by Eli Grant
I made my way as casually as I could towards the catering tables in the north transept. As I passed the stained glass windows I glanced up to see they had been enchanted as well. Gone were the saints and angels, replaced by a vast dragon.
As I neared the buffet table I spotted Trip, Mariposa and Whisper almost immediately, dressed almost as nicely as the guests in the sleek matching uniforms of the catering staff. There was a small army of help attending the handful of tables, which were carefully separated according to the dietary needs of the guests. You didn’t want a witch to accidentally grab a glass of plasma-spiked wine and make themselves sick. And the Fae tended to like their food a little more raw and/or fermented than anyone else would be comfortable with. Trip, in dark shades to avoid inadvertently using his powers on anyone, traded jokes with a vampire guest while he served them fancy blood-based canapés. Mariposa was filling champagne flutes while Whisper leaned against the table near her, trying to sign one handed since the other was occupied by a drinks tray. I caught their eye but didn’t go over, waiting for Mariposa to finish arranging glasses on her tray and come to me.
“Everything good so far?” I asked quietly as she offered me a glass of champagne, which I accepted.
“So far,” she confirmed. “We’ve got more than an hour to kill before the ceremony starts though. Plenty of time for something to go wrong.”
She slipped me the case while she spoke, swapping it smoothly for my clutch.
“There’s an earpiece in the bag,” she whispered. “Mundie tech, not magic, so there shouldn’t be anyone listening in. Stay off the line until things get rolling anyway. No reason to take any chances.”
“We’ve got this,” I assured her as I took the case, despite not being particularly confident myself.
“Mm. Enjoy the party in the meantime,” she muttered, starting to move away. “I’ve got to spend the next hour serving champagne and finger sandwiches to a bunch of rich vampire bastards.”
I felt bad for her, but I know she wouldn’t have wanted to trade places even if she could. She was serving food, but as a Host I’d basically put myself on the menu. I could already feel the eyes on me, tracking me through the room.
“Do me a favor and keep them well fed,” I said under my breath. “I really don’t want any of them deciding I’d make a convenient snack.”
“No worries,” Mariposa said, offering me a secret smile. “If any of them try anything, we’ve got your back. I’ll kick all their asses.”
“Don’t,” I warned her. “I don’t want you breaking your cover just because some bloodsucker got a little handsy with me. That’ll just get us all killed.”
“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But if you need me, just shout.”
“Thank you, and same,” I said, turning away from her with my champagne. “Now get back to work before someone notices us talking.”
As she moved on, I found a discreet spot near a column where I could dig the tiny earpiece out of the case and slip it in. It was very easy to miss or dismiss as a hearing aid if it was spotted, but I made sure my hair covered it anyway, just in case. I turned it on, but the line was silent as Mari had suggested it would be. Still, it was reassuring to know they’d be able to hear me if I needed help.
I couldn’t hang around the buffet all night, but as I moved back into the crowd I felt more aware than ever of just how alone I was. I didn’t know anyone here. I didn’t want to know anyone here. I had an hour and a half before I could do what I came here to do, and nothing to do until then but wander around alone in my stupid uncomfortable heels, avoiding Ryan and hoping no one tried to take a bite out of me. It was going to be a long evening.
A small orchestra was performing in the choir area behind the altar. Pretty but uninteresting classical pieces for milling around and socializing to. I assumed there’d be better dance music later, but somehow I didn’t think I was going to be hearing any top hits tonight. Maybe if some of the Fae got bored enough. I idled by the orchestra for a while, wandered around looking at the art, but the longer I fucked around, the more stares I noticed from the other guests. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Anyone looking at me could tell I wasn’t Fae or a vampire. There were very few guests here that weren’t one or the other. The witches in attendance were presumably of the absurdly wealthy, well-known variety. And then there was me, unknown, wandering around by myself in a dress that glowed like fire every time I moved. Maybe I should have stuck with Ryan. There weren’t many wolves here either, but like him they all had the unmistakable straight backed alert look of security personnel. Standing next to him I might have looked less out of place. As it was, I stuck out, which is the last thing you want when you’re planning to steal something.
I fought the urge to camouflage myself. I shouldn’t have let Dante rush us into this. If we’d thought about it for more than a minute this would have been obvious—
I froze for a moment as I caught someone staring at me again, and found myself staring back. He was unmistakably a vampire, though he must have been older when he was turned. Even through that timeless quality all vampires had, there was a look of maturity to him, something authoritative and severe. His skin was dark bronze and his long black hair curled at the shoulders of his perfectly tailored suit. He had a thick beard, the end squared off in a way that seemed incongruously modern against his face. He was handsome, absolutely, but in a way that for some reason reminded me of the paintings on the sides of ancient Greek vases or on the walls of pyramids. Bronze age beautiful. I’d never met a vampire who struck me so immediately as something... anachronistic is the word, I think. Out of its proper time. There was something kind of off about any vampire. But this guy seemed actively at odds with the century around him. Time itself seemed uncomfortable around him.
