by Holly Hook
I seize my binder off the floor. “Okay. Let's tackle this.”
One step at a time.
Ember, you're not in a building full of bloodsucking politicians and their entitled kids. Not at all. Keep walking out of this bathroom. Silvia walks beside me as I focus on my footsteps, counting them all the way down the shining hallway. At last, we arrive at the doors where the Secret Service agent still stands, and he looks us over again as we enter the room.
The long table is full, and a server man in a white dress shirt and black bow tie is managing a tray of food and what I'm guessing are tinted green blood bottles. Dark liquid sloshes in each as he serves each of the vampires, but I focus on him as Silvia and I sit closest to where Becky is on the end. Don't look at him. Or any of them. But as I wait for my plate to fill and pretend to straighten out my hair—yes, let these supernatural creatures think I just left to go straighten out my hair—I force a smile at Silvia and study the other human attendees, who sit stiff in their chairs.
But I glimpse him, seated next to a dark-haired vampire girl on the opposite side of the table. The vampires have removed their placards to make room for their bottles, so I can’t tell who she is.
Jeremy Haywood glares, silently asking why the hell I dared to come back. Those green eyes are striking, even without those jeweled red lines.
What is his problem? I ball my fists under the tablecloth and struggle not to bite my lip. Jerk. Is he really so much of a baby that he's still pissed over me bumping into him and apologizing?
I wait for him to turn his stare elsewhere, like at the other human attendees seated on our side of the table, but I feel that prickle on my neck. Becky tells us to introduce ourselves, since we'll be working together on the Panel. As we eat, she goes around the table, switching between human and vampire.
Lovely.
“I am Wanda Scarborough, from Pennsylvania. My father is Senator Richard Scarborough and is starting his second term. I'm here to start my political career,” a gorgeous blond vampire says from the end of the table.
Already they're pumping up their family names. My cheeks flush. We human attendees all shift in our chairs. No one has to say that this is another chance for the vampires to let us know we're below them.
I'm tired of how this works already.
The other human attendees tell the table about themselves, and I learn I'm seated with Dan from California, whose apartments have just jacked up the rent so high that they’re driving out everyone who doesn’t make half a million per year. There's Mandy from Chicago, whose neighborhood is falling apart because the city won't approve repairs. The issues are heartbreaking, and the pain and shame only grow by the time Becky motions to Jeremy.
I grab the table as the entitled ass gets up.
“My name is Jeremy Haywood,” he says, rolling every syllable in drop-dead honey. How did he learn to speak like that? Even the other vampires aren't that graceful. “I am the son of President Benjamin Haywood, and I'm going to start my political career off strong. I have experience with how things work and plenty of connections, and that's what I am going to bring to the table.”
I look at Silvia and lift an eyebrow.
But Jeremy keeps going.
“I want to see how the human population lives,” Jeremy continues, flashing his fangs. “It's very, well, interesting to hear how the base of our society works, and how those who dwell there live. It's also enlightening to see how the more motivated ones behave.” He sneaks a sideways glance at me and narrows one eye.
I grind my teeth. We're still just entertainment value to him.
“It'll also be fascinating to see how they hold up to actual pressure,” Jeremy says to Becky, talking over our heads. “That is all.”
Becky just nods and lets out a breath. “Thank you, Mr. Jeremy Haywood.”
And he finally sits, the untouchable god he is, and folds his hands on the table.
I want to throw something at him, but with one agent stationed outside the door and another in the corner, I’ve got no chance of surviving that.
And the universe must sense the perfect moment to shoot me in the Achilles’ heel, because Becky calls on me next.
I stab my food, knowing I'll regret the show of emotion, and leave my fork standing upright.
“My name is Ember Vonk, and I'm from Florida,” I say, determined to make this sound good. “I'm here because Dream Developers is buying up and razing entire neighborhoods of hard-working people so they can build condos, and I found out they're getting money from the government to do it.” My voice rises. Zara's not here. I might as well give this my best shot. “We want Dream Developers to stop getting cheap government loans that let them ruin lives, period. They are stopping people from advancing, and if they force me to move, I won’t be able to use my scholarship for Central Florida Technical University.”
