by Ash Krafton
The exertion was worth it. The balcony was unlit since guests were not permitted on this level. Flashes of color blinked in the darkness; when the stage exploded into bright light, I could make out figures wearing headsets and operating spotlight equipment.
Further back along the walls stood other men, apparently standing guard; their eyes flashed and a few bowed in our direction. Polite touches of power announced themselves. I realized they recognized me as Sophia. I waved back, feeling familiar with them although they were complete strangers.
We made our way to the edge of the balcony and perched in the front seats. It was very warm up here, partly due to the lighting rigs hanging less than a foot below us, and I shrugged off my heavy coat. The music pounded but, far away from the amplifiers, I had no need for earplugs.
Shiloh and Dahlia chatted behind me as I leaned on the rail and watched the show, extremely content. I was spoiled now, I knew; I'd never be able to stand general admission after being up here. It was like having box seats. Totally worth the unsettling thrill of extreme heights.
I squinted down through the glare of the lighting rigs at the crowd below and spied a familiar face and shock of hair. "Hey, there's Toby."
"Who?"
I forgot that I hadn't told them about him and pointed down at the crowd. "Green shirt, blond spikes. The Were."
"You recognize a Were, huh." Dahlia sounded skeptical as she leaned her arms on the rail, scanning the crowd. "How'd you meet him?"
"Well, I danced with him at Folletti's one night, right before his best friend threatened to bite me."
Dahlia's eyes took up their violet glow. "Wasn't that the night I met you?"
"The same."
"I remember him now." Dahlia's eyes simmered as her facial features appeared to sharpen with her displeasure. She narrowed her eyes and pinched her lips tightly together, her power taking on an aggressive edge.
I tried to disarm her by keeping my tone light. "Yeah, him. I bumped into him a little while back. He seems like a good kid."
Shiloh appeared uninterested and put her feet up on the railing. "Weres are stupid. Ugh. There should be leash laws here."
"Sounds like you have them all figured out, chica," Dahlia said.
"I do. The rest of my life might be in shambles, but at least I know Weres suck ass."
"You're Marek's niece, all right." Dahlia spoke without taking her eyes from the crowd, missing the looks Shiloh and I exchanged.
"What are the guards for?" Shiloh tossed her hair over her shoulder and indicated one of the guards with a nod of her head.
"I guess they're always here," Dahlia said. "See the insignia on their jackets? There're special ops."
"Special ops at a rock show? I know those guys are scary, but..." I glanced around the balcony, scanning for any-one other than the guards. "What do they think will happen, a terrorist attack?"
"Not terrorists." Dahlia shrugged off her jacket and settled into her seat. "There's been some outbreaks of Underground activity over the last few months."
"That's why Brianda has been away so much," Shiloh said. Reaching into her bag, she pulled her MP3 player free. Either she'd grown tired of the band or the conversation itself. Shiloh knew plenty about vampire and DV dealings but usually avoided the subject. "She's been helping Uncle Marek keep order. I guess the vampires don't like him being Master so they cause trouble."
Dahlia nodded. "The special ops are slayer patrols. Every guy who doesn't have a power signature or a human vibe is scrutinized. In fact, the ticket takers and bouncers are special ops too. They scan everybody coming in."
I didn't know if I should be relieved or worried that they were so close. "Do they work for Marek?"
"They used to."
I didn't persist. I suspected I knew when they stopped being his. "So, what do they do, frisk everyone? I don't re-member feeling like I was under any special scrutiny, except for the not being marked part."
"Not everyone. Only the guys."
"Isn't that a little sexist?"
Dahlia looked at me as if I had spoken in Klingon. "How do you figure?"
"The Master's a guy, the armies are guys, the lawyers are guys, the toadies are guys. Any and every vamp I've had the horrible misfortune to meet or hear about is a guy. Where're all the women? Home spinning thread for the men's Renaissance faire outfits?"
Dahlia turned her big creamy eyes on me, which glowed like electric violets. "Oh, Sophie, don't even joke about that. That's not funny."
What really wasn't funny, I thought, was this mysterious hush-hush way that DVs tended to dance around subjects.
