Delia ignored Edmund to address Jeff. “Your enthusiasm becomes you.” Delia bestowed her praise like a precious gift; Jeff received it the same way.
“Although it is rumored that enthusiasm has gone awry in the past,” Nodin said.
“They have no self-control,” Edmund said. “These things are bound to happen.”
“It was an accident,” Jeff said.
“We’ve all done worse,” Delia said forgivingly, “and Jeff’s little friend did walk again.”
“It is fascinating what they’re doing with prosthetics these days,” Chaz agreed and sent Jeff on his way before Edmund could berate him further for his humanity.
One minute to go. Donovan was ready to wipe the floor with the competition and go home. Well, not home. His wife was there with her sniveling and her endless I’m the mother of your children and I deserve respect crap. He was ready to go somewhere better.
On the face of it, this wasn’t his sort of thing, but it was a way to get to what was his thing. Lately, Donovan had been thinking his thing wasn’t sitting in an office forty hours a week, foisting his work off on subordinates, and occasionally firing one just to keep everybody else on their toes. His thing, he had decided, was swilling beer on the beach, somewhere with topless natives and college girls going wild.
Donovan was sick of providing for his ungrateful kids, and he was over going home to a wife full of quiet resentment. He had busted his ass for years to give them a house and cars and some goddamn status; their end of the bargain was silence in the matter of their trivial dissatisfactions.
Fuck them. It was his time. There was no reason a couple of teenagers and a forty-year-old woman couldn’t fend for themselves. The gravy train was pulling out of the station, and if you didn’t have a ticket in the form of twenty-year-old boobs, you weren’t going to be on it.
They’d thrown him a party at the office like he was never coming back. He wasn’t of course, but he hadn’t told them. Judy had cried. Stupid bitch. He’d banged her once, and she’d gone so batty he’d had to have her transferred to another department.
It had been worse at home. The kids hadn’t given him any grief, but Tara had cried incessantly.
Their concern was stupid. Like he’d have any trouble beating out the kind of losers that were going to be here. Those fucking emo I heart my emotions types had no understanding of what it took to dominate. Still, it was going to be a fucking awesome thing to be a―
The door opened. It was time.
“Next up, Donovan,” Chaz said as that overgrown specimen made his way across the stage.
“Chaz,” Donovan returned. Chaz paused the handshake when he noticed Donovan was squeezing full force. Chaz gave back one quick squeeze and felt the bones in Donovan’s hand shift.
“Sorry, man,” Donovan said hastily extracting his hand when Chaz allowed it. “Got carried away.”
“So, Donovan,” Chaz said. “What about being on the show appeals to you?”
“I want to do what I want when I want for as long as I want,” Donovan said. “I mean, I got the first two handled, but I want to make it that way forever. Being a vampire is so prestigious nowadays. You know what I’m saying?”
“We all grasp your profound message,” Edmund said before Chaz could comment.
“I’m psyched to get started. Ready to wipe the rest of these jerks off the map. Oh yeah, and I wanted to say hi to the wife and kids.”
“Consider them greeted,” Chaz said. “All of them. That’s a big Creature of the Night hello to Tara, Vincent, and Tiffany. But, we can’t forget little Sara Jane Wilson, who just came screaming into the world at seven pounds three ounces, and just for fun, let’s also give a big hello to her mother, Shiela.”
Donovan stiffened, and the crowd cheered. One of the vampire girls produced a cigar which Chaz presented with mock reverence to Donovan. “Congratulations. Head off toward the girls and we’ll see you shortly for the first challenge.” The crowd voiced their approval of the upcoming challenge or perhaps, of Donovan.
“Is it me,” Rose said, nudging Dani with a toe to get her attention. “Or does the Donovan guy seem kind of date-rapey?”
“Totally,” her dorm mate agreed. “And I bet he’s on steroids too. Ollie is cute, though. I love his eyes.”
“The farm guy?” Rose asked. “He has a good body, but he’d probably call you ‘Ma’am’ in bed.”
