Cocktales

by The Cocky Collective

  "I’m . . . I’m a vampire?"

  I need clothes for the discussion that will follow. And I need him to be wearing something as well. Unfortunately, all I have to wear is a slinky silver dress Molly insisted I wear out the night before. It’s better than nothing, I suppose. Though that could be debated considering wearing nothing is infinitely more comfortable.

  Once we are both reasonably dressed, Sebastian calls for room service, though, I question why, wondering if they serve blood.

  Yes, it finally hit me that the crimson cocktail I guzzled down this morning wasn’t blood oranges or a Bloody Mary. It was just blood.

  But Sebastian said I will still need food for a bit as my body completes the transformation. Until that time, I’m more vulnerable than I was even as a human. But soon, my strength and stamina will increase, and I will find myself capable of things I never before imagined.

  As we take our seats in the living room, he continues to explain. "You aren’t fully a vampire yet," he says. "That’s why you could see yourself in the mirror this morning. That will fade until you no longer have a reflection."

  "How did this happen?" I should be more scared. Or angry. Or something. But I find myself mostly curious. An otherworldly event occurred last night, and I need to understand it.

  "For reasons I’m still trying to piece together, you were targeted by a group of rogue vampires who are wanted for a series of murders throughout the world and, most recently, here in Las Vegas. You would have been their next victim had I not found you in time. I had the choice between letting you die and turning you. I chose the latter."

  A knock at the door interrupts us—room service has arrived—and I use the extra moments to compose my thoughts. I nearly died last night? And what of Molly? Where did she end up? Is she dead? Also, as a completely vain aside, how will I ever apply makeup properly if I can’t see my own reflection?

  I visually search the room for my cell phone and see it peeking out from under the bar. I stand and am about to get it when the door crashes open and the room service cart goes flying, sending orange juice, pancakes, muffins, and fruit everywhere.

  Sebastian growls in a primal kind of way. "Ember, to the bathroom."

  His command is an odd one, but given that he appears to be fighting three very large men, I don’t argue.

  Once in the bathroom, I close and lock the door before scrambling to find something with which to defend myself. The only thing I can find is a curling iron, so I plug it in and hope it’s the kind that heats fast.

  My hands are shaking as I clutch it and wait, listening as a battle ensues on the other side of this door.

  I feel as if I’ve walked into one of my books. Vampires? Great battles in a hotel suite? Drinking blood for breakfast?

  I’d pinch myself to see if I were dreaming, but I know I’m awake. I know this is all somehow real. And I know I can’t let it derail my focus right now. Not if I want to survive the day.

  After a moment, the sound of fighting subsides. I hold my breath and wait to see who comes to the door.

  The curling iron is hot now.

  I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.

  My impulse is to get as far away from the door as possible, but I don’t want to back myself against a wall or trap myself in a corner. I try to recall the barely retained self-defense lessons I took when the library did our safety week. Unfortunately, that was several years ago and none of the lessons covered fighting vampires . . . and I’m fresh out of wooden stakes. Where’s Buffy when you need her?

  Still, I position myself in what I imagine to be a fighting stance, hot iron at the ready.

  There’s a knock at the door, and my heart nearly stops, until I hear his voice.

  "Ember, open up. It’s safe, for now."

  I put the curling iron down and dash to the door. When it swings open I throw myself into his arms without thought. He holds me tightly and comforts me as I shake.

  "It’s all right, love. You’re in shock. You need blood, food, and rest. But first, we have to get out of here."

  I pull away enough to see around him. To see the bodies littering the expensive wood floors.

  "They’re . . . dead?"

  I look up into his eyes, but they show no remorse, just steely determination. "It was them or us. Would you rather I let them have us?"

  My perspective shifts, and I glare at the bodies of the monsters who attacked us. "I hope you didn’t leave a tip!"

  Sebastian laughs, and the sound is startling, even to him, judging by his expression. "I knew last night you were special. No one has ever made me laugh the way you do. You have such a unique way of looking at the world, Ember, and that’s saying something given how long I’ve been around."

