by Jim McDoniel
“Oh,” Cassandra replied. Her eyes fell back upon those sitting at the table, as did the gazes of the other black-haired mortals. There was less fear this time and more awe.
“They have traveled far, from foreign lands, and”—he looked at Yulric—“suburban basements, to be here today.”
“My lords,” Cassandra said with another curtsey. The members of her coven followed suit, bowing and dipping as necessary.
“And ladies,” prompted the Doctor.
For a moment, Cassandra gave the Doctor a look as if to say “Really?” but that moment passed, and she did in fact say, “And ladies.”
Then, without prompting, the young people spread themselves out, one for each vampire at the table. “In respect of your wisdom and power,” Cassandra recited, “we of the Black Crystal Coven of Orange County offer this gift to you.”
Together, in motions that were obviously practiced, all seven of them produced a small crystal goblet and a silver dagger. They raised their blades high into the air, then lightly placed the tips at their elbows and pressed. Blood welled up from the wounds, more so as each of them hit the veins. The goblets were positioned to collect the blood as it flowed down their arms and dripped from their fingers. Once each was filled, the cups were offered to the vampires, who drank. Mostly.
“Is there a problem, my lord?” asked the one blond member of the coven. There was a strong and clearly intentional resemblance to Amanda.
“I can get my own,” growled Yulric, even more annoyed. He did not like being mocked.
“Y-yes, my lord,” she said with an obsequious little bow.
“I don’t suppose you mind if I . . . ?” asked Cebrian. He stretched out his hand, and the girl moved to pass her cup to him. Yulric, out of sheer contrariness, slapped the goblet to the ground. The girl backed away, muffling sobs of fear and disappointment. This, more than anything, caught the vampires’ interest. Not only were these mortals willing to give their blood, but they were actually upset if you rejected it.
“You may go, Cassandra,” said the Doctor, drinking deeply from her cup as he did so. “See to your wounds. I will buzz if we need any more.”
“We live to serve,” she said. All of them bowed and slowly walked out of the room, holding their arms.
The Doctor Lord Talby began handing out prepared folders. “Apologies. I wasn’t aware of your origins, so this may not be legible to all of you. Copies will, of course, be made available in your respective native languages. Now, if you’ll turn to page two, you will find statements outlining both my personal holdings and those of this studio.”
“Never mind that,” said Adze. He indicated the door through which the humans had exited. “Tell us more about them.”
The Doctor smiled. “What would you like to know?”
“Do we get them, as well?” asked Cebrian, licking his lips.
“Naturally,” answered the Doctor. “With control of my assets comes control over the vampire community, both mortal and immortal. All those willing to shed their blood for you are yours.”
“Willing. Ha!” barked the Yu Mei.
“Willing, yes,” responded the Doctor. “And you must do your best not to kill them.”
“And why should we do that?” responded Arru. The vampires all eyed the Doctor suspiciously, and Yulric could feel their moods shifting back to a quick beheading.
“Well, first of all, because it’s a waste of blood. No need to overtax a system that works so well.”
Tezcatlipoca glared significantly at Cebrian, who refused to translate this.
“And then, of course, there is the danger to your own lives.”
“What danger?” asked Arru.
“From the mortals, of course,” the Doctor made a big show of looking around the table in disbelief. “Has he . . . Has he not told you?” He pointed an accusatory finger at Yulric. The others eyed the elder Englishman suspiciously. “The world has changed, my friends—guns, flying machines, horseless carriages. You’ve seen some of this for yourselves?” The vampires nodded. The Doctor, however, shook his head. “You have not seen the half of it. They can communicate with each other instantaneously from anywhere in the world. They can track each other’s whereabouts with machines in the sky. And guns. Guns are everywhere.”
Yulric interrupted. “Vampyrs cannot be—”
“Killed by guns?” the Doctor finished for him. His face was stern, but the old vampire could see a smile lurking just beneath the surface. “Well, what about machines that spit flames? What about fire that can melt metal in seconds? What about explosives that can destroy entire cities? Can these kill vampires?”
Silence fell across the room. None of them had ever heard about this part of modern life.
“Mortals have devised new and more deadly ways to kill each other,” explained the Doctor, “and in doing so, have discovered new and undeadly ways to kill us, as well. We can no longer risk being monsters. People kill monsters.
“Of course, as your humble servant, I can assist you. Be your guide to this brave new world. All I would ask, my lords and ladies, is that until such time as you have no use for me and dispatch me, as is your right, you allow my experiments to continue. After all, what is an empire without an army of minions behind it?”
The word minions set off a number of nods. Suddenly, those hopeless dreams of leading an army of vampires didn’t seem so hopeless. Had they not slaughtered just such an army, on their way in?
“You’ve been awfully quiet, Master Bile,” Talby said. “Do you approve of this arrangement?”
“No,” said Bile. It was a bitter whisper, but the room had become so quiet that the sound grew to fill it.
“Why not, if I may ask?”
“Because,” said Yulric. For a moment, that appeared to be all he was going to say. For a moment, that was the only reason he could think of. He knew that the proposition was good. He was being offered power and safety and freedom to do as he pleased. And in exchange for what? Killing? He was not one of these young things who treated blood like a drunkard treats ale. He had once gone a century not drinking blood, simply to win a bet. He knew he should sign the paper. It just . . . felt . . . wrong.