I didn't like being out of the loop and I didn't like having to admit I didn't know something. I'd much rather fake it and play along.
However, I found myself in more and more situations that I couldn't bullshit my way through. There was simply too much unknown when it came to DV issues. I'd clarify one thing only to realize there were fifty more unanswered questions. My education regarding the Demivampire seemed to be going as smoothly as stacking dry sand.
Now apparently there was a hang-up with girls that I had to sort out. Breathing a quiet huff of tried patience, I smiled. Sarcastically. I couldn't help it. "Can you just explain it, or do I have to look it up online?"
Dahlia's eyes still simmered—obviously not a good sign—and she kept her voice low. Did she forget we were at a concert? "Sophie...there are no female vampires. None."
"Why? Are women too weak to evolve?" I looked back and forth between them waiting for an answer. Shiloh applied herself to a box of Nutter Butters that she'd produced from her backpack and feigned deafness secondary to ear buds. Dahlia looked like she'd rather leap from the balcony than tell me. "Out with it, Dally."
"No, women are not too weak to evolve," she admitted. "It's just the opposite. Females turn as easily as men. They just don't survive as vamps."
"Does the process kill them?"
"No. They are hunted. Exterminated." She looked at me for a long second. "By vamps."
"The boy vamps kill off the girl vamps?" That didn't make sense, even for things like vampires. "Why the hell would they do that?"
"Fear. Females are naturally aggressive. You know what I mean. Look down there." She pointed over the balcony to the audience, where in the midst of the crowd a turbulent mosh pit had opened up.
Gah. I hated that sort of thing. It was the main reason I looked for bar seating at concerts.
"It's girls doing it," she said. "Most of them are humans, too. Not that blonde though; she's definitely DV. See how pushy she is?"
I watched the roiling sea of bobbing bodies, a couple thrashing sharks smashing into everyone within reach. I shuddered, even more grateful for my seat high above the teeming crowd. I hated heights but hated general admission of the thrash age more.
Dahlia echoed my shudder. "Can you imagine how vicious a female vamp would be? I've heard tales about Brianda, and it frightens me to think how she'd be if she Fell. Female vamps would destroy everything in their path in their quest to own and control and consume. That's why the vamps destroy them as soon as they rise. They're afraid."
My thoughts turned toward home where I'd soon be living with the apparently legendary Brianda. She'd only stopped in once before to drop off a few boxes and to cuddle up with her baby sister before going back to work.
Brianda was striking, a blonde version of Rodrian, tall but balanced. She didn't have Shiloh's buoyancy, but when she smiled it was warm and sincere. Watching her with Shiloh convinced me that even though she wasn't her mother, she could double in a second. The love she had for her was undeniable and complete.
I looked over at Shiloh, who found feathers on the floor and dropped them over the balcony. I felt my good ole gut sense make the connection. "Ah, I see."
Dahlia looked confused. "See what?"
"You know, what makes them so fierce. It's love."
She looked down over the edge at the crowd. "You mean jealousy. Competition."
&
nbsp; "Not at first. In the beginning, there is only love."
"Love? Love makes a female vamp evil?"
"Not evil. Fierce. It's a mother's instinct, to protect and fight for her offspring. But when children grow up and start taking care of themselves, the instincts and fierceness remain. In some people, it gets misdirected. When someone like that evolves, the fierceness becomes twisted. The lack of a soul begets evil, turning fierceness into something much worse."
I thought about the females in my life, the DV who lived their lives threatened by this awful destiny. "Brianda has something to fight for. She's DV enforcer, like Marek was. She has a purpose, an outlet for her strength and ferocity. You do too, if you stay the course you are on. Sadly, not everyone has a purpose. They are the ones who get lost."
Shiloh spoke up suddenly. She pulled the plugs out of her ears and peered at me. "Your eyes are blue, Sophie. What did I miss? What were you talking about?"
I reached out and patted her hand, feeling the tingle in my brain diminish. My eyes must have bled back to their usual brown, judging by the disappointment in Shiloh's face. "We were talking about you, in a way."
"And I missed it," she groaned. "I bet you were about to fix the mess my life turned out to be, and I missed it."
