by Ware Wilkins
“They aren’t in the whitepages, but you won’t be killed for knowing where it is.”
As we whip around another curve, my curiosity gets the best of me. “Why aren’t you part of the nest? I thought rogue vampires were, uh, eliminated.” I’ve always known Benji was solo, but all the books I’ve read (and there aren’t many because vampires like secrecy) say the same thing: Vampires on their own are too dangerous to allow to live.
“Normally. But I have a friend in a very high place who’s put in a good word for me. It is usually enough to keep me safe.”
There’s more of a story there, like exactly how high up his friend is, but the car slows and he pulls into an ornate driveway. There’s a high, decorative fence of iron that extends past my line of sight. “This is a lot of land.”
“Vampires like space and privacy.”
“Except you,” I add.
“Except me.”
The driveway is long and gravel. The crunch of the stones beneath the tires will alert them that we’re coming long before the headlights do. By the time he parks, there are four figures waiting for us. Behind them, a mansion is built into the mountain.
There are lights strung through the trees and I can see topiaries and well-planned gardening surrounding the home. In the moonshine and the low lights, everything is shadowed and silvered, creating an ethereal effect. The four figures are new to me. It isn’t surprising. Most vampires don’t see the need to go to a dentist. Other than Benji, I’ve only helped two, and they were passing through Asheville. Also, if they’re young enough, they probably had the benefit of a dentist perfecting their teeth before they were turned. It’s the older ones who need help, and they’re the most paranoid about letting anyone who isn’t food near their mouths.
“There’s a lot of bullshit rules that come with being a vampire, so don’t speak until spoken to and don’t refuse any gift that’s offered.”
“Um, okay?”
That’s all the prep I get before we’re out of the care. Benji strolls in front and I’m not blind; he’s putting himself between them and me.
“You usually don’t stray so far from the city, Asim,” one says before bowing. I don’t know what the name is, but if they have all the rules and hierarchy then maybe they have secret code names, too, but it’s also strange to see a bow as a form of greeting.
“I have a message for your Queen.”
“And the girl? An offering?”
I can’t see because I’m still behind him, but Benji’s irritation is palpable. In my mind, I can see him rolling his eyes. “A guest. My guest.”
My pulse is up, which isn’t great among vampires. Kind of like it isn’t great to be on your period and swimming in shark infested waters. Either case is asking for a bite. But I’m also intrigued by this formal dance they’re doing. It’s a pissing contest, to be sure. Just to make sure they know I, too, have a voice, I heft Respect up onto a shoulder.
“The tiny human has a weapon,” one laughs. “How adorable.”
“She hits harder than you’d think,” Benji warns.
They all chuckle, but turn to lead us into the house. No one asks for my weapon. Maybe my diminutive size is in my favor now; if they aren’t scared, they won’t see what’s coming. Especially if I had some bone with me. A tremor of want courses through me, tingling and greedy. How long before I stop feeling this intense need for something so bad for me?
A sliver of my heart cries never.
We go up marble steps. The last time I saw marble steps like these was a family trip to Washington, D.C., when I was fifteen. A year before my parents’ murder. My father had a business meeting and my mother and I toured museums. It had been a mostly nice trip, except that my parents had been tense the whole time. I don’t know if it’s because it was the first time they’d traveled with me, or because they were so introverted at home, but both had been guarded from the moment we’d left Grimloch to the moment we’d returned. Other than their weird uptight behavior, it had been a nice trip.
At the top of the stairs is a large set of French doors. They’re glass and I can see inside. I guess when you live in the middle of the mountains behind a massive fence, you can get away with lots of glass for doors and windows (of which there are also plenty). Privacy has already been guaranteed.
Inside I can see elegant furniture, low lights, and opulent interior design. It’s eclectic; some French antique, some modern, with flashes of gold leaf here and there. But the white walls and tiled floor pull it together, mostly. Everything is so nice I’m sure the coat rack costs as much as a month’s rent for me, at least.