Silence falls, and Jeremy frowns in the corner of my vision. I do not inhabit a mud hut with alligators.
“Thank you, Ember,” Becky says with a legit smile. “Beatrice?”
The dark-haired vampire girl must be almost twenty, and she's been quiet beside Jeremy for the entire dinner. She has a face like a crow and dark eyes that make the red lines look like cracks into a pool of glowing blood. No mercy lives there.
She seizes the neck of her tinted bottle and drives her red fingernail into the lid. “My name is Beatrice Silverton. I am the daughter of Zara Silverton, director of the FHDA. I am starting my career and plan to oversee housing programs in the future.”
My heart drops.
Beatrice Silverton?
Zara has a daughter?
And I just said—
Is there a word above fuck?
“Great. Thank you, Ms. Beatrice Silverton.” Becky says with a strained, commercial smile. She fears the vampires. And I get a sinking feeling that she has no power here.
When Silvia introduces herself, Beatrice puts her nose up like a stereotypical bully from a teen drama movie. She’ll be a problem almost as much as Jeremy. And I feel bad for talking about my scholarship when Silvia stutters over the part about her being between homes.
Becky thanks her. She finishes eating and smiles at everyone, but there are lines around her eyes. She reaches for a bottle of wine that the server has placed on the food cart and sets it aside.
And as I eat, Jeremy keeps staring at me. Ugh. Why am I his only victim? But at least I calm down as I clean off my plate of pasta and cheese. We’re almost done, and the worst seems to be over.
Dinner concludes after some tense silence, and Becky places the wine bottle under her chair. “Well, that was a wonderful introduction. I'm looking forward to working with every single one of you as we help lawmakers determine where to put funds for the next year. We meet here tomorrow at nine PM to hash out the details of our plan. Human panelists, I will show you your new living arrangements, which you will get to trial. And if anyone decides this isn't for them, you're free to leave before the contracts come out in two days.” She frowns at the human side of the table as if to send a silent apology.
Jeremy stares at me again and mouths something. Though he makes no sound, I can only imagine what it means.
I've got to get out of here. Hating that I can't stop looking at Jeremy and hating that he's the best-looking guy I've ever had in my presence, I eye Silvia. She nods. We're leaving this dinner together.
The human attendees rise from the table first, and I know everyone plans to stay in a group as they leave. Safety in the herd. The vampires stay seated as we exit the room and walk past the Secret Service agent who's still on guard. No one speaks.
It's not until the eight of us reach the corner of the hallway does Mandy say something.
“This is going to be a waste of time.” She looks at the guy with acne. Victor. “We're here to make them look good.”
“What else are we supposed to do?” Victor asks. “We have to try, or we won't get anywhere. They want us to quit. Becky doesn't, though. But she won’
t stand up to those rich assholes.”
“She wants to, so we should back her up,” Silvia says.
My heart breaks for her. It’s stay here, or go back to the shelter. For Silvia, the choice is simple.
And with a gut punch, I realize that so is mine.
I'm not going back to sunbeams and rainbows myself. And ditching Silvia after she's done nothing but support me would earn me asshole status.
The seven of us cram into an elevator, and no one complains about claustrophobia as a vampire man, looking not one day older than his upper twenties, walks past in a suit and polished shoes. His metal name tag is unreadable from here, but he carries an air of importance as he stops and presses the button to the elevator across from us.
And as he waits, more footsteps approach, and Beatrice and Wendy come into view. There's another vampire girl with them—Asha Patel is her name—and they wait next to the guy for the elevator. They're going down at the same time we are.
Gulp. We'll probably exit in the same lobby.
“First floor,” Victor whispers to Mandy.
Mandy eyes the vampire girls and presses the button for the third floor instead. She holds her finger to her lips.
