Night Life

by Nancy A. Collins

  “You know I never miss your parties, my dear!” the photographer replied. “Besides, I wanted you to meet my newest discovery, Lili Graves.”

  “Oh. My. God!” Fiona gasped in admiration. “Wherever did you find her, Kristof? She is stunning!”

  “It’s a long story, darling—one that would make a sweet editorial piece,” he said, winking as he gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

  “Always the hustler!” The older woman laughed. “You better watch out, sweetie! He’s a silver-tongued devil, this one.”

  Kristof snagged a couple glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, handing one to Lilith. She brought it up to her lips but did not actually drink. The moment Kristof turned back to continue chatting with Fiona, Lilith discreetly dumped her drink into a nearby potted plant.

  “So who else is here?”

  “Naomi is over there by the buffet—she’s the one dressed like Marie Antoinette. And I saw Tyra hobnobbing with Anna just a few moments ago.”

  As Kristof turned to scan the crowded room, his face suddenly went pale. “Oh my God—what is she doing here? Shouldn’t she still be in the hospital?”

  Lilith followed the photographer’s gaze and was surprised to see Gala sitting in a wheelchair on the other side of the room. Both of the model’s legs were in plaster casts and strapped into what looked like combination cross-country ski boots and medieval torture devices. Standing behind her was a tall, sandy-haired man in his early thirties.

  “It was the idea of that agent of hers,” Fiona said sourly. “When he left Ford, he took her with him. She was his only real ticket.”

  “Well, I suppose I should go over and say hello,” Kristof said, tossing back the rest of his drink. He took a deep breath and forced a smile onto his face before walking across the room. “Gala! Darling!”

  “Kristof!” The model grabbed his hands and held on to them. Her smile was wide and desperate. “I was hoping you’d be here!”

  “How are you feeling, dear? I must say I’m surprised to see you out so soon.”

  “You remember my agent, Derek, don’t you?”

  “Yes, of course,” Kristof replied.

  “I got a call from Karl yesterday,” Derek blurted, his words slightly slurred from drink. “He expects Gala to give back her signing fee—or what’s left of it, anyway. He’s claiming she breached her contract.”

  “What? I’m sorry to hear that, Derek. I had no idea.”

  “It was an accident, Kristof! A bloody accident!” Derek’s voice was loud enough to be heard over the surrounding cocktail party banter. “It’s not Gala’s fault she fell down the stairs and broke her legs!”

  “I was drunk,” Gala conceded, her eyes slightly glazed.

  “Shut up!” Derek snapped. “Didn’t I tell you to let me do the talking? You’re on painkillers. You don’t know what you’re saying!”

  “Look, Derek, I don’t have any say over what Karl does,” Kristof said, struggling to keep his voice calm. “He makes his decisions with Nazaire and that business partner of theirs. But you had to know we couldn’t wait on Gala. Luckily, we managed to find a last-minute replacement.” He turned and motioned for Lilith to join him. “Lili, come over here, will you? I’d like you to meet Gala.”

  As Lilith stepped forward, what little color remained in Gala’s face drained away and her body began to shudder uncontrollably. Her head lolled back on her shoulders as foam spilled from her wildly champing jaws.

  “She’s having a seizure!” Derek shouted, looking about in alarm as his meal ticket began to spasm. “Somebody call nine-one-one!”

  There was the sound of something liquid splashing against the hardwood floor, accompanied by the strong smell of ammonia. A shared cry of “Eeewwww!” arose from those nearest the wheelchair as they stepped back from the puddle spreading out across the floor.

  “Gross!” Lilith grimaced, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “She peed herself!” She watched as the loser agent wheeled his former star out of the room like a broken toy, doing her best not to smile in triumph. It served the bitch right.

  “She’s worse off than I thought.” Kristof shook his head in disgust. “That girl needs to be in the hospital, not out networking.”

  As the waiter who drew the short straw arrived with a mop and bucket and began cleaning up the evidence of Gala’s attendance at the party, Kristof took Lilith by the hand and led her away.

