The Night House

by Rachel Tafoya

  “You could use a girlfriend,” Ally keeps going, undeterred. I guess she’s grown used to my passive ways. “Someone to get you out of the house. What has it been? Three weeks?”

  “Two and a half,” I mutter.

  “You are wasting summer break, bro. It’s time to go crazy and kiss cute girls before you’re a senior. Then you’re just going to graduate and become a professional lump.”

  I sigh heavily. A party full of drunk kids. Watching Ally make not-so-great decisions. Going out at night. Going out at all.

  “Oh my God, I was trying to be subtle,” Ally bursts out. “Shell has the biggest crush on you, you goof! Go and make out with her before some other guy swoops in!”

  My breath catches. “A crush? On me?”

  “She thinks you’re hot, bro! She was so embarrassed to tell me because she’s younger than you, but I told her you only hate sixteen-year-olds a little.”

  “Did you really say that?”

  She bursts out laughing. “You think you’d be better at sarcasm with the whole magic brain thing.”

  “It’s not magic; it’s annoying.”

  Ally glares at me. “You think avoiding people is going to make it less annoying? You need practice. You need to get out of the freaking house!”

  I breathe out a sigh and focus on thoughts of Shell. “I guess. It could be nice.”

  “Victory!” Ally does a fist pump.

  Bianca

  The crisply dressed man who enters the Fire Room should be avoiding a shady place like this, scoffing at girls like me. Instead, he’s spending outrageous amounts of money for one measly hour with me.

  Jeremiah is different from other vampires. Whereas most of the vamps I meet appear to be in their twenties, Jeremiah could be in his forties. And yet he still possesses that unsettling beauty. He’s classically handsome, like Cary Grant. Considering he was probably born a hundred years before Cary, it’s not a surprise. He has black hair that holds its wavy shape around his head, but it would probably give if I touched it. Strong jaw, masculine cheekbones, hard eyes. His features are blank, but not in a lazy way like Finn’s. Jeremiah makes himself purposefully mysterious—though he is not mysterious to me anymore. I know exactly how I feel about him.

  I’m terrified.

  When I was still brand new to the Night House I remember overhearing a conversation between Finn and Jeremiah. It was before my appointment. They stood outside the door, not bothering to whisper because they knew it didn’t matter if I heard.

  “How much for the St. Germain girl?” Jeremiah asked casually.

  “She’s not for sale,” Finn responded. I could hear the caution in his voice.

  “Everything has its price,” Jeremiah said.

  “I can’t just give away my biggest selling point. She’s far too valuable in the long term.”

  “I would not normally ask this of you.” Jeremiah’s voice remained level. “This is an unusual case.”

  “I can’t allow it.” Finn said. “I have a business to run, you know that.”

  That appeared to be the end of the discussion, but the sentiment was clear: Jeremiah wanted me for his collection.

  I still don’t know what he meant by “unusual case.” When I told Alex about this, she looked at me like I had two heads. She said, “Your blood must taste like candy. Or money. Jeremiah would like that.”

  We’d laughed at the time, but my dealings with Jeremiah have been anything but funny. I’ve noticed more and more just how unusual he seems. He’s almost always accompanied by other vamps. Finn will do almost anything for him, which includes spending extra money, and that’s a miracle in and of itself. I’ve seen Jeremiah do things that no other client has done: renting out the entire Night House, canceling other clients’ appointments. He’s a control freak for sure.

  Today he wears a dark suit like any human would. Only upon closer inspection can I see his watch has real gold and his suit is soft, well tailored, and expensive. There is a pin on his lapel. The pin is just a shiny bar of royal blue, no thicker than my pinkie and just as short. But it’s this little pin that sets my teeth on edge.

  That blue pin means Jeremiah is high-ranking. The vamps who guard him and do his bidding—the officers—have black pins. They work for Jeremiah. He scares me because he’s a powerful vampire.