Yulric picked up the forms in front of him. “This is not what a vampyr is,” he said and threw them across the table.
“Beauty? Blood? Immortality? Power? If that is not what a vampire is, then, please, Master Bile, enlighten me. What is a vampire?”
Yulric didn’t have a response for this, except for the ax in his hand. He let the handle fall farther into his grip and readied himself to attack and be slain. But just as he was about to leap forward, an unseen force held him back.
Let it go.
Yulric turned to see Catherine’s mental projection tightly grasping his arm.
Those who fight and run away. She raised a set of car keys up to his face.
Yulric looked from the woman only he could see to the vampires, who were all waiting for an excuse to rip off his head.65 He made a decision. With as much dignity as he could muster, he gave a curt nod of defeat and faded into a fine mist, which leaked out through the cracks in the door, and was gone.
“Well,” said The Doctor Lord Talby after a moment of awkward silence, “shall we get down to business? If you would all turn to page one of your packets”—they did—“we’ll go over how much each of you are now worth. I’m sorry, Mistress . . . ?”
“Arru.”
“Mistress Arru, I have to tell you, you have wonderful bone structure. You know, there have been some remarkable advances of dermal hydration. Perhaps, if you’d like to make an appointment, with the right moisturizer and some glass eyes, I think . . . Say, does anyone else hear a bus horn?”
• •
Yulric Bile emerged from the bus and stepped out onto the rubble that had once been the conference room. The dust was still settling, as were the pieces of plaster and live electric wires. A quick glance around the carnage revealed little evidence of those who had been
sitting at the table, other than Arru’s spiderlike hand poking above the wreckage and the mangled splat peeking out between the grill of the vehicle and the wall. Closer inspection revealed The Doctor Lord Talby’s arm sticking out of it. And Yulric did inspect it. Closely. With a smile on his face.
Yulric turned to leave only to find Tezcatlipoca emerging from the shadows near the bus-sized hole in the wall. The two vampires stared at each other long and hard until the jaguar-headed creature caught sight of the Spaniard’s red cloak crushed beneath a tire. The big cat gave an appreciative grin and stepped aside.
“You know that won’t kill them?” Tezcatlipoca said in considered but perfect Latin.
“No,” Yulric replied in Nahuatl as he passed, “but it hurts like hell.”
Chapter 34
Once more, Yulric Bile, the elder vampire of ancient myth and terrifying legend, sat on the couch flipping through channels. With equal unconcern, he moved from a show about good-looking doctors who sleep with each other to one about good-looking lawyers who sleep with each other to another about good-looking police who sleep with each other. From there, he journeyed down the rabbit hole of reality TV, passing by the lives of self-proclaimed famous people, dangerous occupations, and ghost hunts wherein absolutely nothing happened. He decided to stop on the wrestling program where large-muscled men and women beat each other with chairs. It reminded him of his childhood.
“You know it’s fake,” said the small boy seated beside him.
“Yes,” growled the vampire, remembering the conversation distinctly. The boy had taken particular relish in Yulric’s angry disbelief, just as he took relish in reminding the vampire of that fact now. If Yulric Bile hadn’t been feeling especially good, he’d have brained the child where he sat. At least, that’s what he told himself.
The doorbell rang. Neither boy nor vampire moved from his position on the couch. It rang again. From upstairs, frantic footsteps made their way across the ceiling, down the stairs, and to the front door.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get it,” said a harassed-sounding Amanda. She was currently half-dressed, which meant fully clothed but without makeup. The bob-cut black wig she’d put on was askew, and she quickly adjusted it before opening the door.
“Amanda,” said the equally attractive black-wig-wearing blonde on the other side.
“Nora,” Amanda greeted her friend with a little hug. “Come upstairs. I’m almost ready.” She began to run up the steps. “Oh, could you grab my boots? They’re in the closet.”
“Sure thing,” Nora called back. She opened the closet and paused. “Amanda!”
“Yeah.”
“There’s an old woman in your closet.”
The quick pitter-patter of stocking feet running downstairs could be heard. “She lives across the street.” Amanda appeared in the entranceway to the living room. “What is Mrs. Havenaugh doing in the closet?”
“We needed her penmanship,” muttered Simon quietly.
“What was that?” barked Amanda.
“He said they needed her penmanship,” Nora tattled.
Yulric struck the boy upside the head for forgetting there was more than one person with extraordinary hearing present.
“Unenthrall her,” said Amanda, now addressing the ancient vampire.
“At the commercial break,” he muttered.
“Now!” Amanda repeated. She may not have been a vampire, but people who raise children develop their own superhearing for sarcasm and passive aggression.
Yulric grumbled as he got up to release Mrs. Havenaugh from the closet. After the confused old woman apologized for wandering into the wrong house and left, he returned to the couch, where he and Simon proceeded to keep up appearances. Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock but not at the door.
Knock, knock.
Yulric did not get up.
Knock, knock.
Yulric still did not get up.