There’s a container with umbrellas. The vampire that Benji referred to as Derrick points to it. “You can leave the bat there.”
“She’ll be holding on to it,” Benji says before I have to say anything. Making friends with him has seriously been in my best interest.
Derrick scowls, but whatever looks pass between he and Benji, Benji wins. “Suit yourself, but if she’s pissed, I can’t be held responsible for what happens.”
“If she’s pissed, I can deal with her.”
Those are bold words. From those few books I read, I know a few facts about vampires. There’s the truths: Can be killed by a stake through the heart, can’t be in sunlight, have to feed on human blood. Strong and fast. There’s the falses: sleep in coffins (though they tend to have small, hidden places to sleep, but that’s a matter of safety than necessity), garlic, and all the “holy” stuff. Water, crucifixes, and the like. None of that fazes the modern vampire. Lastly, the books made it clear the myth that the older a vampire was, the stronger they are is very, very true.
I wonder how old the queen is. Benji told me he’s a little over four hundred years old, which is old but not ancient. Is his talk of “dealing” with her bravado? Is she a few centuries, like him? Or is she many times that? I clench my baseball bat to my chest, regardless.
We wind through the house. There are a lot of vampires here. They aren’t all pale like Benji. Ashen, maybe, but a variety of races and skin tones are present. What gives them away is their movement and the feeling of predator that surrounds me. The movements are so graceful it’s disturbing. Not all of them are bothering to go through the motions of breathing. Benji’s ability to act so extraordinarily human is all the more impressive, I realize.
It crosses my mind that feeding a nest of this size without being noticed can’t be easy, and I’m not sure I want to know how they do it. Unfortunately, I don’t have a say in it. As we pass through the kitchens, I see humans, at least a dozen. All of them look weakened, with dark bruises under their eyes. Some are working in at the stoves (there are two) and chopping along extensive countertops. Others are sitting, blank-faced, at a long table that looks uncomfortably like a trough. Young, old, white, brown, yellow. There’s a bit of everyone in here, and I suppose there’s something to be said about variety in your diet. Ick. The most difficult thing to witness, though, are the bite marks all over them. Not just the neck. The inner elbows, the wrists, the back of knees on those in skirts or shorts—all these spots have multiple punctures.
Benji eases my bat down, forcing me to let it dangle on one side. He grabs by free hand and gives it a squeeze. His strength bolsters me. None of my fellow humans will meet my gaze, but I notice when one reaches out and strokes a vampire’s arm. He pats her head before moving on. Like a pet seeking affection from a master. The idea isn’t new, but seeing it in action is repulsive just the same.
“This way.” Derrick ushers up a flight of stairs. It’s narrow and secreted away at the back, instead of the large, formal stairs I’d seen in the foyer. Everyone moves so quietly my rapid breathing and clunky steps are more noticeable.
At the top of the stairs is an ornate wooden door. There isn’t time to look at the carved designs; it swings open and we step inside. After the staircase, I’m expecting a dark room with candles and red velvet. Most of what I’ve seen so far has played into the general image I had of va
mpires. That is to say, over-the-top in elegance and coldness. But the room we enter is anything but the museum-like pristine white of the rest of the mansion. It’s pure bohemian color. Reds, oranges, blues, greens. Patterns that match and patterns that clash. There are Marrakesh-style lanterns hanging between Japanese paper lanterns across the ceiling. The fabrics are bold and expensive. I am in love with the shock of it.
There’s a wingback chair with a reading lamp near the only window. It faces away, so I can only see what I assume is the top of the Queen’s head. Her hair is in an ornate, Grecian-style up-do.
“You have a visitor, my Queen.”
“I know.” The voice isn’t loud, but it manages to carry. Soft, low, and soothing. “It’s been too long, Asim.”
“Benji, if you please.”
“Fine,” the Queen huffs before standing up and turning around. Somehow I manage not to gape, but for the love of toast, can Benji not warn me of these things?