  The Night House isn’t what you’d call legal. Humans don’t know about it. Vampires are still just myths to the general public. There are very few of us who know about them. Only Finn and the clients know who we girls are. And they wouldn’t miss us if we disappeared.

  I know it.

  Jeremiah knows it.

  “Bianca,” he says.

  I still have to ignore this gut instinct that tells me to defend myself whenever he speaks. His voice is commanding without being loud. It suits him. It’s full and low, like a smoker’s voice without the gravel.

  “How are we?” Jeremiah asks. He slides the suit jacket off and drapes it on a chair, like he lives here.

  I don’t speak to him. I made that mistake once before.

  “Excellent. Sit.”

  I move toward the velvet couch and sit at the very edge. Jeremiah approaches the phonograph in the corner of the room. My heart has stepped on the accelerator, and my blood is racing now. I hate this part: the acting. It’s horrible, especially when I can feel the wounds on my neck and wrists aching. They pulse with discomfort, as if my blood will just push those neat little clusters of scar tissue right out of my skin.

  Jeremiah stands in front of me as light symphonic music surrounds us. He is tall, and I’m little. I think he likes how that makes him feel. I look like prey, like a scared animal. But I can’t imagine that these natural-born predators enjoy having their meals laid out for them. I bet he misses the chase. I certainly miss running. At least then I wasn’t trapped.

  He holds his hands out. This is the beginning of the ritual. Each vamp has his or her own.

  I have to take a deep breath, to steady myself, before I can accept his hands. But I do, and he pulls me to my feet.

  Jeremiah is an animal. The top of the food chain.

  So when he puts one hand on my waist and I put mine on his shoulder, I give up any semblance of control I have.

  We start to dance. I can almost feel his pain and joy. When we begin, he is hit with memories from this time period. I know it, because for a brief moment, his eyes soften and become merciful, so he closes them against that weakness. When he opens them again, I see the vampire. I see his hunger. I see myself.

  I’m lost.

  That’s when the feeding really begins. Vampires consume our will through their eyes before they even touch us.

  “Finn has yet again denied my request to borrow you for an evening.” Jeremiah speaks to the air above my head, instead of me. “He insists that it’s not his decision. Which, I suppose, makes it your decision.”

  Jeremiah has been trying this for a month. Trying to get me out of the Night House with him. I don’t even know what he wants from me, but I don’t like the idea of going on a date with a guy who’s probably ten times my age.

  “You should consider my proposal,” Jeremiah says. “I could pay you handsomely, for just a night.”

  I just nod at him, like I always do. No way in hell am I leaving the Night House with him. At least in here, Finn is my safety net. As a Night House owner, he has some immunity. I’d rather answer to him than to Jeremiah. At least I know Finn wants to keep me alive.

  Before I know it, we’ve stopped dancing. My heart is pounding so hard, it is almost too much to bear. Jeremiah takes my wrists in his hands.

  “Lie down.”

  I don’t know if I’m scared or relieved. If he needs me to lie down, it means he’s planning on taking more than usual, so much that I might pass out.

  It’s rare for a girl to die during an appointment. As shady as this all is, we are taken care of. But it does happen. Finn knows how to handle thos
e situations. When a girl walks into a room and can’t walk out again, she disappears. We usually never see the vamps again either, but not for the same reason.

  That’s what I’m thinking when I lie down on the couch, when Jeremiah kneels next to me and examines my wrist like an artist, like a doctor. Where are the flaws? Which point will yield more? Which is the cleanest way? How much is enough?

  I think, what if this is the last thing I see?

  He runs a single finger down the map of veins in my left arm, choosing his path. When he makes up his mind, he grips my upper arm with enough strength to make the veins press against my skin like snakes. His lips part, and I can see his fangs sliding into place. I can’t watch it happen.

  A drop of warm fizzy liquid appears on my arm; the poison that will numb me when it enters my blood stream. Nauth. Sometimes vampires have too much nauth, and it pours out of them whenever they’re with someone. Jeremiah usually has just enough, but lately he’s been busy. Almost two weeks have passed since his last visit. Another drop fizzles on my arm. He’s got too much nauth today. And it’s all for me.

