by L. C. Davis
I gritted my teeth and reminded myself that swearing at the crazy woman wasn't going to get Victor back. “You still haven't told me what you're hoping to gain from all this.”
“You may have gotten my looks, but you clearly didn't get my brains. I want the same thing I've always wanted, sweetie. You.”
Tears of rage were streaming down my face. It was a struggle to keep it out of my voice. “Even if you are my mother, you never wanted me. Why should now be any different?”
“Because now I need you.” It was such a simple, monstrous statement that I had to think there was a grain of truth to it. “I know it seems like I'm doing this to you, but I'm doing it for you. Tonight, I'm going to help you overcome all the fear and doubt to become the person you were always meant to be.”
“And if I don't want to do things your way?”
“Well, then you'll be down a lapdog. Your choice.”
Before I could argue, she was gone. The phone beeped and I looked down only to find that the message was from Sarah.
Left another present for you in the hotel lobby. xoxo
I made a promise to myself never to end another text message like that in my life and stared at the box. I grabbed the stake and scraped it against the edge of the box, wiping the excess blood off on Jeff's comforter before I left the room. I hesitated in the doorway. I had a feeling the body wouldn't be there if I ever went back and I wanted to get a good look at the man who had caused me so many scars, physical and otherwise.
Did I owe him more than to be left alone in a pool of his own blood? Maybe, but at that moment, I chose to shut the door behind me and left him the way he'd left me so many times. Bleeding, empty and alone.
There were too many things that mattered. Victor. Sebastian. Whether Sarah, whoever she was, really was my mother. Even more outrageously, whether Ulric was my father. It was a freeing thing to realize that of all the things that mattered in my life, however great or terrible, Jeff Alderdice was no longer one of them. I left his mountaintop home for the very last time and never looked back.
28
The front lobby of the Alderdice Hotel had changed a lot since the last mixer Jeff had taken me to as an arm ornament. His father had been there and I'd somehow gotten blindingly drunk in spite of only having a couple of glasses of wine. I made my way over to the main desk and the clerk recognized me instantly.
“It's been a long time, Mr. Black. I have a package for you,” she said brightly, pulling a wide box out from underneath her desk. The box was obviously meant for clothing, but from what little I knew of Sarah, anything could be inside.
“Thank you,” I said, taking it. I was nervous to open it out in the open with so many people wandering around.
“You can use our supply room,” she offered, gesturing to a door near the desk. “The party begins in eleven minutes.”
“Thank you,” I said, afraid to ask how she knew where I was going. I took the box and glumly headed into the supply closet to change.
To my relief, it really did contain clothing. I slipped into the long pair of almost sheer black silk pants, white silk tank top and sleeveless gray tunic covered in shreds of silk tassels. It looked more like an outfit off the runway than anything I would ever wear, and judging from the exquisite materials, it probably was.
The box also contained a pair of black-and-white oxford brogues. I sighed and exchanged them for my sneakers. When I went to put my old clothes away, I saw that there was yet another note at the bottom of the box.
Time to embrace the duality of life. You're too gay to dress so poorly.
I rolled my eyes. She was definitely laying the mother thing on thick. That and she seemed to want to drive it in that she'd been watching me for a long time. I tucked the box into an area where it seemed like it would go unnoticed and made my way back into the lobby.
I took the elevator to the top floor, ignoring the strange looks I was getting. I had gone from being the most underdressed person there to the most overdressed, but defying Sarah over such a silly reason didn't seem prudent.
The ballroom was crowded. I wasn't sure why the sight of so many people was enough to make it so hard to breathe, but it was. I tried to tell myself it was just anxiety when it seemed like a good number of the men and women gathered in the ballroom had turned to stare at me. It grew harder to convince myself the longer it went on.
“Would you like a drink, sir?” asked a traveling waiter, holding a tray of full glasses in his palm.
I staggered back as the feeling of deja vu hit me like a tidal wave. The same man. The same question.
Well, of course it was the same. I reminded myself that I had been an attendant at at similar parties no less than a few dozen times.
“N-no,” I stammered. “Thank you.”
The waiter shrugged and moved on. I continued moving through the crowd, trying to ignore the familiar glances. The most unsettling thing was the fact that the other guests weren't just acting like they knew me, they were acting like they were privy to a secret I wasn't.
Then I saw her. A middle-aged woman who was clearly struggling to hold onto her passing youth with one too many fillable injections. She was wearing a black wrap dress that had probably cost more than the entire party, and an expression that told the world she knew she looked good in it. She might have been pretty if it weren't for the malicious, hungry look that was always in her eyes, thinly veiled by whatever other emotion she might be experiencing at the moment. Sadness, happiness, love. It was all the same underneath when it came to Mrs. Alderdice.
I wondered if that hungry look might fade if she could somehow know where her son was. She hated everyone behind their back, but I had always had the unique honor of experiencing her ire face to face. Still, the sight of her standing there with a martini in her left hand, pretending to laugh at some aristocrat's story without a care in the world seemed almost cruel.
Like a coward, I kept moving and hoped not to be seen. A moment later, a set of long acrylics dug into my bare arm and spun me around.