Knock, knock. Knock, knock. Knock, knock. I can do this all night. Knock, knock.
Fine! Yulric stamped his way to the door, flung it open, and went back to his seat.
“Nice to see you, too.” Catherine giggled.
“Catherine, is that you?” called Amanda from upstairs.
“Yes, hi,” Catherine replied with a shout.
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you knock,” Nora apologized.
“Don’t worry about it,” Catherine told her.
“We’ll be down in a sec, k?” Amanda said.
“No rush,” Catherine answered. She entered the living room and sat down on the other side of Yulric. The vampire very pointedly did not acknowledge her presence, which in ancient-Saxon vampire translated to hello.
“Hello, Simon,” greeted Catherine, talking across Yulric, who was very stiffly not looking anywhere but at the images of men in underwear jumping off ladders onto one another.
“Miss Dorset,” Simon responded without looking up.
“What are you reading?” she asked, angling herself to glance at the open book on his lap.
The boy blocked the pages from view with his shoulder and arm. “Nothing.”
“Okay,” she said with a smile. She silently began watching TV.
So . . . wrestling, she thought.
Yes, Yulric replied, hoping that maybe if he responded she would be sated and go away.
Wow, this takes me back to my childhood, she said mentally. Yulric could not tell if she were being truthful or teasing. Likely both.
Who are you rooting for? she asked.
The villain, he answered shortly.
I think they call them heels, she corrected him.
I do not call them that, he spat.
Well, to each their own. She shrugged. The two sat in mental silence. Somewhere outside their heads, they registered the sound of Simon flipping pages in his booklet.
Who do you root for if two villains fight? she asked.
Whoever is the most devious, he answered, careful not to smile. Those were indeed his favorite matches.
Catherine drummed her fingers on the little blue handbag that matched the midnight-blue dress she was wearing. What do you think of those characters that the fans seem to love, no matter how villainous they act?
Yulric turned his head and looked at her. Her mouth, lightly coated in lipstick, pursed seriously, though the edges twitched upward ever so slightly.
Yulric turned back to the television and made a point to change the channel. I despise them most of all.
She gave him a playful nudge with her shoulder. He pretended she did not nor ever had existed, which made her laugh.
Two sets of footsteps descended the stairs, and a pair of nearly identical, black-haired beauties entered the room in matching backless long black gowns. Together, they looked like a movie starlet from the twenties and her image in a mirror.
“Catherine!” said Amanda in greeting. Catherine stood and they hugged. “You really shouldn’t be sitting. You’ll wrinkle your dress.”
“Oh, like anyone’s going to be looking at me with you two nearby. Hello, Nora.”
“Catherine. You look well,” said Nora.
“Don’t I?” Catherine gave a playful twirl. “I nearly fit into myself again.”
“Okay?” Nora agreed, not quite understanding the intricacies of how mind images and comatose bodies worked.
“We should get going. Nora can’t be late for her own party,” said Amanda with a look at her phone.
“Nonsense,” Nora corrected her. “It’s my party, which means it doesn’t really start until I get there.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Amanda asked Yulric. “You’d be one of the first to see the preview for Nights of Nora.”
“Are they going to be there?” he asked, making sure to put plenty of extra bile on the word they.
“Arru and Adze,” added Nora. “They’re a thing now.”
“Really?” Amanda exclaimed. “That’s sweet. And horrifying.”
“Isn’t it?” No
ra agreed.
“I will stay,” Yulric said, flipping briefly to some atrocious program that filmed those with mental illnesses and then away to a sporting event with rules he did not understand, other than it involved a ball and running. “Someone needs to watch the boy.”
Amanda’s attention shot to Simon. He didn’t quite hide his books in time.
“What are you looking at?” she asked him.
“Nothing,” he replied. It was said with a complete lack of fear or guilt. He could have fooled a lie detector, but Amanda knew her brother.
“Give them,” she ordered, her hand outstretched.
Simon pulled two items out from behind the couch cushions. One was an encyclopedia of ancient weaponry, the other a blacksmith catalogue he’d picked up at the Renaissance fair a few months prior.
She grabbed the latter from him and put it in her bag. “I thought I took this away from you already.” She’d caught him trying to order things with her credit card. If he hadn’t needed to call the blacksmith personally to put in special size requirements, she wouldn’t have found out until, in both senses, the mail had arrived.
Simon shrugged in a noncommittal way that did nothing to reveal whether this was the same catalogue from before, which he’d stolen back, or one of several that he’d picked up and was hiding somewhere.
She turned on Yulric. “And this is how you are going to watch him?”
Yulric flipped the channel. “You would not have noticed had I not spoken.”
Two sets of Linske eyes shot daggers at the vampire; one because he’d been betrayed, the other because what he’d said was true.
“I’ll be back in the morning,” she said with an undertone that read to search your room.
“Okay,” Simon replied, not quite hiding his own subtext of I have until then to hide them better.
“See ya, short stuff,” Nora said to Simon, kneeling down and giving him a kiss on the cheek. He hissed and squirmed more than a vampire confronted with a cross dipped in garlic. Yulric could not help thinking that if he were truly so indifferent to girls, he would not care so much. Typical Puritan.