“Better him than the whiny dad,” Dani said.
“I feel bad for him,” Rose said. “I bet his wife is a huge bitch.”
“Yeah, but would you fuck him?”
Rose made a face. “He probably cries after sex.”
It was time for some action. Kannon was pleased to be out of the Manor. As far as he was concerned, the gentle beige of the dressing room was far superior to his assigned bedroom which contained all the trappings of The Tower of Terror at Disney World. The Manor oozed money, with which he was familiar, but everybody knew money couldn’t buy taste. Proof of that had been present in his surroundings for the past week.
He understood there was a theme. However, there was such a thing as going too far, and whoever had been in charge of decorating the place had raced full throttle across the line of good taste and never looked back.
The things we do for our parents. Although, truth be told, he hadn’t been entirely against the idea, in spite of a brief period of reconsideration. But his father had explained the long-term benefits far outweighed any other consideration, and because his father’s explanations were forceful and relentless, Kannon had found himself here.
Kannon had vowed one thing: he would not be a disappointment to his father. Now that he was here, he was fully committed, and he intended to win. There was no other option. Besides, it was going to be pretty badass. Victory wasn’t something money could buy. The opportunity to be here maybe, but the prize itself, no. The gold, no. Fuck gold—gold was for peasants. The platinum medal was something Kannon would earn, and once he’d earned it, the dynamics of the world would change.
The eldest son is about to make good. Something that wasn’t fucking easy when you’ve spent your life being compared to your fuck-tard younger brother. The idiot who’d enlisted, in spite of being born into wealth. The golden boy who’d gotten his shit blown off the face of the earth while saving some loser. The shithead Kannon’s brother had died for was a fucking mechanic now. If it had been up to Kannon, his brother would never have been allowed to sacrifice his life for that of some blue-collar grunt. It was maddening.
What the fuck was money for if it couldn’t buy immortality?
One of the endless production assistants knocked on the door and informed him he was needed. Kannon swallowed his wordless rage and followed.
Brett was so fucking excited he could die. He had been bouncing around his room at the Manor like a bunny on a hotplate; his arrival at the studio had only amped him further. And he was stone cold sober; that was the funny thing. Not that Brett was much of a drinker. Here especially. Bad things could happen when you let yourself get wasted in a house full of strangers. Not to mention the abundantly stocked bar came accompanied by the proviso that to show up inebriated would mean dismissal. Rules didn’t matter at fucking all to Brett because soon he would be restriction-free forever—but there was no point in being a rebel without a cause.
Brett had plans, big ones, for after. First, he was going to spend a long time banging Playboy Bunnies. God Bless Hugh Heffner, Brett thought, throwing a salute toward the heavens where presumably his idol was cavorting with the souls of promiscuous, yet pious, hotties. Rest in peace, brother.
Once he banged his way through the centerfolds of recent years, Brett was going to become a fucking rock star. Rock star Brett would graduate to banging Victoria’s Secret models while the rest of the world worshiped him. (This would take some getting used to for the rest of the world, which had looked down its collective nose at Brett for years. That is, when it noticed him at all.)
The thought
of all the artistically waxed pussy that would be his for the taking resulted in such a surge of glee that a high-pitched giggle erupted from his lips. Brett clapped a hand over his mouth and shook his head, admonishing his mirror self. Not cool, Brett man. Not cool.
It was time to get his shit together; he was finished being the outcast. He was no longer the loser wearing guy-liner or the creep who was fascinated with things best left to teenage girls. He had grown up. He was tall, he was nearly blonde, and most importantly, Brett was the guy who had been right to believe. He was the guy who was on the verge of snatching everything he’d ever wanted.
He could do this. He knew he could. When no one else believes in you, you believe in yourself. And once you’re an immortal rock god, swimming in money and girls, you make every fucking naysayer who ever shit on your dream sorry they hadn’t gotten on board. That was some heady stuff.
Someone knocked on the door with the five-minute warning. There was totally time to beat off again before they got started.
