As for Alice, she found herself exhausted from the amount of energy that she had expended and it took several days for her to recover. She was unable to use any of her powers during the recovery process and was left feeling vulnerable because of it. It was then that she realised how dependent she had become on her gifts, as if she couldn't get through a single night without them. She was an addict who depended on her regular fix and her drug was human blood.
Chapter Eleven: A night to remember.
It was the party of the year and everyone who was considered to be of importance within vampire politics had been sent an invitation. A gathering this large only occurred once in a blue moon, so Alice considered herself fortunate to be taken along as one of Katherine's guests.
Rumour had it that Queen Renita Marquette would not be present due to pressing concerns that required her full attention. Not turning up to the celebrations however was also considered to be a faux pas, which would lose her even more points with her already discouraged supporters.
Sir Chevalier was also rumoured to be absent, but the infamous Antoinette DuPont would be there in their stead. She was the head of the royal spy network and would likely be reporting everything and anything she saw or heard back to her precious queen, who for some reason she loved unconditionally. It wasn't possible to convert someone that overly zealous to your cause, so Katherine knew that the spymaster would always be an obstacle that had to be overcome.
The no expenses spared gala was being held in the Southern Alberta Jubilee Auditorium, located adjacent to the Alberta College of Art and Design. It was an impressive building with a mix of 1950s architecture, such as their impressive conference centre, combined with a classical styled theatre that could hold over two and a half thousand people at once.
The party was originally meant to be a masquerade ball, but Katherine had since become the head of the board that organised the event and she considered the idea to be highly antiquated. There were those who strongly disagreed with her opinion, but none amongst them were bold enough to voice their discontent. She ran largely unopposed, since her wide array of hidden plots kept her enemies occupied and confused.
Alice had decided to stay away from most of her mentor’s heinous schemes, only becoming involved when specifically requested. She cared about Katherine and what happened to her, but didn't want to cause more trouble than she already had. The social status wars of elder vampires were something that Alice thought best to avoid, as she didn't have the power or resources to play their costly games.
Even though she was practically running the event herself, Katherine still turned up fashionably late, with her protege in tow. As the valet parked the Bentley and the pair made their way inside, she whispered to Alice a few words of warning.
"Be careful. They're all harpies in here. They will descend upon you and rip you to shreds if given half a chance."
Katherine's last sentence was worrying, but Alice knew that she had her best intentions in mind.
The main doors led into a red carpeted lobby that connected the theatre with the main hall. Stairways with brass railings ran up to the upper levels of the theatre, with wooden paneled walls that had been recently coated with a fresh layer of varnish. The other entrances to the building that were clearly marked with signs were guarded by enthralled mortals and likely locked tight.
A fortune must have been spent on temporary decorations, with velvet drapes, grandiose tapestries and crystal chandeliers that had all been added for the special occasion. Even a fountain had been erected in the middle of the main open area of the room, with the aim of impressing everyone who laid eyes upon it. All of the additions would be removed the following day, leaving no trace of the eccentricities of the undead.
Alice had been given permission to raid Katherine's wardrobe for an outfit with some supervision from the woman herself. They had picked out an elegant, red dress that would best compliment her slender figure, with no sleeves and a low cut back. Katherine’s decades of fashion experience meant that Alice could be provided with the right accessories to compliment the rest of her ensemble. The final look was topped off with braids that were tied up in the most complicated of hairstyles.
As for Katherine, she had picked out a long, green dress for herself that cost more money than most houses. She decided to leave her own hair down, letting her curls fall loosely down her back. Diamond encrusted jewelry completed the look, giving her a refined appearance that was fit for nobility.
It was Katherine's aim for them to draw the attention of everyone at the party and to take their breath away. The looks on the faces of those that were gathered in the lobby were proof enough that her plan had succeeded, as they stared on with awe.
Alice's mind flashed back to her school prom where her fellow students had stared at her in mock wonder, only to crush her spirit later on in the night. However, this time there was more on the line than just her emotions and a borrowed dress. Her very existence could be at risk if she crossed the wrong person or upset someone unknowingly. It was a nerve wracking feeling, but Alice tried to ignore it. She would fake her confidence and use all the charm that she could muster in order to make Katherine's night a success.
The majority of people within the place were mortal. They acted like filler, making it seem as though the party was bustling, when there was actually only a dozen or so people present of any actual importance. Like the guards, they were all either enthralled or just ignorant of the true nature of their hosts. They were there to populate the rooms and act as convenient snacks for the true guests of the night, like garish tributes for their immortal overlords. After all, a celebration with only a few people in attendance would be no celebration at all.
From across the crowded room, Alice felt the intense stare of someone’s eyes burning a hole into the back of her head. She scoured the room, searching for whoever it was who was showing so much interest in her.
Stood at the far end of the lobby, adjacent to a set of stairs, was a woman who was dressed for a high class soiree, but had the expression of someone who was strictly there for business. Her black, sequinned dress sparkled under the warm lights, complimenting her French bob hairstyle with perfectly straight bangs. A domino mask covered the top half of her face, clashing with her bright red lipstick and alabaster complexion.