  As she watched the costumed humans drink what seemed like an endless stream of wine and cocktails, Lilith found herself growing increasingly antsy. She was having about as much fun as a designated driver at the prom! She hated not being able to party with everyone else. Unlike the humans surrounding her, she could only get her drink on secondhand.

  Suddenly her iPhone began to play Cobra Starship’s “Smile for the Paparazzi.” Lilith pulled it out of her purse and turned it off.

  “Was that your boyfriend?”

  “It was nothing that couldn’t wait,” she replied with a shrug.

  “But you do have a boyfriend, don’t you?” Kristof teased. “I mean, a beautiful young girl like yourself—I’d be really surprised if you didn’t.”

  Lilith hesitated for a moment before finally nodding. She didn’t want to give Kristof too much information about herself, but at the same time she was flattered by his interest, plus she found it hard to pass up an opportunity to talk about herself.

  “You could call him that, I guess.”

  “Is it serious?”

  “I used to think so—but now, I’m not so sure. Things have changed since we first got together.”

  “They always do at your age,” Kristof said, giving her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, it’s only natural. Speaking of which, I need to take a quick trip to the gents before I reenact Gala’s little show-stopper. I won’t be long.”

  She hadn’t been sober at a party since she was thirteen, and she wasn’t about to go cold turkey now. It was just a question of figuring out who, when, and where—and pulling it off without drawing attention to herself. She cast her gaze about the room in search of suitable prey and quickly spotted a twentysomething dressed in a pirate costume who was having a little trouble staying on his feet. At first she thought he was simply in character, but as she watched him a little more closely, she realized he was not just drunk but positively stinko.

  She walked up to the faux pirate, who was drinking a rum and Coke, and flashed him her patented smile.

  “I like your costume.”

  “Thanks,” the fake buccaneer said, trying hard to stand up straight. “My, um, my name is Tim, by the way.”

  “Hi, Tim. I’m Lili.”

  “Are you a model?”

  “You could say that.”

  “That’s cool,” Tim the Pirate said, bobbing his head up and down. “I’m, uh, I’m an intern.”

  “Aren’t you kind of young to be a doctor?”

  “Ha! Good one!” Tim laughed. “No, I work as an assistant over at Vanitas.”

  “That’s cool, I guess,” Lilith said. She had the clot on the hook. Now all she had to do was separate him from the herd as quickly as possible. “I’m going for some fresh air,” she said, pointing at the door that opened onto the terrace. “Care to join me?”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Tim the Pirate Intern replied. “A little fresh air couldn’t hurt right now.”

  It had taken Kristof longer than he’d thought to get in and out of the men’s room. By the time he got back to the party, Lili was nowhere to be seen. He waved down a passing waiter who was carrying a tray of hors d’oeuvres.

  “You didn’t happen to see the young lady who was standing here a few minutes ago, did you?”

  “You mean the smoking-hot blonde?” the waiter asked. “Last I saw, she went out on the terrace with some loser dressed like a pirate. I guess she was looking for a bit of the ol’ Jolly Roger.”

  Suddenly the French doors swung open and Lili reentered the room, sans her buccaneer beau. Kristof
looked out onto the terrace and saw the young man slumped across a marble bench next to the railing.

  “What happened to your friend?” Kristof asked.

  Lilith didn’t know what Tim the Pirate had been guzzling, popping, snorting, and smoking earlier that night, but she was riding a pretty good buzz.

  She giggled. “I’m afraid he’s walked the plank.”

  Cally looked out the window of the train as it sped along the Williamsburg Bridge toward the lights of Brooklyn. She flipped her cell phone open and paged through the address book until she found the number she was looking for. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and punched the call button. As she counted the rings on the other end, she told herself she had to be out of her mind for doing this.

  “Hello?”

  Cally was so startled by the sound of Jules’s voice in her ear she nearly dropped the phone. “Oh! Hi! I thought it was going to go to voice mail,” she said with a nervous laugh.