  I frown. His words are sincere, but . . .

  "I wish I could remember. You’re a stranger to me, but I feel . . . something between us."

  "Your body remembers what your mind does not. But your memories will start to come back as the transition completes. Be patient."

  He cups my face and looks as if he’s about to kiss me, and I can feel a stirring in my belly that means I’ll likely let him. But then his head jerks up. "We have to go. Now. More are on the way."

  I make a move to leave the bathroom but he stops me. "We can’t go that way. They’re already here. We need a safe house, and I know just the place. But I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

  "Do I have a choice?"

  He smiles. "You always have a choice."

  I raise a skeptical eyebrow.

  "Well, aside from last night, but those were extenuating circumstances. Would you rather be dead right now?"

  Touché.

  "No. No, I wouldn’t. If what you’ve said is true, then thank you for saving my life."

  He cocks his head. "Okay then. Take my hand and hold on." He smiles at me. "There’s a reason vampires can’t see themselves in mirrors. For us, they are portals. All mirrors connect to each other like doors, and if you know where you’re going, you can travel through them. Like we’re going to do right now."

  He reaches out for the mirror and places his hand on it. I try not to tense my muscles, as I assume this is like getting into a car crash. The more relaxed you are, the less injurious it is.

  A tingling energy flows over my body, like being walked on by thousands of ants, and I shudder as the feeling begins to penetrate my skin. My vision darkens until all I can see is black, and then it’s as if I’m being sucked into a vortex of time and space, my very being undone by the physics of it all. Everything around me is spinning, or I’m spinning within everything. I clutch at Sebastian’s hand and feel relief that he is still here with me.

  After some unfathomable amount of time, my body recovers its own mass and thuds heavily against Sebastian. He catches me in strong arms and helps me regain my balance. We are in a dimly lit hallway. The walls are draped with red silk that is embroidered with exotic patterns, and the only light source comes from candles perched in iron candelabras that have left a coating of wax along the marble floor.

  On one end of the hall is a large mirror, the one we presumably came out of, and on the other end is a door that has writhing bodies carved into wood in a style reminiscent of Rodin’s Gates of Hell.

  In the center of the door is a sculptured eye that appears to be watching us. I shiver and stand a bit closer to the large vampire next to me, clutching his hand more tightly. I haven’t quite made up my mind about him, but at the very least he’s proven he doesn’t want me dead just yet. Which is, admittedly, a remarkably low standard, but it’s the best I’ve got at the moment.

  A booming voice coming from the door nearly gives me heart palpitations as we approach.

  "Who dares enter The Black Lotus?"

  Sebastian sounds resigned as he answers. "Tell your master Sebastian Kingston is here to ask a favor."

  The eye on the door closes, and it goes silent. I shift closer to Sebastian. "So . . . I assume that door is magic?"

  He
looks down at me and then puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer to him. Despite my troubled mind, my body relishes the contact, craving the closeness even as I question my sanity in all this. But there’s no denying the pull that exists between us. I’m attuned to his moods, to the movement of his body, to his very orbit, and he seems to be responding the same way to me. It’s nothing I’ve ever felt or experienced before, and I’m a bit mind-blown by it all.

  "You’re about to see more than you can possibly imagine," he says. "All the stories and fairy tales and legends? They’re all based in truth. There’s so much more to life than what humans believe to be true. There are creatures of myths, magicks that defy understanding, and other worlds. Vampires are only the beginning."

  "Other worlds?" A new kind of excitement is bubbling up in me. After all, I am a librarian. I spend my days surrounded by portals to other worlds. In my most secret of hearts, I always imagined someday finding the wardrobe to Narnia or—yes, I will admit it—getting my letter to Hogwarts. Some part of my brain is trying to tell me I need to panic. That real life isn’t supposed to work this way. That, even if I can’t remember it, I’ve already almost died. But I can’t find it within me to be that scared. I’m too excited. Too amazed by the possibilities that exist now that I’m becoming something more than human. Now that I’m being ushered into the secrets of other worlds.