Alice had no clue who the woman in black was, but from the attention she was showing, the woman certainly knew her. The look on her face was stern and resolute, as she raised her hands to her face, slowly removing her mask while she continued to glare with unblinking eyes.
Alice’s view was obstructed for just a moment as a group of people wandered past, causing her to lose sight of the woman. Once they had passed by, she was faced with a grotesque sight that had changed drastically from what she had seen just seconds before.
A pallid grey had replaced ivory skin, as a shrivelled, hunchbacked creature now stood in the same space that the woman had been occupying. It wore the same black dress, with the domino mask held in withered hands, smiling with an impossibly wide grin that revealed rows of jagged teeth. The French bob was now just a few clumps of hair that covered her head in uneven lengths.
It was impossible for Alice to tell if she was seeing things or if the woman had actually transformed, as no one else seemed unnerved by the situation. The two of them made eye contact with each other, sunken red eyes meeting Alice's gaze and drawing her in. It was difficult to blink and impossible to look away as the grey skinned creature grinned ever wider.
The sound of smashing glass broke the spell and drew Alice’s attention away as she looked over to where the sound had come from. A clumsy guest had dropped their champagne, making a mess of the polished floor. As they started to make a commotion about the accident, Alice returned her gaze to the corner near the stairs, but found that the creature had used the distraction to vanish from sight. The area where they had been standing was now filled with a band of partygoers who were making their way into the theatre.
/> Rubbing her eyes, Alice was still unsure of what she had seen and whether or not it was real. She shook her head to try and clear her mind of thought, before turning to follow Katherine who was seemingly ignorant of the situation as she made her way towards the double doors that lead to the conference room.
Alice hoped that what had happened there in the lobby was a one off and that whatever she had seen wouldn’t keep following her, but an itch in the back of her mind let her know that something else was in store for her that night.
**********
Katherine guided Alice down a long hallway and out into the conference area. The walls had been covered with silk curtains, with acrobats suspended from ribbons that zig zagged across the ceiling. The provocative intensity of the performers left onlookers in awe as the enchanting tunes of slow trance music played over the loudspeakers. Waiting staff wove through the crowds, providing hors d’oeuvres and refreshments to everyone present.
The atmosphere had been carefully crafted by someone who had an artistic flare, captivating party guests with colourful displays that were enhanced by bespoke lighting fixtures. Bizarre modern art consisting of paintings, sculptures and things more obscure were scattered throughout the open hall, drawing the eye of anyone who walked by.
The arrogant, loud laugh of a man dressed in a white suit and cowboy hat snapped Alice out of her daze. He looked like a stereotypical oil baron from Texas, with his barrel chest, large gut and a booming voice that only served to enhance the stereotype. She instantly knew who he was. The man with a fondness for snakeskin boots, neckties and giant belt buckles was Hank Wilson.
Hank was the big shot vampire who controlled the largest shares in Calgary’s once booming oil industry and was the wealthiest man in the city. He was the type of guy that you'd expect to see eating a forty ounce steak, if his diet didn’t strictly consist of blood and blood alone.
The oil baron was accompanied by a straight faced and emotionless man wearing a thick woolen overcoat that would look at home in the depths of Siberia. Alice didn’t recognise the other man, even though his rough, unshaven face was easily distinguishable with various scars and a buzzed haircut. Hanging off his arm however, was a woman that she could identify from her foray into the depths of Katherine’s mind.
The delectable Nadia Djorkaeff, with her dazzling smile and movie star looks, was outfitted in a revealing, white dress that was clearly designed to keep her companions distracted as she spied on them for her maker. She was an expert spy who had infiltrated the queen’s court and placed herself at the pinnacle of vampire society in order to gather information that would have otherwise been inaccessible.
Nadia had seen Alice marvelling at her subtle skills from the corner of her eye, giving a quick nod of acknowledgement to let her know that she’d been caught staring. The sudden realisation that she had been spotted caused Alice’s eyes to dart away as she pretended to look at other things. She would have blushed if it didn’t require concentration in order to do so. Blood didn’t move around her body involuntarily anymore, and it required some effort on her part to do the little things that came so naturally to humans. The things that mortals take for granted.
Katherine had seen the little gathering too and decided to intervene, leaving Alice on her own as she walked over to do her duty as host. Alice knew that she could tag along if she wanted, but she thought that it was best that she found her own ways to keep herself entertained.
Making her way slowly around the edge of the room, Alice took in the sights. Most of the paintings that were framed on the wall were odd and didn’t make sense to someone uninitiated in the schools of art like herself, but she took the time to admire them anyway. It wasn’t until she stopped to look at a particularly dark and unnerving piece of artistry that someone stepped in to introduce themselves.
“What do you suppose the artist was thinking when his brush strokes touched the canvas?”
The English accent of the man was old and as unusual as the way he dressed. He plucked the bowler hat off his head, monocle twinkling in the spotlight that lit up the painting. Alice glanced at him and then back at the image as she answered politely.