"You missed nothing you still cannot discover for yourself."
Dahlia had turned back to look down to the stage. I could almost hear her hashing out her plans for DAVE and a whole new onslaught of teen outreach events.
"In English?" Shiloh persisted.
"You need a purpose in life."
"A purpose? Like a crusade? Woo-hoo!" She did a little victory dance with her knees and pointed fingers. "I'm gonna find me a purpose!"
I only smiled. I didn't understand again, but sometimes it was just easier to play along.
After the set ended, we crept down the back steps to the foyer where the merchandise booths and food vendors were set up. Shiloh wanted a soft pretzel, and I wanted to stretch my legs. Not that walking was any more comfortable than sitting—I had to walk down the steps backwards because my boots were so jacked. Damn you and your peer pressure, Colin Stuart. These boots weren't made for walking, especially not down steps.
A familiar voice sounded behind me. "Hiya, Sophie."
I turned to see Toby, who wore a boyish grin. "Hey, Toby. How are you?"
"Okay, I guess." He shrugged and glanced over his shoulder. "I didn't know you came here."
"Dally's idea." I stepped to the side and nodded at the girls. "I'm a little old for this scene."
"Ah, you're never too old for a good time."
"We're back," Shiloh said from behind me. Her voice was louder than it needed to be, considering there was no one on stage and the foyer was relatively quiet.
I gave her a be nice kind of look. "Toby, these are my friends, Shiloh and Dahlia."
"Nice to meet you," said Dahlia. I could still feel she had her guard up, simmering beneath her pleasant mask.
"Pleasure's all mine, ladies."
Shiloh huffed derisively. "Sure is."
I stepped on her foot. "Everything okay with you, Toby?"
"Oh. Everything's great. Just great." I noticed his smile grew whenever he glanced at Dahlia.
Her own expression didn't change but the pulse of her power quickened when she smiled back, her aggression fading. I had to look twice at her. Did she just flutter her lashes?
"You staying for the next band, Sophie?" He seemed to have difficulty concentrating on me as he spoke.
"Actually, we're heading back to Balaton." Dahlia volunteered. "Need a ride?"
Shiloh interrupted. "I'm sure his friends are looking for him. Aren't they?"
Toby scratched his head. "I don't know where they got to, anyway."
"I don't suppose you wanted to come along?" Dahlia stepped a bit closer, her smile a bit wider. "Dangerous streets for girls to walk alone at night."
"What?" Shiloh whacked Dahlia on the arm. "Since when is the street dangerous for you?"
"I can't ignore a damsel in distress," Toby said hurriedly. "That's if it's okay with you, of course, Sophie."
"It's fine." I ignored Shiloh as she crossed her arms in disgust. "Let's go. Grab your coat."
"I didn't wear one," he said.
"Hot-blooded?" Dahlia blinked after she said it, as if shocked she'd be so bold. She shocked the hell out of me, anyways.
"Dense is more like it," Shiloh said. "It's freezing outside."
"I agree," I said, before Shiloh could continue. I had a nagging suspicion that he didn't have one to wear. "Let's go before it gets any colder."
"The sign said Noodle Shop, didn't it?" Shiloh gave Toby a little extra grief as he looked over the menu wearing a dismayed expression.
He tugged at the neck of the hooded sweatshirt Dahlia had procured for him before leaving the club. It was dark red, almost brown, with a pattern of shiny metallic lightning streaks flowing down the hood and along the sleeves.
She swore it wasn't stolen but I still couldn't figure out how she made stuff appear out of thin air. I knew Shiloh thought it was a neat trick; I'd caught the envious look she gave Dahlia as she'd tossed the sweatshirt to him. She probably just hated to admit it since it benefited the young werewolf.
Dahlia reached over and adjusted the neckline, tugging on it; the fabric obeyed her touch and assumed a more comfortable fit.
Toby's expression lightened at her touch and the looser fit of the previously too tight collar.
"Sure," he said. "I just thought they had other stuff."
"Like?"
"Meat," he said, matter-of-factly.
"Not this place." I grinned and pointed to words on the menu cover. "They only serve veg dishes here."