And he was staring at me. Intent, unblinking. Not even pretending he wasn’t. My mouth was suddenly too dry and I wished I’d made my champagne last longer. Before I could try to make myself look busy or make a run for the bathrooms, he started walking towards me. He didn’t hurry, but he didn’t stop staring either. I felt frozen, but even if I could have bolted I had a feeling he would have followed me, at this same casual pace, patient and inevitable. And I didn’t want to find out what would happen if he caught up to me somewhere with no people around.
He stopped a foot or two away from me.
“Good evening,” he said, easy and conversational. His voice had a soft, distant quality to it. “Are you enjoying the party?”
“Yeah,” I said, too stiff and starting to sweat under my fancy dress. “I mean, yes. It’s, uh, really nice. Love the stained glass.”
I nodded absently towards the windows and he smiled, just barely. He still hadn’t looked away from me once.
“Have you had a chance to look at them properly?”
“Uh, not yet but I’ll probably get around to it before the night is over.”
“You shouldn’t wait. They really are a marvel.”
“Right,” I agreed, sensing an out. “I’ll go look at them now.”
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said. I had started to turn, but his voice froze my feet to the floor again, afraid to turn my back to him. “Are you here with someone?”
“Lord Heuron,” I said quickly, not meeting his eye. “Of House Belial.”
“Is Lord Heuron in attendance?” he asked, his tone suggesting he already knew the answer. “I haven’t seen him.”
“He’s not here yet,” I said, though every part of me was screaming that it was a bad idea to admit I was alone. “Car trouble. We came separately.”
“Ahh.” He finally took his eyes off me, nodding, and I wasn’t certain whether to be relieved or worried. “I see. I did hear rumors that Lord Heuron was planning to bring his Host tonight. It’s a bit of a scandal.”
Something about his bearing changed. All at once he seemed less overwhelming. Though he’d kept a respectful distance, it had still seemed like he was
looming over me. Now he seemed more relaxed, his smile almost charming. Though he’d apparently turned off whatever strange intimidation he’d been working, I was no less on edge, especially not as he leaned closer to brush a strand of hair away from my throat.
“The rumors did not mention you would be so lovely. I can see why Lord Heuron was willing to risk having you attend him here. A shame he isn’t here to show you off as he wanted.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, willing my heart to stop beating so fast. Normally, if a guy had made a pass at me like that, I’d have been fighting the urge to deck him, or at least call him out for it. But the anger I usually had to fight so hard to control just wasn’t there. My hands were cold and my face was hot and I felt like a cornered animal. I’d never been faced with fight or flight and not chosen fight. But for the first time it was an effort not to run. The enchantment on my dress was brightening, pulsing, and I realized belatedly that it was keeping time with my racing heartbeat. I’d naively believed the color of my dress and its enchantment was meant to resemble fire. I felt a horrified pit in my stomach as I realized the color was blood, the enchantment was broadcasting my frightened heartbeat to a room full of hungry vampires. The recognition of my own stupidity hit me like a gut punch. I’d been dressed as a Host. What was I expecting? Lady Amaryllis couldn’t have been less subtle if she’d had me posing on a silver platter with an apple in my mouth. Feeling too young and in over my head was a sensation I’d become familiar with since my parents died, but it had never been quite this terrifying, or felt this much like drowning.
“Since Lord Heuron isn’t here to escort you,” he said, his hand on my shoulder, “perhaps you would allow me the honor of keeping you company this evening? I don’t believe your Lord would begrudge me a dance or two.”
My stomach clenched as I searched for a way to tell him no, my heart hammering in my throat and echoed in the flicker of light from my dress. Someone like this wasn’t going to take no for an answer. I could deal with pushy guys. I had to do it all the time. Loudly telling them to fuck off in a tone that implied failure would result in grievous bodily harm worked on most of them. But just the idea of saying no to this guy made me feel shaken and helpless.
“I’m not really much of a dancer,” I said, the excuse as weak as my voice.
“Then we will not dance,” the vampire replied. I was certain he could see the way my heartbeat spiked, reflected in the pulse of color from my dress. I wondered if he had convinced himself it was excitement, or if he was enjoying my fear.
His hand on my shoulder was like iron, steering me away from the crowd off into the shadowed aisle behind the pillars. I was too afraid to dig in my heels and fight him, but I don’t think I could have even if I’d tried. My strength seemed to have vanished, swallowed up by the miasma of fear that followed the stranger. It must have been some kind of magic. Older vampires developed strange powers, and this one was very old. The fear he caused pressed down on me like a weight on my shoulders. The fact that it was unnatural made it no less all-consuming. I was keenly aware that he could kill me and I wouldn’t be able to fight, or even call for help.
But he didn’t kill me, at least not yet. He led me below the stained glass windows instead, and we stood looking up at them.
The windows depicted the creation of the world and the five races by Tiamat. Every race had at least one version of the Tiamat myth, if not several variations on it. But this was the vampire’s preferred version, the one that cast vampires as the favored firstborn, divinely appointed to rule over everything else.