The Queen is tall. Everyone is tall to me, but she’s at least a foot and a half above me. Her blond hair cascades in waves down her back. She’s got thick, muscular shoulders and arms that are roped with muscle. She’s wearing a strapless gown, which makes it obvious she has pectorals and not breasts. A trunk of a torso and slim hips. Calves that bulge and ripple like a runners.
She also has stubble along her jaw.
“Well?” She says, “Come give me a kiss.”
Benji stiffens beside me but approaches her. He has to stand on tiptoe to kiss her cheek. The Queen turns her head at the last moment to brush her lips against Benji. He doesn’t avoid it, but it’s clear he isn’t returning her affection. When she pulls back, she’s pouting. “I thought you came to see me.”
“To give you a message, Jeremy—”
“If I have to call you Benji, you need to use my title.”
“Queen Jeremy, we suspect there’s a bone witch in Grimloch.”
That stops all the flirtation, and thank goodness. It’s difficult enough to be inside a vampire nest without feeling like an awkward third wheel. “Are you sure?” Asks Queen... Jeremy. I shouldn’t be shocked. I mean, Asheville. It’s like the gay mecca of the south, and transgendered and crossdressing persons are normal and even celebrated. But I’m used to seeing humans this way. It never in my wildest dreams crossed my mind that vampires, and I assume other paranormals, might have their own versions of the community.
“Quite. A local wolf was found missing teeth. All of them. His girlfriend showed up sans a molar as well.”
The Queen paces a bit, tapping long, purple fingernails on her (his?) chin. “What are you doing about it?”
“Trying to find the witch, of course. But also spreading warning, so the younger vampires know not to travel alone.”
“Hmm. What does she have to do with anything?” Territorial eyes flit to me. There’s acid in the Queen’s tone and I shrivel into myself, knowing I’m making it worse. I’m pretty sure vampires can smell fear.
“She’s helping me hunt the bone witch. And I have reason to believe the witch is targeting her, so—”
“You’re keeping your bait close? You were always a devious hunter.” But the way the Queen is looking at me still makes my skin crawl. Also, I don’t like being referred to as bait, or treated like I can’t hear everything they’re saying. Hello, I’m standing right here.
“You’re the dentist,” she (he?) says, finally acknowledging me.
“Yep.”
“Yes, Queen.”
My knees are like butter now. “Yes, Queen. Is that... um, is that your preferred pronoun?”
“He/him is my preferred pronoun, how very polite of you. You’re almost adorable. Why would you be a target?”
“I don’t know. My parents were killed by one, though.”
“That’s interesting.”
I want to ask why it’s interesting, but I’m apparently almost adorable, which isn’t the same thing as being adorable. Adorable people can probably get away with pushing boundaries, but almost ones? I’m guessing no.
“May I see your bat?”
I hand it over reluctantly, and enjoy seeing it thud heavily to the floor. The Queen’s eyes widen. “How clever,” he murmurs before he sniffs. “There’s... there’s something lingering below the warlock’s magic, though.” He bends down and runs his fingers up and down the runes before his eyes narrow. “This has bone magic.”
Duh. I’m feeling more than stupid right now. In a vampire’s nest with a weapon recently imbued with my own magic. Benji steps in quickly. “An heirloom.”
It is a twist of truth, and the Queen hands it back. A smile teases the corners of his mouth as I hold the bat with ease. “Your bait has some bite, Benji.”
“Yes, she does.”
“Just remember that my bite is particularly nasty.”
“It’s hard to forget, Queen Jeremy.” There’s something dark and flirtatious in that, and the walls Benji had walked in with seem to be lowering. He bows to the Queen, dark hair tumbling into his face, and the Queen caresses his head. I drop my gaze when he smiles a too-toothy smile at me. It is absolutely a warning.
Sensing I’m sufficiently rattled, he shoos us out. Derrick leads the way and we make our way quickly to Benji’s car. Relief thunders in my ears as I rush to my seat and lock the door after me, as if that could stop an attacking vampire. When the engine cranks, Benji whips the car around, and we are tearing down the gravel road. Apparently he isn’t worried about what the small stones are doing to the underside of his gorgeous car.