"Veg?"
"Vegetarian."
"Why'd they do something like that?"
"Well," Dahlia said. "Some people don't eat meat, and they prefer to dine in an establishment that shares their beliefs."
"That's crazy!" Toby was loud and looked too shocked to care, even when several heads turned in our direction.
"Ain't gonna make friends that way." Shiloh grinned happily, pouring a second sugar packet into her teacup.
Shock melted into confusion and Toby gaped at her. "How do you figure?"
"Because I am a vegetarian." Dahlia showed a composed one wrong word and you die smile. Enforcer of peace, I reminded myself, and hoped I didn't have to remind her, too.
He threw me a look that clearly displayed his trepidation and carefully selected his words. "Well...you must...have tremendous will power. I admire a person who sticks to her convictions."
Dahlia glowed. Shiloh rolled her eyes in one part disgust and two parts defeat. She slouched in her chair, groaning and disappearing behind the menu again. I flagged down a speeding waiter so I wouldn't have to watch budding romance. I hated cheap soaps these days.
Shiloh's mood lightened considerably once the food arrived, and she amused us all by doing inappropriate things with her chopsticks when the waiter wasn't watching. I personally wouldn't have eaten with them after she let them hang from her nostrils but, since teenagers had little patience for lectures on germs and manners, I only laughed. Rude, germs, or no, it was still funny.
Dahlia had talked Toby into ordering a spicy tofu dish, explaining the finer points of protein and texture and other probable lies. I'd eaten tofu before. Meat substitute, my Aunt Fanny. Flavorless squish was more like it.
Toby probably would have eaten the tablecloth had Dahlia suggested it, so of course he agreed.
"Not used to spicy food?" I pushed my water glass across the table to him as he gulped down the last of his own. Dahlia wore a you're doing just fine, honey kind of look and smiled down at her bowl.
"No, I'm not," he gasped. "What did you say this was again?"
"So, Toby." Shiloh pointed her chopsticks at him. "Are you going to convert?"
His eyes watered and he cleared his throat several times. "Convert what?"
"Yo
u know, go veg, like Dahlia. I mean, you guys were getting all Lady and the Tramp over that chow fun. It was so cute."
Dahlia flushed. "Knock it off, Shy, or I'll knock it off for you."
"Sheesh. Touchy, touchy."
"Lady and the Tramp? That's funny. It is," I insisted, when Dahlia turned her glare on me.
"I'm not a dog," Dahlia said.
"But he is, hence, the funny."
"I hope ya'll are going to clue me in," Toby said.
"It's a cartoon. Forget it." Dahlia picked up the check and pulled out singles for a tip, but Toby stopped her, smoothing out a fistful of ones he'd pulled from his pocket.
The ride back to Balaton was awkward, to say the least. Dahlia and Toby crammed themselves into the back seat and suddenly ran out of things to say. Maybe it was a case of two-minutes-in-the-closet—it's one thing to notice an attraction to someone but another thing altogether to be so close, so soon. The Cavalier didn't offer much in the way of healthy personal space.
Then there was Shiloh, who exhaled noisily every time one of the kids in back would make an attempt at conversation. Most of the time, they were reduced to gazing longingly at each other when the other wasn't looking.
Swinging onto the exit for downtown, I interrupted the two love birds' fledgling attempt at getting to know each other better.
"Where to, Toby?" I asked him.
"Oh, anywhere. I can walk."
"It's freezing out." Dahlia cast a stern look at him. "We'll drive you so you can be out of the wind."
"Well, if you insist, Miss Dahlia."
He gave me vague directions to an intersection about ten blocks away. I felt like the mom whose turn it was to pick the kids up at the mall. Shiloh slumped in the front seat, earbuds firmly in her ears, looking out the window and excluding herself from the conversation.
I pulled over to the curb when I reached the inter-section Toby had given. He leaned forward between the seats. "Something wrong, Soph?"
"No. But this is the corner, right?"
He looked blankly at me a moment before it sank in. "Yep. I wasn't paying attention. Thanks for the ride, Sophie. Nice to meet you, Dahlia. You too, Shy."