“Two guys left to meet,” Chaz told the crowd who let loose another wave of appreciation. “So, let’s bring out Kannon!”
Kannon was a beautiful specimen of human beauty and virility. Chaz was oblivious to these qualities. The only male virility he was concerned with being his own, but the women in the audience responded to Kannon in a way that made it unmistakable. It was, to a lesser degree and minus the fear (or love) of death, the way they responded to Chaz.
“Satisfy my curiosity,” Chaz said. “How did your parents come up with ‘Kannon?’”
Kannon rolled his eyes. “Our family name is Ball. They thought it was exceedingly clever. I’ve gotten used to it.”
“What made you want to do the show?”
“Well, I just finished up my MBA. Originally, I was going to take a year to travel, but this seemed like a good option too. Since my parents were more supportive of my doing the show, here I am.”
“So becoming a vampire is the new backpacking across Europe,” Chaz said. “Good to know.”
“Are you a virgin?” Delia asked.
“What difference would that make?” Edmund asked. “There is no history of depravity that would deter you.”
“If they’re not virgins, they may as well be skilled,” Delia said.
Kannon shook his head and laughed. “But looking at you, I wish I was.”
“All this talk of virgins is making me nervous,” Cyri’s dad said. “Stay close.”
Cyri awarded her parent a patient smile and decided he was better off worried than reassured.
The smile Delia gave Kannon was more predatory. She made sure he got a good look at her fangs.
“No eating or fucking the contestants Delia,” Chaz cautioned. “Rules are rules. Besides, I want to ask Kannon if he’s heard from the Marquez family since they were deported.”
“I don’t know them,” Kannon said.
Chaz waved a dismissive hand. “You might not, but you know people who did. Your brother died saving Manuel Marquez’s life, and one of your old fraternity brothers had the rest of the family deported.”
“They say it’s a small world,” Kannon said.
“Make them hate him,” The Voice said.
“They do say that,” Chaz said to Kannon. “It seems to be even smaller when you have money and the proper connections.”
“Wouldn’t it have been more reasonable to simply kill Manuel?” Delia said.
“Say goodbye, Delia,” Chaz instructed.
“Goodbye, Delia,” she said. A ba–da–da came from the band in the corner that, somehow, no one had noticed until now.
“I’m going to kill somebody,” Edmund said to the room at large, leading Chaz to dismiss Kannon and announce the last contestant. The parade of humans needed to be wrapped up before one of the judges lost it.
Brett smelled of semen and hair gel. Chaz blithely avoided shaking his hand by instructing him to wave to the audience. “Tell us about yourself, Brett.”
“The first thing you gotta know about me is I fucking love vampires,” Brett said. “I mean, I love everything; I’d be a werewolf too if I could. Are there werewolves? I would be so stoked if there were werewolves. Don’t get me wrong—vampires are the best. You guys have the sex appeal going. I mean, Delia, I love you. You are a goddess, seriously. I always fantasized about you guys when I was a teenager, and when it turned out you were real, man, best day of my life. But now this is the best day of my life. And the day I win this thing and get turned, that’s going to be the next best day. By that, I mean the new best day in my chronology, not the second best day. What the hell was I saying?”
“That you’re happy to be here,” Chaz told him. “And we’re happy to have you.” Being a good show host often meant forsaking honesty.
“Head backstage and get ready for our first challenge. Let’s have a big cheer for all of our worthy contestants who are getting ready to prove which of them is the most worthy of all!”
The crowd created such a din with their clapping hands and screaming voices Edmund disappeared off the altar, which only encouraged the audience to take it up a notch.
“I’m going to marry him,” Rose said.
“Not creepy loser guy?” Dani said. Brett would have been crushed to hear her assessment of him. “He looks greasy.”
“No. Kannon.” Rose hugged herself and let out a small sigh. “He’s beautiful.”
“He’s okay,” Dani said. Pretty boys weren’t her thing. Pretty vampires, on the other hand, were. “But, Chaz is crazy hot.”
“Chaz is scary,” Rose corrected. “What about Jeff? He seems like your type.”