“If it isn't my son's fucktoy,” she sneered. Always classy. “I didn't think I'd be seeing you again once he had the good sense to kick you out.”
I didn't feel like enlightening her to the fact that I had run away. I didn't see myself getting out of this mess alive, but on the off chance I did, I didn't need her husband chasing after me.
Then again, I had turned up in Texas as soon as their son was murdered. What else would they think but that I'd been responsible? I had a feeling Sarah didn't exactly leave a trail. Me, on the other hand...
“If you're skulking around looking for my husband, I'm sure he's found another whore in your absence.”
I stared at her in abject confusion for a moment before getting the strength to ask, “What?”
She rolled her eyes. “I thought ruining his fascination with you would help, but I guess there's always trash for the dogs to rummage through.” Her upper lip curled in a distasteful snarl and she walked away, leaving me speechless.
Why hadn't I ever noticed her teeth were so sharp?
A man brushed past me, nearly knocking me over. He was slight and seemed somehow as out of place in our surroundings as me. He turned around to mutter “Sorry,” and even though it was only for an instant, I knew he was the peddler at the airport.
“Wait,” I called, reaching out for him.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” a familiar voice rang out from the stage at the center of the room, distracting me. I spun around and there she was. Sarah.
Her hair was maybe a shade darker than mine and she was paler, but her features gave her away. Her eyes, her nose, even the way she stood. She didn't look like she could be more than a few years older than me, but she was my female doppelganger.
Her eyes found me in the crowd with no effort even through the blinding stage light above her. “Welcome and I can't thank you enough for being here. Tonight is a very special occasion, the chance to celebrate the birth of someon
e very near and dear to my heart,” she said, placing a pale, slender hand against her chest for emphasis.
The crowd murmured in giddy approval and my head began to spin as I realized the truth. Sarah was my mother. She had to be. The signs all added up, but it was easy enough to ignore them one by one. The resemblance, though. It was uncanny. When she spoke, it sent chills down my spine.
“Now I know you were all probably waiting for your dear leader, but I'm afraid he's a bit indisposed at the moment. Don't worry Molly, he's not humping the waitstaff,” she laughed, waving to Mrs. Alderdice.
I'd never seen her glare so intently at someone before. A few nervous laughs rose from the crowd and they all looked at Mrs. Alderdice for guidance. The tension in the room could have been cut with a knife.
“He'll be joining us shortly, but right now I want to take a moment to appreciate how rare it is to be gathered with kindred,” she said, taking a glass of wine from the waiter I recognized. She raised the glass above her head and most of the crowd reluctantly followed suit. Low murmurs of disapproval could be heard throughout the room.
Kindred?
“I know Phil likes to be more discrete, but the thing is, I've never believed in hiding who you are. Especially not among friends. Let's all raise a toast to being who we really are, shall we? A drink to the long reign of the vampires!”
She threw her head back and drank. Confusion faded into carelessness for some and they drank. Sarah watched the crowd with a predatory gaze set upon those who had refused to drink.
“I said,” she gritted out with a malevolent smile, “DRINK.”
I turned to the man next to me, who'd been one of the most ardent grumblers, and stared in horror as his arm shook as he tried to resist its sudden movement towards his face. Finally he surrendered and the glass touched his lips. I looked around the room to find everyone following suit. Ever Mrs. Alderdice.
“Ah, well. I had hoped you lot would be a lot more fun, but I guess I should have thrown hoedown instead, hm? Well, I'm not going to have a bunch of ash piles ruin my little boy's birthday. Come up here, darling, won't you? Let mommy introduce you to all her friends,” she said, stretching her hand out towards me.
I felt a growing sense of dread as the crowd parted around me, making an aisle far too perfect and willing not to be the product of mind control. Even more horrifying than the realization that I was in a room full of vampires – and had been countless times without even knowing – was the fact that this woman was somehow capable of controlling them all simultaneously. Resistance would be nothing more than a sad joke.
The thought that Victor was with her was the only thing that propelled me forward. She took my hand and pulled me onstage beside her, crushing me to her with unexpected strength.
“There's my boy. Isn't he just the spitting image of me?” she laughed, squishing my face in her hand. “It's like looking in a mirror.” She turned back to the crowd, beaming through their panicked chatter.
“Don't make me regret leaving you in control of your own voice boxes, darling. I do want this to be a lively affair, but try to keep the pointless chatter to a minimum. Yes, this is my son,” she said exuberantly. “I'm sure you all recognize him, though I doubt he remembers who any of you are. I wouldn't say he's a prodigy or anything, but Phil is pretty decent at setting up the basic block here and there. Then again, you'd have to be with a wife like that, right?”
There were a few mechanical laughs that were obviously Sarah's doing. I shivered.
She hugged me tighter. “Oh, sweetie. You don't have to be afraid of these people. Not anymore.”
“I don't know what you're talking about,” I whispered. “Please, just tell me where Victor is.”
“Ah, kids. Always thinking about some boy even when you're trying to help them straighten out their horrible mess of a life,” she said with a sigh. “Well, since it is your birthday, I guess I can let you see him as long as he behaves himself,” she scolded, imitating a sitcom mom from the 1950s.