“Lovely, aren’t they?” The vampire said. “We commissioned them specifically for this event.”
“They’re great,” I said evasively, feeling sweat run down my back, itching beneath the heavy corset built into the bodice.
“Tell me the truth.”
The command caught me off guard. It was considered impolite to go around using compulsion willy-nilly, and I was pretty sure it was inexcusably rude to compel someone else’s pet human. But more than that I was shocked by the sheer weight behind the order. I’d been compelled a few times before. Mostly young vampires at the bodega trying to get me to let them leave without paying, whose compulsion was so weak I could shrug it off without even trying. Once or twice I’d felt it from older vampires, but though the compulsion had been stronger I’d still been able to resist it as long as I saw it coming. Compulsion was usually only dangerous if you weren’t expecting it. You’d obey without ever realizing it wasn’t your decision. But this order hit me like a freight train, like it had knocked the wind out of my lungs. It seized me like a giant fist, slamming shutters down on all my other thoughts and worries. I felt like if I didn’t obey it immediately I would die, or at least have one hell of a panic attack. There wasn’t time to think about resisting it. Obeying was as instinctive and instantaneous as pulling your hand out of a fire, as gasping for breath while drowning.
“They’re awful,” I blurted, my skin feeling blotched with hot and cold. “Grandstanding vampire supremacist bullshit, and you put them up there specifically to piss people off and rub it in their faces that you’re going to win this Tournament like you always do.”
The vampire laughed. His hand was still on my shoulder, cold and heavy, and I struggled to catch my breath.
“Delightful,” he said. “Has Lord Heuron told you of our history then?”
“Some,” I said, and hoped he wouldn’t compel me for the truth again. Usually a second compulsion would be much weaker than the first, but the first had been so strong that now I wasn’t sure what to expect. But the vampire seemed to just want an excuse to talk.
“In the beginning there was only chaos,” he said, gesturing to the first window in the series, where a dragon lay curled in a figure eight, surrounded by darkness, digging teeth into its own tail. “Until a piece of that chaos began to want, and became something else. Tiamat, the great dragon. So vast was the nothing and so great her desire that she bit off pieces of herself to make the world. Her flesh became the land, and her blood became an ocean. She kept tearing off parts of herself until the world was big enough, and she was small enough, to stand in it.”
In the upper half of the same window, the darkness became the waves of the ocean, and a woman stood on the shore, her arms wide, ribbons of red running down from them into the sea. Whenever the vampires depicted Tiamat it was almost always as a beautiful fair-skinned woman, which was a far cry from the bloody chewed up dragon I always imagined when I heard this story.
The next window had cribbed a little from “The Birth of Venus.” A man, as fair and beautiful as the woman, stood framed by a wave of foaming water, reaching out to the woman, who stood in front of her own wave.
“The first time fresh water met salt water, they created Abzu, who became Tiamat’s husband,” the vampire went on. “And together they gave birth to all the magical races.”
Sure enough, the next window featured Tiamat and Abzu at the top looking down fondly on their children, one arm around each other, the other extended, enclosing either side of the image. In the center stood five figures in a pyramid, each one meant to represent one of the five races. The one that was supposed to be a vampire stood at the top, handsome and smiling and closest to the gods. Below him was a green skinned elf, presumably intended to represent the Fae, looking sly and jealous, who stood next to a figure with a wand and a hooked nose, who it didn’t take a lot of effort to guess was a witch. On the bottom tier stood a vaguely wolf-like monster, a snarling troll, and a goblin, teeth and claws bared. Not a flattering depiction, but at least they’d bothered to include the goblin at all. Most of the time they were ignored. I had a feeling their inclusion had more to do with balancing the composition than an attempt to be egalitarian.
“We are all of us born of Tiamat,” the vampire said, looking up at the window with the same fond, paternalistic look on the faces of Tiamat and her husband, then he chuckled, patting my shoulder. “Well, not
you of course. Humans she made separately, to serve and feed her children. Look, there she is, shaping you out of the mud.”
He tugged me down a little further to see the next window, a triptych. One of the panels did indeed show a huge Tiamat dragging her fingers through the earth, a thousand tiny identical faceless humans popping out of the soil like exposed earthworms. The other two depicted her and Abzu teaching their children magic and helping them build great cities. I wanted to say something sarcastic, maybe ask if Tiamat had made all the great apes out of dirt, or just the genus homo. Were Neanderthals just an early test build then? But I was still too afraid to speak, too aware of the inescapable grip he still had on my shoulder.
“But of course, what’s a creation myth without a fall?” the vampire said, pulling me on to the next window. “We must have our original sin. And like Uranus and Kronos, Ea and Apsu, Fafnir and Hreidmar, ours was to murder our father.”
None of the windows had been understated, but the death of Abzu was particularly florid, like something by Goya. The Fae and the witch restrained the noble vampire. The troll and the goblin held Abzu down, the goblin’s fingers in the god’s hair, dragging him backwards in an agonized curve, while the wolf tore his throat out, white teeth bright against the dark wine color of the blood.