“He’s cute, I guess.” Dani inspected her toenails to see if the polish needed repair. “But I don’t think he’s fun. His girlfriend probably has to go on protest marches every weekend.”
“Yeah, that would suck.”
Let Them Drink _ _ _ _ _.
hen the clamor of the audience settled to a dull roar, Chaz grabbed their attention. “Okay, people, while they set the stage for our first challenge, let’s dive into our first Friends and Family segment. As you know, someone is chosen from each contestant’s life to give us a little background and insight. Or to let us in on an embarrassing secret. Let’s all take a look at the screen and meet some people significant to Brett and to Cassie. First up, we’ll see what Brett’s friend Jonas had to say.”
Heads swiveled toward the two jumbo screens on either side of the stage.
“Hey, man!” Jonas chortled from onscreen. “I can’t believe you made it, man; you’re so gonna die! But seriously, dude. I can’t fucking wait to watch you on the show. I never thought you’d make it. None of us did, so just goes to show you, I guess. But I’m rooting for you, and I got your back, and when you’re ear deep in pussy, throw some my way, dude. Throw some my way as long as it’s not your leftovers. Yeah!”
Jonah disappeared from the screen. “Brings to mind ‘birds of a feather’, doesn’t it?” Chaz said. “Let’s check in with Cassie’s friend Milay.”
“Hi CassCass,” said the previously recorded Milay. She might have been preparing to dance a solo at the Lincoln Center or performing La Bayadere with the Joffrey Ballet she was so heavily and flawlessly made up. “Just wanted to let you know, the other dancers and I are missing you much here at the company. A lot of people are hoping they let you come back, if you win, I mean. Well, some people are hoping. Including me, of course. It’s too bad they’re comparing vampire abilities to taking steroids, isn’t it? Although, I guess it is unfair to those of us who have nothing but our talent. But don’t worry, Cass. Everyone supports you so much, okay? Love, love, love, honey. Bye.”
“Well, that was Milay, Cassie’s close friend,” Chaz said. “That seemed quite heartfelt.”
“Humans are puny,” Edmund said. “They lack even the fortitude to express their true disdain for each other. It is morally pathetic.”
“Let’s welcome Edmund back to the stage,” Chaz said.
“Do not dare!” Edmund commanded. The audience immediately fell silent. Cyri grinned.
“Time for the fun to begin,” Chaz yelled. “Behind me now is a table. At the table are twelve chalices, one for each of our fascinating contestants.”
“Holy crap, Mildred, get out here!” The beagle had been asleep on the floor until Hal’s outburst. He raised his head and blinked reproachfully at his human before rousing himself to check out the smells coming from the kitchen.
“I’m waiting on the popcorn.” Mercifully, the microwave dinged.
“Hurry up; you’re gonna to want to see this.” Un-fucking-believable, Hal thought. How did they get away with this shit?
“Pause it, why don’t you? I want to add some more butter.”
“It’s already buttered. Movie theater butter. You don’t need more butter. You know I like to watch it live. Geezus, woman.”
The floor creaked as Mildred came back from the kitchen. Old house, big wife. “What’s going on?”
“They’re gonna make them drink blood,” Hal said.
“Well, it is a vampire show,” Mildred said.
“It’s human blood.”
“It is not. It’s chicken blood or something. Maybe pig blood. You’ll see.”
“Contestants,” Chaz said from the television. “Join me for your first challenge!”
Hal and Mildred watched the twelve contestants file across the stage and take places behind the long table. They had already decided on their favorites; officially, Hal was rooting for Ollie because Hal too had grown up on a farm. Unofficially, Hal thought Lola was mighty interesting and hoped she’d be around for a while. Mildred was rooting for Cassie, who struck her as a nice girl.
“As everyone knows,” Chaz was saying, “vampires subsist on blood. Any kind will do in a pinch, but since it became legal for consenting adults to offer themselves to us, there is no need to bother acquiring a taste for the swill.”
Creature of the Night Page 5