“Victor! You can come out now, dear!”
I searched the stage area desperately until the curtain moved. Victor stepped out and to my amazement, he wasn't bruised and beaten or even restrained. In fact, he looked a hell of a lot better than he had the last time I'd seen him in the basement room. He was wearing a black three-piece suit with a blood red tie and his long black hair was slicked back to perfection. My heart lurched at the sight of him there, whole and safe.
I started to run to him but I hit what felt like a wall with full force and stumbled back.
“Nobody likes desperate, honey. Let him come to you,” she said, grabbing my shoulders. She leaned in and I could feel her smirk as Victor walked towards us. “Always go for the one who can work an Armani suit.”
Tears stung my eyes when he came to a stop a few feet away from me. She finally let me go as Victor grasped one of my hands.
“Remus,” he said, locking a stern gaze on mine. He brought my hand up to kiss. “May I have this dance?”
The orchestra began to play, as if on cue. I looked at Sarah who was grinning malevolently and began to wonder just how much of this whole affair had been staged by her, from the moment I left the Lodge.
“Well, don't keep the boy waiting,” she said, clapping her hands. “In fact, everybody dance.”
The crowd paired off, some pairings less likely than others. No less than twenty pairs of dancers began to waltz in perfect precision. “No, no,” said Sarah. “That's too stuffy. Put a little life in it,” she commanded.
The vampires began to loosen up and took on more variation in their moves. When Victor led me out onto the dance floor, it felt like we were surrounded by zombies.
“Focus on me,” he ordered. I obeyed without the pull of mind control. Obedience came easy when it was Victor. I put my hands on his shoulders and he put his around my waist, taking the lead.
“She's insane,” I whispered shakily. “She'll kill us all.”
“No. Not you. She has other plans for you,” he murmured darkly. “I can't say any more than that. Literally. But I overheard her talking – I got the feeling she wanted me to hear – about you joining her troupe.”
“That's never going to happen.”
“Regardless, tonight is your initiation. I don't know what she has planned, Remus, but I wish you weren't here. No offense.” His gaze flickered over me appreciatively. “Even if you are a sight for sore eyes.”
“So are you,” I admitted. I'd never seen Victor in quite the way I saw him then, divorced from the context of the Lodge and his brother. It dredged up all sorts of pointless questions.
“Do you ever wonder what things would have been like if we'd met like this?” he asked, twirling me in time with the music. “If you'd met me as a gentleman who asked for a dance, rather than Sebastian's creepy brother who works in the Lodge?”
Whether he was reading my mind or simply reading me it was hard to say. He could do both so well it was always a gamble.
“Yes,” I admitted. “But I think it's better not to think about.”
“Why?” His gaze held me, inescapable. “Would I have had a chance?”
I swallowed hard. The moment I'd thought I lost him, when the blood dripped from the ceiling, was still fresh in my mind.
His smile was soft for once. “It's alright. Don't answer. Your reaction is enough.”
“I would hope the fact that I came for you is enough.”
He laughed and returned to his mischievous self. “As touched as I am, I can safely say I'd rather die than be rescued by the one I love.”
I gave him a look. “The evening's not over yet. Any ideas for getting us both out of here? Preferably alive.”
“Hey, you're the one who managed to get here.”
“Yeah, but I thought you'd have a brilliant plan to get us out of here once I found you,” I admitted.
“I'm afraid not. If I did, she suppressed it.” His expression grew dark. “Whatever she's planning, just go with it.
She left my consciousness intact, but she put a kill switch in my mind. If you deviate from the plan even slightly, I'm going to attack you until you're forced to kill me.”
I stared at him in shock. “You couldn't have mentioned that earlier?””
He missed a step for the first time and looked shellshocked. “I... forgot. Until just now.”
We both turned to look at the stage to find Sarah dancing with one of the waiters. She twirled to face us and gave a little wave.
“She's the most powerful psychic I've ever seen,” he murmured. “She makes me look like a child playing a game of guess the number I'm thinking of.”
“There has to be a way to stop here.”
“There isn't. Whatever she tells you to do, Remus, do it. Even if it's hurting me.”
“No,” I snapped. “I'm not going home without you.”
I hesitated for a moment. “I have a vial of your blood on me. Would that do anything?”
“To a vampire? Sure, if she has a paper cut it'll heal up nicely.
I sighed. “Didn't think so.”
“Keep it on you, though. If you get hurt, it'll heal you almost instantly, if you haven't figured that out yet.”
“It's starting to work less. I have to drink more of it to get the same effect.”
“Have you been injecting it or drinking it?”
“Drinking?”
He groaned. “You're becoming addicted to it. Werewolf blood is a drug vampires are willing to pay a high premium for. Not like there are many willing donors.”
“I guess not,” I said, blushing. “I still can't believe this is happening. I guess I really am a monster.”
“Hey, look at me.” His words were gentle, but they left no room for defiance. It was only then that I realized how incredibly safe I felt in his knowing gaze. He didn't even need to touch me. Just a single look and I was home. “Werewolf, vampire, hybrid. You could be a demon for all I care, but you'll never be a monster.”