“That went... well? Right?” I’m almost laughing, I’m so relieved to be out of the nest. Working with the paranormal community didn’t prepare me for that kind of pressure.
His eyes on the road, Benji frowns. “Yes.”
“You don’t sound sure.”
He lets out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, it went well in that the Queen knows there’s something to watch out for. But I don’t think he’s going to aid in the search, and I am pretty sure he’s interested in you now. And me. Which isn’t helpful at all.”
“What do you mean, he’s interested in me?”
“You’re a human with a powerful weapon. One created with forbidden magic. I’d hoped he wouldn’t get close enough to smell it. That was my fault, we should have left it in the car.”
“I’m going to disagree. It was the only thing that kept me from peeing myself with fear.”
This earns me a chuckle and he relaxes into his seat a bit more. “Point to you. Still, I forget how frustrating the Queen is.”
“Why is he called a Queen?”
“Isn’t it obvious? Jeremy is like your drag queens. He enjoys the role of Queen, the glitter and the allure that comes with it. He prefers flamboyant to dreary, and to him, ‘King’ is dreary.”
“But he prefers, well, he?”
“Yes. There’s all kinds of people in this world, Sadie, and some of us become vampires or werewolves.”
Heat spreads across my cheeks. Of course. It’s obvious and I’m mad at myself for never considering something so basic. I twist my fingers a bit, curious about the level of familiarity Benji had during the audience with the Queen. “You said he’s interested in you as well. How well do you know him?”
“You’ve been dying to ask that for how long?”
“Since you felt comfortable calling him by his first name and not the title. So basically the whole time.”
He shrugs. “We were lovers a quarter century ago.”
Although that had been my suspicion, my cheeks still tingle with heat. “Oh.” This is where things are easier with Ingrid. I could just launch in with my hundreds of questions and she’d happily fill me in with every detail. Maybe Benji gets a sense of my discomfort and curiosity.
“It’s not as interesting story as you’re imagining. When I moved to the area, I had to present myself to him and assure him that, while not nested, I would present no issues. He contacted my friend, who vouched for me, and allowed me into his
territory and offered to show me the good hunting grounds. We fell into lust with each other. Well, lust for me. I’d been without companionship for a long time, and it felt good to be with someone who didn’t require me to bind myself to them or to a nest. Except that’s exactly what Jeremy wanted, in the end.”
“Is that normal? Forever is a long time.”
“It’s normal. Vampires tend to fall in love quickly and heavily, but being bound to another also adds to your strength; it’s easier to live longer if you have someone watching your back. I’m the strongest vampire in this area, and Jeremy wanted that. When he began to push for a more committed and long term relationship that coincided with a push for more territory, I left. It didn’t end well. That was about twenty seven years ago and I’ve avoided him since then.”
It isn’t quite the love story I was expecting. In fact, it sounds so normal that I can feel the disappointment stirring in me. He laughs. “What, you expected drama and battles and pining for all eternity?”
“You don’t know me,” I spit back, petulant. “But yes. I didn’t expect there to be cross-dressing Queens, or for you to have dated locally.”
“I mostly date locally, I just never stay with anyone for very long.”
“Because you don’t like commitment?”
“Because I haven’t found the right person.”
We drive in silence because there’s no easy way to follow that up in conversation. Finally, Benji breaks the silence. “You don’t date.” It’s a statement, like he knows. Then again, maybe it’s not too hard to figure out.
“Nope.”
“Haven’t found the right one, either?”
“Oh, no, I’ve found him. He just doesn’t know how I feel and now he thinks I’m a major-league pervert.”
The car swerves just a bit. Then Benji busts out laughing. “The sheriff? You love the sheriff?”
His laughter creates heat under my skin and I fold into myself. “It’s not funny!”
“I just didn’t picture him as your type. He’s so... white bread.”