“They seem unhappy. Something happened to them that left them feeling incredibly sad.”
The man’s mouth curled into a smile, as he tapped his cane upon the floor.
“How astute, my dear. It seems that you have empathy for other people. I was indeed at a low point when I painted this piece.”
He bowed from the waist, standing tall over Alice as he extended his hand in greeting.
“Harold Fletcher.”
Alice went for a handshake, but the man took her hand in his and bent down to kiss it gently. She managed to form a response, even though she had been caught off guard by his old fashioned approach.
“Allison Green. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Charmed.”
Harold stood back up straight, making Alice take note of how extraordinarily tall he was. It was clear to her that he was a little eccentric, as he spoke in an animated and flamboyant way.
“Are you an artist yourself?”
Alice shook her head, still fascinated by the man's Victorian styled pinstripe suit, complete with waistcoat, pocket watch and handkerchief.
“No, not really. I mean, I can't draw that well, but I like to write things down.”
“Ah. So you're a wordsmith. A worthy profession.”
Chuckling softly, Alice realised that she didn't actually have a job anymore. She had sadly lost her independence somewhere along the way, becoming completely dependent on her benefactor.
“No, it's not my job. I just…”
She was stumped for words, leaving Mr Fletcher to continue for her.
“I'm sorry, Miss Green. I didn't mean to cause an upset.”
Alice smiled lightly, shaking her head.
“No, not at all. In fact you helped me realise a truth about myself.”
Harold inclined his head, winking at Alice with a glint in his grey eyes.
“I aim to please.”
A loud gasp sounded from somewhere behind the pair, causing them to face in the direction that it came from. One of the waiters had apparently cut himself with a cheese knife while he was serving food and drops of blood were starting to form.
The atmosphere in the room suddenly grew in intensity as several people dropped what they were doing to stare at the man with hungry eyes. It wasn't long before he found himself cornered by strangers offering to 'help’. The injury had turned into a battle of social status between his rescuers, which after some long looks and quick exchanges of words, ended with the waiter being carted off somewhere more private so his wounds could be 'tended to’.
Harold sighed audibly, tapping his cane on the floor a few more times.
“Oh my word. I better see what's going on there.” He lowered his voice to the level of a whisper he directed at Alice's ear. “We don't want the party to be ruined by the discovery of an exsanguinated corpse, do we? That’d surely put a damper on things.”
Alice bit her lip nervously.
“No. That wouldn't be good…”
Harold Fletcher bowed his head once more, placing his bowler hat back on top of his head, covering his neatly parted hair.
“Perhaps we’ll have the chance to meet again soon. It's rare to bump into someone so refreshingly honest about themselves. Good evening, Miss Green.”
Alice botched a curtsey, turning it into a weird, nervous combination of a bow and a squat. She didn't have time to correct herself before Harold had turned to stroll through the crowd in pursuit of the waiter and his new ‘friends’.
Alice called out after him in a clumsy attempt at recovering.
“Good night, Mr Fletcher!”
She wasn't sure if he had heard her, but she had to try regardless. The interesting man was pleasant and friendly enough. He was definitely someone that she would like to meet again.
Alice surveyed the room, looking for m
ore things that she could occupy herself with as Katherine continued to raise her political standing with the vampire elite. For people who claimed to be higher beings, their vicious rumour mongering, petty squabbles and social games of cat and mouse were incredibly childish. It wasn't the type of behaviour that you'd expect from the ancient rulers of the night, and yet some of them had been at it for centuries. Their hierarchy was important to them, as whoever was higher up the food chain got their pick of territory and feeding grounds.
In truth, there were only a handful of vampires compared to well over a million mortals within the city. There was plenty of food for everyone and yet they still tried to one up each other every single night.
As Alice approached the far end of the room, she could almost taste the coppery smell of old, dried blood in the air. It was coming from an object that was viewed by humans as a piece of art, while the undead avoided it like the plague.
A guillotine sat in the corner in plain sight, but it wasn't being treated as a device of execution by the ignorant mortals who took photographs of it on their cellphones, thinking it was all a joke. In fact, the guillotine was a gift for the party from the queen and was left there in the open at her insistence. It was her symbol of power and a show of strength for those who doubted her leadership.
The guillotine was often used on those who had committed the most heinous of crimes against the crown. Treason. Something that Katherine had done more than just flirt with on multiple occasions. There was no doubt that she wanted to overthrow the current powerbase and ascend to the throne, but Alice was worried that her mentor's plans could backfire if she wasn't careful, and then both their necks would quite literally be on the line.
A short and funny looking little man, dressed in a tweed jacket complete with teacher's leather elbow pads, rushed in to block the pictures from being taken. He wasn't attempting to photobomb them, but was rather trying his best to shoo people away as he didn't want any photographs being taken at all. Some of those gathered there actually listened to his ramblings, but others simply laughed and continued to take pictures, even after he had used a marker pen to write a makeshift warning sign on a torn piece of cardboard.
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