  "Legends say there are nine worlds created by the dragons long ago, but I’ve only been to three. I’ve met others who have been to a few more, but some are said to be uninhabitable." He says this matter-of-factly, as if dragons are just a real thing he throws around in conversation willy-nilly like, and it’s easy to see the many years he’s lived despite his youthful appearance. What marvels must exist in his mind. What wonders he must have seen. What books he must have read! I have to give myself some credit for randomly picking quite a catch for an impromptu husband.

  I look at the door again in wonder. "Are we . . . is this another world?"

  He chuckles. "It will definitely feel like it, but no. This is its own place entirely. This is—"

  "The Black Lotus!" says a man who is now standing where the door stood just moments ago. He is draped dramatically in robes the color of gemstones and has an aristocratic face with an equine nose, bushy eyebrows, and black hair that is slicked back to showcase a prominent widow’s peak.

  He glances at both of us and then dips into a sweeping bow. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Sly Devil, proprietor of The Black Lotus, safe house for all manner of paranormal and fantastical beings."

  He gestures us to follow him, and as we enter, the door that seemed to have disappeared now slams closed behind us. It’s an ominous sound that rattles my bones. We follow Sly through the pitch-black hallway, walking nearly blindly until we reach a great hall that is lit by candles dripping wax everywhere. I shudder to imagine the safety violations present here, but I must admit the effect is startling. In the corner, a piano unaccompanied by any kind of musician plays a beautiful concerto in a minor chord. One wall is taken over entirely by an underwater tank, like the kind you might see at a zoo. Only instead of fish or sharks, this tank features a mermaid. She is beautiful in a vicious sort of way. Her green-and-blue hair flows behind her and her skin is a sheen of pale blue that is almost captivating. Well, until I see her spiked teeth that look like they belong on a shark and her eyes narrow in on us with a predatory gaze.

  Sly notices my attention on the creature and smiles. "That’s Marasphyr. She’s a regular visitor to this establishment. Don’t concern yourself with her threatening demeanor. All guests here are safe on pain of death."

  We continue through the hall to a smaller room that is no less impressive. It’s lined wall to wall with books, and I nearly die when I see them. Ignoring the dramatic couches in the center of the room and the table laden with mouthwatering food . . . and what looks suspiciously like goblets of blood, I head to the books and run my palm along the spines, my mind whirling with all the wonders contained within such ancient tomes.

  Sly watches with something akin to affection on his face. "You appreciate literature," he says.

  "Quite so," I say. "I am a librarian by trade."

  He nods. "I sensed a kindred spirit in you. Have your pick, my dear. My library is yours."

  I won’t lie, I nearly swoon right then and there. I know that isn’t very modern of me, but I have never in my life seen such books, and I’ve been in some of the finest libraries in the world.

  I let my hand wander until it chooses a book at random. I pull it out and take it with me to the couch, where I sit next to Sebastian as Sly sits across from us.

  Sebastian looks tense, and I can feel an edginess coming off him. He reaches for a goblet of blood and hands it to me. "You will need to feed on my blood soon, but this will suffice for now. You should also eat some human food."

  My stomach turns now that I know what I’m consuming, but the smell is intoxicating. I hold the goblet and look to Sly before drinking. "I don’t mean to be rude, but was this blood . . . humanely sourced?"

  Sly laughs. "You’re a charming creature," he says. "The blood was donated by willing humans who were more than fairly compensated. None were harmed in any way."

  That’s good enough for me. I drink it down in one long gulp, my body soaking up the life force. It takes the edge off the hunger I hadn’t realized was so sharp and frees my attention to nibble on freshly baked bread spread with a soft cheese and fruit puree.

  Sebastian sips his blood more slowly and turns his attention to Sly. "I need your help," he says plainly.