I nod my approval as the elevator doors close. We rise and find ourselves in a narrower hallway when the doors open. No one protests. This area’s empty. It's best if we wait for the hostiles to clear out before we try to leave.
And I feel better about being nervous.
“We could find another elevator?” I ask. “And leave that way?” I look at Colleen and Ariana, two other attendees, and they nod at each other. There will probably be other vampires, but the older ones seem more restrained.
“Good idea,” Mandy says. “There must be more ways to the ground floor.”
This upper part of the Senate building is mostly empty, with a few meetings happening behind closed doors. Muffled speech floats out at us, and we find another set of elevators at the opposite end of the place, which seems to be a large square. “We entered through the basement,” I tell Mandy, “but there might be another way out.”
“That's what I'm thinking. We leave quietly and get our cabs,” Mandy says, pressing the button. She's definitely someone who has street smarts.
We pile into the new elevator, and Mandy takes us down. The elevator dings, and we spill out onto a new floor with tan walls and tile. Office doors line the halls, complete with plaques that must be the names of Senators. Yeah. Main floor. No one's here except for a human janitor who mops at the opposite end.
We find ourselves on the concrete steps, facing the lit Capitol a few minutes later. The stars wink overhead as cool summer air washes over us. “Phew,” I say, no longer ashamed to show my relief. “That was an adventure.” I breathe. The street here is quiet. Clearly, this is a pedestrian-only zone.
“Okay. We’ll see you tomorrow?” Colleen asks, descending the steps with Ariana.
Dan shakes his head. “I’m not sure about that.”
Everyone's in a hurry to get back to safety. “We need to get back to the hotel, too. We have the room for one more night,” I tell Silvia.
Colleen and Ariana get in their cab at the corner and leave, and then Victor and Mandy take one with Dan, leaving me and Silvia to wait less than a hundred feet from the Senate building.
I shudder as we wait by a bench and a streetlight. “I don't like this.”
Silvia frowns at me. “It was a rough night. I'm sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have thrown around my scholarship status.”
“You needed to put Jeremy in his place.” Silvia pats me on the back. “They need to know we’re worth something. And you’re dealing with immense stress.”
“I, um, have a little phobia of politics?” And that’s not just because most politicians are vampires.
She snaps her gaze to me. “Shit, really?”
“It's a long story. And getting into a fight with Jeremy Haywood is just the icing on the cake.”
“Okay. I don't even have anything to say to that,” Silvia says. “Did you want to stay for the month or leave? If we all work together, we might be fine. Yeah, there's some danger here, but I can't go back to the homeless shelter. Those places are less safe than you'd think.” She looks at the sidewalk and I wonder what the hell Silvia dealt with there. “My sister can stay with our grandparents, but they don’t have room to take me. Better me out there than her.”
It's got to be dangerous being a homeless woman, and probably far worse than being a homeless man. If this is an improvement for her, that's horrifying.
I check my phone for the cab location. It's still three blocks away, and apparently still stuck at a traffic light. Ugh. “I'll stay here with you, but I want Emmy’s input first. I can't just go back home and trust the FHDA to do the right thing. Not yet. Maybe we can put pressure on them by holding funding over their heads?”
Silvia pulls her gaze from the sidewalk and gives me an evil grin. “They won't like that, but I'm sure that's how it works here.”
Plopping down on the bench, I wait. Silvia sits beside me.
And I catch the motion on the edge of my vision too late to get out of the way. All I have time to do is stand to face it.
Beatrice saunters down the sidewalk, flanked by Wendy and Asha, staring down at us like we've taken their bench. The redness in Beatrice's eyes is hungry and savage, and the other two girls hang back a bit, watching and waiting.
Panic shoots into my chest and I resist checking my phone for the location of the cab again. I stand there, frozen, as Silvia rises beside me.
“Oh. I'm sorry if this is your bench,” she says. “Our cab is almost here, so if you want to sit down, that's fine.”