  His teeth sink into my arm.

  It’s like he’s biting into a strawberry. I used to have to cover my mouth when they bit me or else I’d scream. It still hurts, but it’s a pain I can deal with, because almost immediately afterwards, I feel the nauth rushing through my veins. Without nauth, this place, this life, would be unlivable.

  As Jeremiah consumes my blood, sucking it up through his needle-like fangs, I absorb the nauth and let it become me. It’s like when you swallow something too warm, you can feel it going down your throat. I can feel it spreading through my whole body, leaving nothing but this sensation like I’m sitting inside a bottle of soda. It’s all I can feel. Not the fire a few feet away, not the teeth inside my arm, not my own pounding heart. My insides are carbonated.

  It’s bliss.

  I can’t think except to wonder at my own body. I sit there, staring at the ceiling, not seeing it at all, and try to picture what’s going on inside me. I see a lake of crystal clear water. I can’t hear anything except the slow fizz of the waves. My left arm is numb, so I dive into the lake. Then it bubbles with the rest of me. I feel good floating in this lake of poison. So good. It’s like happiness.

  But once I’m surrounded by the water, I’m freezing cold. So I open my eyes, and Jeremiah stands over me. The fangs have retracted back into his gums. He wipes his mouth with a handkerchief. It has the letter J sewn into the corner. Red stains the blue silk.

  “I don’t know when I’ll be able to come back,” he says. “Things have been busy.”

  Tragic, I think.

  He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a leather wallet. I manage to open my hand, which hangs off the couch, useless. He purposefully crumples the bill into my sweaty palm. I don’t deserve his crisp money.

  Then he takes his jacket off the chair and leaves me lying on the couch. I try to swallow, to feel something inside, but the nauth is still raging through me. The money falls out of my hands. I concentrate all my efforts on my toes, trying to move them. I’m not scared. I want so badly to move again, because that triggers the next stage of the poison. After the numbness, comes euphoria. As soon as you start to move again, as soon as your heart rate goes up, the effects change slightly, concentrating in your nervous system so that everything you do feels good.

  My whole body feels like it’s lighting up every time I move or touch something else. It’s like my bones are all reverberating with the universe. I hear music sometimes. Other times I see things. But I’m always aware of what’s happening. I’m aware that this isn’t myself, but the nauth playing with me.

  That’s why I keep coming back.

  James

  We’ve been walking for about five minutes. I’ve never been to Shell’s house, or really anyone’s house except for Shiloh, my best friend. I don’t know where we’re going. I should have investigated before we left. I should have put a different shirt on, or taken a shower, or just stayed home in bed.

  “So where does Shell live?” My voice sounds unsure even to me.

  “The thing is that it’s not actually at her house.”

  “Of course it’s not.”

  Ally shoves her hands into her pockets and picks up her pace. I jog after her. When our cobblestone street turns into a regular one, I let her take the lead. She knows the city much better than I do. Sixteen years of exploring has her pretty confident. But after a couple blocks go by, I get nervous.

  “Ally, where are we going?” I ask.

  She rolls her eyes. “Oh my God, loosen up.”

  “No, really, Al, I don’t like this.”

  “Calm down, okay? It’s just a club. It’s not going to kill you. In fact, the only thing that will kill you is staying locked up in your room.”

  With every step, we are getting farther from home and Society Hill. Philly is one of those places where you can live in the nicest house but still be a block away from the worst places. It’s easy for us to find ourselves somewhere we shouldn’t be. Two teenagers walking in darkened alleys probably seem like easy prey.

  “Just think of how excited Shell will be when she sees you. Maybe she’ll kiss you.”

  I stare at my shoes. A kiss would be nice. Scratch that. It would be unbelievable. I always thought Shell was just nervous around me, but I guess it was more than that. I can’t believe someone has a crush on me. I can’t believe anyone has ever seen me at all.