  “Who is this?” Jules asked. Cally could hear the muted, jackhammer thump of high-volume dance beats in the background. “Lilith? Is that you?”

  “No. It’s Cally. You gave me your number a couple of nights ago, remember?”

  “Oh! Hi, Cally!” Jules’s voice brightened. “Give me a second, okay—I’m going to go where it’s easier to talk.” There was the sound of movement on the other end, followed by the creak of a door opening. Suddenly the background noise dropped substantially. “There. That’s better.” Jules sighed in relief. “So—did you change your mind about the Grand Ball?”

  “Well, I’m, uh, calling, aren’t I?”

  “Cool! You want me to be your escort?”

  “Yes. Assuming you’re still available, that is?”

  “Of course I still want to be your escort. But I thought you said you didn’t want to antagonize Lilith. Aren’t you afraid of making her mad?”

  As Cally pondered Jules’s question, she suddenly became aware of an odd sensation in her left hand as it rested atop her knee. It kind of felt like the tingling sensation she’d experienced when her stormgathering ability had first started to manifest itself when she was thirteen. The difference was that the feeling associated with stormgathering came from without, while this seemed to be coming from within, as if some unseen force was gathering itself inside her hand.

  “Not anymore,” Cally replied.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It was just after sunrise when Lilith returned home. Since her parents normally retired to their separate bedchambers just before the break of dawn, Lilith had hoped she would be able to sneak back into their penthouse apartment unnoticed.

  Instead, the elevator doors opened to reveal a seething Victor Todd pacing the private lobby like a caged animal.

  “Where have you been, young lady?” Victor growled, snatching his daughter by the arm and yanking her out of the elevator.

  “Let go of me!” Lilith yelped as her father dragged her into the apartment.

  “You weren’t in your bedroom when the servants came to wake you this evening, and I know it wasn’t because you were in a hurry to get to school. Madame Nerezza called to personally inform me that you never arrived at the academy!” Victor snarled angrily as he slammed the door behind them.

  “You’re squeezing my arm!”

  “I should squeeze your pretty little neck! You really had us worried, Lilith! For all your mother and I knew, you were lying in a ditch somewhere with a stake through your heart.”

  “A lot you care!” Lilith retorted, pulling herself free of her father’s grasp. “The only reason you’d hate to see me dead is because that would mean you’d have to start sleeping in the same bed as my mother again.”

  “How dare you speak to me like that?” Victor gasped. “Are you drunk?”

  “Well, duh,” Lilith sneered. “I always come home drunk, Daddy! You’d know that if you actually paid any attention.”

  “Where’d you get that?” Victor asked, pointing to the leather portfolio she was holding.

  “It’s nothing; it’s just a notebook, that’s all,” Lilith replied, hiding it behind her back.

  “If it’s nothing, then you shouldn’t have any problem letting me look at it,” Victor said as he tried to snatch the portfolio out of his daughter’s hands.

  “Leave me alone!” Lilith shouted. “It’s mine! You can’t have it!”

  “I’ve had enough of this foolishness, Lilith!” Victor said angrily. “You’re grounded until further notice.”

  Lilith’s jaw dropped as if the muscles had been severed. “I’m what?!”

  “You heard me. Your grades at school are horrible. From here on in there will be no more partying with those friends of yours until the break of dawn instead of studying. I’m also canceling all your platinum cards—you’ll have to make do with a single gold card.”

  “You can’t do this to me!” Lilith pouted, stamping her foot in protest. “You’re being totally unfair.”

  “No, ‘totally unfair’ would be if I decided to keep you home from the Grand Ball,” her father retorted.

  “You wouldn’t dare!” she said, tears forming in her eyes. “I’m to be the final presentation of the night!”

  “Oh, but I would. And I shall. That is, unless you tell me where you have been tonight and who you were with.”

  Lilith was in the tightest spot of her life. She had used every tactic that normally resulted in her father capitulating to her will: shouting, whining, pouting, and crying. There was only one move left for her to play. She instantly ceased her crocodile tears and fixed Victor with a look of unalloyed hatred.