I know what she's trying to do. Hey, we're not dangerous. And there will be a witness in a few minutes. But that makes a bad taste rise in my mouth. They're intimidating Silvia, and I don't like that.
“What are you still doing here?” Beatrice asks, staring down her nose at us. Despite her unnatural beauty, her nose looks so much like a beak from this angle that I hold back a nervous laugh.
“I didn't realize this was your sidewalk,” I blurt. Careful. They're predators. I'm not scared enough. “They invited us to be on this panel, by the way.”
“Don't you know that it's all for show?” Beatrice asks with a nonchalant shrug. “There's a fake panel and a real panel, and know who is who.”
She's a bully, all right. I've dealt with them before, and I'm not shocked that the vampire variety isn't much different from the more common type. I breathe out, trying to keep my emotions in check. Yeah, like that is going to happen. “Well, if we're fake, then what's the problem?” Maybe we aren't and we pose an actual threat? I gauge Beatrice for her reaction.
“Ember,” Silvia warns me.
“The problem,” Beatrice says, drawing closer, “is that you don't know how things work here. If you wanted to be secure in life, then maybe you should have worked a little harder, invested, and saved?”
“At eighteen?” That's the spiel Dream Developers uses. My pulse roars in my ears. “Well, I'm sorry for not being born with a silver spoon in my mouth.”
Beatrice turns into a flash of dark motion, fingernails rake across my arms, and my wrists pop as something with an iron grip twists them behind me. Silvia screams, and I gasp as the iron grasp tightens like a pair of living handcuffs.
Beatrice. Is behind me. She's got my arms, and now Wendy and Asha are grinning.
It's been one point five seconds.
“Listen, bitch,” Beatrice says into my ear. “We don't need you here.” And then something sharp and deadly rakes across my skin, and I hold in my scream as a pair of what feel like the biggest needles ever stab down between my neck and my shoulder.
“Let her go!” Silvia shouts.
A car horn blasts, and Beatrice retracts her fangs, leaving a sharp, burning ache where she penetrated my skin. A trickle of fiery blood runs down my shoulder, and Beatrice sho
ves me away so that I'm stumbling down the sidewalk.
Beatrice just bit me.
And only the black limousine now parked at the curb stopped her from taking my blood.
I grasp my neck and straighten, cursing myself. The wound is shallow. She barely got her fangs in. I grasp the wound and feel two hot, but barely there, punctures. Silvia wraps her arms around me and holds me up, even though I'm nowhere near as hurt as she thinks I am.
Despite my brush with death, I'm quaking with rage.
I'm tired of bullying tactics.
Now this, after years and years of--
“Beatrice,” someone shouts from the backseat of the limo. The tinted window has rolled down just inches, but the pair of brilliant green eyes with the ruby red lines betrays that Jeremy Haywood himself has arrived.
“Jeremy?” Beatrice straightens her skirt and steps away from me.
“You don't want to get kicked off the Housing Panel,” Jeremy warns. “Even your mother won't protect you if you break the rules.” His tone drips with habanero sauce.
Beatrice swallows and winces, having just tasted it. “You don't want them here, either.”
“But the rules still stand,” Jeremy says, not daring to, or maybe unable, to roll the window down further. “I won't let them associate me with this. I have an image to keep and if you feed on the humans, TNH News is going to be on me like flies on shit.”
The National Heart News. Yeah. They hate the Haywoods and the entire Spade Party. I'd know.
Slowly, Silvia pulls me away from the vampires, who face the limo, stunned.
And then Jeremy flicks his gaze at me. It only lasts for a split second, but there's something different in it I haven't seen before. I take a breath. What the hell?
Is that concern?
I blink. No. Just an illusion.
“The party starts in twenty minutes,” Jeremy tells Beatrice. “You'd better be on your way. I hope to see you there.”
For one satisfying moment, Beatrice puckers her face like she's ready to cry, and a surge of satisfaction rushes into my chest. I hold back a smile. I'm going to survive, and Jeremy has more clout than Beatrice has. Unless he just wants me for himself?