  "Yes, I see that. But I do seem to recall you vowed never to return here again." Sly flicks his hand, and a scene from the past, built of smoke and light, appears. It’s Sebastian, Sly, and another man with pointed ears. He and Sebastian are arguing. Sebastian punches the man in the face and storms out of the room, vowing never to return.

  The smoke dissipates and Sly waits for Sebastian to respond.

  "I have stayed away for over a hundred years," he says.

  I nearly choke on my bread. It’s one thing to know your new husband is a vampire. It’s another thing entirely to hear that a hundred years is just a fraction of his life.

  "But things have changed. The Rendali brothers are back. They nearly killed Ember last night."

  "Well, well. And so you chose to turn her to save her?"

  Sebastian’s eyes harden. "Yes."

  "I assume without permission from the council?"

  "You know very well it was without permission. There was hardly time for that. She would have died!"

  I have so many questions, but these men are clearly locked in some kind of battle of wills, and I’m loathe to interrupt.

  "Is that why you married her? To circumvent the rules?"

  He glances at me and then back at Sly. "The why is irrelevant. We are married, and therefore immune to any consequence from the council, as per their own bylaws."

  "You always did know how to find the loopholes. You should have stayed, Sebastian. You would have gone far in the council."

  Sebastian guffaws. "I have no interest in being part of that charade. But I do need their help in stopping this latest threat. To save Ember, I had to kill Billy Rendali. Now Steven is after us."

  Sly whistles. "For a man who has vowed to stay out of it, you sure have stepped in quite spectacularly. This is indeed a complicated mess you’ve made, but I may have a piece to your puzzle. We captured a woman last night who has knowledge of what transpired." He looks to me with a nod of sympathy. "I believe you may know her."

  He stands, and we move to follow him, but instead of heading to the door, he turns with a flourish and pulls out a wand. "Before we venture farther into this dramedy you two have created, I must fix these dreadful clothing choices."

  He looks at me first, his expression thoughtful. "Normally, I’d pull out the finest gown for one as lovely as yourself, but you strike me as a more practical dresser." He flicks his wa
nd and fairy lights take over my vision as they work my body over. It all happens in a flash, and I find myself standing in the most unusual outfit. I’m wearing a white V-neck blouse with a black vest laced in leather, a kind of skirt pant in black, and black boots. I feel like quite the badass, I must admit.

  Sly nods. "Perfect." Then he turns his attention to Sebastian, and with a flick of his wand replaces his benign jeans and polo shirt with an outfit similar to mine but more masculine. We look made for each other.

  Once our wardrobe is to his liking, we follow Sly into the bowels of this mysterious place. Through corridors and stone halls and down winding stone stairways until we reach what can only be described as a medieval dungeon with magical influence.

  It smells of sulfur, urine, excrement, and body odor.

  I gag as we walk through rows of imprisoned criminals, of which only a few look vaguely humanoid, until we reach our destination. It’s dark inside, and I can see only the edges of a human foot, soiled and bleeding.

  Sly grips the bar of the door and calls to the prisoner. "You have a visitor, my dear."

  The person within crawls forward, and it’s only when their face is pressed against the bars that I can see who it is.

  "Molly?"

  To say I’m stunned would be an understatement. Vampires? Magic doors? Mermaids? Other worlds? No problem.

  Seeing my best friend shackled and imprisoned in a dungeon? I’m officially freaking out. I drop to my knees and face her, reaching for her hands through the bars, but she pulls away and spits at me.

  "Molly? What’s going on?" I look up at Sebastian, but he just shrugs, clearly in the dark about this. So I look to Sly for answers. "Why’s she in here? Release her immediately."

  "I’m afraid I cannot do that, my dear. She has violated our laws and must pay."

  "What laws did she violate?" I look back to her. She’s red-eyed, her skin sallow, her hair a jumbled mess of tangles and dirt, turning her golden locks to a mud brown. "How did you get here?"

  She glares at me. "You’re supposed to be dead! If you’d died like you were meant to, I wouldn’t be here at all. I’d be a god by now."