  “Very well, if that’s how it’s going to be, you leave me no choice. I’m going to tell Irina all about your precious little Cally.”

  “What?” Now it was Victor’s turn to look stunned.

  “That’s right, Daddy!” Lilith smirked. “I know about your secret daughter. And if you don’t start being very, very nice to me, Mother will know, too! You wouldn’t want that to happen, would you, Father dear? So, if you know what’s good for you—and your bastard daughter—you’ll keep your hands off my platinum cards. Have I made myself understood?”

  “All too well,” Victor replied stonily.

  Cally was buttoning the white blouse of her school uniform when she heard the doorbell ring.

  “Mom! Somebody’s at the door!”

  The doorbell rang a second time, followed by a loud knock.

  “Mom—the door!” Cally shouted again.

  When it became obvious that her mother was not going to respond, Cally stomped out of her room, muttering under her breath. She glanced at her mother’s bedroom, the door to which was still shut. No doubt Sheila was nursing yet another hangover.

  Cally peered through the peephole into the hall and saw two tall, moderately well-built men, one blond, the other with brown hair, both dressed in matching dark collarless suit jackets and turtleneck sweaters. They also wore wraparound sunglasses. She opened the door a crack and looked around the doorjamb. “Yes? May I help you?”

  Without warning, the blond man pushed against the door with surprising strength, and he and his companion bulldozed their way into the foyer.

  “What do you two think you’re doing?” Cally yelled.

  “You can’t barge in here like that!”

  The blond man silently pointed to the back of the apartment. The dark-haired man nodded and headed down the hallway in the direction of the bedrooms, while the blond walked into the living room.

  “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” Cally shouted, hurrying after the dark-haired intruder. “Get out before I have to hurt you and your friend!”

  “It’s all right, Cally. They mean you no harm. They’re with me.”

  Cally turned to find Victor Todd standing at the front door.

  “Dad?” Cally frowned. “What are you doing here? What’s going on? Who are these creeps?”

  “Their names are Walther and Sinclair. They are servants of mine,” Victor
explained, closing the door behind him. “You must forgive their rather brusque manner, but they’ve only recently been reawakened. I’ve had them in cold storage since 1965. I cannot rely on undead created in the last century, as they are equally under my wife’s control. Sinclair has spent three hundred years in service to the Todds and Walther even longer.”

  Cally stared at the blond man, who was busy taking every book off the shelves in the living room and placing them into tidy stacks on the floor. “They’re undead?”

  “Yes. But you have nothing to fear from them,” her father assured her. “Walther and Sinclair recognize you as family, and they are under strict orders not to feed on your mother.”

  “Well, that’s something of a relief, I guess.” She pointed at the blond undead, who was still stacking books. “Which one is he?”

  “That’s Walther.”

  “Thanks.” Cally put her fingers in her mouth, whistled, and shouted: “Hey, Walther!”

  The blond undead stopped and turned to face her. “Yes, young mistress?”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I am preparing your belongings for packing.”

  “What?”

  Cally turned and ran down the hallway and into her room. As she slid to a stop in the open doorway, she saw that Sinclair was diligently removing each article of clothing from the wardrobe and neatly folding it before placing it atop her bed.

  “Get out of my room!” Cally shouted. “Who said you could come in here and start touching my stuff?!”

  The door to her mother’s bedroom opened to reveal Sheila Monture, sans makeup and dressed in a ragged housecoat. “What the hell is going on? I’m trying to get some rest!” Sheila froze when she saw her former lover standing in the hallway. “Victor? What are you doing here?”

  “Don’t touch that!” Cally snatched one of her dresses from Sinclair and returned it to the wardrobe.

  Sinclair reached in and pulled the same dress back out.

  “I said don’t touch it!” Cally repeated angrily, yanking the garment out of the undead servant’s hands again and shoving it once more into the wardrobe.