pale freckles reminded Pearl of Brad, the ice-cream boy. Staring vaguely up at the ceiling, the boy crooned, “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall . . .”

  “I have an announcement,” Daddy said. His voice was quiet and smooth, yet it filled the room like smoke. All eyes fixed on him, even Aunt Maria’s, which was unusual because of her propensity to stare at walls as if she were reading tarot cards. Cousin Jeremiah softly whistled.

  Jadrien cleared his throat. “Should I leave, sir?”

  As Pearl’s boyfriend, not mate, Jadrien wasn’t Family. He wanted to be, of course. Really, who wouldn’t? Their clan was rising in prominence. Daddy owned real estate throughout western Connecticut, including multiple businesses in Hartford, and Mother had a head for business that rivaled any CEO’s. Until Jadrien and Pearl were formally joined, though, he had to be careful not to overstep his bounds. Fortunately, he was always careful. Witness the fact that he’d been snug at home by the time Mr. Sparkly-and-Pointy had made his debut.

  “Not necessary,” Daddy said with a wave of his hand. Pearl noticed he wore his gold ring. She thought the diamonds encrusted in gold were a bit much, but it was part of his “look.” He preferred to hunt women who didn’t mind the wedding band—he claimed the venom worked best if the victim wanted to forget the encounter. His women didn’t want more than one night, and the ring served as a signal to them that he was a man who wouldn’t ask for more. Pearl wondered if their dinner had interfered with Daddy’s hunt or if he’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  Their dinner was still singing. “Eighty-eight bottles of beer . . . no, ninety-eight, no, fifty-six bottles of beer on the wall . . .” Pearl wished she had earplugs. Some victims reacted to bites this way, but thankfully not many. She wondered if part of him knew what was happening or not. But why on earth should she care? He was dinner, for goodness’ sake. Lions didn’t pity the antelope. Bunnies didn’t feel sorry for their carrots. All of the other vampires were ignoring him with ease. Focus, she told herself. There’s an announcement coming!

  “Thank you, sir,” Jadrien said.

  “This news will spread quickly enough,” Daddy said.

  Now everyone was paying attention. Except for the dinner, of course. And Jeremiah, who was rubbing his cheek against the velvet curtains. Uncle Pascha murmured, “‘An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told.’ ‘Speak the speech, I pray you.’”

  Daddy smiled, intentionally displaying a hint of fang. “His Majesty has announced the next Connecticut Fealty Ceremony.”

  The Fealty Ceremony!

  Even Pearl quit breathing for at least a full minute. The Fealty Ceremony was held once a century. She’d been hearing descriptions of it in hushed, awed tones for years. She’d seen the magnificent gowns in Mother’s closet, glorious concoctions of lace and jewels and sweeping trains, and she’d read Jocelyn’s descriptions of feasts that surpassed imagining! But the heart of it (no pun intended) centered around a ceremony in which the king and his vassals sipped one another’s blood and swore oaths of allegiance.

  Daddy looked as if he could wait an eon for someone to ask the obvious question. A smile played on his lips, and his fangs remained fully extended.

  Pearl scanned the faces of her relatives, each affecting his or her own version of calm or boredom. Oh, good grief. Someone had to ask for details. “When?” Pearl demanded. “Where? Who will host it?”

  Mother exhaled loudly, as if Pearl had committed some horrific faux pas.

  Daddy beamed at her. “Us,” he answered. “At a location of our choosing. Six weeks from tonight.”

  Aunt Rose clutched her chest. Uncle Felix let out a whistle. Various cousins whispered to each other. Several looked to Mother for confirmation.

  Mother fixed her eyes on Pearl. “And that is why we cannot draw the attention of hunters, or allow the rumor of hunters. The king of New England will be coming to us. Mistakes will not be tolerated.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Pearl said.

  On the table, the human sang, “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall . . .”

  Upstairs was the perfect suburban home: couches and TV in the living room, marble counters and stainless steel appliances in the kitchen, and color-coordinated lacy bedrooms. Downstairs, hidden from human view, was a catacomb of tunnels and rooms that included sleeping chambers, training rooms, tortur
e rooms, a few storage areas, and the treasury. Unbeknownst to humans, the tunnel system extended under most of the town.

  Pearl and Jadrien had claimed one of the nearby training rooms. She’d chosen her favorite, a room styled after a Japanese dojo with rice-paper walls and dark beams that crisscrossed the ceiling. Across the room Jadrien stripped off his shirt, flexed his muscles, and began a series of rapid punches into the air, as if the air had offended him.

  Pearl threw a test punch, and pain blossomed across her chest. Black spots danced through her vision. Oh, this was going to hurt. A lot. She glanced over at Jadrien. Thankfully, he hadn’t seen her wince. She needed to guard her expressions better. She crossed to a wall that was covered in weapons: swords, knives, maces, staffs. She selected a staff. She lunged across the room, striking the air with each step. Each strike felt like a mini-explosion inside her torso.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  She wasn’t.

  “Yes,” she said. Pearl whirled the staff as fast as fan blades. It hissed as it sliced the air. Jadrien fetched a second staff and joined her in the center of the dojo.

  “Your Family has a lot to live up to,” he said. “I heard that the last Connecticut ceremony depopulated an entire town. How do you intend to stock the feast?”

  Before Jadrien could strike, Pearl pivoted and slashed. He sprang back and landed in a crouch. “If I know Mother, she already has a plan.”

  “If there’s a new hunter in town, he could cause problems.”

  Yes, she knew. The reason that the hosts were chosen less than two months in advance was to limit the risk of exposure. Every hunter in the world would love access to vampire royalty, and the king of New England in particular was very serious about security. He defined paranoid. Rumor had it he didn’t even leave his stronghold to feed. His minions delivered his meals to him, like pizza-delivery boys minus the pizza. “We can handle it,” she said. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”