  “Isn’t it gorgeous tonight?” Ally closes her eyes to take a deep breath. I can feel her lungs expanding. “What if we just ran away?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  She laughs. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Calm down. I’m just testing you. Making sure it’s really you in there. I mean we are walking to a club right now. Maybe you’ve been possessed.”

  The club in question is one of the few under-21 clubs in the city. “Really? This place?” I mutter as we wait in line. There’s so much glitter around us, it’s blinding. Every city has its trashy side, I suppose, but I think Philly’s is one of the most dramatic.

  “Oh, are you an expert on clubs now?” Ally throws her curly hair up into a huge ponytail. “Because I was under the impression that you were a dungeon troll who hates fun.”

  I hold my breath instead of speaking.

  It costs fifteen bucks each for us to get in. The music pounds through the walls. I’m already getting nervous. Ally is beyond excited. It flows through her with the beat of the music.

  “If you need to leave early, just send me a text.” Ally nods at me, like we’ve already talked this over. “No big deal.”

  She starts threading her way through people without waiting for a response. I try to follow her, assuming she is searching for Shell and the others, but she’s moving too fast. When I reach out and touch her shoulder, it’s a petite tanned girl I’ve never seen who faces me. She’s clearly much older than me.

  “Hey,” she says. “Watch those hands.”

  I take mine back quickly, feeling this girl’s buzz zip through me, loosening my muscles but setting my teeth on edge. I don’t want to be drunk or high or anything. I need to keep my mind clear so I can stick with Ally—

  It occurs to me then that I am lost in the crowd. Ally is nowhere to be found. And there is a crowd. As soon as I lose my focus, everyone begins to press into me. So many minds all around, and they’re all hyped up. It’s like trying to walk through water. There are about a hundred brains’ worth of adrenaline and nerves and hormones buzzing through me. I’m starting to lose control of my body. The movements of the people around me are bleeding into my limbs. It takes all of my concentration to stay still.

  Damn it, Ally, is all I have time to think before I see Shell approaching.

  Bianca

  When I wake up, Snow White is standing over me, hands on hips.

  “Move it, sister,” she says. “I need the room.”

  I open my
mouth to curse at her, but the world threatens to spin right out of my grasp.

  “Whoa.” She leans closer. “Someone took too much.”

  My lips tingle so bad, I think they’re going to fall off my face. My hand covers my mouth. I have to hold my lips in place.

  “Bee, it’s me, Alex.” She enunciates every sound.

  I hear her, I just can’t care. I make a gurgling noise and close my eyes.

  Alex’s hands touch my face. There is a buzzing so loud that I yelp. Her hands are forcing my skull to vibrate. Or maybe there are bees in my head instead of brains.

  “Bee!” she yells. “Can you hear me?”

  “Time,” I murmur.

  “It’s eleven o’clock, and I have an appointment.”

  “I have to go.”

  She helps me upright. “That’s right. You need to go to your room and sleep until noon tomorrow.”

  “Uh-uh. I have to see someone.”

  “Oh no you don’t. You are way gone, sister. Like, on another planet in another dimension. Whatever appointments you have, Finn can cancel.” Her high-pitched voice makes me think of Alvin and the Chipmunks.

  “Micah,” I mumble.

  Alex shakes her head. “I wish I could see through your eyes right now.”

  When she forces me to my feet, I’m not prepared for the weight of my whole body. Suddenly I’m on the floor. It nuzzles my face.

  I hear the door creak open. Alex’s voice rings out, “We got a spinner!”

  She’s calling another person to help me up because I’m so far gone. She can’t lift me herself because she’s anemic and my dress alone weighs fifty pounds. At least my deductive reasoning is intact when my mouth is shut.

  Then there are hands underneath me, and I’m floating in the air.

  “This is becoming a regular thing with Jeremiah.” Finn’s voice cuts through my pleasant dreams.

  “There’s money on the floor.”

  “I noticed. He gave you a fifty-dollar tip.”

  “Missed me,” I slur.